Letters to Rose Read online

  Two hours shortened into one when German soldiers showed up and started throwing all our things out of the windows. We picked up our possessions as best we could and gathered them into bundles. Grandmother had already made us wear three or four layers of clothes in preparation for leaving.

  After collecting what we could carry, we went sadly into the ghetto. We didn’t even have a room allotted. Helplessly, we stood under a street lamp that illuminated the darkness feebly for what seemed like an eternity. Father had left us there while he went to search for housing. We didn’t know what to do or where to go.

  A warm wind sprung up. It was a mild spring wind, but soon we saw lightning across the sky and heard the roll of thunder. A thunderstorm broke out. Finally, my father returned from hours of absence. He had run all over Walowa to find a shelter for us to no avail. Buildings were already full of multiple families in small rooms. Father finally bribed the supervisor of the housing department to find us space. The only place available was a one-room dirt floor in a basement.

  Ghetto Life

  We settled ourselves there, miserably thronged together. There was no heat, no water, and no toilet. Dad made a partition of wood to form two sleeping areas, one for the boys and one for the girls. He also found some bricks and built a primitive little stove that he attached to the chimney so that we could cook and have hot water for cleaning. Despite our poor living conditions, we did not lose heart.

  The day after we moved into the ghetto, Mom sent me to our old neighbors, the Saworskis, to ask for some help. Antek and Basia Saworski were wonderful to us. Mrs. Saworski gave me soap, food, and petroleum, which later proved most necessary to light the room. (Jews were not allowed to have electricity.) For a short while, the Saworskis came to the ghetto gates regularly with food and other articles. But that support soon ceased.

  On April 7, the ghetto gates were permanently closed to outsiders. No Christian was allowed to go near the ghetto, much less enter it. Whoever attempted to do so was shot. Inside the ghetto gates, signs said, “Exit forbidden on pain of death.” On the outside of the gates, signs read, “Entrance to Aryans forbidden. Beware of infectious diseases,” a notice certain to deter Poles from attempting assistance to those interned even before “diseases” became an issue. So in spite of needing their help, we beseeched our neighbors not to risk their lives anymore. They didn’t return. I don’t know what became of the Saworskis. I tried to write to them after the war, but the letters came back.

  Now, as an adult, I can fully appreciate what our neighbors did for us. Never, as long as I live, can I forget their extraordinary kindness. Oftentimes, the atrocious acts of the Nazis and their collaborators are all we seem to remember. But it is important to know that there were Poles, like the Saworskis, who tried to help. There were certainly many traitorous Poles, but there were also a considerable number who died trying to hide Jews or help them escape. Their stories need to be told as well.

  “Voluntary” Labor

  An order was passed that the Jews in the ghetto had to do forced labor “voluntarily.” The SS charged the Jewish police with the task of making sure that laborers “volunteered.” Judenrat orders were to provide anywhere from 500 to 1,500 laborers per day. At first, the men willingly worked just to get out of the ghetto and hope to get a chance to barter for victuals and other necessities at some point. However, the oppressors so physically abused laborers, some never making it back home at all, that the numbers dwindled. Later, women, too, were required for housecleaning duties.

  As the women were more afraid than the men, none enlisted for the voluntary service. Therefore, the Jewish police went about searching the ghetto, going from house to house, in order to catch women for work.

  One morning, when I tried to get some bread with our ration card, the Jewish police caught me and took me to the Germans for housecleaning service. I trembled terribly and was so awkward that everything slipped from my hands. The police, going to and fro around me, frightened me, and they fed off my fear. Furiously, one of them boxed my ears so strongly that my right eardrum was permanently damaged.

  I managed to stay and finish my cleaning, despite the injury. The police went away, leaving only one behind to watch us. After we cleaned the assigned German barracks, we were allowed to return home.

  As we workers left the barracks, I noticed a heap of coals in the yard. I asked the policeman whether I could take some of it with me, and he gave me permission. Hurriedly, I took some burlap sacking and filled it full of the precious fuel. It was heavy, too heavy for a child like me, but I managed to take it as far as the gate.

  I don’t know why Mom was at the gate. She had probably spent several hours in anguish due to my long absence. In any event, she stood at the gate of the ghetto. When she saw me carrying the heavy bag, she asked the nearby policeman to help me take it home. Surprisingly, he agreed. Not all Jewish police were bad; this was one of the good ones.

  Later that night, I became seriously ill, my ear inflamed and extremely painful. Mom found a ghetto doctor, but there was no medicine to help.

  The Radom Ghetto at Walowa

  Photo reprint permission from the US

  Holocaust Memorial Museum,

  courtesy of Muzeum Okregowe w Radomiu

  Smuggling Exploits

  Hunger became rampant in the ghetto. Our ration of bread was 100 grams (3.5 oz.) per day. Jews received half the rations of ethnic Poles. How could I provide food beyond Mom’s monthly rations and whatever we could afford to buy on the black market? I resorted to my old tactic of dressing as a Polish peasant woman, this time to smuggle food into the ghetto, a crime that could end in my death if caught.

  One side of the ghetto was walled up by boards. Secretly, I dug a hole under them and slipped out in the small hours of the night, loaded with old clothes and disguised as a Polish girl. I exchanged clothing for food. We were never allowed to leave the ghetto without wearing the armband bearing the Star of David. Naturally, when smuggling and in disguise, I hid the armband on my person.

  Once when I returned with two baskets full of eggs and butter, a Jewish policeman stopped me, not because he thought I was Jewish but because I was carrying food that had to be rationed. He took me to the German police station. There, guards thoroughly examined me and discovered my armband. They saw that I was Jewish. Without any hearing, they took me to a jail where I was to be shot along with other Jewish prisoners at 1:00 am. However, it seems that some guardian angel was watching over me.

  Sitting there and listening to the prayers of the doomed people was almost surreal. I didn’t even fathom that my death was near. At 11:00, I decided to ask permission to go to the toilet, an outhouse separated from the cells. Knocking desperately at the door, I begged the guard to please let me go to the toilet. He let me out. Just at that moment, a sewage truck entered the gate of the prison. The guard began to talk to the driver. I saw the gate wide open. I instinctively began to run. I flew! I was out! I heard shots cracking behind me. I ran and ran, panting.

  Typhus Strikes

  At last, I was sobbing in my mother’s arms. The terror, the strain, the hurt ear—-all that combined was enough to make me seriously ill. But Fate wanted to test me even more. I came down with typhus, as did Binne and Jurek. It was no wonder in the overcrowded ghetto. In fact, I found out later that there had been an epidemic of typhus, as well as typhoid fever, in the ghettos. About 4,000 people were stricken.

  In the agony of my illness, I often had moments of consciousness. I saw my mother praying, with tears in her eyes. Typhus raged in my system. I wanted to run around, climb up the walls. They had to tie me to my bed. I really don’t know how my mom cured all three of us without any medicine or a doctor, perhaps simply through prayer. I realize now how much our mother must have loved us. I was the first to recover.

  I remember that during a few clear intervals of my fever, Mother and Dad had promised to give us all the
most beautiful boots if we tried hard enough to get well. Maybe that’s what motivated me, the promise of new boots. My parents kept their promise. I received beautiful, warm, custom-fit leather boots. I treasured this special gift. A Nazi collaborator would later strip them from me.

  Unceasing Troubles

  One day, the Germans captured Jurek for forced labor and sent him to Blizinki where he stayed for two months. We had no idea where he was taken or what his fate would be. We feared we would never see him again. Jurek’s disappearance affected my father so horribly that he got a migraine headache and could hardly see for his pain. Was it because he loved my brother so much or because he was the eldest of the family? I didn’t know, and I don’t know even today. I only know that, after my brother’s departure, my father was a heartbroken man and was never quite the same.

  On top of all this woe, a cousin of mine came, telling us that her father had fallen ill. It lasted three days, and then he died. In spite of our misery, our lack of food and room, my mother invited my cousin and her brother to come and live with us. My cousin didn’t accept this generous offer and stayed in Glinice.

  I had become very anxious since my recent capture and illness and always hid in the early hours of the morning. These were the most treacherous hours when the Jewish police rounded up people for forced labor. Hiding did not always help. One unlucky day, they caught me again, together with seven other girls. The police took us to AVL, a German administration warehouse for supplying the German soldiers stationed in Radom.

  Radom family forced to move to the Glinice ghetto

  Photo reprint permission from the US

  Holocaust Memorial Museum,

  courtesy of Muzeu Okregowe w Radomiu

  Dear Rose,

  Thank you so much for taking the time to come and share your testimony with us. The struggles you were forced to go through helped me realize so many things.

  First, you are one of the strongest women I have ever had the pleasure to meet.

  Second, no matter how much I want it to be, this world is not perfect and is filled with many horrible people.

  Third, I need to tell my family I love them every day. When you gave that to us as a homework assignment, it really stuck with me that I never know when the last time I will see my family again might be, and I can’t take my time with them for granted.

  Fourth, even though you wanted so badly to give up, God was watching over you. He knew there was more in life for you to do, and He made sure you stayed alive. That put a reassurance in my mind that God is so faithful, and He knows the plan He wrote for you and me. There is a reason, even though this horrific event seems to have no reason other than pure hatred. We just have to trust in Him and understand that He has a plan for us.

  And finally, no matter what troubles I may be going through, I need to understand that there are so many other people that have worse hardships than I do. The power of prayer goes a long way, and I need to pray for those people constantly.

  Without you sharing your story, most of these realizations probably would not have occurred to me. Thank you again for giving your time, and I pray to God that you are at peace and, if you still have any burdens, that they will be lifted off your shoulders.

  You are such an inspiration of strength, and it was an honor to be in your presence. God bless you.

  Sincerely,

  Natatalie Fish

  Dear Rose,

  Your story was truly heartfelt, inspirational, and tear-jerking. You’ve been through so much, and through all of it you have had strength, courage, and hope from such a young age. No matter what you saw or went through, you were able to maintain everything that makes you, well, you.

  I can’t imagine what It would be like to have had everything I’ve ever known changed and ripped away from me at such a young age. You truly are a warrior and a survivor. Your courage to constantly fight through what you endured is so inspirational that everyone should look to your story whenever they are struggling.

  Courage and strength are two words that come to mind whenever I hear your name. We are blessed that you have had the courage and strength, not only to endure all that you have been through, but also to summon that strength to share your experience with such emotion. You journey back to enlighten and teach us. This is truly a gift to us. Thank you.

  With love,

  Ellie Buchanan

  Dear Mrs. Williams,

  I am an exchange student from Brazil, and when I came here I wasn’t expecting America to change me so much. In my country I would never have the opportunity to meet someone like you, and for that I am grateful.

  Your story really moved me. I could not stop tears from coming down my cheeks. You are an inspiration for me. Now the problems in my life seem very small and meaningless. Knowing you went through all of that and still manage to be bubbly and happy just gives me a reason to keep moving forward.

  Sincerely,

  Clara Gusmao

  Dear Rose,

  Your journey through The Holocaust sounded so painful and difficult. I can’t even imagine or even picture in my mind what horrible things went on in those camps. Hearing your talk just made me so appreciative of all the things I have in my life, especially family and friends. When you told us about your parents and what your father went through in the ghetto, it made me cry because I have such a love for my dad. I can’t imagine how you must have felt. I know you couldn’t do anything to help him. I think it is amazing that you got to be in the same camp with your sister, Binne. I bet that was something that kept that fire and drive to live.

  Even though this was the worst thing that could happen to mankind, I think God was watching over you, especially with what you said about asking Dr. Mengele if you could go to the left to die. Mengele spared your life. That was truly an act of God. He had a plan for you. I promise to share your experience with my friends and loved ones because they need to know what happened.

  Love,

  Katelyn Johnson

  Dear Mrs. Rose Williams,

  In my entire life, I’ve seen and heard and also witnessed many, many injustices. All of those stories have moved me and touched me from the soul. My heart broke every time I heard those stories about how life mistreats people and makes them suffer. But I have also had the chance to realize and appreciate what I have. My name is Khuyen Do. I’m from Vietnam, a country that still fills with the poor, the homeless people whom life has pushed into the darkest part of the society.

  Above all of that, the one story that hurt my soul the most is the Holocaust. Having the chance to learn about it deeper in Mrs. Philbrick’s class and to hear your story is really emotional to me. I’ve seen movies, read articles, and every time my heart sinks heavily and tears run out. But it was real when I heard your words. For you to talk about these horrible things that happened to you, I think it must be very difficult. You’re an extremely brave woman, and I’m so glad that I was honored to meet you.

  Thank you sincerely,

  Bella Do

  Dear Mrs. Williams,

  The Holocaust Memorial Museum is my first field trip in U.S. high school since I came here from Vietnam. It is also my unforgettable experience that I’ve ever had in my life. I studied and read about the Holocaust in the books, but, honestly, it is hard for me to understand everything. Thank you for giving me inspiration and helping me understand more about how Jews survived in that terrible time. Real story, real experience is always a good thing for everyone. I want to say thank you again for this valuable experience.

  Sincerely,

  Nhi Pham

  Chapter Four:

  Working at the AVL Factory

  The ghettos were a place of attrition and misery. Germans deliberately created conditions in which thousands would die. Starvation was cheaper than bullets. In addition to the destitute living conditions of the ghetto, terror ruled the st
reets. Jews suffered random as well as organized oppression. Not a day went by without witnessing public humiliation, such as chopping off half the beards of Orthodox Jews. Beatings and public hangings occurred just to set examples for the masses of what happens to those not compliant with German orders. Defiance was synonymous with sabotage and worthy of horrendous forms of public death.

  Premeditated raids also occurred. Of particular threat, as the Germans perceived it, was the intelligentsia, consisting of educated professionals such as doctors, lawyers, rabbis, and others. The intelligentsia not only challenged Nazi racial theories that claimed Jews were untermenschen (racial inferiors), but also were feared capable of organizing the masses to retaliate against the Germans. In June 1941, Hitler attacked the Soviet Union and conquered Eastern European countries. Millions more Jews came under Reich control, making tolerance for any infraction even less likely and German angst toward the intelligentsia more potent.

  On April 27, 1942, just weeks after the closing of the ghetto, Germans shot about 400 Jews in Radom, savagely brutalized Jews in Gestapo torture cellars, and/or sent them to Auschwitz. The German aktion (a political action) occurred primarily to eliminate the intelligentsia. It included many Jewish leaders, among them the head of the Judenrat, some Jewish police officers and about twenty Jewish policemen as well. When a name on their list couldn’t be found, Nazis substituted relatives, shopkeepers, butchers, and random people on the street. The catastrophic event was referred to forever after as “Bloody Wednesday.” 12

  Even in the midst of such constant upheaval, life in the ghetto went on. The Judenrat continued to oversee cultural efforts, such as schools, theater, religious services and other limited or forbidden activities to try to sustain some sense of normalcy in the Jews’ unpredictable world. One thing the Jews learned immediately: Those with labor cards had a better chance of survival than others. And so, even the day after traumatic events like Bloody Wednesday, the work went on.