Letters to Rose Read online

  Radom Intelligentsia publicly humiliated by Germans—hair and beards unevenly shaved; drummer beats on a man’s bucketed head

  Photo courtesy of the Ghetto Fighters’ House Museum, Israel

  • • •

  AVL Employment

  On the first day at the AVL warehouse facility, we had to unload cases of soap. I was the youngest among the eight girls captured but old enough to understand that work was the best chance of my staying alive. I knew that I had to appear to be the strongest and most efficient among us. My diligence caught the attention of the officer in command, and he summoned me to him one day.

  “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” He asked, wanting to know if I could speak German.

  “Nien,” I replied. I’ve often wondered if I might have been placed in a better job had I said yes.

  He only ended up needing three workers; fortunately, I was chosen. The work I’d imagined turned out to be only half as bad as I had anticipated. I got a job that was somewhat like office work. I handed out goods to the soldiers who brought ration cards to acquire soap, brushes, mops, and such. They brought in their orders; I gave the articles and made them sign for the goods received. Then I entered into the books what I had distributed, no mistakes allowed. It was strenuous work, but the officer treated me tolerably well. I even got a pass as “sole worker,” which meant that I could go to and from work and the ghetto without a police escort. The pass came in handy later when I worked outside the ghetto but returned with Binne to visit my parents and Motek.

  Despite my work load, I always found time to read. I met a woman who had run a circulating library before the German invasion. For a small payment, she continually provided me with books to read in the ghetto, hidden treasures that would likely be confiscated if discovered. My formal education came to an end with the 5th grade, but my love for reading, for learning in general, only grew stronger. Reading time was precious in the ghetto. Not only did I continue my education, however self-taught, but also I escaped the relentless brutality all around me, even if only for a few moments.

  Always trying to add to the family provisions, I often asked officers at AVL if I could be permitted to take back a bar of soap or emptied wooden crates that supplies arrived in. Soap requests were always met with refusal, but I did get permission to break up the wooden crates for fuel and took prodigious advantage of it.

  Changes began taking place at AVL. Transports brought more goods (blankets, kitchenware, furniture, and victuals) into AVL to be unloaded and distributed. The work got harder and more workers were needed. One day, going for some cases of soap, I ran across my sister Binne, age twelve, carrying heavy wooden bunkbed frames.

  “Binne! What are you doing here?”

  “I got captured and brought here,” she despondently replied.

  I went to command and told them my little sister had been brought to work and asked if they would please consider giving her easier assignments. They promised to do so. Being together meant that Binne could now help me take more wooden crates home. The boards were good for fuel in our little stove. Sometimes, when it was bitter cold, guards allowed us to take a few pieces of coal to help warm our rooms. I took enormous license with that permission, hauling much more than allowed when I could. I hid my booty outside the warehouse in the grass, returning after closing time with Binne to load it on a sleigh and take it back to the ghetto.

  We had to be so careful, especially at night. Most of the German aktions, like roundups, raids, mass shootings, happened at night. One of the most unforgettable nights of my life occurred after coming home from a day at AVL. In the middle of the night, a segment of our ghetto was surrounded by the SS, Gestapo, and the detestable Ukrainians, who had no compunction about murdering Poles or Jews. This was the night of August 4-5, 1942, a date forever etched in my memory.

  Dear Mrs. Williams,

  I don’t know how to sufficiently thank you for taking the time to come and speak to us and share your story. I think it is incredible that you have the strength to tell a group of complete strangers what happened to you and your family.

  Your presentation has changed my perspective on the way I live my life. You have taught me not to take the blessings in my life for granted. You made me want to work harder, to be a better person, and to create a stronger bond with my family, because you are right. We never know what will happen tomorrow.

  You are easily one of the strongest people I’ve had the pleasure to meet. The fact that you endured the atrocities you did when you were my age is absolutely mind-boggling, to me. You have a sort of radiance to you that only genuinely special people have. I hope to grow to be a woman at least half as incredible as you. Thank you, Mrs. Williams. You are truly an inspiration to everyone who is fortunate enough to meet you.

  Sincerely,

  Rachel Delgado

  Dear Mrs. Williams,

  I was touched by the compelling story you shared with us today. Meeting you was an absolute honor. But two weeks prior to your visit, I was so nervous about meeting you. Meeting such a powerful person is a very big deal to me. No, you are not the President of the United States, or a big American celebrity, but honestly… you are so much more than that.

  You are a Holocaust survivor, someone who has been through the worst of it all. So to go up there on that stage and to share your story was a big deal; and, yes, it was an amazing speech. The firsthand horrors you experienced during this genocide tell us, the next generation, how very terrible some people can be. It is important for us to know.

  I feel truly blessed and will always remember meeting you and, yes, having a photo taken with you! Thank you so much for sharing your incredible story of survival. May you live a wonderful life.

  Sincerely,

  Angelina Mendez

  Dear Rose,

  Thank you so much for telling us your story. It was very impactful that you would spend time describing something so hard to revisit. I remember when you lifted your arm revealing the tattoo –

  A-15049, it made everything much more realistic. It made us all realize that this event in history really did happen. When we were told that we are among the last generation to hear personally from a survivor, that realization had a profound impact on me. This was truly something special that I will not forget. I will tell my children and my grandchildren about the time I met you and your story of survival during The Holocaust. Meeting you was one of my most memorable high school experiences. I thank you for speaking with us and describing your first-hand account of your life.

  Respectfully,

  Grayson Schwarz

  Dear Mrs. Rose,

  I am one of the four students in uniform, the only girl actually, who had the opportunity to escort you and was allowed the privilege to present you with flowers. It was a tremendous honor that will stay with me forever.

  You are a remarkable lady! It’s admirable that you have been through so much and stayed so strong! I know that few young adults in today’s society would be able to comprehend or even come close to the strength you possess. What you experienced should never have happened, but it did, and it made you a voice for those who can no longer speak. One thing you said that I found astounding was that you forgave the Germans for the pain they caused. I’m not sure I would do the same. It speaks to the person you are. You and your story have given me reason to have faith and hope for the future. Thank you.

  With love,

  LCpl Angelina Perez

  United States Marine Corps

  Chapter Five:

  Unfathomable

  Loss

  At 11:00 pm on the night of August 4, 1942, all one hundred Jewish police from Walowa Ghetto reported to the Old City Square. There, Gestapo and SS leaders briefed them. Orders were to resettle Glinice Jews to labor camps in the East. The SS saddled the Jewish police with the responsibility for seeing that Jews obeyed all orders and for maintai
ning discipline.

  In actuality, this mission was the first stage of Operation Reinhardt (code name for the extinction of Polish Jewry) in the Radom district. Led by the SS, Jewish police forces marched into the Glinice district to join their forty police brothers assigned there. When they arrived, the streets were already a scene of mass chaos.

  The Germans, accompanied by murderous and drunken Ukrainian soldiers, had set up bright spotlights throughout the ghetto. The aktion started at midnight, August 5. Loudspeakers, attached to trucks traversing ghetto streets, boomed with orders: “All Jews must come out in groups of three. Those with labor cards are to report to Kosna St. within half an hour. All others must report to Graniczna St. with only essential personal belongings and food. Whoever found hiding will be shot.”13

  Waffen SS, wearing their intimidating black uniforms, skull and crossbones insignia, and lightning images on their steel helmets, searched homes, shouting orders to get out. They shot outright the aged, infirm, and small children clinging to reluctant mothers.

  People stampeded like cattle through the streets, urged on by cracking bullets behind them and rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns in the air. Police and Ukrainians clubbed them with truncheons as they ran, often falling on the cobblestones in pools of blood. Others trampled fallen bodies in their own panicked flight. Hundreds died that night in the streets. Reportedly, gunshots, bloody screams and mass hysteria could be heard for miles around.

  About 2:00 am, the SS began their selections among labor card holders gathered on Kosna St. No selection process was necessary for those directed to Graniczna St; they were already destined for “resettlement.” The SS sent the majority of those with work permits to join the doomed headed for Graniczna St, located near the railroad tracks.

  Freight cars used to transport cattle were crammed with a hundred or more people who were told to stack their belongings neatly next to the track before boarding. The cattle cars had only small vents for air. Some tried to run or hide beneath the cars; they were all shot.14

  Fewer than 2,000 Jews from Glinice passed the night’s selection and transferred to the Walowa ghetto. A hundred male Jews were forced to return later that morning to clean up the night’s onslaught and dig ditches for the mass burial of those murdered.15

  Though word spread quickly through Walowa about events occurring a couple of miles away, residents must have thought themselves spared, at least for that one night. How wrong they were! Before the last train of deportees left Glinice, SS officers decided they could cram another 2,000 into the cars. A second roundup took place in Walowa.

  By 5:00 am, Germans blocked off certain Walowa streets, and the same scenes of shouted orders, gunfire, chaos, and blood-lust were reenacted there. The sadistic actions of the German forces and the drunken Ukrainians began to escalate, almost as if they were performing in some competitive game. They shot people simply for target practice. One SS captain demonstrated how not to waste bullets on babies and small children: Simply grab them and bash their heads against the stone buildings or the streets.16

  All told, about 10,000-12,000, a third of the Jews in Radom, were deported that night. Later, residents learned that there was no labor camp in the East for “resettlement.” The trains went to Treblinka, a brand new extermination camp. No one in Radom knew what would happen that night, and few believed such atrocities could occur in civilized Europe, even when warned by the few who escaped.

  • • •

  The Raid

  While working at AVL that early August morning, we heard the rumor that the smaller ghetto, Glinice, located on the other side of town, was to be evacuated and its inhabitants sent to their deaths, likely sparing only the young people who could work. None of us knew with any certainty what might occur, but the work day was filled with tension and a sense of foreboding.

  Frantic, Binne and I reached our home and told our parents what we had heard. However, they already knew of the talk and gave me and my sister some money in the event we should be separated. Even now, thinking back on that terrible night, my whole body is trembling, reliving all the fright and dismay.

  Despite the summer month, I remember that night as being dark and even cold. Hours before the sun rose the next morning, a glaring light sprung up and changed the gloom into a smarting illumination. The Germans had turned on spotlights around our section of the ghetto. Everything was clearly visible so that nobody could hide. A deadly silence wrapped the whole place.

  In anticipation of something happening, my family had climbed on the roof of our building, shaking, awaiting our doom. Then we heard the shouts of the Jewish police and Germans: “Everybody has to come down and line up. Whoever tries to hide will be shot.”

  We were lying there motionless, but our fear got the best of us. We climbed down from the roof and went to the street, lining up like animals to be driven to the slaughterhouse.

  It was worse than a nightmare. We heard nothing but shooting, bullets hissing through the air, and the prayers of Jews calling G-d. Where was He? Had He forgotten His own people? Suddenly, the soldiers began to run through the lines of people, hitting us with the butts of their rifles wherever the blows fell, generally on our heads.

  Tragedy Strikes

  We were standing in rows of five, my grandmother next to me, holding my hand. Before I understood what was happening, Grandmother turned to the right, broke loose from me, and started to run. I ran after her and grabbed her, pulling her back into line.

  “Grandmother, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to go pick up those children,” she cried.

  Grandmother had looked to her right and saw that Germans were taking children from mothers’ arms and bashing their heads against the stones. Mothers who resisted were being shot in front of our eyes. Every maternal instinct within called to Grandmother to intervene.

  “No! You can’t! Don’t you know what’s going on?” I pleaded. One of the guards witnessed the exchange and came running.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

  “Nothing, Sir,” I responded. He knew I lied.

  His first move was to hit my head with the butt of his rifle so hard that I fell, bleeding profusely, my ears ringing. The next sound I heard was the discharge of his rifle. This animal had shot my grandmother. Dazed, I looked around, blood gushing from my head wound. There she was, lying on the ground in a pool of blood. All I could see was blood. I set my teeth firmly, just so that I wouldn’t cry out. That was the night that we lost our wonderful grandmother, an unfathomable loss.

  The rest of that night is impossible to express in words. We had to leave our grandmother’s body where it fell. We were pushed on and on. How many feet had involuntarily trampled on the old woman’s lifeless body? I shudder to think of it. I ran back and tried to grab her poor body in a blanket, but my parents, knowing well that if I picked up Grandmother’s body I would be shot, stopped me.

  Grandmother was not the only one we lost that night; an aunt, an uncle and two cousins were lost, not to mention those relatives who had lived in Glinice.

  Those who were allowed to remain were driven together into a yard. The others were evacuated, and the dead ones were carried away by the Jewish police. Everything was done at night. When the work day began, all had to be cleared away as if nothing had occurred. That night, the blood of thousands wrote letters of the cruel event in the Book of Destiny.

  Dear Mrs. Williams,

  Your story was quite moving for me. When you talked about the murder of your grandmother, I could sympathize. Yet, I cannot imagine the pain you must have felt. I love my grandmothers so very much. They are two of the most important women in my life. They´re two loving ladies who helped raise me, taught me a lot of things necessary for life, and were always there for me. I know from your story that your grandmother was very important to you and played an important role in your life as well. I
believe that family was different back then and had a deeper meaning. I am also very happy that I am very close to all of my family. I haven´t seen them for almost one year, so I had a sad moment whenever you told us to tell our family that we love them.

  As an exchange student from Germany, it was very interesting to learn about this period from an “outside view.” From my classes in Germany I knew a lot, which I was able to bring into my American classes. In Germany we read many books to learn about the war. We also ordered the newspaper and worked with different articles which had many different topics. For example, some wrote about the Konzentrationslager. We celebrated the 70th anniversary of the end of the war and the 25th anniversary of the wall coming down - die Mauerfall. But hearing your story was more eye-opening than any class I could ever take.

  I am very sorry that you had to experience such atrocities. For the future I wish you all the best and viel Gesundheit or “good health,“ as we say in Germany.

  Thank you once again.

  Leo Hühner

  Dear Mrs. Williams,

  Your speech was simply beautiful, yet heartbreaking. I won’t forget your words as you told us about your grandmother’s horrifying death. I burst into tears when you said you wanted to die because you were so very young. You felt so alone. It broke my heart. I’m so sorry. You were only twelve and knew the horrible evil in the world. For all you went through…all you faced…all you saw… I am so sorry. I cannot begin to fathom your pain.

  And yet, you pulled through, like an angel. You are so strong and brave. I will always remember that when someone asked, you said you could forgive, but you would not forget. Your kindness and compassion astonishes me, but gives me hope, because even in the darkest of times, you showed that we can find forgiveness.