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I ALONE SURVIVED

- a story of the Jewish Holocaust

(based on real accounts)

(This is an historical novel written by a teacher, when he was a Year 11 Student. It is printed here with permission).

Prologue and Chapter 1

Prologue

It has been five years since the war ended , but the horrific memory of my life as a Jew in occupied Poland will never end. Neither will the scar fused on my heart when my family was taken away from me, by death and by unaccountable suffering. I alone survived because I was strong ,in body, mind and will. It was a constant struggle; one in which death was faced head on.

Now in Australia , I live alone and I am still haunted by the ceaseless flow of blood I saw each day in the Warsaw ghetto, by the screams of young children, victims of a cruel and savage war. I have tried to forget, but I cannot. I have often wondered what it is about war and death of loved ones that prevents one existing in a normal way. Perhaps, the visual recesses of the mind are so vivid despite the passing of years , acting like a memory that remains regardless of your volition.

So, it is because I am made to endure and constantly relive the pain we all endured that I write and dedicate this story to the equally vivid and living memory of my father Tanthum Rosenberg, my mother Rosa and my little brother Miep.

Chapter 1

In 1939, my family and I were living in the city of Warsaw. My father was an established Lawyer and I was intent on following in my father’s footsteps, studying Law in my last year of school. My pious mother Rosa took care of my little brother Miep . None of us would ever have thought that in that same year our lives would be shattered.

On the first of September 1939, soon after I commented on the quiet and stillness of the town, the Germans attacked Poland and Warsaw became a major target of the Germans’ power. World War two had commenced. On the twenty-eighth , four weeks after it had all began, the guns fell silent. The city lay in the grips of chaos and anxious expectation, awaiting the arrival of the victorious Germans who would come to witness the fruits of their labour.

Out into the streets , countless numbers of people lay, their blood splattered across the ground, others awaiting treatment for their intolerable injuries. I grew accustomed to this sight later on but until then, at the age of seventeen, never had I seen so much grief, pain…despair. Never will I forget the face of my neighbour when she carried her son’s dead body back into the apartment, his chest torn to shreds by the German fire!

As tears rolled down my cheeks for the first time since I was a child, I returned to my home where my mother wept tears of relief over my younger brother who had been spared.

Soon, we were led out or our Jewish homes like cattle, as the Nazis , in their glorious armour entered the city and took control.

Clinging to my mother I listened as the Nazi leaders decided what was to be done with us , while some soldiers entered our homes and stole our possessions as they pleased. I and all the other Jewish youth were told that we were unable to attend school from then on. This came as severe blow to me; my whole future lay in my education. My father and other Jews in administrative positions, were deprived of continuing their profession. In less than a month, my family had turned from prosperous to poor, from respected to despised and from secure to insecure and frightened.

The Nazis began to treat us as slaves. All males from the age of twelve to sixty were administered for forced labour, except those who could be used for some other use. My father and I were included in this exemption. We had been chosen to refurbish the " Briihl Palace" where the Germans made their new home. I thanked God that I had learnt the carpenter trade from my father who would use his skills as a hobby. It was these skills which kept us from the labour camps, at least for a while.

Another result of the war was a mass shortage of food. We had to succumb to gathering in the streets to obtain our food ( little as it was ),and whilst there , I witnessed many Jews who were chosen by the German guards at random, kicked and laughed at mercilessly. Nobody dared to think what would become of us. I wish I had never had the opportunity to find out as I did.

Many events are called to mind as I write of this time period but their is one event that I remember as if it were yesterday.

Late in 1939 on our return home from working in the Briihl Palace, my father and I walked inside the apartment and heard the heavy sobbing of my mother. Rushing in , I saw my mother sitting on the kitchen chair ( the only one which hadn’t been stolen ) with her face in her hands. Looking at her head I could see she had hardly any hair left.

" Rosa", my father had shrieked, " what have they done to you?". My mother replied by bringing her arms around him, crying heavily. Now I could see her scarred and bruised face. She explained what had happened.

I just stared not being able to take it all in; not believing the sight before me. My own mother. Her hair had been viciously chopped off by a satanic German who passed my mother while she was on her way to the grocery. He had held her head down whilst he laughed at his little game.