War Torn Love (50 page)

             
None of the citizens ate well, unless you were part of the corrupt oligarchy – the Jews that watched over us soon became drunk with either power or
self-preservation
and chose to ignore the plight of their people, and instead took what they could. Our diet consisted about the equivalent of 700 calories a day, in the normal world that would be barely enough to keep a medium size dog alive.  People started dying at a horrifying pace – yet, more people flooded in, taking their place. We were all getting so thin, and sickly in appearance. It was like being trapped in a nightmare from which you could not wake up from.

             
My own family fared no better – we were showing ribs starting too protrude directly under our skin. Our clothing was ragged and steadily growing loose fitting, hanging on us rather than following to many curves of our body everything was several sizes too big now. None of us were recognizable, not compared to our pre-war condition. Instead, slowly we had been withering away. In the moderate stages of malnutrition, we didn’t know how to fight back, and didn’t have the strength to try.

             
It was as though the children of the Ghetto started-dying off one by one a side effect was, was I had started
losing some of my hair. I grew nervous every time I attempted to brush it out, fearing even more would follow. I loved my long hair. Then I usually start to blubber every time there was even more falling out in my hands.

             
What I experienced with my husband - let us just say this is true love - how I knew I had a good man. When it would seem I am at my lowest point, just when I reckon I could not handle any more, somehow my husband swept in, like my knight in shining armor. He picked me up, always knowing just when I needed him the most. He had proved I could always count on him. I was never able to conceal such feelings - not from him - he
knows
me so well, always somehow able to tell when I was down
. Abram seemed to instinctively
know
n’s
right time to console me. He
knew exactly
what to say that could laugh, or even cry, when I realize just how lucky I am.

             
It was hard to try to remain so upbeat and always optimistic around him or the others - it was quite draining on ones soul.  And it was harder witnessing everything happening around me, death and mistreatment was present all around, no matter where you  went, or looked in this malodorous place – you could not avoid it had gotten to the point of trying to turn a blind eye to it all - for my own sanity.  One day, I realized, I was not the woman I was – and it was not me I saw staring back in the mirror. I realized if I kept it up, I would then I was out to lose my humanity in the process – but if I did not, I might not survive. I learned it was a survival imperative – that I was protecting myself, to preserve what little I had, but I still
prayed every night to ask God to show me the way – to provided almighty
guidance
– to save us.

             
When away from the apartment they assigned us, walking to any destination in the cramped Ghetto, which had a very over-powering prison sort of feel about it was depressing. We all are forced to see dead bodies
laid out
, right where the people dropped dead - these poor souls looked so empty of hope, even in death, it would seem they did not finding peace. A body could be on the stairs, or sidewalk, in the street, or even the gutter. Not having a look of peace, but rather with horror written on their dead faces – I think that was one of the hardest things to take. After all, were we not to find salvation somewhere – perhaps in death? Could we not wish for peace even then?

The most common cause of death was starvation, or malnutrition, exposure to the elements, overworking or sickness.  I would not be to surprised that at least
some simply
gave up on life all together, having fallen too far too think that there was no chance of them being saved. Once your strength of mind is broken, some spiral completely out of control rather quickly, not able to adapt to such drastic transformation, when they have lost so much, so quickly. We were all made to think we had done something wrong our only-crime was being born.

             
There was always a powerful stench of the dead mixed in with human waste and trash. An odor of chaos, an odor, and the doldrums I could not possibly describe. However, there was one more drastic force at work here bringing the Ghetto death tolls up significantly, which were the soldiers who guarded us. Sometimes - in the middle of
the night - a small group of soldiers would randomly pick out a building were Jew’s were living - an apartment and bring out the entire family out onto the road, so all the residents within earshot could bear witness the family being shot firsthand - often as the poor souls  were ordered to run. As if any of them had any sort of chance.  Sometimes they did not bother even bringing the family members down to the street level - rather they would brutally throw them out viciously through the window, if the apartment was high enough. They liked doing this to make some sort of point. I tried to plug my ears, close my eyes to this. I just could not watch the cruelty. I will never forget the sounds. Those people running for their lives, the gun going off and then the fall of complete silence - that was the worst. Knowing silences meant a family much like mine was just snuffed out. I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming out, most of the time. We did not dare draw any attention to ourselves. Or the next family to be picked out to be murdered could be us. On some occasions after this
had happened
, the vehicle the Germans rolled in
on
ran right over the now dead bodies, as if they were no more than a speed bump.

             
One thing that really always seemed to tear me up on the
inside, and broke my heart was
having to observe the dead, or dying little children of the Ghetto, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do to help them. Sometime if I knew they were about to die, and their parents were not around any longer, I would pick the child up and hold them, so at the very least, they would not have to die all alone. That I just could not get my head around the inhumanity being
-
leveled on these so innocent children.
Just because they were kids, meant nothing to the Nazis. It happened to frequently here, it was commonplace. In order not to completely lose it
here,
myself I needed to
anethsatise myself
somewhat to these horrifying sights - pretending it was not really happening. There was of course a high price to be paid for this action.

             
I asked myself how the Nazis could possibly be permitted this to go on right in front of them -they seem to completely ignore the children’s death as if it never had happened. I think there was utter distain, and disregard for life, their inhumane practices which was their complete downfall into a total pit of despair, they too would be harshly punished for these actions. God would not stand for this to continue on forever, that much I was sure of - as sure as the air I breathe. I think people would eventually rise up against them, and be successful.

             
Everyday
people were coming up to me on the street. Tugging on my clothing, as if
I could
possibly help them. Desperation written all over their faces, willing to do anything to stay alive, willing to turn to an unfamiliar individual, not to proud to beg, asking for me to lend them a hand,  - because they knew not where else to turn.  They struggled to even gain the smallest of morsels of food, or perhaps medicine to try to save a dying family member. Some of these people’s mental
capacity was
too
far-gone
– one morning for example, I was approached by a young, thin, sickly looking woman holding preciously onto her young boy, asking for food for the two of them - problem was, from the look of it, it appeared the boy had been dead for
days;
the smell nearly blew me over. Even so, as much
as I would normally have assisted
those
people in need, I was in the same boat as them. If I did not find myself currently in such appalling conditions myself I certainly would not think twice about helping! It was normally my calling to help
-
out others when in need, but I could not possibly be of assistance to them - not if it meant sacrificing my own family’s survival. I was not willing to take that sort of chance.

             
My own family was drastically lacking the most basics - I do not have enough to feed the family each and every day. We were always hungry, even right after eating. Poppa wanted us to eat as slowly as we . Savoring every bite.

             
When I head off from the apartment, I always take a deep breath before
passing through
the threshold of the front door. Trying to mentally preparing myself for what is going to be certainly imminent. Trying always going out with someone else from the family, it cannot always be Abram escorting me, but at least when he is with me, I feel much safer with him as my escort.

             
With resp
ects to holding a mandatory job,
which is required in all adults and older children
?
-
Poppa, Marym, and I, and both
of Abram’s
parents all secured jobs sewing, we were being forced to create German soldiers uniforms, for the people we despise the most, and the ones that took everything away from us, so they could go out to do the very same thing to others. As our own private joke, to get back at them we did not double up on the stitching in the crotch region, hoping at some point, they would rip out, and hopefully at the worst of time.

             
My cousin Etka, stayed home, attending to all the children - this is permitted by the council and worked well for us. At least I knew my own daughter is in capable hands. She used to be a nanny so this worked out well. Together with my dear Abeila. Etka took on the weighty role of cooking and cleaning for the entire family, while the rest of the brood went out to our jobs - I wanted more than anything to be there for my baby, especially when she needed me the most, in her younger years.

             
Abram
and Berek
my
cousin’s
husband both had the dangerous job of working in the arms factory, producing bullets. My brother-in-law was fortunate of all of us, to be able to secure work for the Jewish community working in their office, a full-fledged paper pusher you might say - the Nazis expected good record keeping from us. The Rabbis selected him for his organizational skills -and the fact he’s college-trained. His job sometimes benefitted the family, when he was very occasionally capable to get his hands on extras, mainly clothing, and firewood, even more mattresses. We all knew it was wrong, but you have to comprehend we were starving, and anything extra we were able to get our hands on would help, we usually doled out to the children first and foremost. Being in this place was being placed in survival of the fittest.

             
Gitla assisted with the “Jewish housing authority.” Judka oh my, what could I possibly say, the poor boy he had it the worst of any of us as far as jobs goes. He was given the horrible
responsibility
of having to wheel a wooden cart around through the city streets, knocking on doors, to collecting the dead, and when the cart was full,
with
body’s
piles onto of one another, like they were nothing more than dead animals, he had to take them to the burial site. He and the other workers working with him then burying them in
a
unmarked graves, with nothing other than an assigned number. He tried to make the best of it, he silently said a prayer for them. He had to silently say the prayers, since there was a soldier right there watching, and they did not permit such things, in fact the bodies were not even given a coffin – they were just flung into the hole at least four or five bodies in one hole.