Thanks to My Mother by Rabinovici Schoschana

Author:Rabinovici, Schoschana [Rabinovici, Schoschana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2000-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

PRISONER NUMBER 5083: SUSIE WEKSLER

TIME PASSED. In the battery factory where I was working, the atmosphere had changed greatly. The mood was quiet and sad. Most of the women working there were Jewish women from Germany; we called them “the Deutsch-ers.” In the past years they had gone through a lot, and here in Kaiserwald they were managing pretty well. They held a high position within the camp. To begin with, they spoke German and found it easy to communicate with the guards. Secondly, among the guard detail or the political prisoners, they sometimes met someone from their hometown; someone who had perhaps lived on the same street, and with whom they were linked to a common past, common memories. And thirdly, most of them still had husbands, brothers, or sons on the other side of the fence, in the Jewish men’s camp.

That was also the reason why some of them preferred to work in the factory, even though it was hard and dirty work and there was no possibility of “organizing” additional food there. But when they went through the narrow passage between the fences of the two men’s camps, they could see their men and hear their voices.

The last “action” had struck the men’s camp severely. Over half of the prisoners had been taken away, and many of our women had lost their loved ones.

Up to then we had hoped an “action” served only to transfer prisoners from one camp to another, but now we learned that—at least in the last one—the people had been sent to their death. Until now we had thought that the railway cars running past to the forest on the narrow tracks next to the women’s camp were used only for transporting work materials or foodstuffs to the camp, or bringing batteries to the factory. But now we heard there were also railway cars that took people to their death.

We had known for a long time that there were groups of partisans in the forests. From time to time we heard gunshots and saw movement among the trees. Now the partisans had succeeded in penetrating up to the battery factory. One day I was called outside. Mrs. Maier, our supervisor, said I should help carry the newly arrived batteries. I was surprised. Until then I had never had to do this heavy labor. But while I was working, a woman asked me in German, “Susie, do you know Russian?”

“Yes, I understand it pretty well, but I can hardly speak it.”

“Behind the last pile of batteries is someone. He maintains he’s a partisan; he has a weapon. You needn’t fear him; he’s come because he wants to tell us something. It seems to be important, and we don’t understand him. Go to him. Mrs. Maier will keep watch. In case of danger, we’ll give you a signal.”

I was very afraid, but I had no time to reflect. I took a few batteries and went to the place they had told me about.

The man sitting behind the heap of batteries was dressed like a hunter and held a gun.

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