Determined: A Memoir by B. Cicero Lisa & Baranek Martin

Author:B. Cicero, Lisa & Baranek , Martin [B. Cicero, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Outskirts Press, Inc.
Published: 2018-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

Yad Vashem photo archive, Jerusalem, 20B03

“Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky.”

— Elie Wiesel

THE DEATH MARCH

THE DEATH MARCH , euphemistically referred to as an “evacuation” by the Nazis, began on January 18, 1945. It would prove to be the beginning of yet the cruelest part of my war experiences. It never occurred to me to hide out in Auschwitz-Birkenau as some prisoners did. I was swept up in the mass of humanity following orders by the Germans to march.

The death march actually comprised a series of marches toward the end of World War II, from fall 1944 until April 1945. As the Russians advanced on the Eastern Front, thousands of prisoners from Nazi concentration camps outside Germany were forced to march long distances, with little or no food or water, into Germany proper and not just German territory. Thousands died of exposure, exhaustion, and dehydration. Those too weak to walk any further were executed, shot on site, their corpses littering the roadside. I was only one of 60,000 prisoners on the death march that began on January 18, 1945, from Auschwitz-Birkenau to destinations unknown to us. The intended destination, I later learned, may have been Wodzislaw (“Loslau” in German), thirty-five miles away, where prisoners were to be put on trains and sent to other camps. I was weak and disoriented and operating on little information from the outside world, a world to which I no longer belonged, and to which I had not belonged for years. I had forgotten what it was like to live a normal life. My reality had become so abnormal that I no longer knew what normal was.

It is estimated that 15,000 prisoners, out of 60,000 who left from Auschwitz-Birkenau on foot at the end of January, died along the way. Of the estimated 750,000 prisoners sent on death marches in the final weeks of the war, from numerous camps, the Germans murdered some 250,000 to 375,000. Many more died of exhaustion, starvation, and thirst. Still more simply froze to death. Thousands of bodies were heaped upon the sides of the roads as we marchers dragged ourselves on, trying to avoid that same fate.

Doors of the barracks burst open and a pile of shoes were hastily thrown into the barrack for the prisoners. I found what I thought would be a good pair, but the shoes rubbed against my thin feet. Prisoners were lined up outside, five in a row, arms linked. The Germans gave us things to carry. Of course, we also carried our menashkas and spoons. The orders were simple: “March.” Kiva and I stayed close together. It was easy to get lost among the throngs of prisoners pushing and shoving. I remained in that oppressively dark tunnel, not knowing whether any light of freedom would appear soon, but I was hopeful that leaving Auschwitz-Birkenau would portend good things to come. It was the first time I had been outside the gates of Birkenau in six months.

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