In the Hell of Auschwitz; the Wartime Memoirs of Judith Sternberg Newman by Judith Sternberg Newman

Author:Judith Sternberg Newman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pickle Partners Publishing
Published: 2015-11-13T16:00:00+00:00

V

IT was evening when we passed through the town of Grimma. We marched past a row of houses. I was highly excited, and my heart beat rapidly, as if it wanted to tear itself out of my breast. I knew it was a game of life or death. My girl friend kept an eye on the guards, to make sure they were not looking at the crucial moment, and I kept my eyes open for a suitable hiding place. We agreed that, should we be discovered upon breaking away, we would give the excuse that we had only wanted to beg for some water. We were approaching the end of the town, when suddenly I called, “Erika, come fast!” We hurriedly entered the back doorway of a house. Then I felt a hand on my neck. I said quickly, “Erika, come on. We won’t find any water here,” and both of us ran back and rejoined our column. The hand had existed only in my imagination, but I was disappointed that our escape hadn’t worked out. Immediately, we started to plan another attempt.

We had marched a little farther when we noticed a tunnel entrance. Our column was proceeding to the right, the tunnel was to the left. I pressed Erika’s hand, and she understood what I meant. Carefully, we looked all about us this time, to make sure we were safe. Then we crossed the street fast and disappeared into the mouth of the tunnel. For a moment we paused while we took off our heavy clogs, lest the sound of them betray us as we ran. Then we started for the other end of the tunnel, to wait for the columns to pass. Suddenly we heard footsteps behind us. I scarcely dared look back, but then we both saw, to our immense relief, that it was a gypsy woman who had likewise escaped from the column.

Putting the tunnel behind us, we ran in the opposite direction, toward a little wooded area. Halfway there we met a man who looked at us very suspiciously, whereupon we promptly started to sing a Nazi song. But I am sure we didn’t fool him one bit, for our dirty and unkempt appearance obviously marked us as escaped prisoners. In any case, he didn’t ask us who we were and where we came from, but we knew that the Gestapo had more than enough spies to supply them with information.

In a ditch we found a piece of blanket, which we saved carefully. We continued to run uphill toward the little forest. My knee joints hurt me terribly, so that I was just barely able to climb the hill. I thought I could walk no farther. Yet I had to keep limping on, though in great pain. I was alternately laughing and crying, and Erika and the gypsy, who had joined us, dragged me up the hill. When we reached the top we sat down close together, to rest a little. I took a deep breath and kissed my faithful friend.

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