Eva's Story (6 page)

My immediate reaction was that I was imagining it; that I was not really hearing it. I could not believe that it was happening. I thought the Gestapo were somehow bluffing to make me more afraid and give myself away. I listened intently but I heard no other sounds. I began to feel sick with fear.

After a period of silence they called me in again. Once more I stood alone before the Gestapo. This time the senior officer looked at me scathingly and said. ‘We intend to torture your brother to death unless you cooperate with us.'

I was horrified. I stared at them dumbly not knowing what I was supposed to say.

‘We will show you what we will do to him,' he continued and nodded to someone behind me.

I was rooted to the spot in terror as the first truncheon blow landed across my shoulders. I suddenly realized that this was all really happening to me, that it was not a nightmare, that it was all true. The impact of the blows shot through me as they struck across my back and shoulders. They were quite relentless. I tried to fend them off with my arms but I could not get out of their way. I knew they wanted me to scream so that they could threaten my father and make him talk. I tried so hard not to but eventually I began to cry out. I could hear screams coming from inside me that I could not control.

As soon as they felt they had got enough noise out of me they stopped. I was pushed roughly into another room with other men and women who had been similarly treated. Some had bruises on their faces, one or two had blood on their clothes. All were distressed and subdued.

Throughout that whole day, my fifteenth birthday, I was kept prisoner in a room without food or water, having to listen through the walls to people being interrogated, bullied and beaten. It lasted until evening.

At long last I was taken out and marched down a corridor to another room. As the door opened I saw my parents standing there together looking towards me. Heinz was with them and the Reitsmas too. No one else was in the room. We fell into each others' arms, all crying and sobbing together as the door closed behind us and we were left to ourselves. Pappy told us that when we had visited him and Heinz on the Sunday afternoon in their new refuge, the nurse and their seemingly kind hosts had been informers working on both sides. They must have arranged to have us followed to discover where we were hiding and, having betrayed us, had probably received a substantial financial reward.

When we had calmed down a little Pappy said, ‘Mutti has made a deal with the Gestapo. She is going to give them our box of talcum powder and they will let the Reitsmas go free.' He looked drained, but he had not broken down and he was still calm and dignified.

‘Why can't they let us all go free?' I asked pressing my face against his chest as he comforted me.

He looked down at me and shook his head. ‘I suppose that is because they think we are the enemy,' he said wryly.

At that moment one of the Gestapo officers who had interrogated me entered the room to take Mutti and the Reitsmas away. Mutti told us later that they were driven home and she had led the Gestapo officer up to the bathroom and showed him the large box of talcum powder that stood on the shelf. He undid the bottom of the container and out fell both the powder and all the jewellery that Mutti had hidden there – a platinum watch, diamond rings, gold and silver bracelets and brooches. It was quite a haul and he seemed satisfied.

Eventually the Gestapo brought Mutti back to the room where Pappy, Heinz and I had been waiting with our arms around each other. They told us that the Reitsmas would be allowed to go free but that we were now going to be transferred to the local Dutch prison.

The Germans need not have kept their word over the deal they made with my parents but they did. The Reitsmas were left alone after that and with the help of our secret hoard of food all three of them managed to survive the war. In some respects, amazing though it seems, the Germans behaved honourably.

The black prison van jolted us towards the local gaol. We sat in the back with several other families, staring impassively at one another: all of us in deep shock. Dutch prison officers bundled us out of the back and separated the men from the women. I clung to Mutti. She had her eyes on Pappy who mouthed, ‘Chin up!' to us as we were marched away from each other.

This was the very worst thing that had ever happened to me. I could not see why I should be put into prison or why, at the age of fifteen, I was such an undesirable person because I was Jewish. It was all a senseless persecution and I felt very bitter. I wished I knew why this was all happening to us.

When you become caught in such a trap and are powerless to do anything about it you begin to feel quite empty inside. My normal instincts would have been to involve myself with the people around me and talk to them but any one of them now could have been the enemy spying us out. There was no one I would trust from now on, except Mutti. Thus began the detachment that was part of the de-humanizing process of the concentration camps.

Mutti and I were ordered into a large dormitory where there were rows of bunk-beds, three beds high. About forty other women were already confined in there with only the most primitive toilet facilities in one corner. It was the first time I had ever had to share my nights with so many people. I climbed on to a top bunk and lay on top of a grey blanket, my head on a small pillow, staring up at the ceiling. My body ached from the beating I had received. I leaned over to Mutti on the bunk below – I did not want to face the night alone. She nodded as she saw my tousled hair and bruised face looking down at her and I tipped myself over the side and lay on her bunk next to her. I couldn't sleep at all.

Throughout the night new captives were being brought in. There were women with babies who sensed the distress and screamed with fear whilst mothers had to cope with their infants without any facilities. There was a chronic asthmatic who suffered several attacks during the night and whose breathing was so ragged that people were screaming out for a doctor and nurses. The Dutch guards eventually sent in a doctor to look at her.

Mutti lay silently and eventually I managed to shut out all the noises and goings-on and slip into a spell of unconsciousness with her arms around me.

The following morning we were given some food. It was the first morsel of bread or liquid that I had tasted since my interrupted birthday breakfast. I suddenly became quite ravenous and Mutti handed me some of her bread after I had finished mine. Whilst we were sitting on our bunks eating, everyone told each other their stories and how they had been caught... and we all tried to guess what our fate was likely to be.

Everybody was quite desperate, but on the bunk next to ours was a young woman in her early twenties who seemed to radiate courage. When morning came she went around the room, helping the mothers with their babies, comforting crying women and encouraging everyone to keep up their spirits.

Food was brought in again at midday and she sat next to me on my bunk whilst we ate. She said her name was Francesca (Franzi) and that she had been born in Amsterdam although her parents came from Russia. She had expected to enter university the year the Nazis arrived. Despite the fact that her mother had been caught early – together with her older brother and his wife – Franzi and her younger sister, Irene, had managed to go into hiding.

They had taken with them her brother's baby girl, Rusha. Because of the baby, they had had to change hiding places many times with the help of the Dutch underground, but recently Irene and Rusha had been placed on a farm far out in the countryside to live as children of the farmer and his wife. Franzi had been praying that they were still undetected. In the end her own fate had been the same as ours; she too had been betrayed for money.

‘At least we are in a proper Dutch prison,' she said. ‘The Dutch are humane and we are relatively safe here.'

By the end of our second day the prison was completely overflowing and we guessed that we would soon be sent to a Dutch holding camp for detainees away in the country at Westerbork.

‘Would it be better to be out there?' I asked, beginning to face the reality that we were captives of our deadly enemy.

Franzi nodded, she had heard of the camp. ‘It would certainly be less cramped than in here.' She looked around at the bunk beds with several women and children sharing. ‘So long as we're detained in Holland our lives should be safe. They'll let families stay together.' She had complete confidence in the Dutch.

Mutti sat silently with her own thoughts and suddenly suggested that she write a quick note to the Reitsmas to bring us some clothing. She went over to the prison guard and negotiated to get a letter sent out. Sure enough that evening a small suitcase containing some underwear, jumpers, skirts and Mutti's coat was delivered to us in prison.

13 May 1944

On Thursday morning we were all called out by name, lined up and marched to the station under the heavy guard of the Gestapo.

We boarded a normal train with seats and carriages and as I climbed up I caught a glimpse of Pappy and Heinz on the platform.

A whistle blew and the train rolled away from Amsterdam, picking up speed and rushing through the spring countryside where fruit trees were in full bloom. I could see cows and sheep grazing, farmers working in their fields and I longed to be outside and free.

Inside the carriage we discussed our prospects. We were all afraid that we would be sent on to a concentration camp in the East. Perhaps even Auschwitz. Our only hope was that the war would finish soon and that we could remain in Westerbork till then.

When we eventually arrived, Franzi was proved right. The accommodation there was fairly reasonable. We had clean bunk beds, good toilet facilities and, even better, we were allowed to move around freely to talk to each other and mix with the men during the day. Pappy and Heinz soon found us and stayed close.

We ate in a large dining area together and were given stamp-pot – mashed potatoes and carrots with gravy poured over them – which tasted good. At the tables everyone had stories to tell.

The detainees at Westerbork were mostly Jews and a few Christians who had sheltered Jews. There was also a group of gypsies who, to the Nazis, were just as loathsome as the Jews. As new arrivals our group contained the most vulnerable of the detainees. Although the Dutch were the senior administrators under the supervision of Germans, most of the internal running of the camp was performed efficiently by Jews, some of whom Pappy knew personally.

Mutti and he considered our position. ‘If I can, I will make contact with people here I knew before the war.' Pappy said, ‘Some of them are in influential positions. If they can get us suitable work we could try to manoeuvre ourselves into protected positions. That way we might avoid being shipped out.' He believed this was our only chance.

He did his best. Some friends recognized him and vowed to do all in their power to help us. We knew the most important thing was for us to remain in Holland as long as possible.

One of Pappy's friends, George Hirsch, worked in the main office. He promised to try to put us on a work schedule. He was a sincere and kind man. He shared his shirts with Pappy and Heinz because neither of them had a change of clothing.

To our dismay, we began to hear rumours that a large transport of gypsies was to be taken to Auschwitz on the following Sunday and as there were still a few cattle trucks to be filled, Jews would be loaded to make up the cargo. Since we were amongst the newest arrivals Mr Hirsch had not had a chance to secure work for us. We felt we were bound to be among the unlucky ones.

We then realized that this was the step into the abyss. Auschwitz was in Poland, far away in enemy territory. We had heard on the BBC that it was known as an extermination camp.

We tried to keep each others' spirits up. Surely as long as we were fit and able to work they would not kill us?

There was little Pappy could do now except give us lectures on survival. He emphasized that caring and fellowship were important, that we would have to help each other to survive. He talked about our need for cleanliness and hygiene. He kept reminding me not to sit on a toilet seat and to wash my hands afterwards. Little did he realize that none of us would have any control over such refinements as these.

May 1944

At dawn on Sunday morning, while we were still in our dormitory, a female prison guard appeared and read out a list of names for immediate deportation.

‘…Fritzi Geiringer, Eva Geiringer…Our hearts sank as we heard our names called out. Franzi was also included.

Nervous and upset, we made arrangements to leave. Those remaining were extremely relieved that they had been able to prolong their stay in Holland but they did as much as they could to supply us with extra food, clothing, blankets, suitcases, even shoes — anything that might aid our survival on the journey and after. Exactly four days after we had visited Pappy and Heinz in their ‘safe' house we were being deported. We assumed we were on our way to Auschwitz but in reality we had no idea.

Hundreds of us walked towards the railway sidings. As we made our way to the cattle trucks, carrying our cases and jostling against each other, Pappy and Heinz suddenly appeared close beside me. When I looked around for Franzi she had disappeared in the crowd.

As we drew nearer to the train we could see the front part already filled with gypsies — unkempt-looking men and women carrying babies and toddlers, with older children hanging on to their mothers' skirts. Pappy, Mutti, Heinz and I clung together, too, so that we would not be separated. We pulled and pushed each other onto the boards of the truck with little dignity and handed up our cases and blankets. The wagon was so tightly packed that we could not sit down and we huddled against each other in a corner. Pappy's arms were tight around me, and Mutti held Heinz. The only comfort was that we were still together.