Heritage Paper

For the Children

As a teenager I often get extremely fed up with my parents and very irritated of them and all their questions. "Kera what did you learn today? Kera how was school? Kera who's your new boyfriend?" Gosh, the list goes on. As much as I get fed up with them though, I love them and am thankful they are here to support me, even if they are annoying. I used to get super irritated and tell myself 'I hate my parents', until one day my great grandma told me the story about how her mother died in World War II trying to reunite her family after being separated because of concentration camps. My great grandma told the story to me as she had told it to my grandmother and my mother:

It was nearing the end of World War II; I was only a 6-year-old girl. My family had stayed safe throughout most of the war and had successfully stayed undercover so no one would discover that we were Jews not in concentration camps. But the police were passing through our town and they were ransacking our city, tearing down houses, splitting up families, and ruining lives. All I can remember was watching my neighbor get shot in the face because she refused to go with the officers, she begged them not to kill her and her daughter, but they had no remorse. Why would they? They simply said something in German that I was unable to understand and shot her and her daughter. That moment still haunts me to this day. I hid with my mother father and three brothers, we tried to keep as quiet as possible, while hiding in the cellar of our old house-which from the outside looked abandoned. I sat on the cold hard ground, shaking, petrified, and dreading what would come out of this. THUMP!! That was all I heard, I was too scared to glance up, so I closed my eyes tightly and prayed to God to help me and my family out of this ordeal. As I slowly looked up I saw two soldiers with guns and they screamed at us to get up and get in the truck. My mother cried so hard, but my father stayed strong for me and my brothers. He reassured us everything would be okay and we just needed to keep our hopes high and follow what the soldiers told us, so we did.
There were two trains outside, rallying up all the Jews to bring them to the concentration camps. I was petrified. My younger brother, my mother, and I were put on the same train, the train for women and children; and my older brother and my father were sent to another train. All I remember is my mom grabbing my dads hand as they kissed goodbye, my dad promised her though, that it would not be the last. My mom was trying to hold it together for my brother and me, I knew she was, but she was aching inside and I could tell.
At the concentration camps the women and children were separated from the men. Men did all the dirty work while waiting to die, while women did some of the easier work such as digging holes and such. Men never saw women and women never saw men. We were there for about two hours before they had the first killings. They would tell the women and children to take showers and out would come acid, or trick them into ovens where they would be literally baked alive. A lot of the prisoners though were treated as guinea pigs and had experiments done on them, most of the experiments ended up killing them. If they hadn't been executed or poisoned with some experiment, than people died from unsanitary living conditions or starvation. I was petrified of dying and even more scared of never seeing my older brother and dad again. My little brother and I got separated from my mom. We prayed every night, but nothing seemed to get better.
At concentration camps they have several rooms that fit about 40 people each, they have guards outside the doors with guns, just incase anyone tries to escape. Sometimes though, a guard would be protecting a door and fall asleep or not be paying attention at all. I remember one night, my brother and I couldn't sleep...we never could. It was unbearable being there. But the door slowly creaked open..It was Mother! We were so happy, my little brother almost let out a huge scream, but I stopped him, knowing that we would get in big trouble if anyone knew. Mother grabbed us and we slowly crept out. It was so good to be reunited with mom, but we didn't have time for small talk. Mother told us that she had devised a plan to see dad and my older brother. While cleaning the administrative office as part of her job she checked in the files and figured out which cabin they were in. Mother then found that there was a small window that she would be able to talk into so maybe, hopefully, someone would hear. Mom was nervous, but determined.
It was a long journey and very crucial that we did everything to stay out of sight. We were successful and finally caught sight of the Men's camp. We approached one cabin but I heard something, it was a guard. My mother told me and my brother to hide and wait for her, because she'd be right back; she just needed to take care of it. So we hid in the dark crevice between a main building and a cabin. Mother had not returned for a while but we knew she was okay, she was a strong woman. So my brother and I fell asleep.
We woke to the feeling of a man grabbing us. I was scared, but opened my eyes to find that it was my father and older brother. I had never seen my dad cry, until that moment. He was crying so hard but still had the biggest smile on his face, same as my brothers and I. I was so happy to be reunited with them; it was one of the best moments of my life. But at the same time, my heart sank to my toes. Where was mother? What had happened to her? I asked my papa where was mom, he gazed into my eyes and said: "Rhoda, your mother is a beautiful, strong woman, that would do anything to ensure the lives of you and your brothers were not in danger...but I'm afraid she didn't make it." My eyes filled with tears, I got that feeling in my stomach, it was knotted and I felt like I was going to throw up.
It turns out a guard had caught mother, brutally raped her, shot her, and left her to die. It kills me to tell this story but at the same time I am so proud. My mother was the strongest woman I'd ever known, and she was a great person who would've done anything for the safety of me and my father and brothers. She was a good woman; she always put others before her. Several people have heard our story will forever remember her. As for us, the war soon ended after that, we escaped from the camp and got on a train where we then went back home. I will never forget my mother and everything she did. Without her, I definitely think I would be dead.

That is my family story. This is one of the only stories that were able to bring tears to my eyes but a smile to my face. I will forever appreciate having the ones I love with me, and I feel so blessed that they are still alive and well. Now the pestering doesn't even bother me…that much.