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Frau Anna - 2
| THEY CALLED ME FRAU ANNA ABRIDGED EDITION By GHANA MARCUS BANET
CIS PUBLISHERS Copyright © 1991 ISBN 1-56062-082-X Table of Contents
THEY CALLED ME FRAU ANNA ABRIDGED EDITION
Chana Marcus Banet's, They Called Me Frau Anna is an
abridged edition of the second volume in The Holocaust Diaries. Publisher's Note THE NAZI HOLOCAUST WAS ARGUABLY THE GREATEST TRAGEDY ever to befall the Jewish people not only in terms of the number of people killed or in the cold-blooded savagery of the killers, but also in terms of the astounding variety of forms and the myriad geographic locations in which pain and suffering were visited upon the victims. If there is one archetypal holocaust experience in the common perception, it is internment in Auschwitz, but there are countless other holocaust experiences which combine to create a totality far beyond the scope of the human imagination. Kristallnacht. Poland. Auschwitz. The Warsaw Ghetto. Babi Yar. Belgium. Holland. France. Czhechoslovakia. Hungary. Extermination camps. Labor camps. Ghettos. False papers and hideouts. Flight. Fear. Heartbreak. Despair. Death. The images crowd in upon each other in an endless tragic litany, each with its own particular brand of horror, and it is our duty to commit as many as possible to the collective memory, both in deference to the victims and to immortalize the heroism, courage and faith of the survivors. In compiling The Holocaust Diaries, we have tried to assemble a wide sampling of memoirs which would collectively convey the broad scope and the diversity of the tragedy. The highly-acclaimed Late Shadows, by Moshe Holczler, the inaugural volume of The Holocaust Diaries, concentrated for the most part on the Hungarian experience, although by its singular nature it was a microcosm of the entire holocaust. In They Called Me Frau Anna, by Chana Marcus Banet, the second volume in the collection, the milieu moves to Poland. When the German armies conquered Poland at the outset of the Second World War, the fate of its Jews was sealed, although no one could possibly imagine the extent of the coming holocaust. The Nazi net closed slowly around the Jews of Poland, impoverishing them, demoralizing them, enslaving them, isolating them in ghettos and finally herding them into concentration camps. Millions of Polish Jews were caught in the monstrous Nazi trap, while thousands more fled into hiding in the cities and the countryside. For desperate fugitives life was also a continuous nightmare, with agonizing days and terror-filled nights, never knowing if the next day would bring starvation or discovery. They Called Me Frau Anna is the personal statement of a survivor in whom the holocaust brought out profound spiritual qualities, who emerged from this terrible crucible victorious rather than crushed and defeated. For the most part, this book is the breathtaking account of a valiant Jewish woman and her struggle to save her two small children in the midst of the blazing inferno that was consuming her family and her people. With false identification papers, she wanders from town to town seeking shelter and food for herself and her children, always in fear of discovery and betrayal, until she finally finds refuge as a housekeeper for a high-ranking Nazi official. Through all her tragedy and heartbreak, she finds in herself deep reservoirs of faith and fortitude that help her keep alive a tiny spark of hope and sanity in her darkest hours. In her struggle for survival, she is strengthened by the memory of her illustrious grandfather Rabbi Aharon Marcus, a brilliant scholar from Hamburg who came to live among the Chassidim of Poland and became an important historian of the Chassidic dynasties, and she repeatedly writes that she is sure it was only because of the merit of her grandfather that she and her children were saved from destruction. In the unabridged edition, the author gives the reader a panoramic view of the world that existed in Poland before the holocaust, as well as the holocaust itself and its aftermath. The first section of the unabridged book contains a fascinating and illuminating portrait of her grandfather and his times, including a number of stories and anecdotes that involve the Rebbe of Radomsk, the Rebbe of Husiyatin and Rav Shimon Sofer, the Rav of Krakow. The second section describes the author's immediate family and their life before the war. The third and fourth sections record her experiences under Russian and Nazi occupation and her struggle for survival, and the final section describes her efforts to rebuild her life in Eretz Yisrael in the aftermath of the holocaust. All in all, in keeping with the avowed theme of the The Holocaust Diaries collection, They Called Me Frau Anna is permeated by the noble spirit of the author and the indomitable faith that helped her rise above the horrors of her experiences and emerge stronger and more inspired than ever before. It is the testimony of such survivors that we must hear and record for all future generations. Their priceless words, and the exalted spirit with which they are infused, are the ultimate legacy of those dreadful times. In the darkest moments of history, the faith in their hearts shone perhaps more brightly than ever before, and it shone with such a powerful light that it will still illuminate our world long after they themselves have passed on to a better world. Out of this faith there also emerges wondrous hope that even in the midst of a holocaust one is never beyond hope, that the Ribono Shel Olam hears the prayers of the individual and performs miracles for him. And indeed, even as she is still surrounded by mortal danger, Chana Marcus Banet repeatedly acknowledges the incessant miracles of which she is the beneficiary and thanks the Ribono Shel Olam for them from the depths of her heart. The publication of this distinguished book soon after Late Shadows is particularly gratifying to us at C.I.S. Publishers, because as the second volume in the collection, it establishes The Holocaust Diaries in the public eye as a dynamic project. Three other major books are now under preparation: Dare to Survive by Chaim Shlomo Friedman, an account of faith, courage and defiance in the ghettoes of Poland; Frozen Images by Dina Gabel, the story of a girl and her mother who are uprooted from their home and cast into Siberian exile; Counterfeit Lives by Avraham Krakowski, an amazing story of survival in the special camp of Sachsenhausen, a center of clandestine activities designed to destroy the economies of the Allied powers. The quality of the final presentation is a fitting tribute to the concentrated efforts and dedication of all the editorial and graphics personnel involved in the production, with special recognition to Administrative Editor Raizy Kaufman, coordinator of The Holocaust Diaries project. May the Ribono Shel Olam grant us the ability to achieve the same standard of excellence with the other holocaust manuscripts now in various stages of preparation so that the project in its entirety may bring glory to His Name and comfort and inspiration to His people. Y.Y.R. Lakewood, N.J. Tammuz 5751 (1991)
Preface How can I repay unto the Lord All His bountiful dealings Towards me? Psalms 116:12
THIS IS MY FIRST AND ONLY BOOK-FOR THE MOST PART IT DEALS with the tragedies and horrors that I lived through during the time when the Nazi beasts ruled Europe. But in order to understand where I found the spiritual strength to bear the hardships, the dread and the dangers that beset my life at every turn, how I did not break down despite the storm raging about me, I must begin my story with a description of my deepest roots in the homes of my parents and my grandfather. These people bequeathed to me the generation-old heritage of a proud and faithful Jewry that put its trust in the Holy Blessed One, Creator of the Universe. My forebears implanted in me a deep faith in the One G-d. They taught me never to despair but always to take heart, believing and hoping for the best. And they taught me that the divine commandment, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself," the supreme moral injunction, must serve as a guiding light for me wherever I go. Thus my story encompasses my entire life my youth and young adulthood in Poland, as well as my life as a free woman in my homeland. But the most dramatic point in my life occurred during the holocaust, especially during those two years that I spent masquerading as a Christian Polish housekeeper, the mother of two young children, in the home of the Nazi army doctor, Colonel Helmut Sopp, a personal friend of the notorious Hans Frank, the Governor General of German-occupied Poland. I could not write this book immediately after the war, when the experiences that befell me were still fresh in my memory. For many years, I was unable to relive all the trepidations and anxieties of those dark days. Everything remained buried inside me; some things had not even reached the threshold of consciousness. But now that I have reached the age when it is fitting for a person to make an accounting of his life, it seems the right time to relate my life's story, for the benefit of present and future generations. I affirm that all of the incidents and experiences related herein are entirely true. I have invented nothing; I presented the facts as they are. Nevertheless, my purpose is not merely to relate facts; it is rather to draw a lesson from them. It is this lesson that I wish to transmit to my readers, especially to the young people among them. I give thanks to G-d for granting me the strength, patience and ability to fulfill this task. Chana Marcus Banet
THEY CALLED ME FRAU ANNA ABRIDGED EDITION
1 " My Father's House MY FATHER, YEHUDA MARCUS OF BLESSED MEMORY, INHERITED from his illustrious father Rabbi Aharon Marcus all the highest qualities, and the heritage of Judaism my grandfather bequeathed to his sons and daughters was stamped upon the way of life of our entire house. My father was an impressive man with a handsome face. From his father he inherited his extraordinary good-heartedness, a most important human quality. He was always ready to help other people, even though it was not always easy to do so. He possessed an outstanding intelligence; his horizons were broad, and he was blessed with many talents. My grandfather, an Orthodox Jew, was opposed to his five sons studying in a university. He feared that there they would mix with young people not sufficiently Orthodox in their faith or even free-thinkers altogether and, under their influence, throw off their restraints and lose Indeed, this dedication to faith which my grandfather passed on to his children bore fruit. Not only the sons but the daughters, my aunts, remained firmly Orthodox in their belief. All their lives they conscientiously observed the commandments of Judaism and led a religious way of life, until their death in the camp at Theresienstadt. My father was a coal merchant. The coal would arrive in railroad cars from the mines in Upper Silesia, and my father would supply it to various establishments in Krakow. Still, the activity he enjoyed most was studying Jewish texts and learning languages, mainly English and French, which he picked up on his own with the help of the Langenscheidt series and other books. In study he found not only enjoyment but release. My father's only son, a child of old age born after the five daughters, was my parents' pride and joy. He was a fine looking young man, and one of the most sought after matches in town. He was named Aharon, after my grandfather, and like his forebear he was blessed with talents above and beyond the usual. It was a great tragedy that he did not live long. The Nazis murdered him and burned his body in the furnace at Auschwitz. My mother Rachel was the daughter of the highly respected Schnitzer family from the town of Oswiecim, the town whose name the Nazis changed to Auschwitz, infamous for the death camp they established there, which will forever serve as a symbol of the mass slaughter they perpetrated against the Jewish people. I do not remember my mother's parents; they died when I was still a small girl. They left four sons and four daughters. The eldest son David was a wealthy man; he owned a factory that produced shingles in the nearby town of Brzezinka. The Nazis joined this place to the Auschwitz camp and changed its name to Birkenau. My mother's second brother Shmuel Schnitzer was her favorite. He would come to visit us every Sunday. He was a scholar of deep faith. At every family gathering he would inspire a pleasant atmosphere and true happiness. I remember Uncle Shmuel well, especially the times when he tried with all his might to entertain the guests at the weddings of my two sisters Lydia and Frieda, as well as at my own wedding. He wrote comical verses in which he paid respects to the guests and danced in a circle with all the men with unequaled enthusiasm, as if he had married off his own children. All this was because he was very attached to my mother. He, his four sons and four daughters perished in the death camp together with their families. His wife Sarah, who was known to all by the affectionate nickname Surcie, managed to escape with two other daughters to the eastern districts of Poland, where they were arrested by the Soviet occupation authorities and deported to Siberia. At that time, I was living in Tarnopol. They knew my address, so a few weeks later I received a letter from Russia without knowing from whom it was. When I opened it and read it, I saw black before my eyes. Its contents were shocking. My aunt and my two cousins were suffering terribly from hunger and cold. My cousin Leah wrote me that her mother could no longer leave her bed; she was bloated from starvation. My aunt begged her daughters to eat her ration as well, for they had to work at physical labor in the awful Siberian cold and were numb and exhausted. My aunt would repeat this demand constantly, stressing that it was more important that they remain alive because they were young while she had no more strength to go on living. Every additional little bit of bread would be useful to them. Indeed, there is only one love that is absolutely unconditional, and that is the love of a mother. From people in Tarnopol whose relatives had been deported to Russia I found out that it was permitted to send small packages to the deportees and that the most important things to send were animal fat and honey. I knew no rest when I found out that my dear, noble Aunt Sarah, so modest and pious, was suffering from hunger. So I went out and bought some intestines of beef, cleaned them well, filled them with goose fat and honey, and sent them off. I shall never forget my bitter tears when I received an emotional letter from my aunt's daughters. They described the joy that my package had brought them. They had great hope that the food would help their mother recover her strength. I sent two more packages and a letter, but from the answer I received I found out that one of the packages had been lost. Many of those who received packages from their relatives complained about the loss of deliveries and were terribly depressed on account of this. They did not know who was stealing the packages. My cousin requested in her letter that I send a little money as well, so that they could buy bread on the black market. I sent the money and also took a chance by sending some sweets for my dear aunt. A short time later, I received a letter from which I learned that my aunt had died of hunger. Her stomach had become bloated, and she was buried somewhere out in the Siberian taiga. A few months later, I received the bitter news of the death of her daughter, my cousin Bluma, who had fallen ill with typhus and had been buried next to her mother. May they rest in Paradise! Only the elder sister Leah remained alive. She returned from Russia after the war and a short time later managed to emigrate to Palestine, where she married a widower who had lost his entire family during the holocaust. She gave birth to a son, whom she named Shmuel, after her father, and a daughter, whom she named Sara, after her mother. The war years weakened her greatly, and even though she loved life dearly and devoted her entire life to her husband and children, whom she loved to the depths of her soul, she passed away at quite a young age. My mother's third brother Simmel perished together with his wife Erna, a beautiful and glamorous woman, and their three children. Only one daughter survived. After the war she settled in Belgium. My mother's youngest brother Yitzchak served as president of the Jewish community in his town until the German invasion of Poland. His wife Gisela, their three children and their families perished together with him. Only one son was left. He too settled after the war in Belgium. Let me now return to describing my father's house and the happy events in the life of our family. Our entire family was very musically inclined. We were all blessed with pleasant voices, but more than everyone else G-d had blessed my sister with a magnificent voice. Our house was known for its hospitality and for the warm, familial atmosphere that prevailed in it. On Shabbos and holiday evenings, after meals, all our relatives would gather together at our house to sing Shabbos songs in a choir. But all of those Shabbos and holiday evenings were nothing compared with the joy that engulfed our household on Purim. In anticipation of the festive banquet, refreshments were prepared with royal largess, cakes made from walnuts and almonds, all sorts of baked goods, fruits and, of course, drinks. As was the custom, relatives would send food packages to each other. In this way the house became filled with all sorts of good things to eat. We also sent generously stocked food packages to our relatives. Towards evening the entire family would sit down to the festive Purim banquet. The banquet would last until the wee hours of the night. During these hours many of our relatives and friends would join us. Some of them, especially the children, would be in costumes, and the happiness was great beyond measure. Jokes and stories about current affairs were told. More than anything else, we did a great deal of singing. All night long the door to our house remained open so that the poor and needy might enter, and we could fulfill the commandment of giving gifts to the destitute. We would invite them to our table and honor them with a drink and dessert. Lydia, the eldest of my sisters, was a beautiful girl gifted with an exceptional sense of humor. She married a man with a noble soul and bore him a son and a daughter. My second sister Frieda married a lawyer, a very religious man. They had three children. Another sister Bronia was married after the war to a kindhearted man who had returned from Russia. She also had two children, a son and a daughter.
2 "A Foretaste of Disaster
A NUMBER OF YEARS BEFORE THE WAR, I EXPERIENCED A SERIES of events that caused me, and no doubt many other Jews as well, to sense personally a foretaste of what was about to transpire in our world only a few short years hence. Unfortunately, the entire world was struck with blindness and looked upon these warnings passively and calmly. My father had real estate in Berlin. When Hitler came to power, my father entrusted the management of his property to a German attorney on the assumption that he would collect the rent from the tenants and transfer it to us in Krakow. In 1934, my sister Lydia and I went to Berlin to take care of some business for my father. Lydia went to the attorney who was supposed to give her the collected rents for the previous few months. When she did not return after a long while, I called her on the phone and asked her if the man had given her the money. Suddenly, our conversation was cut off. A few moments later, the telephone rang again, and someone I did not know told me to report the next day to the offices of the secret police, the Geheime Staatspolizei. At the time I had no idea to what a dangerous place I had been summoned. Only later did I learn that these were the offices of the notorious Gestapo. When I appeared, a Nazuwearing a uniform with the symbol of the swastika showered me with an endless barrage of questions. Mainly, they were concerned why I had come with my sister to Berlin. I told the truth that we had come to collect the rent from the tenants in my father's apartment houses that he owned in Berlin, because it was our principal source of income. The Nazi explained in a stern voice that this was a punishable offense, that Jews were not permitted to take money out of the country, even if it was their own money that they had rightfully earned. But since all the members of my family were German citizens and I was young and pretty, he would absolve me of punishment and would allow me and my sister to take along just as much money as we needed in order to make our return trip to Krakow. Later on, it was explained to me that we had had good fortune in managing to escape from the clutches of the beast. My cousin, who lived in Berlin for many years, was unfortunately not so lucky as we had been. My mother's sister Chava had emigrated many years before, together with her husband and children, from Poland to Germany, because the Polish authorities placed upon them such a heavy tax burden that nothing remained for them on which to live. They established a factory in Berlin in which the family members were employed. In time, their business succeeded; they paid taxes according to law and acquired for themselves a reputation as owners of an established and honest business. When Hitler came to power, the entire family returned to Poland, except for the youngest son Mordechai who remained behind with a friend to liquidate the business. Mordechai was engaged to my sister Stella. Once everything had been done, he and his friends agreed on the phone to meet that evening at the "Zoo" train station (the famous station next to the Berlin Zoological Gardens) for the trip to Poland. As the two of them were about to board the train, they were arrested by the Gestapo. Mordechai's sister, who had learned from my parents that I had gone to Berlin, asked me to inquire at the Polish Embassy in Berlin whether it would intervene on behalf of the two young prisoners who had been detained by the Gestapo. She begged me to do everything in my power to obtain the pair's release. She herself had already forgotten the Polish language altogether, so she asked me to intervene and explain to the ambassador that the matter concerned two innocent Polish citizens who had done nothing wrong at all. In the meantime, I found out that Mordechai and his friend were about to be put on trial. I arrived at the courthouse in time to see the two prisoners brought into the courtroom. Mordechai was pale, his face white as limewash. I observed him scrupulously, and when our eyes met, I could see in his eyes a desperate prayer and a cry for help. I trembled as the judge screamed in a domineering voice, barking like a dog, "You Polish pig, you wanted to smuggle money?" Was it a sin that after many years of hard and honest work he wanted to assure his parents a decent living in their old age? When I came to the Polish Embassy, the first secretary of the embassy greeted me warmly, and I explained my problem to him. He informed me that the next day the ambassador was scheduled to have a meeting with Hitler, and he promised that he would intervene with the ambassador on my behalf. In order to ascertain whether he had told the truth, I returned to the embassy at the appointed time, and with my own eyes, I saw how a few minutes later a car entered the embassy compound, in which Hitler himself sat, together with two members of his entourage. I wanted to get close to the car and ask Hitler to free my sister's fiance, for their wedding date had already been set. Hitler glanced at me, but before I was able to open my mouth, he disappeared with his entourage behind the embassy door. Again, the secretary promised and assured me that he would speak with the ambassador about taking action in my case, and he asked me to come back the next evening, after working hours, in order to obtain an answer. When I showed up, the secretary explained to me that he had not had time to speak with the ambassador, but when he noticed how disappointed I was, he was quick to comfort me. He promised me that he would try to do everything he could for me. He sounded very reassuring, but somehow, his words did not fill me with confidence. I left the embassy with a troubled spirit. For a long time, I wondered whether he had really intervened on my behalf at all. Why would he? After all, the Poles had been anti-Semites for many years before Hitler came to power. Would they intervene with the Gestapo in defense of a Jew who was entirely innocent of any crime even if he was a Polish citizen? My cousin and his friend were sentenced to seven years of hard and torturous labor. His sister, who visited him a year later in prison, found a man who had changed completely. He was sitting with criminals of the worst sort. When he spoke with her he used very vulgar and foul language, just like them, and his words aroused in her much fear and revulsion. He spent several more years in jail, until he was finally shot to death. All along, my aunt believed that following his term in jail he would return to Poland and marry Stella, but she was still broken in body and spirit after his arrest. She was taken mortally ill, and sensing that her end was near, she made Stella promise that she would wait for him to return. Stella kept her promise; she waited for him and remained a lonely, childless spinster for all her years.
3 " A Suitable Marriage
IT WAS THROUGH MY SISTER LYDIA THAT I FINALLY MET MY husband. My sister Lydia's husband had a relative in Tarnopol, which is in East Galicia. He used to visit Krakow often, where he would come to our house. On these visits he used to hint from time to time that he had a good match for me in Tarnopol, a member of the Taler family, with whom he was on friendly terms. He urged me to meet the young man, for he came from a respectable, wealthy and religious family. Many matches had already been offered him, but he could not yet decide among them, for he wanted only a pretty wife. On the other hand, after each visit to us, this friend of ours would tell the young man in question about me, and this aroused in him great curiosity and a desire to meet me. I myself did not pay any attention to these stories. I loved life in the big city, whereas Tarnopol was located in East Galicia near the Russian border. Our friend wrote several times that the young man was prepared to come to us if we would only invite him. But my father decided to meet him first; only after forming a favorable impression on him would my father invite him to our home. However, as fate would have it, my mother fell ill with nephritis, and the doctor recommended that she go to the resort of Truskawiec, known for its curative springs and mineral baths that were called naftusia, because they had a taste and smell resembling kerosene (nafia in Polish). These were of great value in curing all sorts of illnesses. So my mother went to Truskawiec, and while she was there she wrote my father that he should come with me for a visit. Truskawiec is located halfway to Tarnopol. We decided, therefore, to take advantage of the opportunity and go to meet our friend's young acquaintance. The road to Tarnopol passes through Lwow, so my father arranged with this same relative of my brother-in-law that he would bring the young man to Lwow where we would meet him. We stayed in my cousin's home while she, her husband and children went off to a resort, leaving her apartment at our disposal. Since we traveled by night train and arrived in Lwow early in the morning, we ate a light meal in my cousin's apartment and thought to rest afterwards. But the relative showed up and announced that the candidate was waiting in a nearby coffee house. We determined that if the young man would meet with Father's favor, my father would bring him to meet me. If not, we would go the same day to Mother in Truskawiec. Since I was very tired following the overnight journey, I accompanied my father and the relative to the door, locked it after them and lay down to sleep. I slept so soundly that I did not hear the many rings at the door at all. My father rang endlessly, and kicked at the door. He the pounded it with his fist, and when I did not answer, he was worried that I might not have turned off the gas bib after fixing breakfast and had been asphyxiated, Heaven forbid. Only a young person can fall asleep so soundly. But finally Father's fierce kicking at the door awakened me, and wrapped in the robe in which I had lain down, I opened the door. My father, happy that he had found me safe and sound, went inside with me, and in his characteristic good humor answered my question whether the young man met with his approval. He said that the young man had impressed him as an honest and fair person but that he was short. Still, in order not to disappoint him, since he had made a special trip to Lwow just to meet me, Father asked me to receive him graciously. He asked me to get dressed and added good-naturedly that I shouldn't lie down again, for soon he would return with the young man. A short while later the doorbell rang again, and I opened it. A tall, distinguished-looking man stood before me and introduced himself as Moshe Taler. At that moment, some divine power whispered to me that I should attach myself to this man for my entire life. A short while later, my father and the relative came back, and we all spent several pleasant hours together. It was clear that the two of us were interested in one another, but when my father mentioned that the next day we would be going to Truskawiec, the young man pressured us to remain in Lwow so that we might be officially engaged. I suggested that it might make more sense if he would come a few days later to Truskawiec so that we could include Mother in this happy event. But our matchmaker also pressured me to agree to an engagement on the spot, in the presence of the young man's older brother, for the brothers were very close to one another. My father, who had formed an exceedingly fine impression of the young man, supported their request. So it was agreed, and the young man telephoned his brother to come at once. In the meantime, a suitable reception was prepared. When the older brother Gustav and his wife arrived, I saw that he too was tall and distinguished-looking. I found out later that the two brothers ran a business together, but even beyond this they were as close to one another as Siamese twins; they were never separated. Gustav's wife Hilda was a daughter of the Kremer family of Bolehcow. She held two degrees from the University of Prague. The couple had a baby a few months old. Indeed, Hilda impressed me as a fine and gracious woman, and I was pleased to have her as my sister-in-law. All in all, I had a feeling that I would fit in comfortably with my new family. Thus we were officially engaged, and it was decided that he should come a few days later with his widowed mother to Truskawiec, so that the two mothers could get to know each other. When my groom arrived with his mother in Truskawiec, I received from him a splendid ring with a diamond as an engagement gift. During the war, I hid this ring for a long time until I was forced to sell it cheaply in order to pay a Polish family for sheltering my son. Both mothers were quite pleased with the choice their children had made. My fiancÙ visited again several days later, this time bringing a box of candies such as I had never seen in all my life. It was very large, made of fine wood, and filled with the finest chocolates of all kinds. Such a box served afterwards for keeping silver and jewels, for it had a lock and a small key. I myself, however, did not taste any of the sweets in the box. At the time, a relative of my mother's was in Truskawiec, also for therapeutic purposes. She was quite poor, and when she had fallen ill the doctors had sent her to Truskawiec to take the cure. She stayed there for ten days, and the stay cost her family its entire savings. Her husband wrote her that she should stay several more days in order to recover completely, because at home she would have to take care of the household and the children. But he did not know that it was not worry for her family but monetary constraints that had caused her to cut short her stay at the resort. I did not say anything to anyone but I took the box of candies to the nearby town of Stryj and sold it at the largest candy shop in town. The owners of the shop looked at me with astonishment, but I explained to them that I had lost my purse and did not have any money with which to buy a train ticket home. I had no idea how much the box was worth, so I left it to them to set its price. I brought the money I received to our relative. She did not know from where the money had come and did not want to accept it from me. I had to plead with her for quite a while and finally told her that she would pay me back when she was able. With this money she would be able to stay another week at the spa and I was happy to have been able to help her. I would have felt guilty had I eaten the candies with no cares at a time when her pale face testified to her great weakness and need. The warm blessings she showered upon me caused me great excitement. I had to tell Mother the truth about what I had done with the box. She wondered why I had not come to her. I explained to her that I was well-off and happy in any case, whereas our relative's situation was quite bad, and I would have felt myself a hypocrite if I had not done as I did. Mother's eyes filled with tears. The warm blessings of both women, the relative and my mother, perhaps contributed later to the fact that I and my two children survived the war. |
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