My Broken Doll

Chapter One

Life before the war

The year was 1936. I was four years old and do not remember many details about my early life. But there were a few incidents that remain strong memories, which I would like to share. I was born Beate Stern in Lauterbach, Germany in 1932. My family consisted of Mama, Papa, and Susie, my younger sister by three years. My mother's brother (Uncle Eleizar) and sister (Aunt Bertha) and my grandmother (Jeanette Gottlieb) lived with our family as well. My father's family lived further away so we did not see them nearly as much. My childhood relationship with my parents was generally harmonious. I was rarely hit or yelled at. Life was pleasant.

Papa was a very religious man, an orthodox Jew who studied the Torah seriously. Orthodox Jews believe that the Torah is a code of law, which they study to apply those ideas or principles to life. The Torah is the Old Testament and has five holy books. Papa, pictured below, was very studious.

Papa liked keeping books for the textile business where my parents worked. He often sat at a desk in our home pouring over the ledgers. Papa wore round spectacles and mostly suits on a daily basis. He parted his hair on the right side. His ears slightly pointed away from the side of his head, and his chin was pointed as well. He had a high forehead and I thought he was quite handsome.

Our synagogue, (a Jewish house of worship), played an important role in our lives, with both a religious and a social importance. I would go often with Papa to the synagogue where he was very active. We had many friends there and enjoyed seeing them on Shabbat (observed from Friday sundown to Saturday evening as a day of rest and worship).

My Mama, Rosa, was taller and slightly larger boned than Papa but both were quite short in height. My Mama had beautiful eyes, high cheekbones and a high forehead. Her hair was moderately long, parted in the middle and pulled back in a bun most of the time. Mama was always very busy. She was good at many things: sewing, needlework, keeping a nice clean home and helping Papa with the small textile store where they worked. In fact some  

 

Beate about age four, holding dolls, lower right. Susie being held on their Grandmother Jeanette Gottlieb's lap.

family members said she was the one who had the keener business sense. There were some days that Mama was so busy working all day at the textile store that my loving grandmother took care of Susie and me. Often, Papa traveled to small towns surrounding Lauterbach to sell textiles, while Mama worked at the retail store. As I look back, it was likely the closeness I felt toward Mama was partially due to Papa being away so much.

We had a pleasant, good life. Mama had three sisters who visited on occasion. Papa was from a large family of fourteen children, which included stepchildren from a second marriage. Our house was a large single family home. We had a lovely garden with vegetables and flowers. To my delight, some days my grandmother sent me through the kitchen window to pick radishes, onions, or whatever she needed. Sometimes we made sandwiches of bread, butter and freshly picked radishes. We were happy eating an apple and bread. We thought it was wasteful to eat bread, butter and jelly all together. Either we put jelly or butter on bread, but not both together. We also had some apple trees in our backyard.

The neighborhood women would get together to do the laundry at our house.   Mama had huge tubs over fires to heat the water where the women did their laundry. When drying their clothing, they would place items on the lawn in the backyard. We did not have bleach, so Mama placed the white sheets on the grass among the trees to let them dry out and the sun bleached the sheets.

Also in the communal backyard was a rectangular pit of fertilizer. Some days I played games with neighborhood children around that pit. One of the fun games we played involved walking along the very edge of the pit and trying to make each other fall in by pushing lightly or making each other laugh. But, no one ever did fall in. We just liked teasing each other. I loved playing with other neighborhood children and with my dolls. My life was similar to that of many four-year-old girls living in Germany, but soon everything changed.

I remember one day I learned that my cousin had disappeared and no one

 

The Stern family home in Lauterbach, Germany

 

Beate in backyard, about 5 years old.

 

 

Susie Stern about age two.

knew where he was or what happened to him. This really frightened me. We found out many years later that he was killed by the Nazis. Once, I played in the dining room and decided to pretend to be dead. I laid down on the floor, and my grandmother saw me and asked, "What are you doing Beate?" I replied, "I am dead." My grandmother was shocked and wanted me to get up off the floor right away. But I was still very scared and that fear did not go away. From time to time I thought of the disappearance of my cousin and this fear rose up in me, especially when I heard Mama tell Papa to be home before it was dark.

Another strong memory I have is from a day when I was pushing our baby carriage with my younger sister in it. My mother saw what I was doing and ran over quickly, fearing that the carriage might tip. She said, "Beate, what are you doing? What is the matter with you? You are too stupid to know differently! " She took Susie out of the carriage to make sure no harm was done. My sister was fine, but my thoughts about myself were changed. I had a general sense that Mama did not think of me as being very bright. I had a hard time staying still, and I always wanted to be busy with my hands or playing. Regardless  

 

Group portrait with Rosa Stern, front row, first woman on left.

of Mama's assessment of my intelligence, I adored her and felt very close to her. Each week toward the end of Shabbat, Mama rocked me in a rocking chair and we looked out of a window for the three stars to appear that signified Shabbat was over.

I also remember the arguments between Papa and my uncle. My uncle seemed to know more of what was going on in Germany, perhaps due to his attending a University. We had a radio in the house, but we did not get the news like we do today from the media. So often, my Uncle was the one who would bring us the news. Arguments would begin with my Uncle stating in an urgent voice: "The Nazis are taking over! We must leave Germany!" Papa replied, "This is all a crazy fluke. People will not allow these things to continue. Surely it cannot get worse. Somebody or some country is going to stop this mad man, Hitler". But things did not change for the better, and life began to get slowly more difficult for my family and me.

One of the most unsettling memories I had, was the day that our lives changed forever. It was the day Mama and Papa had to go to an official Nazi building to register as   Jews. Their middle names were changed during the registration. Mama's name was changed from Rosa Stern to Rosa Sarah Stern and Papa's name from Moritz Stern to Moritz Israel Stern. This happened to all German Jews. All German Jewish women had Sarah, and all German Jewish men had Israel, added as their middle name. This was a way for the Nazis to keep track of all the Jews. The Nazis wanted to know the whereabouts of all Jews. Even when we moved we had to tell the Nazi's where we were going.

Also, at the registration my parents were given identity cards, which had their new names and a large J for Jude, German for Jew, stamped on the cards. When my parents returned home I could tell by their faces that they were very upset. They talked about the identity cards for a long time on that day. They knew the identity cards were a sign of things to come.

Chapter Two

Kristallnacht

Kristallnacht is German for the Night of Broken Glass. It was the first Nazi organized pogrom in November 1938, where at least 91 Jews were killed and 30,000 were arrested and placed in concentration camps. Jewish homes, schools, hospitals, and shops were ransacked and had their windows broken with sledge hammers, and over 1,000 synagogues were burned.

That night I was sleeping soundly, when I suddenly awoke to loud sounds and a lot of commotion. As I came to my senses, I realized the noises were coming from outside the window. Running quickly to the window, I saw terrible things in the night. To my horror there were many fires burning and pandemonium as far as the eye could see. Columns of gray smoke were unfurling in the dark inky sky. Flames of brilliant orange leaped from one building to another. There were so many buildings on fire, all of them Jewish homes and stores. On the sidewalks and streets, layers of shattered glass glistened so that it almost looked as if it had snowed. Nazis were breaking the windows of shops owned by Jews, and waving nightsticks while chasing people. There were lots of people running about the streets. And worst of all, our synagogue was burning!!

My father quickly left the house to see if he could help rescue items from the burning synagogue. My mother, Susie and I waited long into the night. I remember my mother pacing back and forth, with a worried look on her face. I was sick with worry about Papa and I know Susie was too. Papa never did come home that evening of the Kristallnacht. By the morning we knew we had to get on with life without him. Sadness crept into our hearts. I missed my father and his strong presence so much. What could have happened to him and where was he?

Chapter Three

Karlsruhe, Germany

More Nazi decrees came and we as Jews were not allowed to own any property. The Nazis closed the textile store and confiscated our house. We had to move. So we left for Karlsruhe, Germany, where one of my Uncles lived. On the train trip to Karlsruhe I saw a soldier, and he played a game with me. The soldier was very friendly. I'm not sure if he was a Nazi, but it was very probable. My Uncle picked us up at the train station and we stayed at his apartment. We looked for an apartment of our own, but it was very difficult to find one to rent. People did not want to rent to Jewish people. So we ended up staying with my Uncle and Aunt, and their three children. Susie and I stayed in the childrens' bedroom — so all together there were five children in one bedroom, and it was bedlam. We stayed there for some time until we finally managed to find an apartment above a bank in the business district of town. It was a small apartment. The front door led directly into the kitchen. There was a living room, one bedroom and a dining room. One other tenant on the same floor of the apartment building shared the one bathroom, which was out in the hallway.

One of the few specific memories I have from that apartment was of a large steel tub in the kitchen with a fish swimming in it. On Friday's, Mama would make gefilte fish, minced fish seasoned and made into cakes or balls, for Shabbat. Then she would dump the old water, and put fresh water in the tub so we could take our bath once a week. I also remember that I slept in a crib made out of metal.

One day, Susie and I looked out the window of the apartment because we heard loud music. There was a big huge vertical column, perhaps a WWI monument or memorial on a small public plaza. Circling the small plaza was a parade of soldiers and loud marching bands. My mother saw that we were watching out the window and said, "Stop looking out of the window!" Fearful that the Nazi soldiers would notice us, Mama repeatedly warned us not to make our presence known by being seen while we looked at the street from our window. One day the temptation was so great I decided to look any way. My mother quietly came up behind me and gave me a spanking on my rear. I was so startled! My life in Lauterbach, where I was able to play freely, changed to life in Karlsruhe, which was much more isolated and full of fear.

Eventually, I could not even play outside, because of what happened next. I was playing with a bunch of kids on the streets and we saw two Gestapo passing by so we started throwing pebbles at them. Soon they got angry with us and begun to yell and chase us through the streets. Luckily we knew the streets and alleyways better than they did, so none of us got caught. But my mother saw the incident out of the upstairs window and she was very, very angry when I went upstairs, back to the apartment. Mama said, "I will never let you play or go on the streets alone ever again! I cannot trust you. I do not know what you will do next!" My mama was afraid for my safety, so now I could only play inside the apartment.

I hated the Nazis. It was the Nazis who took my father away. My grandma left our family to go to Palestine in 1936 to escape the Nazis. We felt a keen loss of family due to the Nazis. I missed my Papa, Uncle, and my Grandma so very much. So yes, I did hate them. They are the reason we had to move from our comfortable large home in Lauterbach to the smaller, less comfortable apartment in Karlsruhe. The Nazis were the reason I could not play outside or feel free to even look out of our window.

Chapter Four

School Bullying

It was exciting to start school in Karlsruhe. Oh how I loved learning new things. However, our teacher was very strict, and would not allow students to ask questions. We even had to sit a certain way and answer only when spoken to. You had to obey to the letter whatever the teacher wanted. At that time teachers could hit you. I was hit only once. The reason was because the boy behind me took my long blonde braid and dunked it into a black inkwell. The inky braid drew wide broken strokes of black on my blouse across my shoulder. I was really upset by the mess he had made on my new blouse. As I was twisting around to argue with the boy, and offered him a look of disgust, my teacher said, "Beate, come to the front of the room, here by my desk." That walk to the front of the room seemed to take forever as I stepped up on to the platform next to the teacher's desk. He took both my hands and pointed all my fingers together facing upward. The teacher proceeded to rap hard on my fingertips with a ruler. It was so very painful, even more so, since I was not the one who did anything wrong.

Generally, I was made to feel inferior to other children in the classroom because I was Jewish, both by my peers and even sometimes by the teacher. But what hurt the most   was the children during recess pushing and yelling at me that I was a dirty Jew, a Christ killer. I really did not know who Christ was and why they yelled that I killed him. I lived in a Jewish world and there was no mention of Christ, let alone Jews killing Christ. Often, as I walked to and from school my classmates threw pebbles at me and continued calling me names. So every day was a horrible ordeal, trying to fit in and yet not get hurt at the same time.

I had one non-Jewish friend who lived across the street whom I really liked to play with. But one day her mother would not let us play together, nor let me see her, or even come in to their apartment. I knocked at my friend's door but as soon as her mother saw me she closed the door quickly on me. That hurt my feelings terribly. I did not understand why a friend's mother would decide to end our friendship and I missed my friend a lot. So I went to school for only about a year. But then I had a new teacher come in to my life.

Chapter Five

The Surprise Return

One day I was playing in the kitchen and suddenly the front door opened. A man stood there who I did not recognize. He was bent over, shaking, covered with blood and dirt. He lunged forward to warm his hands on the black wood-burning stove. And as he was moving in close to the hot stove I suddenly realized that it was my father! I started screaming, "Papa, Papa it's hot!" Mama heard me cry out and ran out of the bedroom. She took one look at him and brought him back to the bedroom. Mama nursed him for days and tried in vain to have him get well. But he never really returned to his former self. He was very skinny and smaller now. Later we learned that my Papa had been taken to Buchenwald, a concentration camp. I do not know how he escaped or how he found us in Karlsruhe. Despite the trauma he experienced, and not being fully recovered physically, my father became my teacher. He taught me spelling, Hebrew, math, and how to read. Papa was my very own, new teacher! He was a very good teacher. I remembered a lot of what he taught me.

Days passed and eventually, when Papa regained some of his strength, he was forced by the Nazis into working as a bricklayer without pay. It was as if we were prisoners in our apartment. We did not leave to go anywhere, except my father. Papa would come home utterly exhausted, and I asked him why his hands were hurting? "I am a brick layer and my hands are not used to this type of work." This was very hard on all of us because we were used to doing so many different things in Lauterbach. However, I still loved our walks with my family on Shabbat, the one time of the week, when we did leave the apartment. Walking there were the numerous signs on stores, pools, and hotels, that read Jews were not allowed. The signs forbid us to enter parks or any public building like a library.

My life and my family's life became more and more filled with restrictions. When England and France declared war on Germany the loud air raids began in Karlsruhe. For the first 20 or so evenings this was very frightening and we had to quickly descend to the large basement of the apartment. The entire community of the apartment building was huddled in the cold, damp, dark room. As we waited and heard the bombs drop, we did not know if we would be alive the next minute or not.

My mother tried to keep us calm by talking to us. One memory I have was when Mama said, "Look at this roof, it is rounded. If a bomb should fall it would roll right off," which made all of us laugh and somehow, that made us feel better. Eventually, a siren wailed to let us know that it was safe to return to the apartment. These bomb air raids interrupted our sleep at night quite often. I began to really dislike going to the cold, dark basement and gave my mother a hard time, not wanting to get out of bed. These air raids, which could occur multiple times during the night, lasted for about a year's time until we had to face something even more frightful.

Chapter Six

My Broken Doll

One day, there were sudden loud, thunderous footsteps coming up the stairway. We all glanced with anxiety at each other. Then came sharp knocking at the door. Mama opened the door and there stood two Nazis. Mama asked, "What do you want?" One of the Nazis stated harshly, "Don't ask any questions. Just go and pack. Pack enough for two weeks." So Mama immediately started packing. I knew instantly that I wanted to take my favorite doll to wherever we were going. She went with me everywhere and I was very attached to her. I knew my doll was sitting in the living room so I ran to pick her up.

When I was in the living room to get my doll, one of the Nazis noticed what I was doing. He walked over to me and took a hold of my arm shaking it and said, "Where you are going you won't need this doll." I looked him squarely in the eyes, and surveyed his unpleasant, scary face and I thought to myself, he wants my doll. So I said, "If I can't have her than you can't have her either!" I took my cherished doll and threw her to the ground. Her porcelain face shattered on the floor in to many, many pieces. I was so upset, shocked, hysterical really, that I could not remember my sister, Susie or my father during this time. It was as if I was in a play with my Mama, the Nazis and myself. Mama came out of the bedroom carrying a suitcase and we were ready to leave. I scrambled to the kitchen table and grabbed the table leg. I held on for dear life and started screaming, "NO, NO, NO, we won't go! I know they are going to kill us and we will never see this apartment again." My mother eventually pried my hands from the table leg and tried to soothe me. The two Nazis forced us to leave our apartment and took us to the railroad station.

There was a sea of people at the train station. Children were crying, people were sleeping on their coats, while others were wringing their hands, sitting on their suitcases. I could see that some people had been there for a long time, waiting. We waited too, for a lengthy amount of time. At last the passenger train arrived and we boarded.

We were pushed and prodded onto the train like a herd of cattle. The train was very crowded and many people were standing because all the seats were filled. I tried very hard to stay close to Mama on the train, but this was difficult since there was a constant jostling of people. It was very hot on the train. I thought, perhaps we were moving so slowly because   there were too many people on the train. We were chugging along at a such a slow place that people thought they could jump from the open windows to freedom. Some tried, but Nazis were poised on top of the train with loaded guns to shoot anyone who tried to escape. I could see people jumping out of the windows and hear the gunshots, but how many people died or escaped, I really do not know.

There was no food or water on the train for anyone. One morning I saw condensation on the train window and I licked up every drop of moisture I could find. That was how thirsty I was. The train stopped at the border of Germany and France. We heard a gravelly voice over the loud speaker, "If you have any money on you, get rid of it. You will be killed if you disobey orders." Some people did not want to hand over their money and began hiding it. I right away noticed my mother trying to hide money in her bra. I screamed, "Mama, Mama don't. They will kill you!" I was petrified and hysterical that she was disobeying their orders. Mama replied angrily, "Well now, everyone knows that I am trying to hide some money, so you may as well go put it down the toilet." I took the money from Mama and quickly weave in and around people to get to the bathroom. I threw the money into the toilet. As I frantically tried to return to my mother, I could see on the train that they were searching people and if they disobeyed the orders, the Nazis made them get off the train. Once off the train, I could see out the window that the disobedient Jews were lined up and shot to death. I was so relieved that Mama was not one of the people who suffered that horrible fate.

Chapter Seven

Camp Gurs

The train continued on to the southern part of France. The awful train took at least two days without anything to eat or drink. When we got to the end of our train ride we were put in trucks. When I first caught sight of the camp, which I later found out was named Gurs, it was fall, early morning, and everything looked brown, black or gray. There was no grass or trees and it was the bleakest place I had ever seen in my whole life. The Nazis treated all of us roughly as we were getting off the trucks, even the very young and the old as we were entering the concentration camp. People were kicked, and there was a lot of screaming. "Hurry, Hurry!" the Nazi guards yelled loudly, while using their sticks to beat people. Sometimes, the men who had beards let out screams because the Nazis were pulling on them. The Nazis were showing us how unfeeling and callous they were. We were treated as if we were less than human.

My sense of the entire world had been turned upside down. Nothing was the same, or even closely resembled the pleasant life we had back in Lauterbach, Germany. Everything here in Gurs was so upsetting.

The Nazis separated the men from the women and we had to say goodbye to our dear Papa. It was horrifying that we had to split up our family. We had no idea when we would see Papa again! But, at least I was able to be with Mama and Susie.

All the women were herded into a big barrack. Then they searched us again, but this time the Nazis were looking for gold. They yanked gold teeth out of women's mouths and grabbed all the gold jewelry. Wedding bands, bracelets, earrings, anything that was gold, they took and kept, never to be seen again. The Nazis took the gold bracelets that my Grandmother gave to Susie and me. My mother had pierced ears with gold earrings and they yanked them right off her ear lobes without warning, causing Mama to cry out in pain. I will never forget the sound of her scream.

We were assigned to a barrack and given a mattress. To my surprise I could hold what seemed to me a large mattress all by myself, but later realized it was so light because it was filled with straw. The barrack walls were lined with black paper and had small flaps for windows that had to be held open because it was dark inside, even during the day. The   outside of the barrack was wood framed. Susie, Mama and I all slept in one bed, and it was not easy sleeping that way. We slept together until they established children's barracks. In our first barrack there was a scale. Once a day they threw a loaf of bread into the barrack. That one loaf of bread was to be divided up to feed everyone in the barrack, about 60 women and children. One woman would divide the loaf using a scale, weighing the bread ever so carefully. Occasionally, one person would get a 1/2 oz. more than all the other women and a fight would break out. I hated seeing the women jumping on top of each other and fighting for a small morsel of bread, but we were very hungry and it really hurt when you got that hungry. My sister and I dreaded the fights and we were protective of each other during the squabbles. We also were given soup three times a day, and it was runny and as thin as water. One day a small morsel that seemed like meat happened to be in my soup and it was the best thing I had eaten in a long time. I still remember how that single piece of meat tastes to this day.

The women got along except when food arrived and was to be shared. My mother told me how an older woman from our barrack killed herself and this was a terrible event. They stretched a piece of cloth across the corner of the barrack where she was lying, so the children would not see her. But we felt the mood of everyone and knew that something was terribly wrong.

We all were starving and that made it difficult for everyone. The sanitary conditions were horrible. There was one toilet, a pit really, that we all shared. It was made out of wood, and we had to walk up steps to use it. The toilet area was dirty and in the summer there were flies buzzing ferociously all around.

Of course there was no running water or plumbing. When it rained, Mama caught as much water as she could in containers. On those dreary, rainy days, Mama had us line our shoes with small leaves to prevent the mud and wet seeping through the worn soles of our shoes.

A typical day at Gurs consisted of being awoken in the early morning and by 9:00 a.m. we had to line up for roll call outside no matter what the weather. There was a clock on the   outside of one of the buildings, so we could see the time. Then all the children had to walk. And we walked, and walked, and walked for such a long time. I dared not ask to go to the bathroom on these long walks even if I thought my bladder would surely burst.

Some days all of the children were made to clear sticks and stones so another barrack could be built. But most days, we were not doing much. We often ran wild searching for food or playing. Sometimes a lady came to visit. Once I asked her, "Can't you do something about the conditions we live in?" She replied while stroking my hair, "Things will get better, things will get better." But they never did, and I didn't understand this woman. Other times the woman would yodel and sing songs to us. That is why I always imagined she must have been from Switzerland, but in retrospect I am not sure where she was from. On occasion, the yodeling lady brought us triangles of Swiss cheese. It would seem like this would be a good thing, but I learned to dread those days because they often led to fighting and bickering over who got what and how much. One time, Susie and I fought over a triangle of cheese. I was older, taller and larger, so I won out and ate the prized morsel of food.

Fights among the children were common. "Children were changed rapidly by life in the camp. Their energy was monopolized by the search for food and the struggle for existence ... Children became aware that they had to take charge of their own survival. Set in motion by primitive instincts, in a jungle where paternal authority had vanished, where arbitrariness had taken the place of justice and [street smarts ruled.] .... For them all, it was the same road to the disintegration of moral values." (1)

In the summer since there was so little vegetation, sandstorms occurred when there were high winds. One day I was caught in a sandstorm outside. The sand painfully whipped into my skin and it felt like pinpricks all over my face and body. In the winter there was a lot of rain and the whole camp turned into a muddy mess.

Most of the women and children had constant diarrhea or dysentery and that was miserable. Mama tried to help anyone who needed it, because she had some nursing experience. Susie had terrible lice in her hair and on her clothing. Her constant scratching led to numerous open sores, which eventually became infected.

Chapter Eight

The Egg

At camp Gurs there was a rule that in order for the men to visit on the women's side, they had to make an appointment. Sometimes the men and women would meet and talk at the fence that divided them. One day, I decided to go see my father since I had not seen him in such a long time and I missed him so very much. I told my sister, "Susie let's go visit Papa. We have to go find him." Susie looked at me as if I was crazy, "No, I am scared." She replied. I ignored her fear and protests, took her hand and determinedly proceeded to walk to the entrance of the men's camp. A Nazi guard came out to stop us, asking, "Where do you think you are going?" I replied firmly, "We want to visit our father." The guard replied, "You cannot do that." And he went on and on, which just made me mad, so mad I blurted out in French, "You Dirty pig!" And I kicked him as hard as I could on his black shiny boot. I took my sister's hand and told her, "Whatever you do, don't look back." As we walked, the sun was shining, with the mountains casting a deep bluish shadow over half of the rough ground on the road that led to the men's side of the camp. We did not know what the response of the Nazi guard would be. Would he shoot us? Would he beat us? All these thoughts I tried so very hard to push out of my head, as I was resolute to see my Papa. This could have been the last moments of our lives and that image of the road was indelibly impressed in my memory.

Surprisingly, we made it without harm to the entrance of the men's barracks, which was on the left side of the road, a separate section of Gurs. I knew we would not get lost because everything was laid out like a grid. We asked for our Papa and eventually after walking for a while, we found his barrack. We were so happy to see him at last! Papa's eyes filled with tears and he held us close. He asked, "How are you both doing and how is Mama? What is the camp like where you live? Do you have enough to eat?" We answered his many questions. By then it was lunchtime and that day a rare occurrence took place, someone was handing out eggs. I was so surprised because I had never seen eggs in the concentration camp before. I thought to myself that Papa was certainly going to share the egg with us. With much anticipation I remembered what an egg tasted like and could hardly wait to eat some of it. Carefully, Papa cracked open the egg and began stirring the white and yolk together.

However, we could see that there was some blood in the egg. Since Papa was an Orthodox Jew, by Jewish law we were not allowed to eat a blood stained egg. Orthodox Jews believe that an egg with a blood stain meant that life must have begun, so the egg could not be eaten. I thought to myself, surely since we are starving, Papa will make an exception this time. I was positive that all three of us would share that egg. But as soon as that thought had come to me, Papa hurled the egg against the dark barrack wall. I was shocked and surprised! I looked at him and then I looked at the egg. I thought, I was not going to let that egg go to waste. I started running to the wall with the intention of licking the ooze that was slowly sliding down. I turned around to look at Papa, his face looking like thunder. I decided eating the egg was not worth my Papa's anger, so I left the egg untouched. I felt awful about leaving the egg, and letting it go uneaten. Eventually Susie and I returned back to the women's camp as hungry as before, but very happy to have seen Papa.

I later came to understand what my father might have been trying to teach us. God gave humans a brain to choose between right and wrong. My Papa's actions demonstrated that while he had no control over what the Nazis did to him physically, he still had a choice. The choice of not eating the egg was my father's way of maintaining his Judaism and his humanity despite being treated as sub-human.

Chapter Nine

Saying Goodbye

We stayed at Camp Gurs for some time but then we were transferred to another concentration camp in southern France called Rivesaltes. Susie's small, thin, frail, body developed many sores from the lice. Pus oozed out of many of them. Every evening when Mama took Susie's clothes off, it was difficult because the clothes stuck to the pus and sores. Susie screamed loudly, which was upsetting to Mama and me. This went on for weeks, loud screams every time Mama took off Susie's clothes. Susie eventually became very weak.

One day, Mama looked me squarely in the eyes and sadly said: "You know, Susie is not going to be able to stay with us any longer. I am sending her out of the concentration camp, because she is getting too thin, and I am not able to give her enough food." The French OSE were working to get children out of the camps. And before I realized it, one day, my sister was gone from Rivesaltes and I missed her very much.

Rivesaltes was for the most part the same as Gurs, but by that time I was getting hungrier. I'm not sure if it was because we were getting less food at this camp or it was due to something else. I craved more food so I began searching for it in the garbage cans. I competed with rats and mice for even a small morsel of food. I became sick with cholera, an infectious disease, which produced explosive diarrhea, which led to dehydration, and leg cramps. Most likely the mice or rats were infected with the bacteria and some of their feces were in the food I ate from the trashcans. I found myself in a little room, all alone, quarantined, with a single small window with bars. I thought I might be in quarantine because cholera was infectious, though I was not sure. I do not remember who took care of me during that time, but I know a doctor came to see me, and there were others who also came in and out of the room to tend to my needs.

I was still recovering from cholera when one day, out of the blue, I was totally shocked by who came to visit. Through the small barred window I could see a man's face. I suddenly recognized Papa and was delighted to see him. I was also curious, so I asked: "Papa! What a surprise to see you Papa! Why did they let you come and see me? " Papa replied: "The reason I have come to see you is that I am being transferred to a different concentration camp, to Les Milles. They said I could come and say goodbye. "

Papa blessed me and said goodbye. I never saw him again. I now know that Les Milles was a concentration camp where they sent people before sending them to Auschwitz. But at that moment in time I was not thinking that would be the very last time I would see my Papa. Maybe deep down I might have known this, but I did not want to accept that reality. If I had, I think it would have been too much for me to handle. During that sickness and isolation, my memory of what took place was pretty limited, but I know I was in that small room for some time. And I do remember that I was very glad and thankful when I started feeling better.

Finally, one day Mama walked in to the infirmary and gave me a big hug. She took my hand. As we walked back to the barrack, Mama explained: "It's time for you to go to a home for children. You need better care than what you can get here. There is not enough food for you here." I definitely did not want to go to some strange place without Mama. I did not want to leave my Mama, period. Words and more words came pouring out as I argued with Mama: "I don't care if I have enough to eat. I want to stay here with you." But Mama did not listen to me. I had feelings of insecurity and fear as I thought about what kind of strange place I would be going. The situation was terribly upsetting.

Soon the day came when hand in hand, Mama and I took a walk. She had made the difficult choice of not keeping Susie and I with her in the concentration camp, and giving permission to the OSE to hide us and have strangers care for us. If Mama gave us to the OSE, she knew she might never know what would happen to us, but she hoped that we were safer hiding with strangers than living in these horrid conditions where we caught diseases, were slowly starving, and witnessing countless cruelties by the Nazis. How my Mama had the strength to let us go, I do not know. But it was because of her difficult decision that I am alive today. My mother signed the papers which gave permission for the OSE to take me from her. Not all parents were able to do this. Two members of our family, the sister of my father, Aunt Clara and her son, Gunter perished in Gurs. Aunt Clara refused to sign the papers to give permission for the OSE to take Gunter out of the camp.

When the time came for me to leave the camp, there was a truck at the end of a road in the camp. The Nazis allowed the OSE to take the children to help insure that there would   be no uprising or families escaping from the camp. Keeping the children somewhere else, helped the Nazis keep relative peace. In addition the OSE agreed to let the Nazis know where the children were at all times. In broad daylight, we boarded this truck. As I entered, I saw that already there were about a dozen children in the truck. Saying goodbye to my mother was the hardest thing I did up to that point in my life. I climbed in to the truck reluctantly, as my mother watched and finally the truck drove away. Feelings of fear, and insecurity swept over me. How would I find my family again? The feeling of loneliness was unbearable. My mother provided my only remaining feeling of security and I did not know where I was going or what would happen to me.

Chapter Ten

The OSE Chateaus

The first OSE home where we were taken was a large chateau. I thought it was quite nice, even if it did not have much furniture. The boys had a workshop to make furniture, while all the girls planted and tended to the vegetable and flower gardens. The girls also gathered the food from the garden, helped in the kitchen and washed dishes after all the meals. All of us helped in doing the housekeeping. I was glad to see some grown-ups even if there were just three or four adults and about one hundred children. I knew they had fairly good control of us, despite the small number of adults. If I wanted to, I could have run wild without anyone noticing or stopping me, but there was nowhere to go. We learned survival skills in case we needed to hide in the forest. While scavenging for grasses and berries, we were taught what we could eat in the forest to survive. We learned that if we were in the countryside without food, we could always eat purple clover. The flower petals of the clover were a pretty purple and at the base of the clover petals were a white area which, when

 

A photo of Beate age 9 taken while being hidden at the OSE Chateau Couret in Vichy southern France. The Ose took photographs documenting the children.

The coat that Beate is wearing in this photograph was made from a blanket by her mother, Rosa, in camp Gurs.

 

 

The Hidden Children, by Deborah Pappenheimer, © 2005. Oil painting, acrylic, collage 12" x 24" Paper was in short supply at the OSE homes so the letters Rosa and Moritz sent were also used for drawing paper by Beate. All child like drawings in this painting/collage were drawn by Beate on those letters during the war.

eaten, was actually quite sweet. It was like candy growing in abundance in many of the fields.

The chateaus were in very isolated areas and very hard to get to or find. I was busy with the day-to-day needs and chores that were expected of all the children. Since we were being hidden from the Nazis, we did not stay in any one chateau for too long. At first, even as we moved from place to place, I felt pretty happy in the OSE homes. There was more food in the chateaus than in the camps, and I greatly appreciated the more sanitary conditions. Inside the chateaus were tapestries, huge fireplaces, window seats and outside, the chateaus had beautiful well kept grounds and gardens.

I wrote to my parents whenever I got a chance. And I loved getting letters from them. Every letter was a confirmation that they were alive and well enough to write. Letters were censored so they mostly contained sweet endearments and matter of fact questions. Sometimes they were marked by the censor if they had something forbidden that was written. Even though I received letters from my parents, I still worried about Mama. She was so very thin and weak when I left her at Rivesaltes. One day, I walked to a village that   was nearby and I bought some bread and made a food package to send to Mama. I do not remember how I happened to have money for bread and I don't know if the package was ever received.

Later, a woman who I did not know and thought of as my godmother began to send money to me every month. I did not know why or how that came about, but I did know that this was unusual and I was very lucky to have a godmother who sent money. Perhaps the woman had met me and liked me. I really did not know, but it seemed I had so much money that I was not sure what to do with it. This money followed me wherever I happened to be living, as we were being moved and hidden at least fourteen times that I remember in various OSE homes or chateaus in the southern part of France.

Suddenly, my parent's letters stopped coming. Waves of loss and fear washed over me like heavy lead. Once I stopped hearing from them, I didn't know what happened

 

One of the many letters Rosa wrote to Beate. Notice the censure stamp. Random marks and letters were drawn by Beate. There were numerous letters that were exchanged between Beate and her parents. Beate kept them all until many, many years later when she gave the letters to the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC. That is where they are archived.

  to them. I was very upset and I stopped talking for a very long time. I could not utter a word. I missed my family so much that my heart ached.

I felt terrible grief and worry. I constantly scratched my head, so much that my scalp would bleed. My anxious feelings and thoughts ran through my mind over and over again. What was going to happen to me? When the war was over, I would not have anyone. Where would I live? Was everyone that I loved dead? I felt so alone and very scared.

At Chateau Couret, one of the OSE chateaus where I was hidden, I was filled with this feeling of loneliness and despair. While descending down a flight of stairs a very memorable distinct moment, like an epiphany, occurred. I can still see the wooden banister and a single crack that was embedded in the wood, as I held on loosely, step by step making my way to the dining room. The OSE women were always telling me to hold on to the banister since I was so short and breaking any limb would mean certain death because they could not take us

 

One of the many letters sent to Chateau Couret, from Beate's father. This letter was from Camp Les - Milles before Moritz was taken to Auschwitz. The stamp pictures General Petain, the head of the Vichy government who supported and helped implement the internment of Jews.

 

 

Chateau Magelier, one of the OSE homes that hid Jewish children during WWII. Photo by Robert Pappenheimer, 1985. Standing above the curved stairway is Beatrice in 1985 when she revisited the homes she was hidden.

to the hospital while we were in hiding. Stepping carefully, the thought crossed my mind that happiness was something I could give myself. Deep down, within me, I realized that even though I was all alone, without my Mama, Papa or sister Susie, I could still be happy inside. This moment of realization rang so true that I still carry it with me to this day. I was and still am responsible for my own happiness. No one else can give this gift of the spirit to me.

At Chateau Couret some of the children would play away from the main building. We walked and played around the grounds. There was a doctor (it may have been Dr. Malkin who is pictured in a Holocaust Memoir by Vivette Samuel in riding attire) who rode on horseback on the grounds. He took a liking to me and called me "la petite coquette." The doctor would scoop me up for a ride on his horse and we would ride around the Chateau. I loved those rides and his attention. He was always very nice to me and I knew he must have thought I was cute. We developed a very sweet relationship over time.

While living in the OSE homes I took very good care of myself, and since there were   no mirrors, whenever I could, I liked to look at my reflection in a lake. I also felt it was important to keep myself clean and even if the weather was cold I would bathe in the lake. I also remember that in Chateau Magelier there were two or three children in each bedroom. We had a lot of unstructured free time in the homes and one day three of us girls decided to look carefully at each others' faces and tell the other ones what was wrong, such as your nose is too long, or your chin is too pointed. I remember that when we came to my face, they looked and took some time looking, and finally exclaimed, "there is nothing wrong with your face." This made me feel very good. I had learned to take good care of myself from Mama. I remember her putting cream on her face and sometimes she would put some on my cheeks and chin which I loved.

Mama was a good story teller and told me lots of fairy tales, like Hansel and Gretel and Cinderella. In turn, I would often tell fairy tales to children in the OSE homes. In the

 

Chateau Montintin - Another OSE home for hidden children during Vichy France regime. Photo by Robert Pappenheimer taken in 1985.

 

 

Chateau Couret, Photo by Robert Pappenheimer taken in 1985.

kitchen when we were tediously peeling huge mounds of potatoes, the children loved hearing me tell them fairytales to help pass the time. I also helped to take care of a boy who was albino. The social workers of the OSE asked me to help take care of the boy because they thought I was nurturing. I remember taking his hand so he would not fall. We would sit underneath a tree and I would tell him fairy tales. I felt very responsible for him. I also felt I was the oldest of the children and I know now that this was not true.

Chapter Eleven

The Reunion

One day at the chateau Cheaumont, one of the largest OSE homes, a little girl brought me a blanket. The girl looked familiar to me but at first I did not recognize her. Her head was shaved. Shaved heads were a common way to get rid of head lice. After a few puzzling moments, I realized that this was my little sister, Susie! I was so surprised and overjoyed. I could not believe it! This was a truly remarkable coincidence that we would meet up!

I felt determined that we would stay together, forever. I liked taking Susie's hand in mine, sometimes patting her hand or swinging it back and forth while I affectionately made a "doodoodoodoodoodoodoo" sound. We often cuddled, kissed, and hugged each other because there was no one else to give us that kind of love or affection. I did have some girl friends, and we wrote very affectionate letters to each other, and I loved each friend I made since we were without our families. But having a sister meant something altogether different. We shared a special connection and bond that was fierce because we had shared so much.

One difficult night the OSE women told me that Susie was very sick and might die. They asked me to stay with her which I did without hesitation. I crawled into the bed and lay next to her, holding her hand. I distinctly remember when her fever broke and her hand was finally cool to the touch. Susie was going to make it and the infection on her scalp was not going to kill her. She has a scar on her scalp from that infection to this day.

In the OSE homes we had teachers and schooling. They taught us French and Hebrew. We were encouraged to say Hebrew prayers, celebrate Jewish holidays and learned to dance the Hora. I especially loved dancing the Hora and the teachers imparted a spirited and fun approach to Judaism. Some of the teachings surrounded survival or communal work. The OSE thought "it was essential that the children share with one another their secret scars — depression, fear, humiliation, separation from parents — for this helped them regain confidence in certain virtues: perseverance, loyalty, dignity, courage and self-mastery."(2) We learned to speak French fluently and we had to change our names to make us less vulnerable of being discovered. My name was Beate in German and it was changed to Beatrice, the name I still use. Susie became Suzanne and they gave us a street address in Paris to memorize. If any one asked where we were born or where we lived, we gave them that Paris address.

Moving from chateau to chateau still happened often due to raids by Nazis or the threat of bombs from air raids. Moving children to different homes meant we were sometimes hidden in a stack of hay in a farmer's cart. Sometimes we fled by train. Sometimes we fled on foot. I remember one night when someone suddenly woke me in the middle  

 

Some of the children and teachers of the Couret home. Photo was taken in October of 1942. Beate is pictured in the front row, seventh from the left side, with shorts and suspenders.

  of the night. The cook at the chateau quickly blessed, then hugged and kissed me, before a man quickly took me and placed me in a small sidecar beside a motorcycle. Before I could register what was happening we were off into the dark on a wild motorcycle ride through the countryside. The ride was extremely fast and very scary but saved me from the Nazis who were hunting for Jewish children to send to their deaths at Auschwitz.

Chapter Twelve

The Convents

Susie and I were in numerous OSE homes until 1943 when things got so bad and dangerous in the chateaus that the OSE had to hide us somewhere else. Our identities were changed to our French sounding names and we spoke French. Some children went to Christian foster homes. Others, like Susie and I, were sent to a convent.

"A child in hiding could not disclose [their] identity to anyone, not even to other children who could prove their Jewishness .... With the loss of their names, which they tried to forget so as to stay alive, [they risked much of what made up their being and memory ..... Was it possible to retain one's own identity for long? Could a child who had lost her points of reference ever hope to be found one day by her relatives? .... The most difficult thing of all was that the hidden children did not have the slightest information that would enable them to understand their situation.] (3)

The convent was in Milleaux, France and it was a boarding school for Catholic

 

The convent Beate and Susie were hidden in 1943 located in Milleaux, France.

Photo taken by Robert Pappenheimer 1985.

  children. There were lots of nuns, as many nuns as children. Life there was completely different for us. I learned about Jesus, who I never had heard about before. I loved the story of Jesus. I attended catechism and went to church, though I was not allowed to take communion. We dressed in the same uniforms the Catholic students wore and the Sisters were very kind to us. They gave us a saint medal to wear and my saint was Saint Catherine. In the convent the food was better than what we were used to. They gave us chestnuts to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner. In that area of France there were a lot of chestnut trees.

We lived in a large convent with clean sheets on a real bed, hot food, running water and even hot showers. None of the other students knew we were Jewish and only a few of the nuns knew. We were told to never talk to anyone about what our lives were like before the convent, and we tried to fit in as much as possible. I learned about hand-made craft work, embroidery, making pretty borders on hankies, knitting, and crochet. Nuns wore habits of the Order of the Miserecorde. The headdress had a pleated white part, and the rest of it was black. At one time during our stay at the convent, I thought seriously about converting to Catholicism, but every night before I went to bed, I always said the Shema, a Jewish prayer.

Everyone was very nice to Susie and me, both the children and the nuns. I was tempted to convert to Catholicism because our struggles sometimes made me feel tired of being Jewish. Being Jewish had not been easy and I was tired of the persecution. It surely would be so much easier if I could be Catholic. On the other hand, I had thoughts that giving up on my heritage would be going against Papa's and Mama's wishes. I was fearful that perhaps I would even lose the rest of my family if I converted. I talked to one of the nuns, Sister of Hope (Soeur Esperance) about my feelings, and she said, "Remember your father's teachings and if you still feel this way after the war, you can still come back to us." I never did convert.

One day all the children were walking two by two in uniform, on the way to church. I stood out visually due to my blonde hair, because most French children had dark hair. Even my sister had dark hair. A Nazi happened to be walking by the convent and stopped to come   over to me. He started to touch my hair, saying nice things to me. All I wanted to do was run away from him, but I did not dare. I held my breath. I was so petrified that I was trembling. Had the Nazi found out I was hiding? Luckily, a nun at the front of the line, saw what was happening and started talking to the Nazi. I did not hear what the nun said to him, but I was thankful that his attention turned elsewhere.

At the convent, the Sisters approached air raids entirely differently than what I was used to. The nuns did not believe in going into the basement. They felt that God knew his plan and whatever happened to you was what God wanted. So during an air raid, we stood outside in a courtyard in a circle, holding hands and singing songs. The only protective measure the nuns had us take was to place a piece of wood in between our upper and lower teeth so that if a bomb exploded near us we would not bite our tongues. As the bombs were falling around us, the nuns would say: "Don't worry. Jesus is watching over you and nothing bad will happen." No wonder I was tempted to be Catholic.

I also remember a time when a group of the children went to Paris and I treated everyone to ice cream and a fountain pen since I had saved the money my godmother had sent. However, when I left the chateaus the money stopped coming. Once, I bought shoe polish and I found my sister slathering it on her shoes. I was so angry because she was using way too much, so I slapped her and said: "Don't you waste my money that way."

Another strong memory I have is that while at the convent I took care of a little girl about four years old named Violet. She was a petite pretty girl, with olive skin, big brown eyes, and long wavy brown hair. Her mother brought her there because something was wrong with her. Violet would not let anyone touch her. I was about eleven years old. I was patient and worked to make friends with her. Eventually, Violet warmed up to me. At first, I could just touch her a little bit, but eventually she would yell for me to help her with her bath, wash her or help her dress. I was the only one she would allow to touch her. I became extremely fond of her. One day Violet's mother came and I was introduced to her. She explained to me that she was taking Violet home and I would not see her anymore. I was absolutely heartbroken. To this day I remember her and how she looked.

Our stay at this convent ended when Susie contracted Tuberculosis and we were transferred to a country convent. I had made a promise to myself never to be separated from Susie, so I told the nuns that I wanted to go with her. This particular convent was on a farm, and the Sisters dressed differently. They were the Sisters of Charity. They had a Belmont white headdress, which rolled around the face. Here, we churned butter and I felt fortunate to have the taste of butter in my mouth again, not bread, just the butter. But I often dreamed about bread and butter. During the day we were hired out to do work on farms. One job I was given was to pick bugs off potato leaves because in those days they did not use pesticide. Other days we picked weeds or grapes, and we also did embroidery. One day, I was told to take a cow to a particular pasture, but somehow I got confused and left the poor cow in the wrong pasture. This caused the cow to become bloated. Because of that poor cow's experience, I quickly decided that I did not like farming. Different chores were given to me. I churned butter and I would sneak licks whenever I could. I also remember that when I had bronchitis, they put little hot glass cups on my back. This was supposed to make you better. Both the nuns and the OSE took good care of us. The people in the OSE would come and visit Susie and I in the countryside, sometimes taking us to the movies or just visiting to keep in touch with us.

When the war was almost over, we left the country convent and went back to the OSE home, chateau Chaumont. We knew the war was coming to an end because we could see American planes flying overhead. When we saw the planes, we hung out of the windows and screamed to let them know of our excitement. We danced the Hora to celebrate. I will be forever thankful to the OSE for saving my sister's and my life. They helped to instill my love for being Jewish. Yet, with the war coming to an end, I started worrying again. What will happen to us once the war is over? Will we find our parents? Where will we live?

Chapter Sixteen

Marriage

Life in New York was not all about school. I met Bob Pappenheimer, my future husband, when I was fifteen. Bob's parents knew my Aunts and Uncle. One afternoon Bob and his parents came to visit the Schmidts. I had just come back from having a date with the Rabbi's son. We had gone to a football game. I came through the front door and there were Bob and his parents. I said hello to Bob's mom who was in a wheel chair because she had multiple sclerosis. I then shook his father's hand and finally went over to Bob and curtsied. I actually curtsied! That was what I had learned. When it was time to sit down, the only space left was next to Bob on a couch. He started to flirt with me right away. Bob told me a story about something, I don't remember what, and he put his arm around my waist. We got along very well.

Bob was very kind to me and we began to spend time together. One day during the winter of 1948, when the stairs outside were completely covered with snow, there was Bob bringing me makeup and stockings, which his sister, Alice, had helped him pick out. We would often do things together and he introduced me to his friends, who were very nice. Those outings with Bob were always with groups of people not the two of us alone. Every Monday we would go to the Jewish Community Center because all the young people congregated there. It was always so much fun.

Sometimes in the summer, Bob drove his father's car and picked me up with a bunch of other people. Up to thirteen teenagers piled into the car and the girls often sat on the boys' laps. There were no seat belts. One place we would go was Rockaway Beach. But then Bob's brother-in-law, Phil, asked Bob to go out west to O'Neill, Nebraska to manage a grocery store. While he was in the Midwest, we often wrote letters back and forth.

When Bob was in Nebraska, I started dating another boy named Rick. But Bob came back and took me on a date around Passover time. I assumed that he was going back to O'Neill, Nebraska. But Bob called me around the time of the Seder and said, "I am going to stay here in New York. I want to get to know you better." That is when we actually started to date. This was when I was eighteen years old and in my last year of high school.

Bob also confronted my Aunts and Uncle over the fact that they were lying about   keeping kosher. "How can you do this to these girls?" he asked them. A big fight broke out and they threw him out of the house. They were furious with Bob and did not want him to come back to the house ever again. They yelled, "We don't want to see Bob around here." So he couldn't come to the house anymore. But we managed to keep having a relationship. Susie used to go back and forth, delivering our secret love letters. Usually, she carried them to the Jewish Community Center on Mondays where Bob received them. I began seeing Bob secretly.

One day Bob and I were visiting Susie at a summer camp. We were swinging back and forth on a porch swing, Bob's head on my lap, just relaxing. We got in to a conversation with some people and they asked, are you married? I said no. Suddenly Bob says, "Let's get married." That was my wedding proposal, "Let's get married." I replied, "Great! Yes. Let's get married."

When the Schmidts heard about it they had a fit. They thought I should go to college or go to work and that I was too young to get married. I said to the Schmidts, "No matter what you say, I am going to marry him." My Aunt Flora said, "You are only marrying him because he has a car!" I slapped her and said, "That is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said to me!" She was taken aback. I said to her, "If you don't want to make the wedding, that is okay. Bob's mother will host the wedding." In German she replied, "What will the people think if we let Gerta (Bob's mother) arrange the wedding?"

Aunt Flora's concern about what people would think led her to plan a very small wedding. An orthodox Rabbi married us. I even went to the mikvah before the wedding. The wedding was in the afternoon. There was a huppa, coffee and cake. I bought my own wedding dress, a blue suit, for eight dollars. The veil came from a cousin whose wedding was a few weeks earlier. My Aunts and Uncle were not happy that I married this early. They worried because there was a lot of sickness in the Pappenheimer family, and so they were concerned that I was going to be a young widow. It turned out that this was true. I did become a fairly young widow at 54. But I was in love with Bob and it did not matter how much time we would have together. What I admired most about Bob was that he was very   smart. He was a voracious reader and loved astronomy. I thought he should have been in academia. He had a wonderful disposition and was an optimistic person. He was my fabulous husband and also my teacher. He was everything to me.

What mattered to me was that we had time together. The Schmidts did not understand. It really hit me as we were walking to the hotel after the wedding was over, a new chapter of my life was beginning.

Chapter Seventeen

Raising a Family

Bob and I traveled by car on our honeymoon to Niagara Falls and Canada. We took a ferry boat ride back to the United States. I was impressed that they put our car on the boat. We traveled to O'Neill Nebraska, where Bob had worked for his brother-in-law Phil Cohn. Phil had a job waiting for Bob. Phil and Alice (Bob's older sister) lived in O'Neill and we stayed there for a couple of months, but then moved to Winner, South Dakota so Bob could work in one of the many grocery stores Phil had opened in the Midwest.

When I had lived in New York, my Aunt Flora was fussy about her kitchen and had not let Susie or I cook. So when I got married I did not know how to cook. I remember that I wanted to boil some water for some eggs. The water was boiling, but I was not sure if that was enough. I asked Bob, "Can I put the eggs in?" He just laughed. So it was Bob who began to teach me how to cook. I also learned to cook by trial and error and had to learn how to follow recipes. I remember the first time I made a cake I made a big mistake. I started out sifting the dry ingredients, like the flour. I put that into the mixing bowl. I did not realize that you first beat the eggs and other liquids then add the flour. So I had to throw the whole thing away and start all over again.

It was exciting news when we found out that we were going to have a child. We had our first baby, Rose Ann in Winner, South Dakota. My sister, who was still living with the Schmidts, came to visit us in Winner before Rose Ann was born. A few days after the birth, Bob packed up everything and put it in the car and we moved back to O'Neill, Nebraska. I remember laying in the back seat of the car. In one hand I had the baby and in the other hand I had a baby book. I did not know what to do with a newborn. I wanted to give her a bath but was not sure how. The hospital did not show us how to take care of the baby. It was not easy. I got through it just like cooking. I managed by trial and error.

After O'Neill, we went to Broken Bow, Nebraska, and then we lived in Rapid City, South Dakota, where Jeany and Deborah were born. Jeany was 19 months younger than Rose Ann, and Deborah was born two years after that. We lived in Rapid City for three years. Then we moved back to O'Neill where Nancy, our youngest child, was born. Our family was complete. We had four daughters.

June 24th, 1958 while living in O'Neill, Nebraska I took my test to get my citizenship. I felt very lucky to be living in America. I did not feel German though I was born there, and had studied to become an American citizen. I remember taking the test and missing only one question. I was asked what the United States form of government was. I answered democracy, but the answer was a republic. Nonetheless I passed the test and became an American Citizen. It was a very important and special day. I was so proud to become a citizen of this country. I thought about the bad years during the war and the contrast to my current good life in this country. I felt very thankful and fortunate. To this day I sometimes well up with tears when I hear the National Anthem. I have never taken for granted the rights and freedoms of this country.

It seemed like after the Eichmann Trial in 1961 people became more curious about what happened during WWII and about the Holocaust. Midwesterners, especially those from small towns like O'Neill, were also curious about what Judaism was all about. We were often the first Jewish people our neighbors ever met.

In 1963, while we were living in O'Neill, I took a Dale Carnegie course. In that course you would talk about your childhood experiences. One of the people who attended the course was married to a teacher. He told his wife about me and she became interested in hearing my story. She came over one day and asked me to talk to her about what I went through. She was very nice and she asked, "Would you talk to our Teachers Tea?" I said, "I don't think so. I am not used to talking to groups of people. I am not ready for it." She said, "Well, perhaps later, you will want to try. Let me know."

Bob witnessed all of this and he encouraged me to speak at the Teachers Tea. "I think it is important that you do this," he said. So I accepted her invitation. Much to my surprise, when I went and talked to the teachers, it lasted for over an hour. Soon after that teacher began calling me wanting me to speak to their classes. Word spread, and soon I was speaking to different groups, especially school children, about my experiences. Public speaking became an important part of my life, and I continue to speak about my Holocaust experiences to groups to this day.

Afterword

There was no closure to the question of whether my parents survived the war until the late 1950's when Beate Klarsfeld, a Nazi hunter sent me a book. This book by her husband, Serge Klarsfeld, titled Memorial to the Jews Deported from France 1942-1944; Documentation of the Deportation of the Victims of the Final Solution in France, listed many Jews who were sent to concentration camps as documented by the Nazi's. There I found my mother's name confirming that she was on a convoy train that was destined for Auschwitz. No doubt she was gassed and murdered there. In 1970, still hoping that my father might still be alive while visiting Yad Vashem in Israel, I asked "I am interested in finding out what happened to my father. Can you help me?" The person asked me a bit about my specific experience and then gave me a book titled The Jews of Karlsruhe. There inside the book was my father's name and the fact that he met the same horrible fate as my mother at Auschwitz. Sadly, neither of my parent survived the war.

My sister Susie now lives in Israel. She is married to Kurt Phillips and they have three children and thirteen grandchildren. We talk often by phone and see each other from time to time as well.

People say they admire me for being able to pick up and keep going even when I have had adversity in life, because of both the kind of childhood I had, and events later in my adult life. I have had two, much loved husbands who died. Bob died of Chronic Lymphatic Leukemia in 1987.

I met my second husband, Harold Karp, at synagogue in 1989. He also was a kind and wonderful man. It took almost a year of dating before we got married. I felt I had gotten a second chance at being happy. Sadly, it did not last long. It was only seven years until he died from thyroid cancer.

The third important relationship I had was with Lee White, whom I met in 1999. He was charming, kept me laughing and provided me with good political discussions. Unfortunately, Lee passed away in 2013. I have been lucky because of the people who I have met in my life and the people who have helped me. I have my wonderful four daughters, sons-in-law and seven grandchildren. They are my best revenge against Hitler.

I currently live in Omaha, Nebraska, and I continue to tell my story. Speaking is still not easy thing for me to do, but I do it in honor of the memory of my parents and the six million Jews who died in the Holocaust. It makes my life more meaningful. Many students write to me after my talks and tell me that they learned that prejudice and bullying are horrible and can lead to terrible things. I feel I am doing something good. I learned from my experiences. I learned how to cope with life no matter what happens to you and that you have two choices. One is to give up, to say, "poor me." The other is to go on with your life and pick up the pieces and do the best that you can. I feel I am more resilient because of the war. I want others to know of the struggle and the horror so that it never happens again, but I also want them to know of our ability to persevere, and that good can come, even after what seems like the worst.

Glossary

Auschwitz Extermination Camp — Built by the Nazis in Poland in 1940, Auschwitz was the largest of the concentration and extermination camps. It operated until 1944, carrying out the Nazi's genocide of the Jews. Several million people, by some estimates, 90% were Jewish, met their death due to the crematorium, gas chambers, disease, starvation and exhaustion at the camp.

Buchenwald Concentration Camp — In 1937, Buchenwald (German for beech forest) was constructed near Wiemar, Germany by the Nazis. It was built to provide slave labor for factories in Central Germany. It operated until 1945. Estimates of death are around 56,000 people who were interned there. Moritz Stern was sent here when captured during Kristallnacht by the Nazis. Somehow Moritz escaped the camp and found his family in Karlsruhe, Germany.

Gurs Concentration Camp — Located in southern France, near the Pyrenees mountains, Gurs was constructed in 1939. The Vichy government in 1940 sent Jews of European nationality (except French) to Gurs for internment. Conditions were unsanitary, food was scarce and poor in quality. There was no running water or plumbing. The ground was clay and during the winter months it frequently rained, turning the ground into a muddy, cold and wet environment.

Huppa — Hebrew for canopy. A raised canopy covering over the bridal couple for the wedding ceremony.

Karlsruhe — A city located in southwest Germany near the Franco-German border.

Kosher — A set of Jewish laws regarding accepted types of food and how food is eaten and prepared.

Kristallnacht — November 9-10, 1938. The first organized pogrom against the Jews generated by the Nazis throughout all of Germany. Jewish businesses, synagogues and homes were ransacked, burned or destroyed by the Nazis. 30,000 Jews, mostly men, including Moritz Stern were arrested and sent to Buchenwald. Kristallnacht translated to English means The Night of the Broken Glass.

Lauterbach — Located in the Black Forest near Schramberg, Germany. Today it is known as   a tourist town. Beate and Susie Stern were born there where the family had a home and worked in a fabric store.

Les Milles Concentration Camp — Between 1941 and 1942 this camp, located near village of Les Milles, France, was used as a transit camp for Jews, mostly men. Nearly all the men were deported to Auschwitz and murdered.

Mikveh — The Orthodox or Hassidic Jewish woman's ritual to immerse her body in water before a wedding or at other times for cleansing. The Mikveh's water comes from either a natural spring or a river.

Orthodox Jews — In Judaism there are four major ways of interpreting Judaism that share many of the same basic beliefs and values, but differ in how the religion is practiced. The oldest tradition is Orthodox Judaism. Orthodox Jews adhere to a strict interpretation of the Torah guided by the Talmud as well as a set of laws. Conservative Judaism also adheres to the Torah and Talmud but arose to provide allowances for some departures in keeping with different times and circumstances. More recent are Reconstructionist and Reform Judaism with more liberal, creative approaches to Jewish traditions, often shortening and simplifying rituals.

OSE — French abbreviation for Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants which translated means Society for Assistance to Children. This organization saved and hid thousands of Jewish children from Nazi extermination. These children were either hidden among non-Jewish families, convents, or the homes (chateaus) run by the OSE. Elie Wiesel was one of the fortunate children saved by the OSE as were Beatrice and Susie Stern. The OSE was founded in 1912 by Jewish doctors and intellectuals. Their main goal was to improve families' lives, including both their social and medical needs. Albert Einstein became its honorary president in 1922. By 1940 the OSE moved their main office to Pans, France and provided social services inside French internment camps, including Gurs and Rivesaltes. Vivette Samuel was an OSE social worker who included Beate in her wedding (see page 94) and worked at Rivesaltes. She authored Rescuing the Children; A Holocaust Memoir, which is invaluable for understanding the conditions in the camps and the role the OSE played in saving children from certain death.

Passover — A Jewish holiday that celebrates the freeing of the Jews from slavery in Egypt.

Rivesaltes Concentration Camp — Located in the south of France. It was used to detain Jews who, beginning in 1942, were sent to Auschwitz, where they were murdered.

Shabbat — The Hebrew word for the Jewish weekly observance of the seventh day of the week. Traditionally it is a day of rest and religious rituals. It is a time for family and friends to gather, both at home and at synagogue.

Shema — A Jewish prayer recited by Jews to proclaim God's oneness and their faith. Shema translated to English means "Hear."

Saint Catherine — The Catholic saint of young students.

Synagogue — A house of worship and communal center of Jewish life.

Tuberculosis — A disease which affects the lungs and is characterized by fever, cough and difficulty breathing.

Vichy Regime — During WWII France was divided into two sections. The north was occupied by Nazi Germany and the south was controlled by the independent French government with its capital in the town of Vichy, France located in the center of France.