Transcending Darkness: A Girl’s Journey Out of the Holocaust

21. Another Strange Town

21 Another Strange Town H ow much time had passed from when we were liberated from the concentration camp in Częstochowa till we were on the train to our new destination, Chorzów? We were liberated in mid-January 1945. When we arrived in Działoszyce, the world was still under a crust of ice. Passover and spring followed soon and the fields miraculously turned green. We probably had arrived in Działoszyce in mid-March, approximately two months after liberation. When we left Działoszyce, it was summer. The sun- flowers were showing their perfectly round faces atop their tall stalks, the air was warm, and the trees at the fringes of fields were dark and heavy with growth. It must have been late June 1945, five months after liberation. We were again running from persecutors. Nevertheless, I took heart knowing that we had successfully crossed icy fields to find Max and David, and that we had escaped from the hooligans in Działoszyce. My inner voice told me, Take nothing for granted, not even the rising sun. I carried inside me the gifts I had recovered during the months in Działoszyce: laughter with friends and blissful moments in meadows where I had heard my own voice make the sky take note of me. In the concentration camps my screams had no sound, my fists and legs were held in check. There I wondered, Where are the eyes and hearts of mankind and God? If they cannot be reached, how can I hope? Another Strange Town 137 * * * Afraid to be recognized as Jews, we sat silently in a train compartment, our heads turned to the window. The four people whose knees were touching mine were my whole world. I know that my heart froze at the thought of how completely alone I would be without them. The train dashed through country scenes as familiar to me as the faces of childhood friends. Running away from the land that had once been home left me feeling suspended between catastrophe and hope. I felt an emptiness of being without a country and fearful of our mysterious destination. We got off in Chorzów and followed my cousins through a crowded train station into a modern city. The buildings were imposing, the traffic heavy, and the pedestrians indifferent . There was security in our anonymity, but I felt small and insignificant. My cousins navigated through a maze of streets with absolute confidence. The big surprise came when Max and David stopped in front of a dignified threestory building on an elegant street in the center of town. They lowered their luggage to the sidewalk and pointed, “See this jewelry store with the large display widows? We are part owners. See the row of tall windows above the store? We have rooms in this apartment . This is where all of us will stay.” Mama, Fredka, and I were mystified. “What led you to this place? How did you manage to arrange this miracle?” Max and David chose Chorzów for our escape because it was the only other town Max was familiar with. He had worked there before the war. Furthermore, it was closer to Germany. My cousins’ plan was to cross the border and work our way to the American sector in Germany. Going to America, where Mama’s siblings and their families lived, was our ultimate hope. During their many secret absences from Działoszyce, Max and David had negotiated with two old friends: Mr. Rogal, Max’s loyal Christian prewar friend from Działoszyce, and Walter, also a prewar acquaintance in Chorzów. The arrangements were an attempt to solve mutual problems, and the process was as bizarre as the times. Chorzów was originally a German village, called Königshüte. After World War I, Chorzów passed from Germany to Poland. When Germany invaded Poland, Chorzów became a German city again. After the Russian liberation, Chorzów passed back to Poland . The German-speaking majority was expelled, and the town was resettled with Poles. Walter was German—a persona non grata at that time—and went into hiding. He may have had other reasons for hiding from the new regime. We never found out if this Liberation 138 was so. On the other hand, his wife, a Russian from Georgia, Stalin’s birthplace, was a welcome citizen. However, she...