Bound by the Scars We Share Page 6

  “Yes, Zoshia, yes,yes,yes!” her parents replied joyfully, with as much excitement as they were able to express through their immense physical deterioration.

  While contemplating their good fortune at having withstood the horrors of war and having lived through the persecution, a surprise awaited the Freedman family. There was a loud ring of the bell of their apartment. Fear was never far away. Zara opened the door and froze. Her eyes could not believe what she saw. With her heart racing, she screamed as loud as she could, as the rest of the family stood by her. Tears appeared in Smule’s eyes. Zoshia and Hannah looked at each other as they could not fully understand what was happening and who these people were. They stared at three ghostly skeletons standing in front of them: emaciated bodies. They looked like coat hangers on which their clothing limply hung. These desperate wretches stood facing them. It was as if these three people were from another world; one of cruelty, injustice and torture and words could not appear on their lips because of this. Zara mumbled, “Leon, my Leon. Is it really you? Oh Rosa, I can’t believe it! You’re alive! I thought you were murdered! I didn’t think you would be here on my doorstep. Oh come in. Come in. You are safe.” Silence. There was no reply, just cascading tears as each of them held and caressed the other.

  Zara’s brother, Leon Kratawski, and his wife, Rosa, and their fifteen-year-old daughter, Gita, had survived living in the Warsaw Ghetto and had escaped the horror of the concentration camps. They were starving but had managed, with the help of gentile friends, to escape from Poland and travel to Belgium in search of their family. And now they were there and could be nourished and would sleep to try and recover, at least physically. Zara and her family took care of her relations until they would feel strong enough to talk. For the time being, there would be no questions. Zara’s brother was alive. He had saved his wife and daughter and was in Antwerp. Though Zara and Smule were both very weak they found enough energy to help Zoshia and Hannah care for their newly-found love ones.

  Days after Leon, Rosa and Gita’s arrival, they listened intently as Leon described their experiences while Poland was held captive and under German occupation. As far as Leon was aware, all of Smule and Zara’s relatives, living beings with hopes and dreams, had been destroyed by war. Their ashes had become dust. Recalling this, Leon’s words became mingled with tears as his frozen heart burned, while weeping for the death of their loved ones who had been sent to Treblinka and now their departed souls were just dust in the wind.

  “In 1940 the Warsaw Ghetto had been created and all Jews had to be relocated to this part of Warsaw. All our families had been transported there. There was also a gentile section which did not have the same restrictions as Jews. Rooms were so cramped, Smule, with eight of us sharing one room. We weren’t allowed many possessions; just the necessities. Thank goodness that my good friend Franciszek Novak agreed to look after my savings when we Jews were forced into the ghetto, Zarala. However, while I was in the prison city, it did not seem to matter then. We were all poor and destitute. People tried to smuggle food. Our meagre diet was bread, sawdust and potatoes,” said Leon still sighing with suffering at his memory.

  “We suffered too, Leon, when we led our nomadic life trying to avoid the German dogs,” she added. “It was not like you. The Germans didn’t find us, although it was very close,” Zara continued while shivering.

  “My poor Zara,” Leon responded. “Everyone was starving – children were dying in the streets. Typhus was rife. Thousands of Jews died from starvation. It was so cruel. The suffering, the hunger, the torture. It was a slow death for so many. The blanket of misery and wretchedness hung like a shroud. It was Hitler’s plan, you see, Smule. He wanted the ultimate destruction of dangerous groups as part of his plan to purify the Aryan race. He believed that from all the drops of blood that were spilt, this race would become the jewel of existence. No one could escape or even try, as the punishment would be instant death. Later, Zoshia, there was the mass deportation of Jews to the Treblinka death camp where our Jewish relatives perished in the gas chambers. Oh Smule,” Leon wailed, “I wish I could have been sensible like you and had left Poland before the war started.”

  “Leon,” Smule responded sympathetically. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.

  “Many of us still remained in the ghetto and people worked for German-run companies. I managed to join the Jewish Police Force so that I could be less intimidated. It was a terrible experience as it appeared that I was betraying my fellow man. I wasn’t. I was trying to survive. It was because of this role that I eventually managed to escape with Rosa and Gita, as I had to accompany the lorries through the gates and when outside, I jumped into the lorry where my family was already hidden, having been helped by other members of the Jewish Police. We were cared for by Catholic nuns until representatives of the resistance organised our journey to Belgium, at my request. My nightmares are visions of dead children lying in the streets of the ghetto as German soldiers kicked them out of their way. People begged for help but survival of the fittest was the order of the day. At least we escaped the death camps and I pray with thanks everyday that we were saved. Defeat is not declared when you fall down, only when you can’t get up. We managed to rise from the ashes of suffering, somehow.”

  Leon, Rosa and Gita stayed for a while with Zara and her family until their own apartment was found. It was not very big, but it suited Zara’s brother admirably. They were free and Smule loaned his brother-in-law enough money until he could receive his savings.

  However, though they could all now continue with their lives, the years of physical hardship had seriously affected Smule and Zara’s health. Zoshia and Hannah lived in fear of losing their beloved parents who were very weak. Luckily, Smule’s dear old friend, Arvin Van de Vijver, a Gentile friend, had supported him with his business accounts prior to the start of Hitler’s invasion and promised to take care of the money Smule had made before the war. This money now helped Zoshia and Hannah to look after their parents. Smule seemed to have lost a sense of himself and had aged. Zara went through the motions of daily routines automatically, as if her life depended on her cooking, cleaning and shopping. At least her brother was close and this comforted her. She executed commonplace everyday things, which she hoped would make her feel normal once more. She would continue to lavish praise on Hannah, even though she was now a young woman, so that she would not argue with her younger sister.

  Zoshia had kept that tiny photograph of herself with her friends which had been taken before the war. She stared in dismay at the photo of all the girls smiling joyfully at the camera. Her tears blotted out each child’s face, mimicking ironically the disappearance of them all. Killed. Dead. Every single one of them had been transported to the extermination camps together with their families. Zoshia could not comprehend why she had been selected to survive. What had she done to deserve being allowed to continue her life? She sobbed and felt so very lonely and isolated without the comfort of her friends. She said a prayer for each of the eight souls: Regine, Anna, Betty, Sarah, Annette, Maya, Shira and Esther.

  Time passed but Zoshia still felt her inferiority. Something inside her still felt unable to belong. She would watch how Hannah seemed to be the centre of her parents’ world. Her sister had started dating several different young men, but no one could ever reach her high standards, and this contributed to Hannah’s erratic mood swings. As she was constantly moaning to her parents, Zoshia felt unable to be part of their intimate talks.

  The distraction which Zoshia needed came from her talent for languages. She had taken a test set by the Geneva University School of Interpreters as she was extremely fluent in German, French and English. She was delighted to have passed and she obtained a position as a translator at the Nuremberg trials.

  Zoshia was told that she had to travel and stay in Nuremburg so she could translate at the trial. Part of her was petrified at having to leave her household and travel to the country
whose army had destroyed her whole extended family and friends by torture and murder. She had, however, experienced much danger herself during her time in France, so she knew that she could deal with travelling to Nuremburg. Smule and Zara did not want their daughter to leave but realised that what she was doing was important. They arranged for her to stay in a very small bed and breakfast hotel which was still standing after the war. Zoshia tearfully left them and took a train from Antwerp to Brussels and onward to Nuremburg in Bavaria. During the journey Zoshia stared out of the window at the vast countryside but could still not believe that she was free. Even when the train conductor came to check her ticket, Zoshia jumped and froze before she realised it was safe.

  Nuremburg’s old town was mainly devastated. Other parts of the city were heavily bombed by the allies. As she looked around, Zoshia could see the mass of destruction and rubble, where many buildings were in ruins; there were now merely bricks where once there had been majestic edifices; Zoshia noticed huge puddles of muddied water where people were trying to dig desperately for their belongings. The air was filled with green smoke emanating from the burnt and charred buildings, now just carcasses of debris and waste; fragments of a former life.

  Zoshia eventually found where she was supposed to be staying and, speaking German, she could communicate easily with the landlady, Frau Lieberman. Climbing the stairs to her bedroom, Zoshia could hardly believe she was there and as she lay down on her bed in the tiny room, she promptly fell asleep.

  In 1945 The Nuremburg trials were held for the purpose of bringing the Nazi war criminals to justice. The defendants included Nazi party officials and military officers of high rank along with German industrialists, lawyers and doctors. They were charged with crimes against peace and crimes against humanity. This was an early experiment in simultaneous translation. The Charter of the International Military Tribunal stated that the defendants had a right to a fair trial and so all proceedings would be translated into a language that the defendants understood. Zoshia became a valued part of these trials and this helped her to feel needed. At first she found it difficult to speak into the microphone at the same time as listening, but she soon became accustomed to what was required.

  The accused faced the judges and there were German counsel and court reporters nearby. Zoshia was placed in a small, three-sided glass booth, which was extremely claustrophobic. She wore heavy clumsy earphones which were awkward, but she revelled in her job and so endured the uncomfortable sensations. The defendants would look at Zoshia and she did not hesitate to stare back at them with hatred in her eyes. This had a cathartic effect for her as she was able to see the perpetrators of the carnage stand trial for their crimes. Despite this satisfaction, Zoshia was always looking over her shoulder in case she would be ‘caught’. She yearned to break free both physically and mentally from these feelings. The complete indoctrination of always having to run away was part of her psyche from which there was no escape.

  The logical part of Zoshia knew that she was now safe as the war was over. But she was unable to dissipate her deep sense of fear. So much had happened. There had been no real personal happiness in her life. It was as if she had been living at sea in a boat without oars. The terror and horror that Zoshia had experienced would never leave her. SHE… she had escaped death. Death which was always too close and trying to engulf her being, could not reach her and now she was trying to live a new life.

  One afternoon at the trials, Zoshia, deep in thought, entered the ladies’ room to try and wash the perspiration from her face. The cool water immediately soothed her as she felt the icy liquid upon her skin. Reaching for a paper towel to dry herself, she could not help but overhear two cleaners who were speaking to each other in German. Zoshia nearly choked. No amount of water could eliminate the sweat that was soaking her body. She looked in the mirror. Her face was white. How could this be? The Nuremberg trials were safe. And yet…

  Zoshia ran out of the toilets where the two women were still talking. Climbing the stairs with an urgency she hadn’t felt since the war, she spoke to her friend Simon who was in the technology department. “I heard the two German cleaners talking… I could understand… they spoke about how… how they were… Aufseherin… in the camps. Yes those two female cleaners were guards in a concentration camp. I didn’t hear which one. Please, please, please do something immediately.”

  Simon calmed Zoshia down briefly. “I will sort this out.” And he promptly left. Tears flowed down Zoshia’s face and flooded her eyes so that her vision was blurred and all she could see was a distorted view of the world. She had wanted to kill both of them but that impulse soon muted itself. When Simon returned, he tenderly informed her that the cleaners had been taken away for interrogation and questioning. Zoshia was extremely relieved and calmed down. She was here to do a job, a very important one. She had to take control despite the fact that she was still immersed in the war. Zoshia heard about so many disgusting atrocities that each day she would return home to her small apartment and cry. She prayed for some mental liberation from her daily perpetual torment, anguish and guilt at being alive. She needed something different; a distraction from her intense obsession over her war experience.

  The salvation from her mental misery appeared in the form of Robert Ward, an English journalist who was working at the trials. She had noticed him in a local cafeteria, and she was immediately taken by his violet, blue eyes which were gazing at her from beneath his heavy, dark eyebrows. His strong, determined jaw seemed to emanate confidence and assurance. Zoshia felt embarrassed about her underlying sense of passion and sensations which were penetrating her body. She had never felt this way before. She was somehow comforted by her feelings. Each night, she would go to sleep having fantasised about their meeting and when she awoke, it was Robert who dominated her thoughts.

  Robert Ward was a journalist who had been sent to Nuremburg to cover aspects of the trial. He was a well built, tall, muscular man, who exuded a friendly disposition due to an almost permanent fixed smile on his face. A caring human being, Robert felt privileged to be attending the trials. He had been in the army during the war and experienced horrors which would always remain in his psyche. Full of confidence, he loved to make people laugh but his serious mission in Nuremburg was of paramount importance to him. Robert had noticed this beautiful, shy, young woman sitting in the cafeteria and he was determined to get to know her. She seemed so mournful and reserved that she fascinated him.

  At 1.05pm on a Thursday, Robert Ward approached Zoshia and asked if he could sit with her. She replied, “Yes, please do.” She could feel her knees shaking and her heart fluttering so loudly, that she was certain he could hear it.

  “I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, but I have noticed that you come in here quite often, as I do and I hoped that you would allow me to buy you some dinner after we have finished work,” he asked assertively.

  “Yes, I would love to,” Zoshia replied rather quickly. “I work as a translator at the trials, as I speak six languages you see: French, Flemish, German, Dutch, English and Yiddish,” she added, trying to make him admire her

  “Do you, indeed!” Robert responded, in such a way that Zoshia knew that he was impressed.

  “One day I would like to have a career using these skills,” Zoshia continued, feeling more confident.

  “I am sure you will… I am a journalist from Windsor in England and I have been sent here to report on the trials, so I hope that we will be able to see a lot of each other,” he declared in a slightly lower volume which conveyed his intelligence and magnetism. Zoshia was delighted that he had asked her. She loved his dark-brown hair and his handsome face and now she had been asked out to dinner and the offer of an exciting continuous form of relationship.

  “I hope so too!” she replied, unable to hide her enthusiasm which seemed to delight Robert and completely surprise Zoshia.

  The pair continued to meet regularly and discu
ss their lives with each other. Robert was horrified by Zoshia’s stories of suffering and felt nothing but compassion for her tortured life. They were happy together and became very close. Zoshia felt elated most of the time because the sense of pleasure was so new to her. Someone liked her for who she was. He cared for her feelings and showed her respect and consideration. They laughed and talked together and it was not long before they knew that they had a powerful mutual love. Robert composed beautiful, romantic letters to her, proclaiming devotion. She kept his letters in her drawer in an old biscuit tin and would read them frequently. For the first time in her life, Zoshia felt real happiness. She would fall asleep, dreaming of Robert and would sleep peacefully, something which she had never done. In the morning, she would wake up with an excitement for a new day and looked forward to her life, loving each moment.

  Zoshia could not reveal the relationship to her family. Robert was not Jewish, and she knew that they would never condone her having a close romantic connection with someone of a different religious background. Zoshia did not want to face this problem just yet. She was much too happy. The issue was put to the back of her mind as she wanted time to stand still, so that she could enjoy their love for as long as possible. She continued to ignore this unmoving obstacle, which she ultimately knew would eventually part them. She loved Robert deeply and a separation from him seemed too unbearable to contemplate.

  Eventually, towards the ending of their time at the trials, it was Robert himself who created the inevitable confrontation. He proposed to Zoshia, despite knowing that their different faiths might be a problem, as they had discussed the difficulties they might encounter. “I love you, Zoshia. You are my whole world. Please, please be my wife,” he implored, as they were sitting having dinner. “Let your life be flowered with love,” Robert added sincerely. He loved her so much that the thought of losing her was inconceivable. Zoshia knew that she would never be able to marry him. Despite her traumatic suffering, Zoshia still believed in her faith and she felt compelled to obey its rules especially after all she had been through and because of it.