Holocaust Survivor Recounts Horrible Ordeal in Auschwitz

WILDWOOD – “Today we say loudly and clearly: We have not forgotten those who were callously slaughtered during the Holocaust. Because we have endured genocide, we must be ever vigilant in preventing genocide from consuming any more souls: ‘Never again’ means never again for any of God’s children.” These words, printed on the back of a program, welcomed those who went to Beth Judah Temple April 16.
Yet just as spring comes year after year, even in the midst of great tragedy, so does hope. Hope for a better, kinder world made possible by those who care enough to stand up for the truth.
The purpose of Yom HaShoah is to “remember the lives of the 6 million Jews who died during the Holocaust and to honor the survivors, liberators, and rescuers who keep those memories alive.” Held in the hall adjacent to the synagogue, people of all ages gathered, including guest speakers: Rosalie Simon and Leslie Nelson.
Jane Stark, executive director of the Sam Azeez Museum of Woodbine Heritage of Stockton University introduced the speakers. Simon is a child survivor of the Holocaust, whose story later unfolded. Nelson is the son and grandson of Holocaust survivor and member of the Congregation of B’nai Jeshurun in New York City.
Both, although separated by age, had never met until the service that night. They became one voice, one living memory of history. A history not confined to books or museums, but to us and for all time. Past and present met, brought to life in the myriad of photographs scattered throughout the hall. Laughter and good-natured joking mingled as a diverse community came together under one roof.
Pauline Levy, of Beth Judah program committee, welcomed everyone. “Well, it’s a little after seven, so we’ll start on Jewish time,” she said and chuckles echoed across the room. Levy introduced Stark, whose credentials also include membership in the executive committee that founded the Holocaust Resource Center.
“It’s nice to be in Wildwood when the sun’s out,” Stark began as she took the podium. “And it’s good to see a multicultural and multiage audience here tonight.”
Stark’s opening comments emphasized the program’s central theme: tolerance and education. “Education is the bridge between people,” Stark said. She stressed the timeless need for understanding and communication between all people.
Rosalie Simon
Seventy years have passed since the liberation of Auschwitz and other concentration camps throughout Europe, and Simon built a bridge of words between then and now. “It is difficult to speak about the past,” Simon’s clear voice held sway over the room. “I was born in a little town in Czechoslovakia.”
She gave an account of her parents, brother, and four sisters, who went about their daily lives – then came the Passover of 1944. Expelled from school because she happened to be a Jew, Simon and her family were forced to pack up “only essential belongings” and face deportation to a Jewish ghetto in Hungary. Loud, dirty, and over-crowded, life in the ghetto was a far cry from home. “We slept in a cemetery,” Simon said. “No words can describe the shock.”
The family was able to move to an attic, but Simon still remembers the sound of hungry children crying. One day, they were rounded up and taken to the station where cattle cars stood waiting.
Shoved into a separate car, Simon began her journey into the unknown. “I still remember the silence and sounds of the train,” she said softly. “It was intended to be our last ride.”
The cattle cars finally stopped. A sign greeted the deported in German words cast in iron above the gate: “Arbeit Macht Frei.” (“Work will make you free.”)
Simon, her family, and the others had entered Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Although Simon’s mother and brother William died in the gas chambers that day, she managed to find her sisters. They stayed together, even after Dr. Josef Mengele, the so-called Angel of Death, made his selections for women to labor in Germany.
Simon did not pass inspection, but a woman took her place, refusing to let her own daughter die alone. So she made the long trip into Germany to work at a munitions factory. “I am a miracle child!” Simon said with a quiet smile.
Later, after another train ride, American forces freed Simon and the other prisoners. World War II was over. “I am here to raise awareness,” Simon concluded her story. “We (Holocaust survivors) are in our declining years. I am the voice of my mother, brother and 6 million innocent people. Prejudice, bigotry, and hatred still exist today. May such evil never happen again.” She summed up the lesson of the Holocaust in a simple statement: “Never be a silent bystander.”
Leslie Nelson
The son of survivors, Nelson’s tale began in Hungary. A descendent of talented carpenters and textile designers, Nelson spoke of his father’s accomplishments in Budapest during the early 20th century. Nelson’s mother and father met in Győr, Hungary and married soon after in 1942. Young, educated, and full of plans, his parents began their lives together.
“One day, my mother woke up, looked out the window and saw tanks and soldiers,” said Nelson as he described the day that Germany invaded Hungary in 1944.
Soldiers forced Georg (George), his father, to stay at the textile mill where he worked while Juliana, his mother, moved to a ghetto with her parents at the edge of town. When the fateful day came for Jews to face deportation, Juliana (Julia) hid her Star of David badge and rode by bicycle to the mill. There, in the shadows, she said goodbye to her husband. She boarded a cattle car and began the trip to Auschwitz.
Guards separated her from her father; in the chaos, Nelson said, “Her father turned and blew her a kiss.” Juliana never saw him again.
When a man tried to separate her from Ethel, she drew from her knowledge of language and said, “She is my mother!” The man who let them stay together was Mengele. Juliana was only 23.
Sometime later, Juliana and Ethel made the journey to Lippstadt, Germany, where they both toiled in a munitions factory. Ethel became seriously ill and weighed only 75 pounds. “My mother hid her in a field when the guards came for her (Ethel),” Nelson said.
Nelson testified of his mother and grandmother’s courage even as they kept Yom Kippur and fasted. As Allied troops approached, guards forced the workers to march out of the camp.
After jumping a brook under threat of death if anyone got wet, Juliana and Ethel saw Russian soldiers who told them of coming American troops. “The Americans popped out of tanks and threw food, toothpaste, and soap to them,” Nelson accounted.
The horrors of Auschwitz and the factory could become part of the past.
Georg, who had been liberated in Austria, and Juliana finally found each other two years later. Juliana worked in a Displaced Persons Camp, drawing upon her knowledge of many languages, and visas were eventually granted.
They settled in Paterson., and Georg worked for a textile company in New York City, from which he retired from as vice president years later.
Ethel Goldberg came with her daughter and son-in-law and started a new life in America. “My parents bought a home in Wayne, where my brother and I grew up. They were one of 14 couples who founded the temple in Wayne,” Nelson reminisced.
Nelson shared his parents’ story with pride, saying how they spoke of the good and told their stories for the good of others.
“My parents didn’t talk about it at first,” Nelson said. Yet, for all time, their stories along with many others are preserved in a visual history produced by Steven Spielberg. Nelson summed up his parents’ and grandmother’s experiences in three words: resilience, faith, and perseverance.
Gail Cohen, a volunteer of Beth Judah program committee, gave the evening’s closing remarks after a question and answer session. Many questions centered around one, echoing theme: “Why?”
“I can’t begin to imagine,” Cohen confessed. “Whole communities were wiped out.”
Apathy and indifference led many to believe the lies and dreams of men such as Adolf Hitler. Yet the message of hope, tolerance, and understanding transcends violence. The service ended with these words, scratched into a wall during those dark days: “I believe in the sun even when it is not shining; I believe in love, even when I don’t feel it; I believe in God, even when He is silent.”
To contact Rachel Rogish, email rrogish@cmcherald.com.