p 36

Kasriel K. Eilender, M.D.

next >

THE BARBER OF GOERLITZ - A MEMOIR

< PHOTOS < CONTENTS < BACK   

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“If you don’t take us 

on the 

Death March, 

we will try to help you

 when the Russians come.”

It worked!

The Commandant

 agreed, 

and disobeyed

 the order!

In the beginning of February 1945, we started to hear thunder and more thunder day and night. Of course, this was not thunder because of storm; it was the thunder of the Soviet artillery. We understood that the front was coming close to us. It was the worst time psychologically and physically. We were exhausted after almost four years of hell on earth: violent death looming daily, starvation, beatings and hard labor. The liberation was getting closer and closer, but death was closer. The thought was very painful that after such a horrible ordeal, it would be a pity and injustice to perish right now when the end of the nightmare was almost over. However, the pangs of hunger and cold overshadowed these very depressing thoughts.

At this time, the Nazis had some confusion, and they did not know exactly what to do considering that some of the camps had already been liberated.  

There was an order from Himmler that no camp inmate should fall into the hands of the Allies alive. 

They started to shuttle the prisoners from Dachau to Buchenwald, from Grossrosen to Dachau and all around to all of the camps in Germany. In many instances this included very notorious marches during which the majority of the prisoners died from hunger and exhaustion or by being shot. Naturally, I did not know anything about it at that time. Our camp was no exception. 

The commandant of the camp SS captain Karl Ulbrich allegedly an engineer by profession, and several of his aids as well as a physician himself a prisoner conducted a selection of sick, week and disabled inmates. All of these individuals were earmarked for evacuation by train to Dachau. The entire sickbay was emptied and many other prisoners were included in the transport.  

On the memorable day of February 15th, 1945 I participated, together with other prisoners to transport these poor souls. We placed the starving, emaciated and dying prisoners on lorries, which we had to push for 7 kilometers over a narrow tract rail line from the camp all the way to the main railroad station of the city of Reichenbach. A grotesque, large slogan was written on the building of the station that read: “Zuerst Siegen, dan reisen” which meant in English: “First victory, and then traveling.” The prisoners were loaded into two cattle cars, which had been standing for two days on a station in very cold winter weather.

 Later, after the war, I found out that these two cattle cars went to Dachau. Upon arrival there, 90 percent of the people were dead, those who were still breathing died later.

Shortly thereafter, we were taken to a location where we were housed in a former guesthouse, where we slept on the floor. We did continue to dig anti-tank trenches for the German army. The landscape of this part of Lower Silesia was very beautiful: mountains, forests, and nicely manicured lawns around houses where children played. Some of the young guards were flirting with the girls. On occasion, some women from the surrounding houses brought us potatoes. It felt in the air that the regime was a little lighter. It was already spring and we continued digging. I did develop an abscess on the skin of my abdomen. You cannot be sick under the SS rule. There was a medic, a middle-aged man, who with a plain razor blade opened the abscess, and it healed.

On the 6th of May, while standing in the trenches, we suddenly heard a whistle. The noncom ordered us to get out of the trenches. There was a little girl playing in the woods and I overheard her saying to the noncom: “Yes, our beloved Fuhrer is dead.” 

I was concerned with what would happen to us now. We went back to the guesthouse where we had been staying. We found some bottles with paste like ketchup. We were hungry so we ate some, and it burned like hell. There were rumors going around that they would blow up our camp. Frankly, at this time, I couldn’t think anymore, and I was not afraid. Why? Maybe, I was already burned out, and had no more stamina left in me. I was just so very hungry.

Our camp elder, Mr. Baruch Meister, a Jewish prisoner, had an idea, which was not too bad, but not the greatest. He was a smart fellow.

 The commandant of our camp Ulbrich received an order in February from the higher ups, to take us on an evacuation march. Mr. Meister spoke to Ulbrich and pointed out that we were surrounded already by Soviet troops.

“If you don’t take us on a march, we will try to help you when the Russians come,” Mr. Meister said. He promised him that the tailors in our camp would change his SS uniform to one of an army officer. The same would be done to the uniforms of the SS noncoms. It worked. The camp commandant agreed, and disobeyed the death-march order. The close Soviet artillery thunder maybe helped make up his mind.

next  >