Miss you, dad
5th of June, 1940
Dear Dad,
Since you left, so many things had happen here. I’m not longer in home with my
stepmother, neither with my mother. Instead, I'm in somewhere called
“Auschwitz Birkenau”. We arrived, “we” because we are travelling in groups,
yesterday, in train; and were checked by a doctor who decided if we were
healthy to work. I’m glad I pass, because some guys didn't like
Moskovics, a skinny little boy I met during the journey. You must be asking
yourself how I get here, so now I’m telling you.
I don’t
remember if we were travelling since yesterday or an eternity, because for me
it was the most uncomfortable journey of my life. This entire trip started like
every other day, I was going to work, when suddenly, the bus stopped in middle
of the highway. A police officer asked every Jewish boy to get off the bus. I
met other boys and girls getting off other buses. We saw other children get off
other buses too. We have been travelling for kilometres from Budapest, we
passed the Hungarian frontier, and we arrived to a German station, or that’s
what I think, because everybody in here speaks German.
About
“Auschwitz Birkenau”, is not bad, although there are some prisoners that only
speak Yiddish. They are all shaved and wear striped clothes and round caps, and
on their chests they had their convict number and a yellow triangle. I have
been asking myself what they have done, what are they accused of. For the
medical check, they get around to see who was accepted. We
were separated from women and girls, as we were only boys and men at
this side of the camp.
I’m starting to miss you, I miss the shop, and I miss home, the school,
my mother, even my stepmother. I miss my friends, my family, our neighbours,
and specially Annamarie. I didn’t tell you, but I think I love her. One day, we
decided to join, we were talking when a bomb exploded near us. And then we
kissed, and that moment I realized I love her. But she doesn’t accept it; she
states that everything was because of the bomb. Although, I miss her too.
I’ve heard some rumours about other Hungarians; they say we are here
because of our religion. I think they are wrong, because I don’t feel myself
attached to any religion in particular, and I’m still here. It’s very
interesting what I have realized this few days, I’m not part of the Jewish
community, or I don’t feel myself like one of them. Maybe these reflections I’m
revealing to you will make you feel mad or upset, but it’s what is happening to
me. I realized this the day you left us. Uncle Lajos took me to pray for you,
but I didn’t know how, moreover, I didn’t understand a word he said. This new
reflections make me feel alone, because I don’t belong to any community right
now, and here everyone, o0r most of people are Jewish people, they all pray or
speak Yiddish, so I don’t understand anything. This feeling is very
uncomfortable, I need to belong somewhere, but I don’t know were.
Here at the camp, German soldiers are very kind, they gave us
instructions, they make us pass through medical checking and offered us a job.
I don’t know why they use guns; nobody in here is going to fight them. Maybe they
use them to intimidate the prisoners, or to control the mob. Maybe, as there
are so much people, they use them to identify themselves. They generate in me some
feelings of security. I’m sure they will protect us if we are under any kind of
danger. The only thing is weird in them is that they use a sort of arm band, is
red and have an unknown sign for me. Every soldier and German in charge of this
camp uses them. Maybe they accomplish the same function of their guns, to
identify themselves.
I want to know something about you, I haven’t heard any new about you
since you left, and I want to know how are you, if you are healthy, if you are
working, if you miss home, if you miss me, everything. After this “adventure”
we should go to expend some time together. We haven’t made anything together
since a long time ago. Maybe we could invite my stepmother, and probably I will
know her better, so we have a better coexistence in home. I promise that when
we arrive home, I will study some Hebrew to understand what we are praying. That’s
all I wanted to tell you.
Sincerely yours
Georg
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