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7-Psychological Effects, America & Reflections
When we watched your video it said something about you experiencing posttraumatic stress disorder. We want to ask how that affected you?
Oh I had tremendous nightmares. I would close my eyes and I would have a nightmare several times a night. My Swedish sister didn't know what to do with me and she ran for her father each time. Farbror Erik I called him. It means Uncle Erik. He would come and would put his arm around me and it just was incredible what a good man he was and so was my foster mother, Tant Lilly I called her. They slowly helped me heal but these nightmares would last for years even after I came to the U.S. and I met my husband in Kansas City and we married in 1949. For several years after our marriage these nightmares pursued me and over the years they simmered down. I hardly ever have nightmares anymore.
I my have a bad dream once in a while, but no longer those horrible nightmares that would wake me up screaming and covering my head. Entire visions would come before me; I am being beaten up or something or other. I dreamed about the culvert many, many times. In these dreams, they found me and somehow dogs are ripping me apart. Painful. It was nice to wake up knowing that it wasn't so. Eventually, apparently I believed it because they no longer pursue me.
During your time in the camps, did you ever want to give up?
I don't remember ever having given up, because to me giving up meant that I am going to kill my mother and my sister. Simply because I believed that as long as I stay alive my mother will have some hope, even though she didn't know that I'm a live, in fact she thought I was dead. But if she died, then my sister could not carry on by herself. Until December, she was 12 years old, and in January they were liberated. During the liberation, she was just barely a month after her 13th birthday. My staying alive was very important for me to keep my mother alive. It's a strange way of looking at it, but emotionally this is what I felt. At the same time I saved myself thinking that. It was cathartic.
Coming to America
What was it like coming to the United States?
Ah, this was a new world. I always knew that the United States is the best country in the whole world, outside of Czechoslovakia. I mean, Czechoslovakia, we loved Czechoslovakia. But when we became Hungary, we slowly felt the totalitarian system and could feel that it kept getting worse and worse until we were deported. But coming to the US was wonderful.
Except that while I was on the ship coming over here my uncle died. So instead of coming to Kansas City, where, through correspondence we established that that's what I would do from Sweden, I had to come to St. Louis, Missouri, and my aunt waited for me. She just buried her brother, so she was left alone in the family, already another sister had died. But I had my aunt. They all had children So I had all these first cousins who were Americans. It was really wonderful just to know that I am no longer alone.
Shortly before I found out that my mother was alive. And I found out that my brother Michael came home. He was liberated by the Russians. My father and my brother Sandor was liberated by the Americans in Dora Mittelbau, or Mittelbau Dora they call it now. They were sent home. Mother and Annuska were liberated by the Soviet army in Auschwitz, in January 27th, 1945. They were sent home. I was the only one missing, except for Viktor.
Viktor was my youngest brother, 3 years older than I was. He would have lived as well because 3 days before liberation he was beaten with the butt of a gun by an SS Officer and according to witnesses he bled to death. So, in our family, we lost Viktor, we had a very unusually high survivor rate. For this I am grateful in spite of what happened. My dad however, lost all his brothers and sisters. He was the sole survivor in his family. Most of his nieces and nephews died except for a few - it was a very large family - in Auschwitz-Birkenau right after their arrival.
How were you treated by Americans, and how much did they know about what you had been through and how did they react?
That's a wonderful question. This was the big difference between us. I was like a walking time bomb. I needed to talk to someone who had been through this. There was nobody to talk to. My girlfriends, I made friends very quickly, they wanted to talk about ice cream and boys. I was 17 when I came here. Sure I wanted talk about boys but you know, I had much more serious things on my mind. My uncle knew some families who had sons and they had taken me out on dates and one took me to a baseball not baseball- a basketball game. It was rather fun but I knew nothing about the game. Another one, an engineer, took me to a baseball game and to date I don't know anything about baseball. I found that totally boring and I think it was because I was too serious, for my age I already was an old woman. I wasn't a young girl except in appearance.
It took me a while to calm down and actually enjoy a date. I knew, after, these boys really liked me. I had seven marriage proposals while in the United States. I couldn't possibly marry anyone who didn't know anything about the Holocaust. I just couldn't, I felt I had more in common with men that went through the war. To me they were men, they were in their twenties. I was only 17. I had more in common with them than any boy suitable to my age.
Eventually I me Karl, who was just finishing first year law in San Francisco and went home to Kansas City to visit his parents - to be with his parents for the summer. And he got himself a summer job. He already had a degree in accounting, graduated from UC Berkeley. At that time he already finished first year law school at Hastings College of Law in San Francisco.
And I felt, ah, here is a big gap in our education. How could I ever be serious about anybody like that. But, gee, I was actually very serious about Karl, right after the very first day I met him. And when he told me his father was incarcerated in Dachau, the year before he came, I knew that this was the right man for me. And, of course, it had to be felt on both ends, right? And I hadn't even finished high school, just two years of high school, my education was way behind. I just began to speak English!
That summer was a beautiful romance between us. He promised to write, and he did. The following January I was in Los Angeles with my aunt, who went there, just to visit, and decided to stay, and later on went back and sold her belongings. And she said she's going to stay in Los Angeles and her son, daughter-in-law, and I should come live there. I was elated because Los Angeles was much closer to San Francisco where Karl was. January, 1949, he came down to LA and we got engaged. But we couldn't get married, we didn't have any money until August, 1949.
Almost everybody at my wedding was a stranger to me. Just friends from work, this work that I had, little jobs while I went to school. Relative's friends. Except for one person, a little 10-year old boy - who is going to come and visit us this next Monday - who went into the line twice to kiss the bride. It was so lovely. We have it on record, on film, little home movies that we made.
While I was engaged to Karl I received a letter that my mother had died. She lived three years after liberation. And then she died of hardships suffered in the camps. There were no medications for her and her lungs just collapsed. There was no antibiotics to be had. But mother wrote in her last letter that she was very happy that I am happy in the U.S. So at least she died happy.
And in 1991, I went back home where I was born, where she is buried. And that's the first time that I was reunited with my mother since our separation in Auschwitz. I talked to that tombstone as if she was alive. That cemetery was in such disgrace - horrible shape! And her beautiful marble stone that my dad put up was broken in half because, our neighbor told me - we have it right on film - that the people brought their goats into the cemetery and they knocked their stone down. They were very, very strong. And they had them tied to my mother's stone. In act, when I visited, I had to undo the cords that they were tied to. And a kindly neighbor repaired it crudely with a metal frame that caused it to rust right onto the beautiful marble stone.
And my grandma's stone, I could hardly find it. It was totally overgrown with these thorny branches. My husband found it, he uncovered it and there it lay and we cleaned it up. I found my brother's, Joseph, who was an engineer and was in an industrial accident and died shortly before the Holocaust. And grandpa's stone, where I have a picture sitting on that stone when I was just barely a year and a half old. And here I am, back in that cemetery as an adult, after the Holocaust. At least I know where they are, resting in peace.
Regaining Sense of Smell 47 Years Later
You mentioned a little earlier about losing your sense of smell in Auschwitz. Can you tell a little bit how that happened and how it came back?
In 1944, sometime in May, 1944, I was assigned to work in the Canada work detail. And I just didn't feel good, I kept throwing up, I kept throwing up because of the smell of burnt human bodies, and bone, and hair. And the air was very, very bad. And I realize that that is why. And so I couldn't eat the little food we were given.
This concerned my mother very much, and me too because I was losing weight rapidly. Even if I had not thrown up I would have been losing weight. Once one loses weight in Auschwitz, one doesn't live very long. We quickly found that out as the selections progressed and became more and more frequent.
One day I no longer threw up. I heard others talk about it, but it no longer bothered me. I didn't know why I don't smell those things. Actually I didn't realize that I lost my sense of smell totally until I was liberated 13 months later and taken to Sweden.
And this strange thing happened, here I was then free! We had some dresses made for ourselves, my Swedish sister and I , out of some leftover material. And we were going to wear our new dresses on the same day to a birthday party of a relative. And so, just before leaving I said, "excuse me," I went to the bathroom. I put on what I thought was perfume behind my ear. All these nice little bottles, and that's what mother used do, we used to think it's perfume.
Then, when I came out, my Swedish sister said - Gullan said - "What did you do with your dress Hanci?" I said, "Why?" And there was this spot here, right here, and I began to cry. I said, "I used some perfume." "So come and show me." So she came to the bathroom with me and it was her father's hair oil. She said, "Couldn't you smell that it was perfume?" And that's when I realized that I couldn't smell, totally couldn't smell. Until then, I guess there wasn't any reason for it, I knew that I couldn't smell that smell, but that I didn't realize that it included everything else. So I said, "No, I can't smell it." I lived with it, the cleaner was able to take out the spot eventually, but I had to go to a party with a spot on my new dress!
In 1991, 47 years later, I returned back to my birth-place as well, to Auschwitz, and this time with my husband. I took him around in Birkenau, first we went to Auschwitz 1, the mother camp where the museum is, and then we went to Auschwitz 2 – Birkenau. Birkenau is where I was housed. Birkenau is where I worked in the section called the Kanada work detail. It was the center of the killing center. I showed my husband just about everything. The way we went. I said "now I will show you my hiding place," and I knew exactly where to go. I had him video tape it and he went down that road and on the other side of that gate, to the right is my hiding place, "just follow me with the camera," I said. This was the forested area, the area of the gas chambers.
I showed him and I found it, even though it was totally obliterated by shrubs and bushes and grass and wild flowers. Unless one really knew where it was one could never, never find it. Its there and I will go down and show you. With the camera on I went down and there it was. I opened up the area by pushing aside all the foliage. It was filled with 47 years of rot. So I showed him the little lake where I swam in striped clothing, raked human dust, human ashes into this little pond. It was still there. I couldn't get over it. It was beautifully clear. You could see the reflection of the tree in this greenish water. Anyway after I went through the steps of revisiting Auschwitz -- harmless touching of the electric wire fences, opened and shutting gates to make sure they were rendered harmless and talking a blue streak, oh my poor husband.
We left and on the way out away from Auschwitz, we were still in Poland going through the serene countryside, I began to notice something. I said to Karl, What's that I smelled? Is that manure? like I had my smell all along. He was driving at the time and he said you smell that? I said, I think so, just realizing, gee, I wasn't able to smell that before. He pulled over to the side and opened up the beauty box and pulled out his after-shave and he said, smell this. For the first time in 47 years my sense of smell returned, just like that. But what I can't get over is how smoothly this went as if I had it along, what's the problem here? And thinking back now, it just seems very strange.
Because the same thing happened to me as I write my manuscript for my autobiography. There are stories that I totally forgot and as I'm writing the story, "Oh, that's right, that's right!" It happened several times, my subconscious had released it apparently. I don't understand its workings too well. There are also areas that I only remember parts of it. And I'm holding it up. I don't want to fill it in with anything artificial. I just want to know what my true experiences were. If I remember it I will include it, if not I will leave them out.
When I came back to Berkeley, well in San Francisco, my son invited us to his home in Berkeley. He sat me down in a chair in the kitchen and he put a blindfold on me, and my little grandchildren who were home were giggling at grandma having her blindfold on. My son, Jonathan, took spices off from the racks and he tested my sense of smell. Each time I smelled something else. He wanted to know if I know what I was smelling. Then he removed the blindfold and he declared. "Well mom, you are totally smell ignorant." Because I recognized two, but only one for sure, two spices, one was cinnamon, I don't remember what the other one was. So I had to relearn totally what these smells were. I am still learning, some of them I never knew before some of these herbs I don't think I was ever exposed to before.
Telling Her Story
Could you talk about how you decided you should tell your story and what was the process?
Yes, that's very clear in my mind. I worked as a research analyst for 20 years for 2 different financial institutions. We routed the mail from desk to desk in the Research Department. One day on top of the mail on my desk had a brochure on it, right on top. I remember it was a buff color background with red ink and black ink. There was a swastika in black and across it a Magen David, and it said "A Zionist Hoax: the Holocaust Never Happened." And that is what shook me. Its like waking up from a dream, I thought "My God, they are claiming the Holocaust never happened and I'm still around." I knew that I have an obligation. I knew that I have a responsibility to educate young people about the Holocaust. This must never happen to anybody, because it can happen anywhere, any time, and to any people, any race or color. If we don't know about it and if you don't do anything about it, then it really can happen, under certain circumstances.
I told my boss that I want some time off at certain times, and he should not be concerned, I will make up my time on weekends or evenings. So I was permitted to do that. I made myself available, and I eventually became quite busy. Then I received a letter from the president of the company and the letter said that I should speak only in areas where they have a branch. I said, "I don't think so, this is something that I can not agree to." He let it go, he liked me, and I was able to do it. And I am still doing it today.
Was there ever a point when you wanted to keep it to yourself?
Yes, in the beginning there was a time when it was very difficult to talk about it. We needed to talk and we couldn't talk. We couldn't find the words for it. It was right after the war and everybody lost somebody during the war. So you know, pain is pain whether it's through the Holocaust, or whether it was through the Armed Services, or however a person lost a loved one, pain was pain. I think without exception, people just didn't talk about the Holocaust.
Yet, when I met Karl, I felt I can't possibly marry anyone or get involved with anybody unless that person accepts me with my experiences. So, I remember we had a picnic in Swope Park in Kansas City, Missouri. At this picnic, when I knew that his father was in Dachau, I knew that I could talk to him. I said, "I want you to know that I went through seven camps and I still have nightmares. I have a difficult time talking about it but before we get to know each other better, you should know that I have this past." So he said, "You will overcome it in time I hope." We had a very nice talk about it. We always talked about it a little bit.
I don't think Karl heard my whole story and my children, until I was interviewed for a book by Dorothy Rabinowitz who wrote Survivors of the Holocaust Living in America. Right in this living room she interviewed me for this book. Our children did not want to go out an play ball, they asked permission to stay in and Dorothy said "you really restore my faith because I was the 103rd person, the last person to be interviewed from coast to coast for this book, and she said "all the children wanted to go out while the parents talked about it, and you are the first ones who didn't." My father who was still alive, and listened in, although he didn't speak English he listened throughout as though he understood every word of it. It was so incredible, for the first time my kids heard it and the first time my husband heard it in a chronological order where as before they heard a story here, a little story there, but not from A to Z. But even then of course I couldn't tell everything. It's just impossible.
Is there anything you'd like to end with?
I think when we think of the Holocaust, we should remember that 6 million is not just a number. I researched the population figures of the nine Bay Area counties in which I live. According to the 1990 census there were 6,059,000 people living in the nine Bay Area counties. So, it really boggles the mind, I think, if I think that if every man, woman and child had been murdered in these nine Bay Area counties. That's what six million is! Or take the California figures and that amounted to 20% of the total population of the 1990 census. That meant that 20%, 20% of all the people living in California would have to be murdered to amount to six million, or every 5th person in California. That's a factual figure.
I feel that I have an obligation to tell my story until the end of my days. In fact, we made a documentary film When I Was 14, A Survivor Remembers, so that it can continue my story, by way of an example only, after I am no longer here. I do think that we have to treat each other justly, fairly. We have to be considerate of each other. We can not permit racism, prejudice, discrimination against human beings, or another Holocaust can happen anywhere, anytime, anyplace to any people any race or any color.
We really are just a handful of survivors left, and I think we all have a sacred obligation to bear witness to the awful truth that had befallen us. And we hope that when we are gone, every one of the students I spoke to or I touched, will remember and pass on the story of the Holocaust. That is my final message. Thank you very much.
