Ted Sears Memoir, part 1

Near the entrance of Auschwitz. Via Wikimedia Commons.

Introduction

A few days ago I came across a Holocaust memoir written by a first cousin of my husband Norm Abramson. We had seen early parts of the memoir years ago, and encouraged our cousin to continue writing and to supplement his wartime stories with pre-war memories of his family and his birthplace in Debrecen, Hungary.  From time to time he sent us copies of his memoir, which he continued to work on until his death in 2006. Our cousin's name was Tibor Schwartz. He became Ted Sears after he settled in the United States.

Ted's memoir is now housed in the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, which recently launched a new drive to seek out and collect as many memoirs and diaries of the Holocaust as it can possibly find.

By coincidence, a day after I stumbled across the memoir, the ugly incidents in Charlottesville, Virginia began to unfold and the reactions to those incidents began to take over social media and the news. It seemed time to read the memoir again. And it seemed time to place a few excerpts on our family web site.

Ted was just 14 when his family was shipped from Hungary to Auschwitz and not yet 16 at the end of the war.  His memoir is powerful. And, in the wake of the events in Charlottesville, it is heart rending. Ted survived, along with his older brother Miklos, called Mickey after the war. The rest of his family — his father, mother, sister and grandmother — did not.

Ted's story is painful to read. It is also a graphic reminder of what follows when hatred and bigotry are enabled.

This excerpt covers Ted's memories of arriving at Auschwitz in June 1944 after the Nazis closed the ghetto in Debrecen and after a three day journey in one of the cattle cars that carried thousands of Hungarian Jews to the death camp.

Ted began his memoir with a quote from George Santayana: Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.

Selection at the train platform at Auschwitz, from Yad Vashem, Wikimedia Commons.

Who Shall Live and Who Shall Die, by Ted Sears

It was almost noon and the line was moving very slowly. Most parents were busy, trying to keep their family together. Although death and brutality was a familiar scene by this time and most people were anticipating the worst, however the indiscriminate slaughter of little babies, women, and sick old people was still impossible to imagine. (I wonder how many fathers and mothers realized at that point that in a few hours most of their children would be dead. Or did anybody even imagine that before the day will have ended most of us will be dead? Certainly, I didn't).

The line moved on without knowing what was waiting just a few yards away. Everyone’s eyes were staring forward, anxious to see what lay ahead. Sensing defeat, heads began to droop, showing surrender. Not a single eye was looking toward heaven, everybody knew that it was too late to get help from up above. God had been stripped of his authority. He had no jurisdiction in Auschwitz. In Auschwitz there was only one God - Mengele. He, and only he, was going to determine the fate of God's-chosen-people. Or was it Mengele’s chosen people?

Due to the ongoing chaos many families were separated from each other. Fortunately our family was still together. Mother and grandmother were holding on to us for dear life. I was just moving along, lazily dragging my feet when I felt a tug on my pants - grandma telling me to keep up. "Move faster and don't fall behind" she said sternly. The slow moving line was bothersome to me because I was anxious to know what was going on ahead of us. To get a better view I took a few steps away from the line (a dangerous move) but I was still too far away to see what was ahead of us.

Inching forward, pretty soon we arrived to a point where we could hear a commotion but were still unable to see what the stir was all about. The sound of violence ahead made us wonder what was going on and seemed to paralyze everyone, where nobody wanted to move forward. The terror, fear and helplessness were clearly visible, and seemed to be growing with every step we took. It took only a few more steps to see a sight I’ll never forget.

The frightful scene of Mothers and Fathers fighting with the SS not wanting to let their children to be taken from them stunned us all. They struggled desperately with the gun-toting SS trying to prevent the separation of their family. Mothers confronting the SS, running after young children that were yanked out of their arms, disregarding the heavy beating in the process. Some of the children were almost torn in half as parents tugged and pulled the child, trying to grab them back from the heartless SS. The wail of the mothers who sensed the imminent slaughter of their offspring is a human sound that defies description. The eerie cry would make most killers stop and flee the scene but those subhuman murderers were not fazed by it at all.

In spite of the ongoing struggle right in front of my eyes, I still had no idea that in a few minutes my life would be on the line also. Whether I shall live or die will be decided in the next few seconds, right there.

Dr. Mengele, the Butcher of Auschwitz was playing God that day, splitting up every family as they reached the checkpoint where he was stationed. With a slight motion of a riding whip he held in his hand, arrogantly ordered men to one side and women to the other side. Then the two groups were split up once again; the old, the sick and the children were sent to the left the others to the right. While some families went peacefully others refused to obey the order, insisting that they remain with their children. And others simply refused to leave their sick or elderly parents even if it meant certain death to them. It was startling to see how many young men and women were willing to offer his or her own life to protect their loved ones. Being as young as I was, seeing this deep human emotion called love, where parents were willing to sacrifice their own life to save their loved ones, made a tremendous impression on me, something I still remember.

It didn’t take long before our family reached the “Gate to Hell” where the keeper of the gate was none other than the butcher himself, Dr. Mengele the "Angel Of Death" as he was known. I never heard of him before and didn’t have the slightest idea that that notorious Nazi had the sole and total authority to decide the fate of each and every person who passed in front of him; who shall live and who shall die.

The shiny SS uniform he wore made him look kind of important but his arrogant stance and the ice cold look in his eyes immediately told you that he was nothing but a cold blooded killer. Mengele looked at me and I looked straight into his eyes. There was absolutely no fear showing on my face. I was 14 years old, tall and strong, not a child anymore and yet not an adult either. He hesitated a little. Started to point to the left but for some unknown reason as if someone tugged on his arm, changed direction and pointed to the right.

My brother who was a year older but a little shorter, by some miracle was also ordered to the right. Grandma and little sister were ordered to the left. (Only later did I learn that the group on the left was going directly to the gas chambers). Mother, who was 38 at the time and looked fit and healthy, was ordered to the right but like many other mothers who did not want to leave their little children alone, chose to go to the left.

To see the parents struggle with the SS to save their children was heart wrenching. Not only did one or two of them defy the order of the SS but there were many brave men and women who, one after another, stepped up to the plate screaming "Give me my children or give me death."

One never knows how one will react in a life-threatening situation. Will you be a hero or will you be a coward? Will you stand your ground and fight for your loved ones or will you turn and run - trying to save yourself. No matter how sure you are of yourself, you will never know what you'll do until you are actually put to the test. At Auschwitz that day, those mothers and fathers were put to the test and I saw nothing but heroes. Hundreds of people who could have survived this first skirmish to live another day or two, perhaps a few more weeks, chose to fight, trying to save the lives of their loved ones.

By this time most adults must have realized that death was just around the corner but I must admit that I still did not grasp the seriousness of it. And certainly didn't even imagine that one of the two groups was heading straight to the gas chambers. How could I? I never even heard of a gas chamber. Everything was happening so fast. I was more confused than scared. I was in a daze. It looked as if everybody was confused.

After the processing was completed an order to form a line was given and the march began. Where we were going, nobody knew but the word was that we were going to take a shower. The groups split up with each heading in a different direction. With Mickey by my side we were moving along but kept looking longingly toward the group where mother, grandmother and sister were. For awhile we could see them clearly, but soon, as the distance between us became bigger and bigger the only one I was still able to make out was my mother. It was easy to pick her out of the crowd because she was tall, and her high cheekbones with the rosy red cheeks that were radiating all the time was easy to spot. Even from a distance, she still looked so beautiful, walking with her head held high, taking that certain proud stride that was so characteristic of her - in those high-button shoes that she wore all the time. I wanted to yell out "Mother, where are you going? Come with us. Bring Gyongyike and grandmother Hermina too. Don't leave me. I love you."

I opened my mouth to yell. The words were floating on the back of my tongue but no sound emerged. It felt like a nightmare - like yelling in a dream but no sound comes out. Pretty soon my mother disappeared from view also. I continued to watch a little while longer, hoping to get one more glimpse of her, but of no avail.

We arrived to a huge building, herded inside and ordered to disrobe. Orders - everything was a stern command. Not used to be ordered around I found the harsh directives stupid and not necessary.

"A simple utterance will do," I thought. But little did I realize so early on, that the lack of civil behavior in Auschwitz came with the territory. It was only one of the many other surprises the death camp had in store for me.

Except for the clothing on the benches and the hair on the floor, the place looked pretty clean. Mickey and I disrobed as ordered and joined the hundreds of naked men standing around to have their hair clipped. Dozens of men in striped uniforms with hair clippers in hand were shearing one man at a time. The floor was full of hair. (I learned later, that this tremendous amount of hair along with the confiscated articles left in the cattle-cars, was collected and used in the German civilian economy.)

It didn't take long before it was my turn at the barber's chair. It took less than a minute to have my head shaved completely. The clipper he used on me was so dull that it felt as if he was tearing each hair out one by one instead of being cropped with an instrument. As soon as he was finished, he shoved me out of his way and yelled "next."

There was so much confusion that nobody knew who was next. But soon, a heavy blow landed on the head of a man unaware that it was his turn. Before I even had a chance to clear the area, the man lunged forward with so much force that he knocked me clear across the room. Without a word, I proceeded toward the shower and before I even reached the shower-head, the man following me had his hair shorn already. The wound on his head from the blow he received was clearly visible.

The shower felt good. Would have liked to spend more time under the slow flowing water but when I noticed an approaching guard heading toward me I made a fast dash toward the exit. Upon exiting, a blue and white striped coat with matching pants and cap, and a pair of wooden shoes was issued to me and to all others who were following me out of the showers.

The group on the left that included my mother, sister and grandmother were sent to a different building. They were also ordered to disrobe, however, their building's shower-head was different. Instead of water, ZYKLON B was released, a deadly gas, developed by I.G. Farben, a German chemical company, for the sole purpose of killing the Jews transported to Auschwitz more efficient .  .   .

After the shower, still thinking about my family, I got dressed and was chased out of the building immediately, followed by hundreds of other blue striped uniformed men, pouring out of the building at lightning speed. We were herded into an open little area and ordered to stand at attention, waiting until the entire transport was processed.

To find myself in that prison uniform was an experience I'll never forget! It was an eerie feeling, something difficult to describe. While it didn't hurt physically to wear the striped prison uniform, mentally however, it pained me a great deal. I couldn't believe that it was I who was inside that revolting uniform.

"Who is this man?” I asked. I despised the hateful criminal inside of it. Never in my life had I had any contact with jail. The only knowledge I ever had about imprisonment was what I heard or read about in books. It never occurred to me, even as recently as that morning, that by the afternoon I'll be wearing a prisoner's garb.

It is awesome! Am I a prisoner? What crime did I commit? I don't feel like a criminal. This is a mistake. I don't belong here. Let me out of here. Does our friend, the judge, know about this? Does he approve of it? He always told us that we are good people.

Where is justice? I wondered.

As I looked around and saw everybody in the same blue striped uniform, my immature mind refused to believe that this humiliation was also happening to me. I told myself that the degradation was directed toward the other inmates and I was merely a spectator, put there to record and report to the world of what was happening in Auschwitz. My mind simply refused to accept reality.

Whether it was due to my naiveté, or merely simply refusing to accept reality, I don’t know but being in that striped uniform just freaked me out. Only recently did fashion and style become very important to me and all I could think about was what my mother or my favorite girl (from school) would say if they would see me in this blue striped uniform.

My face got red and I felt a bit embarrassed. "I bet that they would laugh at me if they’d see me now," I thought. To hide my sense of humiliation I began to daydream. I told myself that this was my costume for a role I was playing in a movie that is being filmed at Auschwitz. In the movie, I am the star, playing a mistreated prisoner who single-handedly challenged all the evil guards and eventually free all the inmates. I pushed my chest out and walked around like a hero. I no longer felt humiliated by my striped uniform. Indeed, I felt proud of playing the role.

But it did not take long for my daydreaming to come to an end. The SS guards soon saw to that. They ordered us around in German. Everything was an order. Those that did not know the language did not understand that the order was to form a line and were immediately beaten into line.

With Mickey standing right next to me, the SS began by asking whether anybody had any money, jewelry, or anything valuable still in their possession. "If so, turn it in right now. You will be searched and if anything is found on you, you will be shot on the spot. Not only will you be shot but the whole company will be shot" the SS was screaming with a pistol strapped to his side.

He spoke like a man of culture and not like the Hungarian thugs that I was used to. "What university did he attend? Where do they teach a course of Hating with A Passion?" I wondered.

He looked like he despised having to talk to us. That was not his style. He joined the SS to kill Jews, not to talk to them. Every single person listening to his vitriolic speech felt his hatred for Jews. His anger was growing by the minute, until he looked like he was out of control.

"He is mad. If his rage continues he'll kill everybody in sight before the speech is over" I thought.

"Not even his fellow SS are safe from this crazed killer," I said to myself.  .  .

He continued his ranting for another ten minutes. Every order would end with the words "or you'll be shot on the spot." All his screaming did not produce any results. Nobody had anything and nobody stepped forward. But he did manage to instill a great amount of terror into everyone present. Even the bravest among us clearly understood that these guys were very, very serious. The slightest defiance would mean instant death. Everybody listened and everybody got the message. It was the beginning of the dehumanizing process, which of course, I realize now, was his real objective.

He spoke in German and there was no interpretation for the non-German speaking people. We were Hungarians. How does he expect us to understand what he is saying, went through my mind. Fortunately for Mickey and me, we understood a little German and Yiddish and were able to grasp his instructions. But many, those who didn't speak the language, absorbed a lot of beatings before they could understand and comply with the orders given.

The SS continued to shout, asking if there were any twins among us. Unlike before when there was not a single response to hand in any valuables still in our possession, this time, a few people stepped forward and were promptly separated from the group.

(Later, I learned that Dr. Mengele, who was using camp inmates to conduct devilish medical experiments, used these twins for that purpose. After the war, at the Nuremberg trials, the whole world learned for the first time how twins were subjected to the most appalling and brutal experimentation. They were subjected to surgeries without anesthesia, injections with various poisonous substances, ingestion of sea-water, and many others, too numerous to mention, with the victims eventual death always programmed into the experiment).

The intimidation speech continued. He again reminded everybody that anything still left in our possession must be turned in immediately. “Or you'll be shot on the spot” he screamed. Then he proceeded to ask if there were any professional athletes among us. A couple of strong looking young men stepped forward. I didn't have the slightest idea who they were or why they were separated from us.

The next order was; all children under the age of sixteen should take three steps forward. A handful stepped forward including my brother and me. At this time, neither Mickey nor I realized what a major blunder we had just committed. To have stepped forward voluntarily, as being under the age of sixteen was a monumental mistake and it almost cost us our life.

This order was directed to the few children who escaped Dr. Mengele's scrutiny when he ruthlessly ordered thousands into the gas chamber upon arrival. All children under the age of sixteen were supposed to have been ordered to the left and gassed immediately. My brother and I, who were extremely lucky to have cheated the death-sentence at the first selection, were totally ignorant of the fact that this was a second selection of who shall live and who shall die.

A blunder of this magnitude was almost always fatal. In Auschwitz, one had to be extremely smart to survive, and we did not have the luxury of making this kind of a mistake. However, I wasn’t there long enough yet to realize the importance of this seemingly insignificant question. I was trapped by my ignorance and in essence I actually stepped forward to say that they missed me at the first selection.

To be assigned to the children's barrack meant the death sentence and I supplied them the information. But at that point I had no idea of what I had done. It was a terrible, terrible, most unfortunate mistake!!

The children who stepped forward were promptly removed from the rest of the group and were assigned to a special barrack - “The Children's Barrack” - as it was called. Except for the fact that everybody housed there was young, nothing else was different about it.

It was beginning to get dark. The sun, which had been bright all day long, had begun its daily descent in a normal and ordinary way, as if this was just another day. Yet to me this was the longest, most cruel day ever - a day that I shall never forget.

I watched dejectedly as the sun was setting slowly. It was a most beautiful sunset and yet I was deeply disturbed to see the red and gold ring around the sun gently touching the horizon without protesting what it had seen that day. To watch something as ravishing as a beautiful sunset when I was hurting so much was an out-of body experience. It took me into the twilight zone where I didn't know what was real. On the one hand it heightened the pain. It sharpened the edges around the grief that I was feeling and at the same time, the beauty in front of me soothed and numbed my ache.

I was angry at the sunset for not feeling my pain. I was angry that the sunset did not scream and yell; "HEY WORLD, LOOK AND SEE WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE. THESE BEASTS ARE MURDERING EVERYBODY. AUSCHWITZ IS BURNING. THERE MUST BE SOME RIGHTEOUS PEOPLE OUT THERE - PEOPLE THAT CARE. PLEASE, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT."

I wondered if it was possible that the sun actually did take notice of the revolting act and was so ashamed of what it saw that it'd never rise and shine again. "Never! But never!

I was agonized, deeply wounded, disgusted, exhausted and ready to go to sleep.

The ordeal of the day kept haunting me and falling asleep wasn’t easy. I was thinking about how my whole family was abducted and murdered in a most brutal way. I couldn’t believe that in less than ten hours, my innocent seven-year old sister, not having any idea of what was going on, was obliterated from the face of the earth. And so was my thirty-eight year old mother whose only ambition in life was to raise happy and healthy children. And so was my seventy-year old grandmother who only wanted to live out the remaining few years of her life. All of them shoved into the gas chamber in a most brutal way.

I was thinking about how planet Earth, which was high-jacked by the Nazi-killers several years ago, today was knocked out of its orbit completely. How thousands of innocent babies, defenseless women and sick old people were hurled into oblivion. Today, the earth shook violently and today, normalcy, decency, love and compassion was done away with - replaced with hate, brutality, torture and murder.

How the desperate cry of the victims for mercy, to spare the precious life given to some only a few days ago, went unheard. The wail of the young, the sob of the old, and the blood of the slain didn't touch a single heart, mind, conscience or soul of the willful executioners. Not only didn’t it touch the hardened nazi Jew-haters but it also didn’t phase the enlightened ones - the clergy, the statesmen, the academicians and the do-gooders who heard the plea for compassion, loud and clear and still stood by, showing no compassion whatsoever. Not a voice was raised to spare the lives of these innocent people.

It is simply impossible for me to sit here in a comfortable chair and explain what my state of mind was at that particular moment when I was recounting the horrid events of the day, just before I was ready to close my eyes. And it is even more difficult for one to sit in a comfortable environment and understand the pain and suffering this nefarious day has brought to me and to thousands of others.

Mercifully, I finally fell asleep and the morbid thought continued without any interruption. I never realized at what point my conscious state turned into the dream world. The story didn’t change at all. The same gruesome vision continued throughout the night.