Ted Sears Memoir, part 6
A street scene in Camp Föhrenwald. The former German military base was turned into a center for displaced persons in June 1945, soon after German surrender. Photo from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society.
Introduction
Ted and his older brother — just 15 and 16 years old in mid-1945 — had made their way back to Debrecen, Hungary with the hope of re-united with family members. They were bitterly disappointed. As they returned from Russian occupied Eastern Europe back to the American occupied zone of Germany they wondered: What next? Where would they go without family?
The two boys eventually found a haven at Föhrenwald, a former German army base that had been turned into a displaced persons camp after the war. Föhrenwald, the last DP camp to close, offered food, shelter, companionship and assistance in re-uniting families and in finding new lives for the victims of the Holocaust in new countries far from the horrors of the past. There the two started to recuperate in body and in spirit, and began understanding that they had a future.
An anti-British demonstration at the Föhrenwald displaced persons camp in 1947. Copyright United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, courtesy of David Bayer.
A Village, by Ted Sears
Camp Föhrenwald was a place that housed German soldiers during the war and now, ironically, it was converted to house their victims — the survivors. It was a huge place, almost as large as a village. Rows of long brick buildings, laid out in an orderly fashion, looking like an ordinary town — a gated community with young Jewish guards posted at the entrance. It still reminded me of the camps a bit, but there were no barbed wires around it, you came and left freely.
The camp was full of life, vibrant and pulsating like a major megalopolis, people moving about with a purpose. One could feel the energy in the air and see the intensity on the animated faces that filled the streets. They were no longer the thin emaciated skeleton faces of the past, they were normal human beings. Everybody looked good. Smiling, walking, moving, and doing. Hardly any trace showing of the hurt that still resided in every single person living in the community. Most of the people were young, the old ones having perished in the camps.
We found people there from all over Europe, including Russia. Since this camp was supposed to house survivors of the Holocaust seeing the Russians here puzzled me. But after talking to a few, some still wearing a Russian military uniform, I found the answer: They were deserters from the Red Army. They have seen a lot of anti-Semitism in Russia and were fed up with it. They wanted to go to Palestine like the rest of us where they could live as Jews without being constantly harassed.
There were also many Jewish Partisans living in Föhrenwald—, fighters in the underground during the war - heroic combatants who lived in the forests and always on the run. Perhaps as many as 60,000 Jews joined the Partisan units operating from North Africa to Belarus. Although, compared to the huge German fighting force, the partisans were few, they still managed to inflict heavy casualties on the Nazis. The tactics used by these rugged fighters were to hit Nazi military units hard and disappear in a hurry. It was a tough existence but very effective and many died in the process.
Now that the war was over and people found anti-Semitism still rampant in Poland and Lithuania, they too wanted out of there. The desire by every survivor to go to Palestine was immense. All of us survivors were sick and tired of being second, third or fourth class citizens.
Everybody in the camp was full of energy and hope, trying to forget the painful past while still searching for lost family. No one would believe that these were the same people, the weaklings from Auschwitz and Dachau. A phoenix has risen from the ashes of Auschwitz. As I saw this vivacious and spirited environment of Föhrenwald, I remembered the dark days of Auschwitz. I remembered the bitter and hopeless days of Auschwitz, when I promised Mother that I’d survive and once again I lifted my head toward heaven and said proudly; “Mother and Father, I kept my promise. I made it. Micuka and Bubika survived.”
I knew how important that was to my parents. Their whole life was the children. Everything they did was for the children. If they only knew, I said to myself. If only there was a way that I could let them know. If I could only bring them back just for one day, to show them that we are really alive.
I remembered how heartbroken and helpless they felt whenever we were attacked on the way to school. I would have loved for them to see how Bubika and Micuka are walking the streets today with no one beating up on them.
“They deserve to know it,” I said. “They deserve to see it. They gave so much. They would be so happy. At least they could rest in peace.”
I also remembered how close I came not to fulfill the oath. But I made it and I felt good, happy to be alive. It felt great to be part of the rock of the future instead of the ashes of the past. I knew that the flames that consumed my family would be a sad memory of the past but they must not singe my dreams for the future.
In a very short time, the camp evolved into a regular village - complete with its own administration and its own police department. Schools to teach children, hospitals to take care of the sick, gyms to work out in, and even a concert hall with nightly entertainment. A few little shops to buy items that were in short supply were also made available by some enterprising survivors.
New agencies were springing up daily. Agencies to help finding lost families, agencies to find relatives in America and agencies to help people immigrate to countries of their choice. People were busy going about taking care of their everyday lives, leading a so called normal life, but at the same time prepared to move on to their destination on a moment’s notice.
The food supply was neither abundant nor was it the quality of pre-war Hungary, but it was adequate. My body was still lean but my muscles were well defined and were clearly visible by this time. I was in good shape and still getting stronger daily.
There were other parent-less children living in the camp too. Some from Hungary, others from Poland and other parts of Europe. Before long, all of us got to know each other and became good friends. We spent most of the time together and were only waiting for an opening to move on.
Whenever my business took me outside the camp I came in contact with German civilians. On some occasions I engaged them in a conversation, and was irked to hear well informed Germans, who seemed to know everything about everything, tell me that they did not know about the concentration camps. Their constant denial was not only impossible to believe but it was outright insulting. And no matter how hard I tried to forgive and forget, my anger toward these shameless killers just kept growing more and more.
Judgement at Nuremberg, by Ted Sears
The most notorious trials of the twentieth century, the Nuremberg Trials, began. About two dozen men, top leaders of the German Reich (except for Hitler, who committed suicide) went on trial. All were charged with war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity.
The whole world, and naturally everybody in the camp followed the trial with great enthusiasm.
None of the murderers wanted to accept responsibility for the crimes they committed so willingly. These nefarious felons blamed their criminal activities on Hitler, claiming that they just followed orders. The defense of "we just followed orders" was not accepted. After a lengthy trial, they were found guilty and most were executed.
I regret that I never went to see this piece of history in the making.
Much time had elapsed since the liberation, and despite the effort I made to forget, the ongoing trials in Nuremberg brought it to the surface again, causing me to reflect once again on the essence of the Holocaust, and God’s accountability for it.
Angry and unable to understand the purpose of the Holocaust, I questioned God’s complicity in the murder of six million of His chosen people…
Aliyah, by Ted Sears
As much as the Nuremberg trial was unquestionably a most important event in our lives, the relocation from the camp, to depart from that despised country of Germany, was still much more important to everybody residing in Föhrenwald, including me. To leave the land that perpetrated this unimaginable and unforgivable crime of the century was everyone’s top concern. The goal here for everyone was to go to Palestine and build a Jewish homeland.
The camp was full of Zionist activity. All shades of Zionist organizations, from the extreme right to the extreme left, were busily recruiting members for "ALIYAH" (emigration to Palestine). Every day, hundreds of young men and women were marching through the streets singing loudly and proudly Zionist songs and carrying huge white flags with a blue Star of David imprinted in the middle.
I felt ablaze every time I saw these young Zionists marching and singing happily on the streets of Föhrenwald. I wanted to link-up with every group of marchers as they passed in front of me. My passion to participate in building a Jewish state was beyond description. My eyes were gleaming and my mouth was salivating, yearning for the day when I’ll be living in the land of Israel having forgotten the past and living happily ever after.
The creation of a Jewish homeland was not only my dream but it was every survivor’s main agenda. Every single one of us had a vision. My vision for the dreamland was total utopia: I wanted to build a new society: A land where Jewish people would walk the streets with heads held up high - unafraid. It would be a land where freedom would ring in every corner of every street. A model for Democracy, where everybody would be equal and nobody discriminated against. A righteous society based on the best of all the Greatest Tradition of the Jewish people. And with the evil Nazi terror over, it was a great moment in history for us to begin.
In spite of the high goal I set for this new society, I remember vividly how realistic and attainable it seemed to me at that time. I remember how wonderful it felt to walk around totally engulfed in my dream. I was ready to explode from all the enthusiasm I carried inside me. It was a goal worth living for and even worth dying for, I felt. It was a pioneering spirit that was shared strongly by my brother as well.
Every single face you encountered on the streets had the same hope for the future. Idealism and self- sacrifice was ringing in the air. Nobody, but nobody cared about material things. Money was not part of the equation, indeed, it was frowned upon by most survivors. The only thing that mattered to me was how long it would take before I could pick up a shovel and begin building this envisioned Utopia.
The slogan of "NEVER AGAIN" was coined here. Considering what we had gone through to survive, yet not being afraid to put our lives on the line once again indicated the determination all of us had, not to allow this tragedy to ever happen again.
While all the different politically oriented organizations were competing against each other in the fiercest way, each one wanting to recruit members embracing their own ideology, still, it was done in a win-over competing fashion, with no coercion at all. Everybody was free to pick or choose whichever branch they felt most comfortable with. And not to join was O.K. too.
Mickey and I wanted to take part in building the envisioned Utopia very much but couldn’t decide which of the many groups represented our point of view. We knew that all of them had the same goal; creating the best of the best possible homeland for the surviving Jews, but we needed time to decide which one to join.
Groups of people began to leave the camp - destination Palestine. The British had a mandate to administer the area and despite the fact that as far back as 1917, a Jewish Homeland in Palestine was promised to the Jewish people (see the Balfour Declaration), they still refused to allow these homeless survivors to immigrate to Palestine. Consequently, the transports readied for departure by the Zionist organizations at Föhrenwald, had to be done clandestinely and made the journey to Palestine very dangerous.
Despite the hazards involved hundreds of people left secretly to places in France and Italy from where they tried to gain entry into Palestine. The British navy patrolling the coast did their utmost to prevent these transports to reach the shores of Palestine. A few boat-loads of survivors managed to elude them and landed successfully. But many were not that lucky. They were intercepted and returned to Italy from where most of the journey originated. But the returnees were equally persistent and tried to reach Palestine over and over again.
Soon, Great Britain faced a big dilemma. World opinion was sympathetic towards the remnants of Jews who survived the horrible tragedy and supported a Jewish homeland. But Great Britain, a super power at that time, did not want to give up its empire nor did it want to antagonize the oil rich kingdoms in the area, and continued their policy of not allowing any Jewish immigration into Palestine.
