This was school project I did with a friend
April 30th 1945 – Stephen
First Entry
I am not sure what I should be feeling at this moment - relief, defeat, pride? Our leader is dead, I feel as though he just gave up on us, and he defeated himself. On this 30th of April Adolf Hitler killed himself. There is no more death - I can feel it. Hitler’s suicide shall be the last death in this mass murder. I won’t have any more blood of innocent people upon my hands, I wash them of this! To think I had to kill to live, it was wrong in everyway possible. I can’t believe what an animal I have been, so up and ready to just kill a person, not thinking twice if she had children or if he had a mother that would never see them again. Hitler led us to believe that all those people were expendable, that they deserved to die, that we must eliminate the imperfect and build on the master races. When I look at all the destruction that has come to the world, I can’t believe that we created it. When I think and search back I can not see how I could have been such a different person, a young man caught up in the flow of war, ready to kill as a Nazi. As a captor, I am Stephen Hainsworth and this is my story.
May 1st, 1945 – Eva
I can’t believe it… I’m trying to, but it just doesn’t seem real. It can’t be real. I can hardly remember what it’s like to wake up in the morning, lean through your window, and to smell the fresh air… air that is clean of smoke and rotting corpses, and a sky that is once again filled with the song of birds soaring high above all of us – above all of this. I know the day is coming soon when I, my family, every single Jew can step outside and not have to worry about being caught and then being arrested and killed. Hitler is dead, and with this news comes a true freedom which we have not felt for years. I remember every day, every single minute of suffering and despair of the past six years and I know I will never forget that…. No matter how hard I try, it will always be imprinted on me- not only by the prison number etched into my arm – but also engraved into my being- as a Polish Jew; as a survivor. My name is Eva Tarof and this is my story.
May 3rd, 1943 - Eva
It was my birthday and I was turning 14-and I was in hiding. I had been in hiding for almost four years already… three birthdays spent in a cramped doctor’s office with my two sisters, my brother, and my parents. I remember it clearly as if it were yesterday.
My six year old sister, Tzipporah’s, face beamed up at me as she snuggled up in my lap and handed me my one birthday present, wrapped lovingly by small, careful hands in an old sheet of newspaper. Before opening it up, I looked around the attic room and saw all the familiar, smiling faces of my family and closing my eyes tight, thanked God for having kept us safe and together for this long. There was my eleven year old sister Hannah, with my two year old brother Aaron, leaning against her, his thumb stuck in his mouth and his large brown eyes staring up at me with love. Then there were Mama and Papa who were sitting beside me on the narrow sofa, their eyes full of love and pride as I started to pull the worn newspaper off my present. My heart stopped as I pulled out a beautiful book, filled with page after page of blank, creamy sheets of paper. I remember my mother saying to me, “Use it, Eva. Fill every page with your thoughts, dreams…with your story. Use it to remember us by, Eva, and never forget that wherever our paths may lead, we shall always remember you.” I fell into her arms, tears pouring down my cheeks, overwhelmed by such love for my family that I almost couldn’t stand it. I didn’t know then that those were one of my mama’s last words she spoke to me… one of the last times she would hold me in her arms and tell me everything would be alright.
May 3, 1943 – Stephen
Second Entry
I remember that first day I signed up, I was so ready to go out there and fight, I didn’t think of who I would hurt. They wasted no time in getting me out to help with the raiding. It was my first home, and even though I was full of hate for the Jews this house always stuck in my mind. I remember the pale green walls, the white lace curtains, and the fine cherry wood table that was soon hacked into pieces. I remember coming down the street on my motorcycle, feeling strong and superior in my new uniform. We got off our bikes in front of this great white house, yelling ‘Heil Hitler’ more as a warning than a salute. Our commander lead us up to the door, he didn’t bother to knock.
We had found out about a German Doctor that was a Jewish spy, we were going to arrest him, and anyone with him. We kicked down the door, breaking it off it’s hinges. We stormed into the house, guns in hand and voices ringing out commands. We found the Doctor in his kitchen rising up at our entrance over his morning paper, which he had been reading peacefully only moments before.
Two officers went for him, while we were sent to search the rest of the house, and that’s when I heard it, crying, it was muffled but it was crying none the less.
I followed it until I found a warn rope ranging down from the ceiling. If the rope had not been hanging out, I would not have seen the grooves of an attic door hidden in the grains of wood. I pulled on the rope, and with just that a ladder came down from the ceiling with a loud creak, it was a hiding place. The crying was clear now, it sounded like a child’s. With my hand on the gun, ready to shoot, I climbed up the ladder slowly steadying myself with one hand. My heart was pounding in my throat. This was my first home and I was on the verge of something huge. Who knew what was up there. I poked my head into the small room. Not seeing anyone, I scanned the room. There was a good size rough wood table in the middle, a white cloth placed loving over it, and a knocked over vase of wild flowers on it. The chairs had been pushed back, and one was on its side. There was a narrow white and light green stripped sofa pushed up against the wall, and at the far end of the room was the child. This young baby boy was clawing at the air in front of a bookshelf, crying out for his mother. He managed to pull himself up using the bookshelf as support. He started to scream.
“Have you found anything, Stephen?”, one of the soldiers called up the ladder, I was going to say no, but if they heard the screaming and checked, I would be killed.
“A child” I called down informing them
I pulled myself up onto my feet, my comrades right behind me.
“Is he the Doctor’s child?” Abel, my cousin and fellow soldier asked me as he went over to the screaming child.
“No I do not beli-…” I could not get the rest of my sentence out before our commander put his gloved finger to his lips signing us to be quiet.
"........ Aaron przyjść Mama? Mamo dlaczego nie? ” A young girl’s voice spoke from behind the wall.
“Open it!” Our commander shouted at us pointing at the bookshelf.
Able and I pulled at the bookshelf, it slid away easily from the wall. There was a small wooden misfit door in the wall, Able pulled it open. Inside was a terrified family, their eyes wide with fear of what might lay ahead of them. The father clawed out first, scooping up the young baby boy, who had stopped crying. A mother and two younger girls came out with her, and then last was the oldest child, a girl. She started out of their hiding place, but while standing up she tripped on the hem of her skirt and fell. Her face cringed at the pain of falling; she looked so helpless, so innocent. I bent my arm down to help her up and for the split second when her big pale blue eyes looked into mine with confusion, worry and sadness, I did not know why I was doing this, helping the enemy. But with a sharp command to step back from her, I was drawn back into the mind of a raged animal ready to kill.
Her eyes were the only pair I dared to look at, after that, I never looked at who I was around; I kept their faces blank. I kept telling myself they were just shapes, and that they needed to die.
May 3rd, 1943 Eva- Continued
I had felt Mama’s heart beat quicken and her arms tighten around me. I drew back to look at her face, wondering what was wrong. That’s when I heard the motorcycles, the sirens, and the sickening sound of splintering wood and breaking glass as the soldiers broke through the door downstairs and into the doctor’s house.
“They’ve come…” Papa whispered, scooping up all traces of our presence in the small attic into his arms and shoving it into our secret room at the other end of the attic.
“Come now.” Papa urged as Mama grabbed mine and Tzipporah’s hands and dragged us through the little sliding door at the end of the room.
Papa pulled a rope from the inside and we could hear the bookshelf sliding across the wall to cover up the cracks the little door made. I leaned against the back of the wall and gasped, trying to catch my breath. We could hear at least three soldiers at the front door shouting rapid German at Dr. Weismann, and I cringed as I heard his groans of pain, not wanting to know the reason for his agony. Mama loosened her tight grip on my hand and took Tzipporah up on her lap, motioning for us to be quiet. I looked around the cramped room to see that everyone was there… but I only counted five. My heart stopped beating in my chest. Mama’s face turned white with horror as her hands flew up to her mouth in fear. A baby’s cry could be heard from beyond the wall… Aaron’s cry. There was the sound of loud footsteps on the ladder leading up to the attic… to our hiding place. I prayed to God that my baby brother would be alright, but that prayer turned to a silent sob as the hinges of the trap door creaked open. I knew they had seen Aaron, and I knew he was going to die. A young man’s voice could be heard from the other side of the wall, shouting down his discovery to the other soldiers who were with Dr. Weismann and spread out around the house searching-for us. My mother wept silently against my father who had his arms around her, tears running down his cheeks.
“Mama! Mama!” Aaron screamed, his words muffled by his crying.
Mama buried her face deeper into Papa’s chest, her shoulders shaking with her sobs.
“Mama, why aren’t you letting Aaron come in? Mama, why not?”
Tzipporah’s voice was high-pitched and clear. Hannah flung herself at her sister and covered her mouth with both of her own hands. The soldiers talking outside stopped abruptly at the noise.
“Oh God, we’ve been found,” Papa gasped, “Oh dear Lord, why did you let this happen?”
I knew it was only a matter of moments before we would be found. The little door slid open and there was a sharp German command on the other side of the door, ordering us to come out. My father looked us all in the eye fondly, his own eyes lingering on Mama for a moment, and then he was gone through the door. Mama followed with Hannah and Tzipporah and then I crawled out. While standing up, I tripped on my dress and I fell down, with a cry of pain as my elbow hit the corner of the bookshelf. I felt a strong, secure hand take hold of my own shaking one, and I slowly looked up into the face of the young officer who had found my brother. I didn’t know what to feel… Hatred? Fear? Pity? I looked into his eyes, the clear blue eyes of a young man which were filled with compassion and warmth… and I felt a surge of hope.
“Beruhen Sie den Juden nicht!”
I had no idea what the head commander meant, but the young soldier drew back from me and released his grip on my hand. I looked again at his eyes but they were different… the warmth and compassion had left and they were blank and staring straight once again. My heart sank. Mama put her arm around my shoulders and whispered to me that we were meant to go downstairs. I swiftly brushed a single tear from my eyes and followed my family down the ladder to the main floor. I looked around for Dr. Weismann and flinched when I saw what was left from where he had been standing. There were dark spots of blood splattered against the wall and the floor. Mama started crying all over again and turned Tzipporah’s face away. Papa clutched Aaron even tighter, his face a mask of pain and sorrow. I reached for Hannah’s trembling hand and clutched it tightly. We were led out of the front door and motioned to sit down on the grass in the front yard. That’s when I knew where we were going. We were going somewhere where already at least 4,000,000 Jews had died. We were going to a concentration camp, and I knew that my life would never be the same again.
May 7th, 1943 Stephen – Death Train
We had been on the train taking the prisoners to their camps for days. It was long, hard and tiresome work. At every drop off, we would unload all the prisoners and throw out all those that had died, in between this drop off and the last one, into a ditch. We, the soldiers, had a name for the train - Death Train. You were lucky if you made it all the way to the camp - if you could call living in hell lucky. Most people wanted to die on the train, so they did not have live to see another chapter in that horror story. It was the kind of play where you wanted to be written out. People went so crazy on the train, that some of them started to pull the barbered wire of the windows and jump out into the ditches. We were ordered to shoot those who got out, from the roof of the moving train. Many jumped and many died. As I shot the Jews I saw one girl who had gotten out unharmed and who was crawling toward an older boy who, from what I could see, was dead. I had a clear aim, but I didn’t shoot, even though I had never seen this girl before I let her live. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her live another day in that hell, but I could not bring myself to shoot… she already looked in so much emotional pain, I just could not put her in any physical pain.
When we made it to the last Camp, Abel and I stayed to work. Work as tools in the hands of death, and help end so much life. Those camps were places where Jews and prisoners of war were either killed or forced to live as slave laborers, undernourished and tortured - and to think I helped to do it.
It was a sad place, now that I look back, but when I was there I blinded myself to all that was going on around me. I shut out all the death and inhumanity, as best I could. I look back at the images in my head and it makes me sick. There were so many bodies. So many people had been worked to their deaths, or worked to where they could work no more and were killed in the gas chambers.
When we first got there we led all the men into one half of the camp, and the women went into another. They went in as Jews and came out as prisoners. One after another they were stripped of their clothing, richly coloured compared to the dead grey and damp blue striped uniforms they were put into. They went in as individuals, and came out as blank, lifeless flocks of faces. All traces of positive emotion were gone. They had been stripped of their lives.
May 4th, 1943 Eva – Death Train
Eva’s diary First Entry:
We have been traveling on this train for days and days it seems, even though I know it has only been many hours. You cannot imagine what it is like to stand up for hours in a stifling train car, pressed against hundreds of other people, not being able to move, to see to breath. Oh, and the smell… It is a wonder we are all still alive. This journal is the only thing that is keeping me sane. I cannot even begin to describe the horrors I have seen since yesterday, but I must… That’s what Mama wants me to use this book for. So here is my story so far.
We arrived at the train station earlier yesterday and got our yellow stars, standing out crisp and stark on our clothes. I hate them. There are thousands of us here at the station… Polish Jews, like ourselves, German Jews… every single Jew the Germans could put their hands on are here today. I am so exhausted from shedding so many tears and always being the one to comfort Tzipporah when she gets scared. Does she not know I am just as scared as she? I saw that young officer from the raid at our house today, standing near one of the train cars and I tried not to think of him or of any of the other soldiers. I kept my mind blank and tried to focus on singing Tzipporah softly to sleep. We were huddled together closely on the grass, my coat draped over both of us to keep out the spring chill. I looked up quickly in surprise when I heard the soft notes of a violin accompanying my tune and I looked around to see who was playing the instrument. My eyes fell upon a young girl of only ten, and I couldn’t help but smile at her strength. I knew what she was doing. She was standing up for herself as a Jew, she was standing up for every Jew and I was filled with an inner warmth I have not felt for days.
“Verschlossener Jude!”
The soldier standing beside the officer from our house screamed, and even though I couldn’t understand German, I knew he was telling her to be quiet. The young girl didn’t even glance over at him, but kept playing, still softly but with a defiant edge to the gentle, Jewish lullaby. The young soldier barked out some sort of threat, but the girl continued to play. I could see tears streaming down her face, shining in the moonlight. The young soldier lifted up his gun to shoot. I pressed Tzipporah’s face into my skirt and covered my mouth with my hands.
“Nicht!” The officer that I knew objected, trying to take the gun from his companion’s hands.
The young man with the gun pushed the officer aside and took aim again.
All through this the soft notes of the violin were still being played, with as much defiance as before. I covered my face with my hands as the crack of the gun split the air, the music stopping abruptly. It was then I realized I was sobbing. How much horror did I have to witness before it was my turn?
I felt so helpless then; I could not imagine an end to what was happening to me. The days that I did bring myself to think about what really had happened, and what the future might hold, ended with me dying
September, 24, 1944 - Stephen
Much time had gone by; it was the same routine every week. So many people would be taken into the gas chambers to be killed each week, and I had to help to take them there. There was always one person, one little innocent boy that I remember walking down the hallways leading to his death. What had this boy done to be given this fate, to be treated like some criminal? There was no just answer to this question. If I could have died instead of him I would have. I had been so strong for so long… I had been locking up any emotions I had, to keep me safe from cracking under all this pressure. But seeing this little boy brought back memories of when I didn’t have a hand on what I was doing, and it brought back those emotions with it.
I remember that day as if it were yesterday. It was my twenty-first birthday, the day you are supposed to celebrate your life, but it was hard to do when there was so much death going on around you. There was not suppose to be any children in the camps under the age of seven, even though there was and we knew it. If we could not see them, they weren’t there, but if we did see them, they would not see much more of life. Five soldiers, including myself, were coming out of our sleeping chamber. I saw a child running, but not away from us. He seemed to be coming toward us. It looked as though he had not seen us. When he did, he stopped in his tracks, and turned as white as a sheet. Even young as he was, he knew that we were the enemy, and to stay away. It made me feel like a monster… like the ones you’re told are living under your bed. He turned and started to run the other way. I knew him. I had seen that face before; it was the first Jew I had ever found in hiding; that helpless child, standing in the attic screaming for his mother.
I tried to pretend that I had not seen him, but it was too obvious that I had. When I turned away from the image of the running boy, Abel raised his eyebrows, amused.
“Run! Chase him!” He said with a tone that mocked me.
There were too many eyes watching to just turn away. I had no choice. I ran, and because I did, he died.
September 24th, 1944- Eva- Concentration Camp
Eva’s diary.
Second entry:
He’s dead. My poor baby brother is gone. I don’t know when it happened, I do not know how, all I know is that he was not on the top bunk in our barracks when I got back from work today. Oh God, why did you let this happen? What did my 3 year old brother Aaron ever do to give himself such a death sentence as this? We have been hiding him ever since we arrived at the camp last year… saving more than half of our rations to bring back to him any chance we had. It was not the life any child should live but at least he was alive! Mama knows nothing of this and I don’t know how to tell her… how do you tell your mother that her darling child, her only son, has been killed?
Work today was a night mare. We were up today at 5:00 in the morning and there was a thin, but deadly layer of frost over everything. I shivered in my grimy prison suit, depressed by the thought that it wasn’t even the beginning of winter yet. We marched off to work exactly half an hour later, having no idea what the day’s work was going to be. If only I had known, I would have begged to have been killed right then. That day we were allowed out of the barbed wire and I was filled with peace as we marched along a dirt road, the frost melting to sparkling dew on the grass on either side of us. I was surprised when we reached our destination, for it was only a deep ditch to the side of the road. We were given spades and shovels and told to dig. And that is exactly what we did all day, not knowing the reason and not knowing the use. I could hardly stand up when we were herded together again, counted and marched back up the road just as the sun was starting to set. As we were urged through the gates I saw out of the corner of my eye a group of Jews being pushed and shoved into a large grey truck. Then I knew where they were going, what was going to happen to them, what the whole point of our 14 hour workday had been… and I shuddered. They were going to be shot… those pits we made were their graves. Little by little the Jews are being eliminated, and what do I do? Dig graves for them! With every death, more and more is taken away. Everything seems to be gone… My hair is gone, my dignity is gone, my strength is gone, my hope of living is gone… what is there left to live for?
I could think of something that I had that they could never take away from me, an it was the only thing that got me through those times, something no human tool could dig out of me and that was my spirit
December, 18th 1944 - Stepthen
There was always a fear that the Allies would find the camps, and once they did. A plane flew over head, it was not one of ours. We had to take the chance. We were moving all the prisoners from Treblinka to Auschwitz-Birkenau the most feared camp of all, where the most Jews met their end. If you went there you were almost guaranteed to die. It was also was better guarded and well hidden. We took the prisoners there by train; once again we had loaded them in to a death train. Again they tried to get out the window and again we had been ordered to shoot them. I did not blame them for trying to get out, they had already seen what the camps were like, and if this one was the worst of all, who would want to live to see that? Again I saw a familiar faces lying dead on the ground, the mother and youngest daughter of those who I had first found. I look around for the rest of their family which had now been thorn apart piece by piece, and caught myself saying a prayer that they would be alright.
Little did I know then that they would not be living in this camp for long. Soon they would be free.
February 18th, 1944
Eva’s diary.
Third entry:
We are being transferred to another camp. I do not know which, but I pray that it will not be worse than the one we are in now. That would just be too much. Where we are now, at Treblinka, is like living in hell, and I can hardly imagine anything worse. I hope I will see my dear Papa before we all get reorganized at the new camp. I miss him so much, and I know Mama, Hannah and Tzipporah do as well. I long to be all as a family together once again… I would give anything for that. Mama says not to cry about Aaron, but I can’t help it. She says he has gone to a better place than anywhere on the earth… that does comfort me though, knowing that he is at peace. I hope we all survive this… I hope that more than anything.
March 1, 1945 – Stephen
I am going home, it’s as simple as that. I have told my story, now they know what I had to go through, but most of all what the innocent had to go through, and yes what I did to them. I do not know how I am going to live with myself, how I am going to get up every morning and live knowing that have killed innocent people. Now I must live for all those lives I took away, I must keep their stories alive.
It was all horrible and now it’s over, but nothing will ever be the same. We can’t just go back and undo all the evil we have done. Now those families have to go back to their lives and try so hard to continue without those who have died. All those people have to go back and try to live normal lives with scarred minds and memories of how inhuman humans can be. I pray that this will never happen again. Lives were taken away, and it’s going to be just as painful and long for the survivors to find theirs once again.
Cities have crumbled and worlds have crumbled. There is so much wrong to undo, so much that cant be undone. Over 6 million Jews died, and for what?
It is over, but what has come from it apart from death and defeat?
I am sure many people thought that they were going to die and that this was their hell, well I pray for them that the life after this one will be their heaven.
March 1st, 1944
Eva’s diary.
Fourth entry.
The train trip was even worse than the one coming to Treblinka, if you can believe that. The train cars had not been cleaned out since the last journey they had made and the only good thing about everything was that all the waste was frozen, so we were saved from the smell. I received the most awful news of my life… we were being transferred to Auschwitz-Birkenau. That is the top extermination camp in all of Germany and we are all assured death. I had so hoped… Then suddenly a lady cried out amongst all of the weeping and shouting. I listened to her, holding tight to Tzipporah’s hand, staying close to Mama and Hannah. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but the word spread quickly in the crowded car. It was possible to save ourselves if we were to jump out of the windows and roll into the ditches on either side of the train tracks. My heart stopped as I heard the next bit… Nazi soldiers were prepared to shoot you as soon as you were off the train. Hannah started to cry and so did Tzipporah. It didn’t seem like a choice anymore… we knew we had to jump. People had already torn the barbed wire from the windows and were starting to leap out into the soft snow. Machine guns could be heard clearly overhead and we cringed at the awful sound they made.
“I will take, Tzipporah,” Mama told Hannah and I as we clung to her.
“I love you,” she whispered, caressing our faces in her hands before she headed over to the window.
Hannah and I lost sight of her through the crowd. By now we were both crying so hard, we could hardly see. We held hands tight, and made our way over to the window.
Hannah hugged me tight in her arms before she climbed through the window. Then she was gone. I closed my eyes tight and jumped out after her. The cold blast of air that hit me took my breath away as I rolled swiftly down into a ditch. I knew that if I moved, I would die. I lay still until I heard the last train whistle drifting away in the distance. I got up and waded through the snow, searching for Mama, Tzipporah and Hannah. I felt someone grab my hand, and I screamed falling down in the snow. I turned around to see Hannah standing there, her face radiant.
“I thought you had been…” she drifted off.
“Do you know about Mama and Tzipporah,”I swallowed, not wanting to know the answer.
Hannah’s face fell and she started to sob.
“They didn’t make it, Eva…”I held her in my arms and we both cried with each other. I grabbed her hand and we took our first steps on our long journey home.
“Use it, Eva. Fill every page with your thoughts, dreams…with your story. Use it to remember us by, Eva, and never forget that where our paths may lead, we shall always remember you.” I remember these words as if you are whispering them to me every time I think of you. And I will never forget them, Mama. I have used this book to remember you by… this is not just my story, Mama… it is yours, too. I love you,
Eva
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