Childhood Behind Barbed Wire - ebook

Children in Auschwitz

According to the preserved documents and other estimates, there were about 232 thousand children and juveniles under 18 among the 1.3 million people deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau Concentration Camp. This number includes about 216 thousand Jews, about 11 thousand Romas, at least 3 thousand Poles, and over 1 thousand Russians, Byelorussians and other nationalities.

Most of them were brought to Auschwitz with their families during various actions directed against specific ethnic and social groups. Out ofthe total of 400 thousand registered prisoners of this group, 23.5 thousand were children and juveniles.

Jewish children

Children and juveniles of Jewish origin constituted the largest group. From the very beginning of 1942 they were being transported to the camp together with adults, as part of the Final Solution action aiming at complete annihilation of the European Jews. Children who were not fit for physical work were taken directly from the railway ramp to gas chambers. People fit for work were selected from the arriving transports, but there were usually very few boys and girls among them. The situation changed in 1944 as a result of acute shortage of available workforce and then, even 13-14 years old children were directed to the oil refinery in Trzebinia and the local coal mine in Jawiszowice. Also, since mid-1943 some Jewish children arriving in the camp were selected for pseudomedical experiments performed by Dr Joseph Mengele.

A large group of Jewish children arrived in Auschwitz from the ghetto in Terezín between September 1943 and May 1944. They were housed, together with their families, in Bikenau, where they were able to live with their parents. This temporary sub-camp, functioning for merely 11 months was—like the Romas’ sub-camp—a mere propaganda camouflage. The real aim was to misguide the public opinion as well as the victims about the real aim of the “deportation to the East”.

The Roma children

The second largest group of children and juveniles were Romas, who for 17 months (February 1943—August 1944) were accommodated—like the Jews from Terezín—in a special, family sector of the Birkenau camp (sector BIIe). Out of the total of 11 thousand children and juveniles accommodated in the camp, nearly 9.5 thousand were younger than 15 years of age, and 378 babies were born in the camp.

For a short period of time the children enjoyed special privileges: they could stay with their relatives and were getting slightly better food rations. In the summer of 1943, by the order of the chief medical SS officer of the camp Dr Joseph Mengele, a so-called Kindergarten was organised in sector BIIe; it was a kind of nursery and creche, with a playground equipped with roundabouts, sandpits and swings. Children from the Kindergarten were selected by Dr Mengele for his pseudo-medical experiments.

The “privileged” situation of the Roma children did not last long. Disastrous sanitary conditions developed epidemics of typhoid, scabies and other diseases, causing rapid increase of mortality among the Romas, and particularly among children. Those of them, who were subjected to Dr Mengele’s experiments, were usually killed with phenol injections, followed by mandatory autopsies concluding the “experiments”. In May 1944 it was decided to gradually liquidate the Romas’ family camp, and on 2 September the remaining 3 thousand men, women and children were exterminated in the Birkenau gas chambers.

Polish children

Polish children and juveniles were brought to the camp in transports of political prisoners arrested as members of the resistance movement, as hostages, during street round-ups, or as part of general repressive measures against Polish youth.

The first transports of Polish prisoners in June, July and August 1940 contained young boys 16, 17, some even 14 years old.

There were also Polish children among the people displaced from the Zamość area. In three trasports of 13 hundred people, there were at least 150 boys and girls. Nearly all the boys of these transports were murdered with phenol injections after a few weeks’ stay in the male camp. Most of the girls from the Zamość transports also died soon of typhoid, starvation, or were taken together with their mothers to the gas chambers.

After the fall of the Warsaw Uprising in August 1944 another substantial group of Polish children arrived from Warsaw in transports of adult prisoners. Nearly 13 thousand people were evacuated from the transit camp in Pruszków near Warsaw to Auschwitz; among them nearly 1.5 thousand babies, children and juveniles.

There were also children sent to Auschwitz by summary courts for food smuggling or escapes from forced labour centres. Summary courts rarely passed other sentences than death penalty.

Children from the Soviet Union

In 1943 and 1944 over one thousand children arrived in Auschwitz from the Soviet Union. Majority of them came from Byelorussia, arrested together with their families during pacification actions in the region of Minsk and Witebsk by the German police and in particular by the infamous Einsatzkommando 9 unit. Most of those arrested during pacifications were executed on the spot, but some (about 6 thousand men, women and children) were deported to Auschwitz. Most of the children died soon after arrival, some were transported to special camps for children in Potulice near Bydgoszcz and Konstantynów near Łódź.

A number of Byelorussian and Russian children arrived in 1944 from concentration camps in Majdanek and Stutthof. There were also young Russians and Ukrainians, of both sexes, captured after attempted escapes from forced labour in Germany.

Children born in the camp

In the early stage, children born in the women’s sector were—regardless of their mothers’ nationality—immediately killed, without any official records made in the camp’s documentation.

Since mid-1943 babies born by non-Jewish women were being kept alive. A few days after birth they were registered and issued with camp numbers. Babies born by Jewish women were usually killed immediately after birth up until November 1944, when the mass murder of Jews was suspended. However, the situation was different in the so-called ‘family camp’ for Jews brought from Terezín, where newly born babies were allowed to live. No records exist of the number of babies in this camp. As a matter of fact all of them perished during the camp’s liquidation in July 1944.

Existing documents list at least 700 children who were born in Auschwitz-Birkenau. This figure includes the Romas’ family camp.

The children’s fate

The life of children and juveniles was no different from that of adult prisoners (with the exception of the ‘family camps’ mentioned earlier). Like adults, they suffered hunger, cold, exhausting labour conditions, cruel punishments, death and medical experiments performed by the SS doctors.

At the end of 1943 separate barracks were selected for children over 2 years old, but conditions there were no different from the rest of the camp. There was no milk or baby food for the newborn, so babies were literally sentenced to death by starvation. The conditions were slightly better in the camp hospital, where the inmate personnel consisting of female medics and nurses tried to provide sick childred with additional blankets, food, clothes and medicaments.

However, it was almost impossible to help Jewish children who lived in constant threat of gas chambers.

Due to systematic extermination of children in the camp and evacuations to other camps—especially in its final stage, very few children survived until the camp’s liberation.

Helena KubicaArrival

The girls from the orphanage are shouting, arguing, scratching and crying, but the nuns pay no attention, praying all day from morning till night, slowly fingering rosary beads, with their mouths moving incessantly. From time to time somebody shouts at the girls while they pee in the dark corner of the cattle wagon, but they completely ignore the adults who argue: “You must not do it, because it’s so crowded here and the stink gets worse by the hour.”

The train suddenly stops. People peek through the high barbed window below the roof of the cattle wagon and say they see a small town. I would like a look too, but the adults do not let me. They are crowding tight, straining to listen to one railwayman among them. He is a very important person here, and knows all the stations and, importantly, where they are leading to. He knows everything.

“We are being held at the signal,” he says, as the train stops again after passing the town.

“If we turn right, they’re taking us to Germany. If we continue straight ahead, we’ll go to Cracow, Katowice…”

The train jerks violently, stops and then moves on again. There is incredible suspense. “Where are we going?… right… straight… right… no!” Everyone sighs with relief. We will remain in Poland.

I have never travelled by a freight train before. It is fun, in fact. If I only could stand up, walk a few steps, peek through the window, pee when I need to drink some water… It’s stifling hot, it stinks, and it’s filthy and dusty. I only wish it wasn’t so crowded, and that I could see through the window… but it’s too high up for me, and the adults say it’s not allowed. I tried to count all the people here several times, but every time I got past forty, I got mixed up and had to stop.

Months ago, when the Italian soldiers were passing through Warsaw on the way to the Eastern front, they stood in the open doors of wagons, singing and waving. They were really nice. I remember one of them, with moustache, a hat with feathers, and long shiny boots…

I would like to wave through the window now. But how? It’s too high up and has this barbed wire. The Germans immediately start shooting when they see anybody leaning out. So adults don’t let children get close, they just crowd there and look out themselves…

We had been travelling all night and all day, it was now after sunset, and when it got dark, I suddenly felt very sleepy. People were squatting on the floor, or sitting on wooden planks. The wheels rattled, the wagon swung from side to side, even the noisy girls had calmed down. They were not whinging any more, some had even fallen asleep, waking up only when they heard a piece of paper rustle. “Surely someone was unwrapping some food?” This was denied as soon as somebody begged “give me some!” And the wagon became quiet again… except for the rhythmical rattling of tracks.

“Will you eat something, my boy?” I can feel the warm breath of my mum, right by my ear.

“No!” I flinched angrily, without even opening an eye. Mum only wants me to eat, eat and eat! It is always the same… At home and here, all the time. Oh, I just want to get out… The train slows down!… Is it the end of our journey?

The lights are moving on the wall, slower and slower… then there is a sudden jerk and we stop. Will they let us out at last? I am so sleepy. Oh, now I can hear Germans walking along the train, they are talking but I do not understand a word. I can see shadows of helmets and rifles on the wall… and they walk away.

“People, listen! For God’s sake, it’s Auschwitz!” The railwayman whispers in blind terror and the wagon becomes so quiet that I can hear people breathing. Why? I get up, stand on my toes, and peep through a crack by the door—there is nothing to see, a station like many others that we have passed. Just a few lamp posts, and then a small building with big letters that spell AUSCHWITZ. The platform is lined with policemen and soldiers, but there is not a single civilian in sight. Maybe… maybe we are in Germany after all?…

“Auschwitz!… So this is where they brought us?! Can’t be…” people whisper in the darkness of the wagon. “Why?”

“We are moving on! What a relief. We are moving…”

The train very slowly creeps along the platform, quietly, slowly… swaying gently from side to side… Good, I am falling asleep again…

“There’s a junction now,” the railwayman whispers. “If we turn left, we are OK, but if we go right…”

“So what?” I think, half asleep. Why are they all so frightened? Let the train go to the right! What a pity Dad isn’t here with us! Why did he have to go away with the Uprising fighters? It would be good to have Daddy here. Oh, let me sleep, I wish I could stretch, but there’s no room, it’s so crowded, and there are bodies lying just everywhere… Nobody seems to want to sleep; they are all so quiet, as if waiting for something… almost breathless. The train moves very, very slowly. My eyes close, the eyelids are so heavy… sleep… sleep…

“We’re turning to the right! People! To the right!…” the railwayman shouts.

Somebody sobs, somebody else prays aloud. There is a strange fear in the air… I now feel really scared but I don’t know why. I must try to sleep now, sleep over the fear, so I close the eyelids tight, and fall asleep…

“Hey, my boy! Don’t sleep now, not now… you mustn’t! We’re getting out… Take this, put it in your pocket.” Mum pulls me hard to herself and slips a small packet into my pocket. Half asleep, I allow her trembling hands to put my coat on.

“I don’t want to!” I cry out all of a sudden, wide-awake now. “Leave me alone!”

“Drink! I want to drink!” little Jacek screams at the top of his voice.

“Such a small boy, what a pity!” says a voice in the dark. Jacek must be the youngest child in the wagon. Little snot, he is no more than three years old.

Somebody sobs in the corner. It must be those girls again.

“Of course it’s a pity,” says another voice in the darkness. “Aren’t we all in the same boat? You’d better save your pity for yourself, old chap.”

“Mum, where are my soldiers?”I suddenly remember. Dad gave me a fistful of tin soldiers two days before he went to fight in the Uprising. They were sailors, actually. One was holding a Polish flag, just like the ones I saw in the streets during the Warsaw Uprising.

Warsaw… What’s it like now? Where’s Dad? Have the insurgents defeated the Germans yet? They certainly did… And Dad? He’s there, he is free no doubt, he has a revolver, maybe even a machine gun, and he is fighting. I’m sure of that. And my sailors? They should be safe now in my box, peacefully asleep. Wait… where’s the box? I don’t know… I’m checking all around myself, but can’t find it. My nose itches, I want to cry, I will…

“My boy, what are you talking about? Soldiers? What soldiers?”

“Where are my soldiers?” I keep sobbing.

“He doesn’t understand anything,” comments the railwayman at the window. “Such a big boy and behaves like a baby. Tin soldiers… he’ll go to the gas tomorrow, or maybe even today…”

“Are you serious? Would they do it to children?” asked a doubtful voice.

“What do you think! Children will go first! They only cause trouble. Children will go first, and then all of us, one by one, everybody!”

“Mum, what does it mean ‘go to the gas’?”

“Don’t be afraid my boy, I will never let them take you!” Mum grabs me and hugs me tightly. She is trembling.

“It hurts. Let me go!” I break free.

“The Gate of Death. No doubt,” says the railwayman. “I saw it from a distance once. We are going now through that gate, and we are inside the camp. This is the end… we are finished. There are dozens of Germans by the tracks… We are finished now…”

“Maybe it’s only a stop on the way to somewhere… Maybe we shall move on…”

“No, it’s a sidetrack. There’s definitely no way forward from here…”

“Look, I can see people! In striped pyjamas! By tomorrow, will we look the same?”

“And where’s the gas?”I ask in a voice perhaps too loud, with curiosity aroused by people’s fear.

“Where’s the gas?!… Over there, look!” The railwayman lifts me up to the window. “Look, can you see this chimney?”

Outside the window, a long line of low lamp posts is passing slowly by, and in the distance, behind sparse trees I can see large square chimneys belching bright flames several metres high. Yuck! An awful stench hits me all of a sudden. It is a horrible, unfamiliar stench.

“Where are we?” I ask. “And what’s this disgusting smell?”

The railwayman said nothing and dropped me hard onto the floor. It hurt.

“What’s this terrifying yelling?!”

The wagon doors open with a loud clatter. Blinding light hits my eyes. There are dogs barking viciously and small groups of SS-men in green uniforms, holding machine guns, surrounded by swarms of people in striped uniforms, shouting:

“Get out! Take all your bags! Hurry up, quickly! Schnell !”

I jumped off the wagon and looked around. Two women, one older, the other much younger clutch a small boy as an SS-man pushes him… they hold him tight and will not let him go. The German shouts, the women hold the boy and cry. The soldier aims the gun; will he shoot? No, no way, he just wants to scare them… No! He shoots. They fall on the ground, all three of them… Nobody screams any more. The dogs bark at the silent crowd waddling along the train, forming lines and obediently awaiting its fate.

“Schnell, quickly! Hurry up! Move!” the commands pass along the column. Prisoners in striped uniforms are running around and forming us into rows of five. We move on through a dirt road lined with barbed wire fences on both sides. Behind the fences we can see long rows of wooden barracks. It is a deserted landscape, not a single person in sight, like in a weird dream or some bizarre fable. Behind the trees, the flames leap high from the chimneys. The stench is unbearable.

“Oh, look! There’s somebody standing by the barrack wall!”

“Where are you from?” he asks in Polish.

“He’s ours! Polish!”

“From Warsaw,” somebody shouts in the column.

“From Ochota!”I shouted, but I doubt if he heard me, because he quickly ran away towards another barrack.

“Oświęcim!” a voice whispers behind me… So this is Oświęcim…

Oświęcim!!! I know, I have heard about Oświęcim. So this ‘Auschwitz’ it is simply Oświęcim? This is where Jurek’s father died. Jurek was my schoolmate. Our teacher died here, my uncle died here too. In Warsaw the word ‘Oświęcim’ was uttered with respect and fear. “One does not come back from there,” Dad once said…

So, this is Oświęcim…

We see a big fire in the wood. The stench is stifling. The air is thick, dense, and full of something horribly frightening. Is this the stink of death? Perhaps… I am not sure. In Warsaw death smelled of brick dust and burnt rubbish, of something acidic and sour…

People are marching very fast now, I can hardly follow them. All the luggage, suitcases and parcels had to be left by the train, as the Germans ordered. Women carry small bundles and handbags—it is all they are allowed to take with them. I also have a small bundle—some food, a towel and my tin soldiers… I found them during the commotion before leaving the train.

What is that now? We take a turn just by the wood with the big fire behind. We follow another road and in minutes we stand in front of a huge, dark space of an open barrack. It looks like a barn—huge, gloomy, with large doors. When I was little, I used to spend holidays in the country and one of the main attractions was to explore the barn. There were piles of straw bales on both sides, and a cool clay floor under bare feet, the stacks of hay and sweltering heat… the smell of summer.

Behind the barrack door, there’s only darkness, pitch darkness. Our column disappears in this huge jaw of a cave. We swarm inside, trying to find our own small space, stumbling over crouching people and their belongings… and suddenly the huge door shuts close behind us.

“So, this is the place with the gas?” I ask.

“No, maybe not yet,” a hesitant voice replies.

Slowly sitting on the floor, I start exploring the space around me… I find a place to sit by the wall and open my small bundle. My sailors… they’ll be happy here, I won’t squash them in sleep… If I’m lucky to fall asleep… I look around and open my eyes wide but can’t see anything in the dark. The air is heavy and stuffy, I want to cry… but I can’t cry.

A toddler starts crying quietly but stops after a few breaths, as if realising that crying is not allowed here… A steam engine whistles in the distance. Is this the one which brought us here?… Saying good-bye and leaving us here to our fate?

I gaze into the darkness. I can’t sleep, I can’t cry. When I close my eyes, I see the boy hit by the bullet at the platform… he twists around and falls on the ground. No! I must shake this off me. Wipe it off… Tomorrow is another day.

Tomorrow… I won’t go to the park at Filtrowa Street, I won’t walk along Kaliska Street, and I won’t go to my aunt’s at Tarczyńska Street. Tomorrow the camp will welcome us.

Sleep, sleep, and wake up at home. It can’t be true that we are here, in Oświęcim… It must be a dream, some nightmare… it can’t be true…