My life story

IWAS BORN IN 1930 IN KOZIENICE, POLAND. AS I WAS the youngest child in our family, my two brothers and three sisters spoilt me. My father was a well-respected leather wholesaler and we lived comfortably in a warm Jewish environment, surrounded by a loving family and friends.

As a young boy I walked to the synagogue with my father, proudly holding his hand. I had a good voice and often sang solo in the synagogue choir. My kind and generous mother worried about me, always making sure that I had plenty to eat. Every Thursday night she made extra challah and fish that she gave to poor people on Friday for their Shabbat meal.

Our lives changed when the Germans marched into Kozienice and established a ghetto. They would take away the men to work, so my father and my brothers hid in the attic. I was very frightened, but had to go out to find food for the rest of the family. I risked my life running from the ghetto to the Polish village nearby, and would have been shot on the spot had been caught.

In August 1942 I was taken to Wilka, a labour camp where I witnessed my brother Benjamin being shot. A few months later, I was taken to Skarzysko, another slave labour camp. I was only 12 and on my own. As I was too small to be assigned to work, I built up my shoes with wooden soles to make myself look taller. The Germans did not want children in the camp, but a woman bribed a guard with some diamonds she had hidden, so he allowed ten of us the stay. The other 50 were taken away and shot. Only five of us eventually survived.

As we could not survive on the food rations, I sang in exchange of an extra piece of bread. I worked in a warehouse that supplied raw materials for the ammunition factory, and had to carry heavy cases. I contracted typhus and was very weak, but had no choice but to keep working. Looking back, it is hard to believe that I survived those terrible conditions.

The guard in Skarzysko was a very cruel man. Once he lined up 15 boys facing a wall with our hands above our heads and told us we were to be shot. cried for my mother and we all said the

Shema, but he fired shots above our heads, deliberately missing us and laughing at having tricked us.

In August 1944 I arrived at Buchenwald, another horror camp. I would lie on my bunk talking to my friends during the night; by morning they had died. Ten to 20 died of starvation every day, and I became used to the sight of dead bodies.

People used to arrive from different camps, including Auschwitz, where I knew my father had been. One Sunday when I was not at work, I saw a man I thought was my father. I ran up and hugged him, but suddenly realised he was someone else. was devastated. I have never forgotten that day. I was later told that my father was shot on the death march from Auschwitz, as he was too weak to keep walking. His body was left in a gutter.

We were liberated by the American army on 11 April 1945 and it was the happiest day of my life. I was 149 cms tall and weighed only 32 kilos. The Red Cross cared for our group of 130 young boys – known as ‘Buchenwald boys’ – before sending us to a Jewish orphanage in France. I went to school to catch up on the schooling that I had missed and have happy memories of my time there. I am still close to the Buchenwald boys in Melbourne – we are closer than brothers as we survived those horrendous times together.

My three sisters survived the Holocaust and migrated to Australia, so at the age of 17, left Europe to join them. Ten years later I met my wife, Tania, and established a successful retail shoe shop. Tania and I had a son and a daughter. We now have six grandchildren who give us much naches

My survival is a miracle, given my separation from my family at such a young age and the hardships I endured. I cannot forget the sight of Germans marching into Kozienice and cutting off my grandfather’s beard with a bayonet, nor the sound of his screams, nor seeing them shoot my brother. However, in spite of Hitler’s evil persecution, my sisters and I survived and have continued the chain of Jewish life and tradition through our children and grandchildren.