Holocaust Survivors I Have Met

I grew up in New York City.

I went to high school at Stuyvesant, which is a magnet school for gifted students. Because of our reputation we sometimes had famous or important people visit us.

Because I went to Stuyvesant and I was the editor-in-chief of one of the school’s publications, I was invited as part of a group to meet Barbara Feldman, who played 99 on Get Smart. She signed an autograph for me before she left and told me that she wrote poetry.

I was also invited to a brunch hosted by the wife of the President of Israel at her suite in the Waldorf Astoria. The table in the elegant dining area was large enough for all twelve of us as well as Mrs. Herzog and her staff.

However, the person I met who made the biggest impact — Robert Clary.

He played LeBeau on Hogan’s Heroes, which I loved because it made my father laugh. So I was quite excited when he visited our school and gave a speech.

However, I don’t remember him talking about his film career. I do remember him talking about the Holocaust.

He was living with his family in Paris when he was deported, along with his family, to Nazi concentration camps. He was 16 at the time, just a year older than I was when I met him.

He ended up in Buchenwald where he sang for the SS soldiers, which he said helped him survive.

He told us how the Nazis didn’t treat them like human beings. That for a week, they were given no food, and several of them died in their sleep. He told us he still had nightmares from that time.

Twelve other members of his family died in concentration camps.

I met him after his speech and shook his hand. He showed me the tattoo on his left arm. I will never forget it.

Several years later, I met another Holocaust survivor. She was in her 70s when I met her, but her face seemed older, as though tragedy had aged her. The grandmother of one of my friends, she was kind to me the few times I met her.

I never asked her about Auschwitz. My friend told me that was where she’d been for three years. She shared a few stories with me, but she didn’t know any details, since her grandmother said very little, even to close family, about her ordeal.

The third Holocaust survivor I met was in his 80s. He was a bridge player, which is how I befriended him. He was quite sharp so he was fun to play with despite his age. He also had a good sense of humor and seemed remarkably healthy for his age.

He reminded me of my own grandfathers, who were both active late into their 80s.

One summer day he showed up in short sleeves and I noticed the tattoo on his arm. He saw me looking at it and told me he’d been in Buchenwald.

I told him I was very sorry and asked him what it was like. He said, “It was hell on earth.” He shared with me that after he was freed, he immigrated to the United States where he had family.

For years, he woke up with nightmares.

“I could not talk about my experience back then,” he said. “It made the nightmares worse. But now I can speak of it. I want people to know because they should know, so it never happens again.”

I had many questions I wanted to ask, but I never got the chance. At the bridge meeting, he and I had talked during the first 15 minutes, when people socialied before breaking up into tables to play.

I planned to ask him more questions the next time I saw him, but I never did. He didn’t show up and when I asked I found out he’d died.

However, his sunny disposition showed me what true courage looked like — to survive what he had, yet to live in the sun, not in darkness.

I am sure I have met other Holocaust survivors — after all, I grew up in New York City. My high school, Stuyvesant, was, I think, 40% Jewish and 30% Asian when I went there. I met a few of my Jewish friend’s older relatives. But we never talked about the Holocaust.

I have also met one person from the “other side”, so to speak.

I was at a local dog park when I got into a conversation with a lady who’d grown up in East Germany. Since I had a German Shepherd and she had grown up with them, we talked about the breed.

She told me their endurance was phenomenol. Her father was one of the guards who patrolled the border between East and West Germany with a German Shepherd. She said he could be fierce but was gentle with her and the family. She grew to love the breed.

I asked her about how she felt about the fall of the Berlin Wall and she said it was a good thing and everyone was celebrating when it came down. I didn’t ask her about the Nazis.

I have learned from my friends who grew up in Germany that most Germans don’t want to talk about the Holocaust. They feel ashamed.

One close friend told me never to bring the subject up with Germans for this reason. He siad that in their history classes, German children were told repeatedly about this crime committed by Germany. He told me about taking a field trip to a concentration camp and throwing up when he realized what had happened there.

“We are taught our history so we never repeat it,” he said.

I am fighting stage IV cancer. If you can help with medical bills, I would really appreciate it. Or if you enjoy my writing and would like to buy me a cup of coffee, that’s great too. Maybe someday I can return the favor.

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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

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