Chapter 34

On January 25, 1945, with the war still raging, 1,000 prisoners left the Liebenau camp by trucks to trains waiting on the rail siding at the railroad station.

It was a bitterly cold night, a biting wind blowing as the bright stars flickered in the inky blue sky. With each breath, gusts of steam escaped from our nostrils. Our hands and feet became numb, while waiting out turn to proceed to the trains.

Slowly we climbed into the coaches, but the sick and the feeble had to be hoisted onto the train. Those of us, who possessed suitcases, clutched them tightly, being sure we did not lose them in this important shuffle of people.

There was no need to hurry us; the cold weather did that. But, now, there was no pressure from the mighty Gestapo to speed us on ... no more prompting with the knee or the butt of the rifle. This was a priceless cargo to be exchanged.

Happy at the thought we were leaving Germany and our way to the land of freedom, we patiently waited for all the prisoners to be settled in the coaches. Eventually, the log train with its human cargo would its way slowly down the tracks over the snow-covered mountains.

Ultimately we arrived at the place in the mountains of Switzerland, which was to be our "way station" for two, long, cold, but happy, weeks. My mother, my children and I were never again separated.

The Swiss police, who took over the surveillance of the internees, herded us into a large, fenced-in camp with rows of long barracks; they had been used previously for other refugees. These barracks had a concrete floor and bunks, lower and upper, large enough for eight to ten people to lie side by side. We were allotted an upper bunk and reached it by climbing a make-shift ladder. Sour smelling straw filled the enclosure. Each person found a scratchy army blanket in the bunk for covering. There were no sheets and no pillows. Once up, my mother and I seldom left our spot, except for urgent reasons. We had difficulty getting out of our position, especially at night, since we had to crawl over sleeping persons to get to the ladder. The dim light was not enough to see in the darkness.

We could not discern or check the condition of our sleeping quarters upon arrival, as it was still night, but in the morning, with the faint light coming through the windows, I noticed the used and flattened straw upon which we spent our first night. Trying to fluff it up, I uncovered a woman's long hose and a pair of shoes left by the earlier inhabitants of this lodging.

Afraid of bugs and lice, I went to the head officers of the camp and asked him courteously, "Could we please have some fresh straw? Ours has been slept on and this morning I pulled out a woman's long hose and a pair of shoes."

This was too much for him. In an angry voice he answered, "Well, you Americans are not any better than the thousands of refugees we sheltered before you. We don't make any changes."

This was the first day of our stay in beautiful Switzerland. Hereafter, we slept in this dirty straw in our clothes. When it came to washing our hands and faces, we could not. We used the fresh snow that fell daily. Because the plumbing was outdoors, icicles hung from the spigots and, as they melted, more mounds of ice formed on the ground below the leaky faucets.

As for bathing, that was out of the question. But, even in winter time, people do start feeling uncomfortable and smelling offensive. We had to be ingenious with so many people around. The men were in different barracks, but it was still difficult to wash, stripped before strangers. We used our blankets from the bunks as a screen; at least two persons helped to hold one up. We uncovered the parts to be washed, rubbed some wet soap there and quickly, with icy water, wiped the lather away. This was a hurried operation; the cold being severe, the water icy and the privacy short. Happily, many of the women took the hint and started their ablutions soon after our innovation. After this quick, cold wash, we felt a trifle better and the air was a bit more pleasant.

The latrines were uniquely primitive for this highly civilized country of Switzerland. It was outdoor plumbing, on which one stood and heard a loud echo from far down below. The stench was nauseating.

There were not enough privy [toilet] stalls. The sick from the extermination camps had difficulty picking their way through the dirty snow and hard-caked ice mounds. Many a time, they slipped and fell, lying there until someone noticed them and helped them to the latrine, waited for them, and escorted them back to their barracks.

For two long weeks we withstood these unpleasant hardships. The incarceration in Liegeman for two and a half years was a hotel vacation compared to this deliverance in Switzerland.

The children somehow did not feel hemmed in by all this misery. They found other children their age and played on the hills in the clean, white snow, throwing snowballs and having a good time. They, as well as many of the refugees, enjoyed the magnificent scenery surrounding them ... the fresh, unpolluted mountain air.