Childhood in war 

The Sered camp

Under those circumstances, we could no longer bear the persecutions. We felt that we might escape them once or twice, but in the end we all would be caught. Everything around us was risky: restrictions on traveling by train or blocks on roads and streets. Dad heard that a labor camp was being founded, and its administration was looking for skilled workers. A huge carpentry shop was among the workshops to be constructed. Being an expert in timber and wood, dad decided to enter the camp. Of course, he could not foresee that the place would turn in the future into a detention camp. Prior to the final decision, our family discussed the matter profoundly. At that time we thought that going to the camp would be the best way to save our lives. Our voluntary move to the camp entitled us to obtain a “yellow certificate”, which allowed certain Jews to remain in Slovakia and not be expelled. By and large, it was granted to Jews whose skills were vital to the economy of Slovakia.

By the end of 1942, at the time most Slovak Jews have already been deported to Poland, we were still in Slovakia. We entered the Sered camp at the time it became a detention camp for those Jews who were to be deported to Poland, after being selected and counted. Every week, two or three transports left Sered, on the way to Auschwitz.

The camp, near the town of Sered, was about eighty kilometers east of Bratislava. It was built in a close proximity to the railroad. Inside the camp, barracks, a huge carpentry shop and other workshops were built. A hospital was nearby.

Upon our arrival, we got a room of three by four meters for the whole family, with no toilet and running water. It was located in barrack number one, where all functionaries were accommodated: the heads of the carpentry workshop and the locksmith’s workshop, the chief o police, and others.

We slowly adjusted to the harsh conditions. Worst of all were the horrible, frightening sights of outgoing transports.

While the Slovak authorities organized the deportations, some attempts of escape as well as rescue were made. Very often, such attempts were punished by beating, torture and death.

At the camp, we met families and friends we knew before. We tried to rescue some people, but in vain. It should be kept in mind that every single person in the camp was exposed to the danger of being deported, particularly when a certain quota of deportees had to be met. That included even those who ostensibly might have been protected.

The Hlinka Guard planned to carry out most of the deportations on Jewish holidays. We remember the 1944 Yom Kippur: orthodox Jews we knew from Vrbove fasted and prayed all day long. At he end of the day, Jews were summoned for a line-up and deportation. Among them was our good friend, Laci Manheim, a very religious, decent man. Despite his prayers and fast, he was deported, hungry and humiliated. That was one of the most horrible transports.

That situation of anguish prevailed for a whole year. The Hlinka Guard men were cruel. We feared passing by them or even seeing them.

By the end of 1942 deportations from the camp came to stop, thanks to some diplomatic action and orders from Germany. The camp was restored to its first role, a labor camp for all those who remained in it. We returned to “normal life”. Despite the harsh housing conditions and poor food, we readjusted to the life in the camp.

Already by 1942, our parents knew the destination of transports. The information came from Jews who escaped from Auschwitz or another camp and reported in detail on the fate of Jews in Poland. We knew only part of the story. However, even those who knew could hardly grasp and imagine that such terrible things actually happened.

At one point in time, Jews were offered to convert to Christianity. Some did. For some reason, dad did not even think about conversion. We were not observant Jews, but such an act was contrary to his character and principles. He was a proud man and Jew. In addition, he did not believe that becoming a Christian would save anyone.

Our parents’ behavior helped us in our adjustment to the harsh conditions in the camp. They never made us feel miserable and fearful. Thanks to them, from our very first day in the camp anxiety was far beyond our senses. We lived within the framework of our family, inspired by our parents’ love and guidance. Even the most dreadful sights, such as a Hlinka Guard man humiliating a person by yelling at him “down, up, down, up!” and shooting him thereafter, did not fill us with fear, because of the happiness and harmony at our home. There we times we had enough food, while at other times we had nothing to eat, but we never mourned our fate. Mom always kept everything clean and tidy. She did the laundry, and our entire small household had to be dirt free. There were bedbugs all over the camp, and many of its inhabitants accepted that reality and did nothing against it. Not our mom and dad. Once a week we took every single item out of our room, and cleaned everything. We took apart the bunks and other furniture, brushed the upholstery, replaced the straw in the mattresses. Nothing was taken back into the room unless it was clean and shiny. When we had to work seven days a week, we did the cleaning after working hours. Our family’s laws and regulations on cleanliness were of great help, and saved us from trouble and disease.

Entering Sered was the most acute transition in the life of our family. We left behind a big house with a housemaid and nannies and a car, and moved into a tiny room. Nonetheless, we never thought of that small room as a disaster. It should be mentioned that people around us lived in much harsher conditions. We were lucky thanks to having been among the first ones to enter the camp, and dad’s senior position. In nearby barracks, two or even three families had to share one room. Singles lived by dozens in a room not too much larger that ours.

We also got some assistance from outside. A young gentile, Jožko Benialuk, who in the past worked for our uncle in Nové Mesto, came from time to time to a meeting point near the camp’s fence, and passed to us food and other goods.

Until the end of 1943, life in the camp went on in a relative stability. Until August 1944, the output of products manufactured in the camp contributed largely to the economy of Slovakia, much beyond any expectation from one single camp. That resulted from the devotion of its dwellers, all experts in various trades, who worked from dawn to sunset.

Beyond work, cultural events such as poetry readings, as well as soccer matches, were part of the agenda. Inside the camp, there was a small swimming pool. Every now and then we were permitted to go for a swim. Among young men and women, love affairs were flourishing.

Within that period, after the turning point on the eastern front and the advancement of the Russian army, the hearts of people became filled with new hope. The BBC reported on the worsening situation in Germany, and the retreat of the German army. We saw American planes on their way to bomb Germany, and the common feeling was that we were near a major change. Those Jews who managed to live out of the labor camps made a reasonable living and were able to support themselves. Slovakia went through a period of tranquility.

We maintained contacts with our family who lived out of the camp. Shmuel and I even left the camp for vacation or medical treatment, after bribing the guards. Within that reality, walking in a forest or a street and entering a store, was for us an unimaginable experience. However, such a treat could take place only in 1943, a year of relative calamity. Once even mom went for a one-week vacation, in exchange for a steam-machine donated to the camp by uncle Arpad. In addition, let us not forget that dad was in charge of the timber in the carpentry shop. The timber would arrive by train to the railway station located at the outskirts of town. Dad used to receive and unload the goods, and have it delivered into the camp. On such occasions, he got a special permit to leave the camp premises.

The nearby hospital was an important institution. Prior to the war, there was a Jewish hospital in Bratislava. Its entire medical facilities were transferred to Sered. During our stay in the camp, Shmuel had an urgent appendicitis surgery in that hospital. Its proximity to the camp saved his life.

Every child above the age of twelve was compelled to work four hours a day. Nevertheless, we found enough time to make friends and play with other children. Our ideal was a well-organized group of young adults, members of Zionist pioneering youth movements. For us, they were a symbol of solidarity. We knew about their affiliation with the underground, which later took concrete effect: upon the liberation of the camp, many of their members joined partisan units and fought within their ranks.

At that time of calm, about one thousand inhabitants lived in the camp. Every person was assigned for a job in one of the workshops – the carpentry shop, the locksmith’s shop, the laundry, and the kitchen. In addition, there were smaller workshops, which engaged in sewing, basket weaving, manufacturing napkin-holders, ceramics, wood products, and other artifacts. Since mom was very gifted in ornamenting, she was assigned to ornament and decorate those products. At present, my daughter Ronit runs a ceramics plant. She designs, paints, and decorates the products. We believe, that this particular talent came to her from her grandmother.

By February 1944, Shmuel was thirteen years old. With great efforts and despite all obstacles, our parents managed to celebrate his Bar-Mitzvah. Our classroom became a synagogue for one day, and there Shmuel read the haftarah. Refreshments were supplied by members of our family who lived out of the camp.