Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado, click
here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.
I Was There: Auschwitz, As Viewed By Amelia Rosalie Gryzelski-Warner, Survivor of the Holocaust And Auschwitz by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Monday, May 24, 2004
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
A surivor of the Holocaust tells us her harrowing story.
I don't think I will ever get over the nightmare as long as I shall live.
Although I am an old woman now, and living in an assisted living facility with my husband, Charlie, I still remember with much clarity and detail the horrors of what I had to endure as a little girl growing up in wartime Poland.
Before the war and all this evil with the Nazis and Adolph Hitler, I was a happy, carefree little girl with no worries, and I spent my days playing with my family and my friends. But then came the horrible news of Hitler, Adolph Hitler, the evil leader of the Nazi Party, who was determined to "rid the world of Jews and other 'undesirables'": the aged, the physically or mentally disabled, or homosexuals (people loving someone else of the same sex). They were determined to get rid of those who were "not like them", and nothing would stop them. And then came the bombings and the killings; and the growing fear that we would be "found" and would be killed because we were of the Jewish faith.
At the age of 12, my life changed forever when a uniformed guard appeared at our door; and when he found out that we were of the Jewish faith, he and several other men who were with him brutally and cruelly grabbed my father and mother (and killed them right before our very eyes), and they took us and told us that "we were theirs" and that we were going to pay for our being Jews and that "they had a place for people like us". We ended up on a train, and we ended up going to this place called Auschwitz.
Upon our arrival at this place, which was, in all reality, a prison, we were treated very badly. We had our heads shorn, so nobody could tell the boys from the girls, or the men from the women, and we were made to work hard and long hours with very little food; and what food we DID eat was bad or going bad. We were expected to be at "roll call" every morning and every evening, and those who failed to show were either dead or caused the entire group to be punished. We were subjected to horrific acts of abuse, and beatings and humilation were a daily occurance in our lives. I saw people, even little children like my sister and brothers, who worked like dogs if they were old enough, and they were treated horribly; and I also saw very young, old, or handicapped people being kicked or hit repeatedly. I did a lot of praying silently to myself that I would not be treated badly, but I was; I still remember the taunts and cruel laughter of the German officers as they groped my naked body, and the smell of beer on their breath, and the frightening sounds of the dogs as they barked and growled and snapped at us without provocation.
Worse than the daily beatings or the endless hours of working was finding out about the gas chambers. Every day, the air would be filled with the sickening stench of burning hair or flesh or noxious chemicals, and hearing the cries of the victims being herded to these gas chambers would be forever engraved in my memory. I still can hear their pitiful and pleading cries as they were being led to their deaths even now. Every day, thousands upon thousands of people--men, women, even little children--were put to death, either by the gas chambers or being thrown alive into burning furnaces, or by being tortured or beaten repeatedly, or by starvation or illnesses like typhus, which often ran rampant in these "concentration camps", as these evil places were called.
Because we were Jewish, we were forced to have numbers tattooed into our flesh (I still have the marks on my arm even now, and it is a grisly reminder of what I have had to endure), and we had to wear yellow stars signifying others of our "Jewishness"; and we were ostracized, humiliated, and beaten daily. I still can remember praying each and every day for God to spare me or my remaining family members; and I remember crying when I saw my little sister, Ekaterina, and my baby brothers Silas and Jzersi, being taken to the gas chambers (knowing full well that I would never see them alive ever again), and the awful memory of seeing my mama and papa murdered before me when I was twelve, and fearing for my own life. I don't know why I wasn't sent to the gas chamber myself, but I managed to escape being put to death (probably it was because of my then blonde hair and my grey eyes; I looked "like them", so I was given "preferential treatment" by the guards; but I was still treated very badly, nevertheless), and somehow, I got through this hell, and I somehow survived.
For a very long time after the camps closed, I was scared, and I was afraid that I would be "found" and that I would be put to death; but somehow I got away after the camps had shut down, and I made my way to freedom. I ended up in Germany, but I later went to America after a sympathetic person who had heard of my plight got me on a boat to come to America, so I could escape the horror of the war and the terror I had faced at Auschwitz. I was but a teenager then, and for a very long time I hated myself, and I hated being of the Jewish faith, and I was ashamed of my past.
It was here in America when I indocronated a new "image": I no longer associated with the Jewish faith, and I converted to Christianity; and I took a more American sounding name. I was no longer Amelia Rosalie Gryzelski: I was now known as Amelia Rose Harper, and I prided myself on looking as "American" as I possibly could. I lived, dreamed, breathed all things "American", and I learned English, and I tried to act as "American" as possible, so people wouldn't know that I was a foreigner escaping the horrors of World War II, let alone, a German concentration camp. If anyone asked me why my arm was marked, I simply told them that I "was drawing pictures on myself" or that I had "bruised myself somehow after bumping into something". Yet no amount of scrubbing could remove the tattoos, and I was embarrassed over them, so I started wearing long sleeves, even in the long, hot summer months. I about roasted halfway to death, but it hid the "marks", and I was content with that.
I still dress this way today, and I still find myself getting embarrassed or uneasy whenever people ask about the marks on my arms. I no longer watch historical tv or read books on the Second World War because it only brings back memories of the horror I endured at Auschwitz, and I don't want to think about what I went through ever again!
I am now married, been married over 40 years, and we (my husband, Charlie--his last name is Warner, by the way; so I am now Amelia Rosalie Gryzelski Harper-Warner--and myself) have three beautiful children, America Freedom, Geoffrey Wilhelm, and Tighe Amelia, all grown), as well as fourteen grandchildren and five great grandchildren. We are in our late 80's now, and age has taken hold of our bodies; and while we may not get around, hear, or see as well as we once did, we still have our minds, and I am grateful for that! I am grateful to God that He has allowed me to live as long as I have, even with all that I had endured at Auschwitz during World War II, and I have spoken at many schools and universities about Auschwitz, and the Holocaust in general, because I want people to be aware of that horrible time in history, and know that not everyone who was there died; I am a living example of a survivor, and I am blessed to be able to share my experiences, bad as they were, and my story with others. Even in all that uncertainty, fear, and nightmare-ridden existance at Auschwitz, I never for one second lost my faith in God, and He was the One who had delivered me and allowed me to live.
Want to review or comment on this short story?
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Reviewed by Simon Thurlow
5/30/2004
Even today, the birds do not sing at Auschwitz. A horrific chapter in history, painfully brought back to the fore by your write
Karen,it's hard to say this is your best with all
the stories you have written. Yet, it is so well done
beautifully told, tightly woven, not a lot of extraneous
matter! It is a first class write,and I applaud your fine
ability to research and write it with conviction.Brava!
The Holocaust truly was one of the most horrific events in world history, and I salute all who managed somehow to survive it, like the character in your story. And like Karla, I pray that nothing like it ever happens again.
I don't think I will ever get over the nightmare as long as I shall live.
