facebook Hendrik BoschSubject: Girl with apples; August 1942. Piotrkow; Poland; The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously.; All the men; women and children of Piotrkows Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square.; Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus; which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto.; My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.; Whatever you do; Isidore; my eldest brother; whispered to me; dont tell them your age. Say youre sixteen.; I was tall for a boy of 11; so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker.; An SS man approached me; boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down; and then; asked my age.; Sixteen; I said. He directed me to the left; where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood.; My mother was motioned to the right with the other women; children; sick and elderly people.; I whispered to Isidore; Why?; He didnt answer.; I ran to Mamas side and said I wanted to stay with her.; No; she said sternly. Get away. Dont be a nuisance. Go with your brothers.; She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: She was protecting me. She loved me so much that; just this once; she pretended not to.; It was the last I ever saw of her.; My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany. We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night later and were led into a crowded barrack.; The next day; we were issued uniforms and identification numbers.; Dont call me Herman anymore; I said to my brothers. Call me 94983.; I was put to work in the camps crematorium; loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator.; I; too; felt dead. Hardened; I had become a number.; Soon; my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben; one of Buchenwald s sub-camps near Berlin.; One morning I thought I heard my mothers voice.; Son; she said softly but clearly; I am going to send you an angel. Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream.; But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear.; A couple of days later; I was walking around the camp; around the barracks; near the barbedwire fence where; The guards could not easily see. I was alone. On the other side of the fence; I spotted someone: a little girl with light; almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree.; I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in German. Do you have something to eat?; She didnt understand.; I inched closer to the fence and repeated the question in Polish. She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt; with rags wrapped around my feet; but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes; I saw life.; She pulled an apple from her woollen jacket and threw it over the fence. I grabbed the fruit and; as I started to run away; I heard her say faintly; Ill see you tomorrow.; I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or; better yet; an apple.; We didnt dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both.; I didnt know anything about her; just a kind farm girl; except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me?; Hope was in such short supply; and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some; as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.; Nearly seven months later; my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt Camp in Czechoslovakia .; Dont return; I told the girl that day. Were leaving. I turned toward the barracks and didnt look back; didnt even say good-bye to the little girl whose name Id never learned; the girl with the apples.; We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down and Allied forces were closing in; yet my fate seemed sealed.; On May 10; 1945; I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00am.; In the quiet of dawn; I tried to prepare myself. So many times death seemed ready to claim me; but somehow Id survived. Now; it was over.; I thought of my parents. At least; I thought; we will be reunited. But at 8am there was a commotion. I heard shouts; and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers.; Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running; so I did too.; Amazingly; all of my brothers had survived; Im not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival.; In a place where evil seemed triumphant; one persons goodness had saved my life; had given me hope in a; place where there was none.; My mother had promised to send me an angel; and the angel had come.; Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity; put up in a hostel with; other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America; where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the US Army during the Korean War; and returned to New York City after two years.; By August 1957 Id opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.; One day; my friend Sid who I knew from England called me. Ive got a date. Shes got a Polish friend. Lets double date.; A blind date? Nah; that wasnt for me. But Sid kept pestering me; and a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma.; I had to admit; for a blind date this wasnt so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful; too; with swirling brown curls and green; almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.; The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to; easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too!; We were both just doing our friends a favour. We took a stroll on the boardwalk; enjoying the salty Atlantic; breeze; and then had dinner by the shore. I couldnt remember having a better time. We piled back into Sids car; Roma and I sharing the backseat.; As European Jews who had survived the war; we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject; Where were you; she asked softly; during the war?; The camps; I said. The terrible memories still vivid; the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can; never forget. She nodded. My family was hiding on a farm in Germany; not far from Berlin; she told me. My father knew a priest; and he got us Aryan papers.; I imagined how she must have suffered too; fear; a constant companion. And yet here we were both survivors; in a new world.; There was a camp next to the farm. Roma continued. I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every; day.; What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. What did he look like? I asked.; He was tall; skinny; and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months.; My heart was racing. I couldnt believe it. This couldnt be. Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?; Roma looked at me in amazement. Yes!; That was me! I was ready to burst with joy and awe; flooded with emotions. I couldnt believe it! My angel.; Im not letting you go. I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date; I proposed to her. I didnt want to wait.; Youre crazy! she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week.; There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma; but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness; her goodness. For many months; in the worst of circumstances; she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that Id found her again; I could never let her go. That day; she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage; two children and three grandchildren; I have never let her go.; Herman Rosenblat of Miami Beach; Florida.; This story is being made into a movie called The Fence. This email is intended to reach 40 million people world-wide.; Join us and be a link in the memorial chain and help us distribute it around the world.; Please dont just delete it. 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Posted on: Sat, 01 Nov 2014 10:26:30 +0000
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