I Am a Victor: The Mordechai Ronen Story - Hardcover

Ronen, Mordechai

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 1459731786 ISBN 13: 9781459731783

Verlag: Dundurn Group Ltd, 2016

Inhaltsangabe

A man’s journey of triumph over unspeakable evil and the powerful impact of the choice to survive against all odds.

Mordechai Ronen was born in a peaceful town in 1930s Hungary. By the time he turned eleven years old, the world had gone mad. He became one of the millions of Jews to be shipped to a Nazi death camp. How he survived that ordeal and what followed is the incredible story told in these pages.

That Mordechai is alive today is nothing short of a miracle. His is an incredible story of triumph and unwavering determination to survive, which is what he did against all odds in the Nazi death camps. The journey that began in the Holocaust carried Ronen through the establishment of Israel, immigration to Canada, and finally to an emotional return to Auschwitz, this time as a guest of Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chrétien, who called that moment one of the most extraordinary he had seen in his four decades in politics.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Mordechai Ronen survived the Holocaust as a child from Hungary. He became a fighter in the underground, and an eighteen-year veteran of the Israel Defense Forces. He now lives in Toronto with his wife, children, and grandchildren.

Steve Paikin is anchor of TVO’s flagship nightly current affairs program, The Agenda with Steve Paikin. He is chancellor at Laurentian University in Sudbury, an officer of the Order of Canada, and recipient of the Order of Ontario. He lives in Toronto.

Mordechai Ronen survived the Holocaust as a child from Hungary. He became a fighter in the underground, and an eighteen-year veteran of the Israel Defense Forces. He now lives in Toronto with his wife, children, and grandchildren.

Steve Paikin is anchor of TVO’s flagship nightly current affairs program, The Agenda with Steve Paikin. He is chancellor at Laurentian University in Sudbury, an officer of the Order of Canada, and recipient of the Order of Ontario. He lives in Toronto.

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CHAPTER FOUR

TO THE CONCENTRATION CAMPS

Whatever rumours we heard in the past were now irrelevant. Now we would find out our true fate. We walked from the ghetto to the train station, and no, there wasn’t a nice passenger train awaiting us. Rather, the guards loaded us into cattle cars, pushing and kicking us like animals, squeezing as many of us as possible into the trains. They told us at the ghetto to take as many of our belongings as we could hold in our hands or stuff into our pockets. But as soon as we arrived at the train station, they took it all away. Even without our belongings, we were all crammed in so tight, there was no room to move. That cliché about sardines in a tin was absolutely true. When the cars were fully packed, the guards closed the doors with a noisy thud, and then locked them with iron bars. There was another significant difference between the ghetto and the train station. It was Hungarian troops that escorted us out of the ghetto. But at the train station, we were handed over to German soldiers. We noticed the swastikas on their uniforms and guns in hand as they patrolled the platform. Once again, we were told that we were being taken to a labour camp. Which one and where? We had no clue. The journey by train took several days and it was excruciating. Try to imagine the heat, the hunger, the humiliation. There were no stops along the way. It was next to impossible to sleep. People had to urinate and defecate on the train, crammed up against others. For some, the conditions were too much. They simply died in their places. And there was no way to remove the bodies. People were screaming, crying, and groaning in pain. There were some small openings in the walls to allow in some light and air, but barely anything. On rare occasions, the guards would open the doors and throw in some food and water. It was utterly dehumanizing. After a few days, the train stopped. We still had no idea where we were. Were we still in Hungary? Then someone from outside screamed in German: “Juden, raus! Schnell!” (“Jews, get out! Quickly!”). Some people were unable to walk. They were dragged out, and taken away to God only knows where. A German officer told us to line up in front of the train. And it was at that point that I noticed a sign that read: “Auschwitz.” Today, Auschwitz is synonymous with cruelty and death. But to an 11-year-old boy from Hungary, it meant nothing. I had no knowledge of the frightening reputation of the place. Frankly, I didn’t even know what country it was in. (Auschwitz, or Oswiecim as it’s called in Polish, is more than 700 kilometres northwest of Dej, right near Poland’s southern border with what was then Czechoslovakia). We spent the next hour walking from the train station to the concentration camp. There were thick iron gates and German soldiers standing around with guns and dogs, which terrified us even more with their incessant barking. The dogs were huge and vicious. We would frequently hear soldiers tell the dogs in German to “fang ihm,” (“get him”) then unleash the dogs who would attack prisoners. The dogs often drew blood, oftentimes just for sport. Although I didn't see it at the time, I gather I was close to what has become one of the most iconic images of the Holocaust --- the sign over the entry gate, which held out the promise of freedom, provided we worked hard enough: Arbeit Macht Frei. Were we in a labour camp? Maybe the rumours were false and we would survive this horror if we worked hard enough? It was a small shred of hope worth hanging on to. At this point, my family was still altogether: my parents, my two sisters, and me. But then, a German official started to sort us into different groups. One of them had a baton in his hand, and directed us on which way to go --- women and children to the left, men to the right. Years later, I would come to know that man with the baton as Dr. Josef Mengele, the so-called “Angel of Death,” who with the wave of his hand decided who would live and who would die. My assumption was, we’re being separated into different groups in order to perform different tasks, no doubt harder labour for the men, easier work for the women. Even though I was only days away from turning twelve years old and was presumably still regarded by German authorities as a child, I held my father's hand tightly and never let it go. What I didn’t know at that moment was, that decision to stay with my father saved my life. Conversely, my two older sisters went with my mother to the left. The selection happened so quickly. Soldiers were screaming at us to move. It was such a chaotic situation, we didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to my mother and sisters. My father suspected this would be the last time we would ever see them alive again. And it was. After the selection process was complete, a group of Jews from the camp approached our group. Apparently, it was their job to inform us newcomers of the rules in Auschwitz. All the while, though, they were cursing us in Yiddish. “Farvos inem gehenem zayn`du kumen aher?” (“Why in the hell did you come here?”). One would ask. “Zayn nisht du hern der warnings? Du gants are geyn keyn oysgeyn aher.” (“Didn't you hear the warnings? You all are going to die here”).We were dumbstruck. They continued. “Du gants are geyn tsu dem crematorium. Dos iz nisht a labour camp. Dos iz a toyt camp keyner leaves dos arayngebn khay.” (“You all are going to the crematorium. This is not a labour camp. This is a death camp. Nobody leaves this place alive”). Then, pointing to the chimneys, they said, “Du vel nayert avekforn dos arayngebn fun ahin.” (“You will only leave this place from there”). Everything was happening too quickly. We were utterly exhausted after our train transport, starving as well, and barely able to comprehend our circumstances. So our minders explained it all as frankly and bluntly as they could. The selection we had just experienced wasn’t about determining who was appropriate for which job. It was a selection for life or death. All those who turned to the left were now on their way to the crematorium, they told us. They were being escorted to their deaths at this very moment, including our rabbi from Dej, who told my father to stay in the ghetto, as that represented his best chance at survival. Did we believe it? Even after everything we’d experienced, I think there was still a part of us that found it impossible to believe. Why kill us? Don’t they need us? But the reality of Auschwitz began to dawn on us. And there was an incident that took place as we got off the train that gave an indication of the hell we had just entered. As the guards were sorting people, some of those soldiers decided to have a little “fun,” no doubt bored with their circumstances. Or perhaps one of the little babies was crying too loudly, and its mother couldn't stop the child from sobbing. One soldier took the child from its mother, and began a “game” that every loving parent plays with their little kids --- tossing the child up in the air and catching it. If you’ve done it, you’ll know it can quickly turn tears into laughter. But the Germans changed the rules of the game. As one soldier threw the child in the air, the others --- all SS soldiers --- used the baby as target practice. (the Schutzstaffel or SS were Hitler’s protection squadron, responsible for most of the worst atrocities during the war). They shot the child in mid-air. It all happened before our disbelieving eyes. If we had any illusions about what lay ahead for us in Auschwitz, those illusions should have collapsed at that moment. And yet, we still wanted to believe...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Dundurn Group Ltd
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2016
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1459731786
• ISBN 13: 9781459731783
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 234
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar