Youth Section

This section is devoted to articles written by second- and third-generation descendants from Kraków. We would be most pleased to receive any stories or other material submitted by our "Kraków Youth".

Our first article was written by Lisabeth Meyers at the age of sixteen. Her article, titled "A Story" was written after she interviewed her grandfather Edward Steiner, a survivor from Kraków, for about five hours. The article was published in three installments in Martyrdom and Resistance, Yad Vashem's American newspaper, in the fall and winter of 2001-2002. The piece also appeared in the 2001 issue of Young Voices, a magazine that publishes articles by teen writers. Roman Weingarten, the president of The New Cracow Friendship Society, and a friend of the family, was so impressed with Lisabeth's article that he had her and another teenager read the story for his Temple's Yom Ha'Shoah service in April 2002. "A Story" is dedicated to Lisabeth's grandfather Edward Steiner.

(Thanks to Lis for permission to place this material on our site)

Here is Lisabeth's story:

"A Story" - dedicated to Edward Steiner

by Lisabeth Meyers

This is the story of two friends caught in a time of war and hate. Both found themselves in different situations and were forced to make different decisions, which led to their ultimate fates. Throughout a time of pain and suffering, they fought to keep their friendship alive and their love strong.

August 20, 1939

Dear Eva,
Do you know what your friendship means to me? Everything. You are the most caring and brave person ever. Some people have so much unnecessary hate inside them, but you have none of it. You continue every day to prove the strength of our friendship. Do you remember when I was just walking down the street on my way home from running an errand for my mother, when a group of boys attacked me and pushed me down into the mud? You stood by me, even though you didn't have to, and chased them away. It was only after you made sure I was safely home that I realized that the whole time those boys had been yelling and laughing "Jew! Jew! Jew!" What is the prejudice in Poland coming to? Some of those boys used to be my friends. I know you heard the shouts of the boys the other day. It wasn't your battle, but you fought it for me. I love you so much for that.
Always,
Rena

August 24, 1939

Dear Rena,
Why do you think that you need to thank me? You would do the same for me. I know you would. I wouldn't worry about what those boys yelled. They are just boys after all. They can't do anything. They are only afraid of what they don't know. They are afraid of you. It's just a religion. Trust me no harm will come of it. It's all so silly. You don't have anything to worry about. It's over. You are an ordinary person, like them and just like me. No one could possibly truly hate a person just because of religion.
Forever,
Eva

September 10, 1939

Dear Eva,
I never thought that the Germans would have occupied Poland so fast. Our Polish defenses gave in so easily. I'm so angry about it! The Germans lost World War I; they're not supposed to be so strong. I don't know why no one did anything to prevent this. It seems too easy for the Germans. They should have been stopped sooner. When they first attacked Krakow on Friday September 1st, I heard the planes flying above us. We were lucky that they did not bomb the residential areas. They bombed the factory where my older brother was working, and he had to be evacuated to bomb shelters which were also attacked. He said he would probably never feel more scared. I pray that this will be a short war, but I have a feeling of doom that I can't shake. You told me before that I had nothing to worry about; now I have everything to worry about.
Always,
Rena

September 20, 1939

Dear Rena,
I miss you so much! It's so sad not being able to see you in school, since they have closed our high school. I am afraid it will be closed permanently. Even though we live a block away, we have gone to school together since we were little girls. To think, a few days ago we lived in Poland, and now we live under the General Government, ruled by Hans Frank (who even lives here in Krakow). The Polish army was defeated in only two weeks! Maybe the Germans will just leave us in peace? France and Great Britain declared war on Germany, so maybe they will rescue us. Things can't get much worse than they are now. I am terrified of the Germans, too, even though I am 70% German; they hate all Polish people, not just the Jewish ones.
Forever,
Eva

January 5, 1940

Dear Eva,
Do you feel shame when we are seen in public together? Are you embarrassed when you must be seen with someone wearing the Star of David? We are losing everything. My father is forbidden to practice medicine on anyone who is not a Jew. Who is going to tell little Helena and Isaak, when this is all over, that we don't have enough money to pay for their education? You said that we would all suffer. You can still ride your bicycle, listen to the radio, and ride in the front of the streetcar. These are things I am learning to live without. I adjust. But I cannot adjust to being forced to wear the star. It has become my enemy. Tears come to my eyes every morning when I must put it on. But I fight my tears and keep them inside. I will not let myself cry -- I refuse to do it. People are getting abused and taunted on the streets. We must hide all our valuables from the Germans, who can confiscate them any time they please. Jewish areas are surrounded. And all because of this stupid blue 6-pointed star! It sets a barrier between us that our friendship can't even break. You know, the twisted irony is that if your Jesus were alive, he would have to wear the armband too.
Always,
Rena

February 20, 1940

Dear Rena,
I haven't been able to see you as much as usual lately, and I am so sorry for it. My father has been teaching me privately at home so I don't fall behind. Life is getting better too since my father was promoted. The Jew who had the position previously lost his job. We're clearly better off. I have not forgotten about you. I want you to know that it is not your star that keeps me away from you. I don't care about it; it is just a symbol, nothing more. It doesn't determine who you are. The Nazis just want to be able to recognize your kind easily. I understand the humility of your armbands and rules. The anti-Jew signs that are posted everywhere are so inhumane and cruel. It's just their useless propaganda -- it has no effect on anyone. I know that you are strong enough to live without the things they have taken away. Things could always be worse. You are still my closest and dearest friend and nothing will get in the way of that, not a religion, not a star, and certainly not the Germans.
Forever,
Eva

February 20, 1941

Dear Eva,
Things are not going so well. You know how respected and appreciated my father is in the Jewish community. People come to him with all their problems. Lately people have been coming to him with the same word on their lips: "Ghetto". I am terrified of this word. We learned about it in school, but I never thought that soon I would be living in one. When Hitler annexed the western half of Poland, many Jews fled to Krakow or Warsaw. The Germans just recently transported all the annexed people out of Krakow. A few days ago, all the Jews in Krakow had to go register with the Nazis. Even little Isaak and Helena had to register. The Germans decided who were valuable workers and who had important jobs. "Important" and "valuable" meaning what could benefit the Germans. Anyone who was not deemed valuable had to leave Krakow. My family was lucky because there is a demand for doctors, so my father is needed. Everyone in my immediate family received a white piece of paper called an Ausweiss. My father said that only about 16,000 Jews received it. Everyone who didn't was transported out of Krakow. One of my uncles and his family wasn't fortunate enough to receive permission and we haven't heard from him since. I'm positive I will soon be residing in a ghetto. It feels like just another step in what seems like the Nazis' great plan to bring us farther apart, for soon we will have actual walls between us.
Always,
Rena

February 28, 1941

Dear Rena,
Did you know that I'm now what they call a "Volksdeutsch," an ethnic German? How funny is that? We get much better treatment than all the other Poles here. So all Germans aren't so bad if I'm one. Walls couldn't divide us; you know that. We'll always find some way to stay together and keep in touch. I heard that all the Jews, including your uncle, were just relocated, and that they are now living somewhere else in the country. They are in a better place. It was for their own good. Krakow had too many Jews before anyway. Ghettos are a thing of the past, something to learn about in history, not something of the present. You'll stay where you are. The Nazis probably just want to keep better records of the Jews here. You know how orderly and strict they are. Besides, if you do move to a ghetto, it can't be that bad because you'll be living in Krakow, your home, and it's better to have to move to a different street than a whole new city.
Forever,
Eva

Krakow Ghetto, March, 1941

Dear Eva,
To me, you are not German; you're Eva, my best friend. I am writing to you in the Ghetto, south of the Vistula River. It is only 16 square blocks. My brother is one of the few people able to leave the Ghetto to work in a factory, so I will give him all my letters, and he will find some way to get them to you. We live in a tiny apartment built for only a small family, which now holds not only my father, my mother, my older brother, Edek, Helena, little Issak, and me, but also my mother's sister, her husband, and their daughter Rebeka. It consists of two tiny rooms and a small kitchen. Consider that what I just described to you is spacious compared to where everyone else is living. A few days before we all moved, my father went to the Jewish Council and applied for a place to live. Using his influence and a small bribe, we were able to obtain two small rooms instead of one. We left so much behind for the awful Nazi rats, who couldn't wait to get their filthy paws on our belongings as soon as we left. The whole Jewish population of Krakow marched, taking only what we could carry, leaving our whole lives behind for a life of nothing. Children, the age of Helena, screamed "Good riddance Jews!" as we left our old lives behind us, with our heads bowed. Now there are walls all around us, built to resemble Jewish tombstones, and soldiers guard the only three exits. We are isolated from the outside world. I pray that this will end soon. We have only been living here a few days, and I can barely breathe.
Always,
Rena

June 12, 1941

Dear Rena,
I now know why you were put in the Ghetto. It seems that my family has been moving upward in society. We entertained a group of German soldiers for dinner last night. They weren't cruel, harsh, and heartless like you describe them. They were polite, considerate, and quite charming indeed. I brought up the topic of the Ghetto, and they told my family that Jews are natural carriers of diseases and that they needed to keep you in quarantine to protect the rest of Krakow. They really meant no harm in putting you in the Ghetto. The streets are a lot less crowded now, and it looks like the population is, overall, happier and less violent now that you are gone. I feel bad for all the Christian people who had to move from their homes so that you can live in them. So the Ghetto really can't be that bad. Don't complain about having to share a little space. I love you and all, but you've grown up quite spoiled, and now you just need some adjusting. I am sure that Ghetto life will be fine. Besides, now you can live with all your own people.
Forever,
Eva

Krakow Ghetto, December, 1941

Dear Eva,
I miss you so much. Right now we could have been ice-skating or doing something fun. We don't have any heat. It's so cold, we have wear all the clothes we own to keep warm. Our water and gas is limited. It's so filthy and disgusting here. I have been working with my mother and aunt in the Optima factory. We repair German Army uniforms. My father teaches us in secret. No one can get enough food. The Jewish Committee provides us with food coupons, so we can buy small amounts of bread, potatoes, jam, and sugar. I consider my family lucky because my brother is able to leave the Ghetto each day and smuggle in some extra food for us. My father gets permission from the Jewish Council to leave occasionally to get more medical supplies, and he always brings back extra food for us. The medicine he brings back is never enough; there are so many sick here. Just recently, all the Jews living on the outskirts of Krakow, some of whom had been chased out before the Ghetto, were forced inside. Now we have even less room than before. I have a horrible feeling in my bones that something bad is going
to happen very soon. Life can't get much worse. Merry Christmas.
Always,
Rena

April 17, 1942

Dear Rena,
Happy Birthday Rena! I never would forget your birthday. Did you get the piece of cake I got for you? I hope you like it. I saw your brother on the way to work. Edek is looking much skinnier. Put some meat on his bones, silly. I really don't think that the Ghetto is as bad as you make it sound. You always did like to exaggerate everything. I was shown pictures of a ghetto in Czechoslovakia, called Theresienstadt: it was gorgeous! It contradicted all of your descriptions. You're lucky to be living in a ghetto! Sorry it's so short but we're having more soldiers for dinner and I must be a good hostess to them. Wish me luck!
Forever,
Eva

Krakow Ghetto, November, 1942

Dear Eva,
In June, German troops surrounded the Ghetto. No one was allowed to leave his apartment, and the troops checked each one. Anyone who wasn't working was separated and put on a train in little cattle cars and transported away to who knows where. They took thousands of people. They called this an "action." We all managed to stay. Only ten days later, it happened again, and more people were taken away. A German officer shot my cousin David in the head. A few days ago, on October 28, 1942, the third and most severe action so far occurred. Anyone without an important job was supposed to be removed from the Ghetto and taken away. But the Germans took people at random, maybe because they didn't like the person's nose or hair color. The Germans had no consideration for anything during this action. Some Jews were shot right there on the streets. I was allowed to go to work, and I was saved. My mother hid with little Isaak and Helena because she knew that the children would be taken away. They were so good, they didn't even cry. I prayed to God that they would be saved. My aunt wasn't so lucky. I could hear the dogs barking and the awful screams from my factory. Most of the Ghetto is completely destroyed. The Germans surrounded a few houses with barbed wire and named it Ghetto B. It is for the sick, young children, and people who are not working. Everyone else lives in Ghetto A. My mother went into a fit of hysteria when she was separated from Helena and Isaak. Edek calmed her down by promising her that they would be smuggled to Ghetto A. Only two days before the action, my aunt had managed to get cousin Rebeka out of the Ghetto to live with a Christian family. I would do anything to be living in secret with your family. All the survivors of the action expect the worst to come -- a work camp called Plaszow is being built nearby.
Always,
Rena

November 28, 1942

Dear Rena,
You tell me such crazy stories. People do not randomly shoot other people in the streets. Life does not work that way. No one is that cruel. My German soldier friends mentioned nothing of this violence that you describe. They are simply relocating people to other areas were they can have more space and be happier. You know that I can't hide you. I wish I could, but it's impossible. It would be too dangerous for me. I would do anything to help you, but that is too much to ask. Don't despair, soon they will let you out of quarantine, and you'll be free. They can't keep us apart for much longer. It's so hard not having you around. The worst is over. They won't keep you there much longer.
Forever,
Eva

Plaszow, March, 1943

Dear Eva,
My father and I have been taken to the Plaszow work camp. We were lucky to leave the Ghetto in December, because on March 13, 1943, the final liquidation of the Ghetto took place. All who survived were taken to Plaszow. I am told it was a brutal massacre against humanity. People said that they never saw so much blood on the streets. Amon Goeth, the commander of Plaszow, personally conducted much of the killing and the selection process. (He is a monster! He can't eat his breakfast without randomly killing some Jews first.) The selection was based mainly on age and strength. Those who did not go to Plaszow went to Ghetto B and were shot. The Nazis slaughtered almost all of the children and even threw tiny babies out windows. Anyone whom they found hiding was shot instantly. Soldiers stormed the Hospital for Contagious Diseases and shot sick people in their beds. A few days after I arrived here, I was selected to throw lime over all the bodies of the people they killed. As I threw the lime, which served as a disinfectant, I could hear the moans of people that were not quite dead, and I had to watch them wiggle around until their bodies were lifeless. It was horrible -- I had to fight back tears and vomit. My brother Edek and my mother made it. She was able to hide Helena under her winter coat and smuggle her into Plaszow. Helena didn't make a sound; she is little and yet she knew. I couldn't believe it when I found out that my sweet baby sister had survived the killing. My grandparents and all my other relatives never made it here. Little Isaak was so scared, he couldn't help but cry -- they shot him in my mother's arms -- I don't pray to God anymore.
Always,
Rena

April 11, 1943

Dear Rena,
I never expected to hear from you again! I thought that they had moved you to some little cottage in the east, far away from Krakow. I am so glad to know that you are all right. I would never let anything bad happen to you. I don't understand why you believe all of that gossip you heard about the Ghetto. Goeth isn't a monster either. Some of my soldier friends have worked with him personally, and they say he is charming and very funny. The rest of your family wasn't killed; they are just living somewhere east, and I am sure that little Isaak is there too. The Germans don't like your kind, but they would never do anything close to what you described. It's impossible and inconceivable. I know the Germans now, I am German now, and I know that they would never throw babies out windows and kill innocent people. No one is capable of that much cruelty and hate. Best of luck in your new location.
Forever,
Eva

Plaszow, April, 1943

Dear Eva,
I never could have imagined anything like this. There is no way that I can properly describe to you what it is like here. Please believe me when I tell you that I must be in hell. An electric fence surrounds the camp, and there are high towers all around where guards watch us with their machine guns ready. We are all starving from the lack of food and water. It is so much worse than before. We are all dirty -- I think I might even be getting lice, and there's nothing I can do about it. There are no facilities, just a filthy opening in the ground. We can only use it in the morning before work and if we are lucky maybe at night. We only get about ten seconds at the faucet and hardly any water comes out of it anyway. We spend the whole day working. We work in rain and snow. We never rest. If we pause in our duties for only a second, we could be shot. When they wake us up in the morning we all have to stand together and they count us. We cannot move or talk during this process. We must wait until they count everyone, and the count must be exact and the same as the night before. If the numbers are correct, we go to work; if not, we don't get fed, and they count again and again until they get it right. For our so-called breakfast, we receive a small slice of bread made out of about 30% sawdust, a little flour and some water. It is always dark and crumbly, although sometimes we can mold it like clay. They give us something they call coffee, which is really half burned wheat grain. At least it is warm. Our so-called lunch consists of soup. It is pretty much water and maybe some rotten potatoes and scraps if you're lucky. Dinner is the same sawdust bread and watery soup. We sleep in barracks that accommodate around 600 each. There is only one light bulb in each barrack. Each barrack is lined with three floors of beds (if you can call them that). There is barely any room in each "bed." We sleep on mattresses made out of straw. They are full of lice and vermin that eat us as while we sleep. Sleep is almost impossible. My father works at the so-called hospital. There is very little anyone could do for the sick there; there is little medicine. Every few days, the Germans come to inspect the hospital, and they kill the sickest people. The doctors try their best to hide patients. My father can't help but cry every night over all the death he sees during the day. I still won't let myself cry. They use paper for bandages, and my dad always sneaks some of it for me so I can write to you. I am not allowed to leave the camp, and I have a job here similar to the one I had at Optima. But my brother can leave; he is still able to work at his old factory, so he is able to get my letters to you. The Germans are unaware that Helena is here. We hide her under the floorboards most of the time. My mother and I sneak her food whenever we can. The women and men are kept separated at this camp, so my family arranges secret meetings with each other at the hospital. I don't know what I would do if I were unable to see my father and brother. The doctors get a little more food so he is usually able to save some for us. My brother does his best to sneak whatever he can into Plaszow. We hear terrible stories about gas chambers able to kill hundreds at a time; at least they don't exist here. The only thoughts I have as I go about here day after day is that you are home remembering the fun times we had -- fun times I have forgotten because everything in life now seems like pain. The only hope I have is to survive the day.
Always,
Rena

May 9, 1943

Dear Rena,
I cannot believe the last letter you sent me. I refuse to believe any of it is true! No one is capable of what you describe. You are my oldest and closest friend, but you are accusing my new friends, my people, of these atrocities that no one is capable of committing. I don't want you to talk about this anymore. There is nothing I can do to help you if that is what you want. The war will be over soon and everything will get better. I wish you could just tell me the truth and not lie to me like this. Is this what our friendship has come to? I really do miss you terribly, but it hurts me to read what you write. I know that you do suffer to some extent, but no one would ever make someone suffer like you say you do. I don't want you to write to me anymore if you are going to write like you have. I can't do anything about it and your stories are too painful. I refuse to believe that any of this could happen and that anyone could let it happen.
Forever,
Eva

Plaszow, June, 1943

Dear Eva,
I am sorry, but this is the last letter that I will be able to write to you. In a few days no one will be allowed to leave Plaszow to work, and I will have no way of getting my letters to you. I can't imagine not writing to you and not receiving letters. Although your recent letters have been doubtful of my writings, your letters have been something to rely on -- something to sustain me and keep me going. I cannot bear not writing to you so even though you won't be able to read what I write, I shall try my hardest to continue writing letters in hopes that one day, when this is all over, I will be able to give them all to you. You don't have to do the same. You have changed so much, I feel that I barely know the person you have become. Nevertheless, I will still always love you and stand by you no matter what you believe. I need you so much now. My father died a few days ago. He caught a disease from one of the sick he tried so desperately to save. We are all heartbroken. I still won't allow myself to cry. I will not let the Nazis know that I am weak. Sometimes I have to close my eyes and think of a painless farewell to feel better about living this endless death. It doesn't matter if I live anymore. We can only fear what lies ahead. I do not hope anymore. Think of it not as millions of people dying, think of it as a single person dying a million times. I love you dear friend.
Always,
Rena

In December 1944, Rena was transported to the work camp Skarzysko Kamienna. She was separated from her mother and brother who remained at Plaszow. Helena got caught up in the crowd and ended up on the train with Rena, separated from her mother. The two girls worked at various jobs at Skarzysko Kamienna, including working with a yellow toxic chemical causing them to turn a yellowish color, making Helena very sick. In June 1944, the Russian forces were near the camp and its inhabitants were sent to Auschwitz. They arrived to the smell of burning flesh and ashes pouring down upon them at Birkenau. The two girls tried to stay together but Helena was motioned to the left and Rena to the right. Rena watched Helena fade away in the crowd and never saw her again. Rena's mother, unable to take the loss, died only a few days later. Rena's brother, Edek, who was later transported to Auschwitz, managed to keep himself alive until the end of the war when Auschwitz was liberated and is still alive today. Rena worked in Auschwitz until December 26, 19 days before the camp was closed, when she was taken to the gas chamber and then to the crematory. In April 1944, Goeth was ordered to exhume and incinerate the bodies of more than 10,000 Jews killed at Plaszow and the Krakow Ghetto Massacre. The ashes of the dead poured down on the people of Krakow. Eva then wrote her last letter.

Dear Rena,
The end of the war is finally coming and my parents are terrified. Germany is going to lose. We are fleeing to Germany in a week. I will now know what it feels like to lose my home. I am so afraid of the future ahead of me. Everything is coming to an end. This whole way of living is over. This writing tradition seems almost silly now. We are grown up now. We started it when we were nine and you went away for summer and we couldn't bear the separation so we wrote to each other every day. We kept writing for thirteen years, and I refuse to give it up now. You were right. I should have believed you. I just couldn't before. I've seen the ashes and the flames, and I know that everything you said was the truth. I was just blinded by the lies I was spoon-fed since I was a child. I see everything now. I don't know if you will ever read this -- and I don't even know if you are alive now. Wherever you have found yourself, please forgive me. That's all I ask. I should have kept my childhood promise and saved you. I should have done something. I should have believed in you. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known. I only hope that one day I can be more like you. I'll always remember you. Our friendship means the most in the world to me. Please do not forget me. I love you.
Always and Forever,
Eva

A few hours before Rena was killed, another prisoner handed her a dirty fragment of a letter, smuggled into Auschwitz, written months before. Rena read it and finally let go. She cried. The letter said simply:

"I see everything now …please forgive me …always remember you. Our friendship means the most in the world to me… do not forget… love you.
Always and Forever, Eva"