Surviving the Angel of Death by Eva Kor

Author:Eva Kor
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781933718682
Publisher: Tanglewood Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

At Auschwitz-Birkenau we never knew what tomorrow would bring. Each day brought challenges for us to survive. Miriam was very sick with something besides just the incessant diarrhea of dysentery. Although everyone including me had dysentery, Miriam had given up the will to live. I had to find some way to help her to get better. Part of the reason she was so sick was the shots she had been given while I was away.

The word around camp was that potatoes would strengthen us and heal dysentery. In Auschwitz people “organized” anything needed for survival from the Nazis. Inmates viewed organizing as a victorious action. The problem was that I had never stolen anything before in my life except for one thing: a cup.

Once, on our way to the shower, as we marched in a row of five, we had approached a pile of pots and pans. I had edged from my place in the middle of the row to the outside. I leaped up, seized a cup, tucked it into the loose top of my dress, and marched on as though nothing had happened. If the SS guard accompanying us saw me, he said nothing.

Rumor was that anyone caught stealing would be hanged, just like those who tried to escape. The Nazis had made us watch these hangings before, telling us to observe closely, that this is what would happen to us if we stole or tried to get away. I remember thinking to myself, “Yes, life is so wonderful here. Why on earth would we try to escape?” I resolved to find a way to take some potatoes to help Miriam get well. I did not know what would happen to me if I dared to take potatoes, but I knew it could be death. A gibbet, the wooden frame for hanging people, stood in front of Block 11. Even if that is what awaited me if I were caught, for Miriam, the risk was imperative. I could not let Miriam die.

Other twins in our barracks were cooking potatoes at night, so I asked them where I could get some potatoes. They told me the only place to get potatoes was the kitchen, so I volunteered to be a food carrier. This meant I would be one of two children hauling soup in a huge container the size of a thirty-gallon garbage can from the kitchen at the end of the camp to our barracks. It took twenty minutes to walk there; lugging back the heavy, filled can took us even longer. The first time I volunteered I was not chosen. The next day I volunteered again and was picked along with another twin to get the daily soup, a watery liquid that occasionally had a bit of potato.

As soon as I entered the kitchen, I spotted a long metal table that held pots and pans. Beneath I noticed two sacks of potatoes. For a moment I hesitated. If I were caught, I could die, but if I did not try, Miriam would die.

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