Therese Müller gelesen von Konstanze Breitebner

Leaving for Gunskirchen

The front is moving closer on multiple sides. That much we know. But what will become of us? The Germans gather together all the Jewish men and women in the camp. Many of them came straight from Hungary and are still wearing their own clothes. Us women are gathered together in one group. Then the men are gathered together in a separate group. We are ready to set off.

I am still wearing my blue woollen dress, my dirty underwear and the same pair of worn out black shoes. I can still walk but I have reached the limit of my weakness. Many people already have swollen feet and their faces are swollen around their eyes. This is a very bad omen.

We are informed that we will have to march a long way on foot. Anyone who thinks they won’t manage that can remain in the camp. But very few choose to stay. The smartest thing that we can do is simply to keep moving, as far away from Germany as we can.

We have to line up in rows, with five people in each row. These rows are organised into marching columns. Altogether we make up four or five columns. There are countless people in each one. I am in the first group. We are given something to eat. The same mouldy and soapy-tasting bread as usual. A thin slice of “something” on top and a bit of margarine. We are even given a portion of soup before we set off.

We are informed that it is 60 kilometres to the next camp. We will have to march for two days. The gates are opened. Now we are on our way. Sometimes we stop for a break and to rest a little. But nobody is allowed to sit down.

We notice that we have guards with us, who are accompanying us on foot. They walk on either side of our columns and are spaced at regular intervals. These soldiers look a little older and more tired. They are serious and sad. Their uniform looks different too. Their lace-up boots are very tired-looking and they have tattered clothes. They are part of the Wehrmacht (the armed forces).

Once we reach the road, they start walking closer to our ranks. They tell us that under no circumstances must we sit down during our march. Even if it was allowed. We will not be returning to the camp. Even if it was an option. If anyone feels weak or unwell, they should move to the middle of the row. The others should help them and carry them if need be. Sitting down during the march: dangerous! Returning to the camp: dangerous!

Suddenly, I see several horse-drawn carriages carrying SS guards on the road. They drive past our columns. They make up another part of our guards. Then the black SS team appears. They are travelling by motorbike. They continuously ride up and down past our columns.

Our route now takes us over a bridge. A soldier of the Wehrmacht is marching next to me. I ask him where we are. He answers: “Near Linz.” Now, one of the SS shouts at us over a loudspeaker: Everyone who is tired or unwell may return to the camp! We are just crossing a bridge and here the tired and the unwell are given the option of going back the way we came. Hardly anyone responds.

Our journey is a long one. It takes us through green meadows and fields. There are lots of plants growing here that could help to alleviate our hunger. Now and then, the odd person jumps out of the ranks to grab a few green leaves. And every time these prisoners are shot at. They are injured, but not mortally. We try to pull the injured ones along with us.

During the breaks we can only rest for a very short time. I am so exhausted that I move increasingly closer to the back of the group. Gradually, I find myself at the very back. And that’s where I see them: many people have given up already and sat down at the edge of the road. The black-clad SS guards ride up and down on their motorbikes shooting in the head every single one of the people sitting in the roadside ditches. They are all lying there, body after body, the blood pouring down their faces. Some of them have had a cap placed over their face to cover their eyes.

We are all young. There are only young people left now. It is terrible to see that they are all young people – the same age as me. The roadside ditches are filled with the dead bodies of 19 and 20-year-olds. I will never forget that sight as long as I live.

We have to continue walking a long way, until we reach a green field. Here we see a huge hill covered with deciduous trees. Below it is a green meadow. We arrive here late in the day. It would appear that we are staying here and that we are going to spend the night here. I can see that male prisoners have also come with us in large groups. One girl explains that many men and women have been brought straight to Mauthausen from Hungary. They marched in columns with a great deal of suffering and deprivation, and in constant mortal danger. We look at the men. But we don’t dare talk to them. The male prisoners settle down in the field at the foot of the hill.

The women are herded further up the hill. We are allocated a spot right at the top of the hill, in a green meadow. It is surrounded by trees. Our meadow up here is really vast. I try to sleep and lay down on my stomach in the first row. We lie like this in rows next to one another. The first row, where I am, divides the area into two halves. Ahead of us, the other half of the meadow is empty, and beyond that is the start of the forest.

Up here on the hill, a guard appears every so often doing their rounds. They are our guards, young SS soldiers – green and young. From up here, we can see the men lying in the meadow down below. Before long, night falls and the moon shines softly.

I can see someone creeping slowly along our rows. He is looking for a girl and he manages to find her. She is the second one to my right. They are brother and sister. Somehow, they spotted one another during the day. Now they are holding hands and talking softly to one another.

Suddenly we hear a shot ring out. A young SS guard is standing over us. The brother now lies dead. The SS guard calls a few male prisoners to help. He instructs them to carry the dead body away and gives the order for them to bury him. The SS guard slowly walks back to us. He stops by the girl. He brings his heels together. Then he speaks, loudly and politely: “I’m sorry, miss, that I had to shoot him. All the men have lice. I didn’t want them to spread to you too.” Then he clicks his heels again and disappears. Everyone is stunned into silence. Those are the most terrifying words I have heard in my life. The loss of a human life because of lice!

Day breaks. We must go on. I slowly drag myself forwards. Or I at least try to. I am back walking in the first column again. Before long, we arrive in a town. We walk along the street and then turn off and cross over a bridge. After the bridge, we turn left. And we find ourselves on the high street. We walk past several large buildings on the right-hand side of the street. These beautiful buildings host the post office and other administrative offices. There are lots of people waiting on the pavements in front of the buildings in civilian clothing. They are holding large dishes in their hands full of freshly cooked potatoes. They throw the potatoes at our feet. The SS immediately order them to stop. But these people, who must be locals, raise their fists at the SS. It almost comes to a fight. The civilians shout that they don’t care what the SS say. Those of us who are able to hurriedly snatch up the potatoes and we continue on our way.

Gunskirchen Camp

We have to walk another considerable distance until we find ourselves in a forest. Suddenly a camp appears before us surrounded by a high wire fence. There are barracks scattered across a large area. And huge gates for wide vehicles. The path we’re walking along continues and becomes a very wide barracks road that goes through the entire camp. We feel relieved. Here in the camp we will be able to sit down again, without someone shooting us for it.

The sun now illuminates an incredible scene: a gathering place for Jewish prisoners. In the final stages of the war. It is a primitive final destination for all the human wrecks who’ve managed to drag themselves here. An unimaginably huge effort, that was perhaps entirely pointless. The Germans are well aware that they are losing the war. They know full well that Allied forces are not far away now. They know that they will be forced to surrender. Nevertheless, they still want to finish what they started. What they planned so carefully. The Final Solution to the Jewish question. The Final Solution, that they will kill us.

What kind of future is that for us? And for them!

We hope that the Allied forces will advance quickly.

The surrounding forest provides a beautiful backdrop to this horrific camp. But there’s no order at all here, no instructions, and there’s hardly anything to eat. There’s not enough water for us to quench our thirst. The sanitary conditions are appalling.

We spread out across the camp. We are allowed to walk about wherever we want and find a spot wherever we can. Men and women are not separated. It seems to me that the barracks here are smaller than in the previous camps. They don’t have any furniture either. There are no sleeping places. In fact, there is nothing at all. The majority of us have swollen faces and swelling around our eyes. We are all in a terrible state. Many people are very close to death.

Lots of us find people we know. I also come across several acquaintances from before. A huge number of people came directly from the labour camps in Hungary. We sit in one of the barracks and talk. We are all very tired and extremely hungry. Our thirst is almost unbearable. But when we talk to one another, all we talk of is our other, previous life.

By nightfall, the barracks are full to bursting with people. The thought that I am going to be crammed in together with so many people overnight gives me a terrible feeling. When I see that they are all coming into the barracks to get a foot’s width of space to rest – an image appears in my mind of the Frankfurter “Narrenhaus” [note: Frankfurt’s municipal psychiatric hospital] – I quietly creep out of there. Before the doors are closed for the night, I manage to creep out unobserved, to sleep outside under the stars. I am afraid of being discovered, but there is so much rubbish scattered around that I doubt whether I would be spotted by anyone. Near the edge of our barracks, perhaps 5 metres away from the front of it, I attempt to lie stretched out in a straight line so that I almost blend in with its foundations.

My dress is dark-coloured, making it hard to see in the dark of the night. The blue woollen fabric gives me some protection against the cold night air and the damp. In the early hours of the morning, when the doors are opened again, I quietly slip back in to my spot in the barracks. I wonder whether any other people also spent the night outdoors. I did see a few shadows in the night.

People are dropping hopelessly like flies, victims of disease, hunger and thirst. The corpses are piled in rows along one side of the barracks roads. When we arrived there were 15,000 of us. Since then, untold numbers of us have died.

One day, a Red Cross bus comes to our camp. It is fully laden with food. A table is erected and we form up in lines to collect something to eat. I’m given a whole kilo pack of sugar! It has to be eaten very slowly. I will try to eke it out so it lasts a long time. I also give some to my friends who didn’t get any food. The food came too late for many for us. They are now beyond help. The Red Cross bus leaves the camp. We are caged in once again. With no contact with the outside world.

When we’re sitting together one afternoon, one of the prisoners – a tall, pleasant, red-haired young man – talks about what he will do when the war is over. He talks of literature and of poetry. He sketches out a future full of life. He looks as if he is entirely content with the pictures his mind is conjuring up, but he has the appearance of a swollen skeleton. When morning comes, he is no longer among the living. His death is particularly painful for me because he was so full of zest for life. Just one day was all that separated him from freedom.