on right now. we just had an article a few weeks ago about it. people are still looking. >> throughout the week in, there can history tv is featuring fort lauderdale, florida. our staff regionally traveled there to learn about its rich history. learn more about fort lauderdale and other stops on the twoour at www.c-span.org. you are watching american history tv come all weekend, every weekend, c-span3. >> allied forces liberated the nazi concentration camps. for the next several weeks on american history tv, we will hear holocaust stories from those who live them. these interviews are part of the oral history collection at the united states holocaust memorial museum in washington dc. next, gerda weissmann klein talks about how the 1939 german invasion of whole and drastically changed your life very she recalls being sent to a

jewish ghetto with her family their separation, her experiences in jewish transit camps and being forced in a death march in and 45. this oral history is almost two hours. klein: i was born on may 8, 1944 -- 1924 in the most southern less part of poland. -- southwest part of poland. it was at the foothill of the mountain range. >> would you tell me about your parents and your family as a young girl? klein: in retrospect, my parents seemed to me saintly my memory is very limited. -- vivid.

its perfection which are member. i had one older brother, his name was arthur. we lived religion old large home outside of town, with a huge garden with many fruit trees and flowers and wonderful things for children to rome in. i had 10 cats. i knew all their names and now my children and my grandchildren like me to recite the names of my cats and my brothers to dogs. i used to love swimming in summer and skiing in winter. by and large, i think i had a marvelous childhood. >> what about school? klein: i went to public school first but only until the war broke out trade and then to catholic school because it was a

private girls school. we had jewish instruction, about a quarter of the girls in my class were jewish. i really like school very much, even though i pretended i didn't. of course, when the war came, that was the end of my formal education. >> tell us what happened when the war broke out. klein: the danger signals will flying very high in the summer of 1939. by and large, i must say was ignored by my family. i was away with my mother and my very first incident, my mother and i went to a concert.

i the setting quite vividly. they were flowers around. something caught on that day and i are member the crowd of people sitting there and flowers and was very warm. one of those golden days of summer as i see it now. and suddenly, a young man came running up to the podium and he pushed the conductor aside and said how can you also hear listening to music when danger is coming? he pointed to the hills that separated us from czechoslovakia which have been occupied by the nazis. he said monsters are coming, when you go home and take up arms? i remember asking my mother should we go home, and police

came and arrested the man for being an agitator and disturbing the police. i still remember that sudden fear, it was my first memory of something impending, but we stayed for another week. i don't exactly how long. on the way home we saw an awful lot of baggage which was labeled warsaw, people were going to warsaw. when we came home, my father and father was terribly concerned. he had suffered a slight heart attack. unfortunately, things are moving very fast, it must have been the third week in august, there had been a telegram from my uncle in turkey. my mother only had one brother he was in turkey. he senses a telegram saying that we should get out, that we had visas which were in the embassy to warsaw.

but my mother said we're not going to tell pop another telegram, but is no -- papa is ill and we shouldn't tell him. and that's billed the doom of my family. i can only hope my mother didn't realize. >> tell us what happened next. klein: it was friday morning. i was 15 years old. it was friday morning when we heard a lot of planes, and people running into the streets. and said there were german planes and we ran out and saw the planes with the swastikas flying over a spirit it was terrifying. a lot of activity started then. they were building trenches and

my mother tried to keep the windows closed for my father's bedroom, he was quite ill. and that night, there were lots of refugees on the streets. people running away. i.r. number one man was carrying his goat on his back. it was his only possession small goat. people with wheelbarrows and carts and things. my brother had a girlfriend, and the family called and said they are going to flee into the interior of poland that suggested they take my brother and me along. my father insisted that should be my brother's decision. i was considered too young to make a decision. my brother was 19 years old at the time. my brother said no, we are not going to go, we will stay together. you need us.

that a terrible shock. my father was the center of my universe. when papa agreed something, he could do anything. that he should suddenly ask us to make a decision, a tremendous decision, it was a terrible shock. was very turbulent. and then it ceased in the morning. and my father said to me that i should go, he wanted to talk to my mother and brother and i should not be around. he says i should call the family to see what everyone is doing. my father's brothers and my uncles amounts. i went downstairs and the ringing of the telephone, there was no answer. no one answered anywhere. i remember like you are left in

the world of the dead. phones were ringing and ringing. and there was no answer whatsoever. when i came out, my father said no one answered, and i said no. it was a saturday, everything was cut off, there was no electricity, no light, it was a beautiful september day, my parents were joking and my father came downstairs we were all sitting together and that was really the last beautiful day. and then in the evening, there was some shelling. my brother went out to let his dog in every came back he had a hole in his trousers and he said they were shooting from the rooftops. the germans were coming. we went to the basement, with other people, you know. it was morning i don't member

those hours to well. what i remember most is that my mother called that we should come. she had prepared some breakfast. and we came upstairs and we sat down. then suddenly, this tremendous roar of motorcycles. it was a motorcycle. with nazis and it. one in the sidecar and one sitting up there. my brother just taken his watch out of his pocket and i saw his hand go down it was 9:10 in the morning. i member sat there totally stunned.

and then we heard people running , bullets, more cars and more motorcycles were coming. people were shouting how hitler -- heil hitler. we saw the house and across the street this flag, the swastikas flying. it was our neighbors and friends, the new in this very first hour. to me, of course, you can only see it in retrospect, but it was one of the things that sort of changed, suddenly. coal fell out of the greater the fireplace and it went on the carpet in the carpet for of smoldering and no one paid any attention to it. i.r. number house that my mother

was when it happened before. no one paid any attention. shortly thereafter, more and more trucks of soldiers were coming. the voices grew more horse people shouting heil hitler, and i = saw a friend of mine carrying white roses to the soldiers. i member started to cry. my brother said keep quiet. you can't do that. he took me up to bed and said don't make a sound. it wasn't till after in the morning, the whole day sort of was able launch of many feelings -- a no launch of many feelings.

one of the worst things happen that afternoon. a mother of a childhood friend of mine -- her mother came and she asked for my father and she knew he was ill, she said no one should go on the streets because they had rounded up all the men they could find and locks them into the temple and set the temple of claimant. -- aflame. and she went out by the back door. i think that was truly the first indication of what happened. >> what happened over the next few days trade? klein: i couldn't tell you day by day. people came, our neighbors came,

our jewish neighbors came. but one thing you could see the homes which we lived in, not only where my brother was born but my mother was born there. luckily for her, she died a year before the war broke out and she never had to face that. a woman came and she asked where our flight was, the polish flag, which was to be red and white. my mother said why and she said we have to make a german flag out of it. my mother pretended to look for it in all places where she knew she wouldn't find it. and then the woman left and she said she would be back later maybe my father could help look for it. and it became very clear that we had better produce it because she really wanted for protection. she said all you have to do is

keep the red flag and cut a round circle from the white and put the black swastikas on it. she came to collected and she did it, she said to my mother if the flag is not displayed from here, it will be obvious if we were. i member we could look out the windows. we had a people living in our home as well. who are not jewish, but this was the part where germans were speaking. later he was also one of the first things that became george.

-- deucht. we were not too far from auschwitz. it was allegedly self-rule. we immediately became of the same rules as germany. the people -- most of the german-speaking people, were shouting heli hit --heil hitler, thank you for the liberation. they saw the austrian empire was coming back to i think there was a lot of habs misguided feeling on behalf of the people. maybe not so much pro-nazi at that point, but they had

changed. >> over the next few months what happened to you and your family and how did things change? klein: that, i can unfortunately tell you. fairly soon, in order came that all men between 15 years old and 60 years old, my father that point was 50 years old. but since he was ill, he did not have to register for transport. my brother was 19 years old. of course, every day, we would hear that england had friends had declared war. we were occupied sunday morning sunday afternoon, england and france declared war on germany. most of the family had fled,

however, my father's sister, who had been separated from her husband and daughter in one of the areas which are bound to, team back with her son david and she found her apartment occupied by other people, and she came to stay with us. david and my brother went to register. they said they would be in some labor battalion. and that airport was destroyed by the war. that was my brother left. -- when my brother left. anyway. i can tell you one thing, my

mother refused to make his bed for months. she wanted to keep the imprint of his head and hello. -- on the pillow. and things got worse from day to day. we didn't hear from my brother for long, long time. when we finally did which i believe was months later he was blessedly in the russian occupied zone. and what apparently happened was they were brought into the interior of poland, i don't know exactly what location, pursued by bullets, and he was a very

good swimmer. they swim across. they were in an area occupied by russians. my brother was trained in chemistry. and he worked in some sort of factory making jam or whatever. it was one of the most marvelous moments in the bleakness of our existence, to hear that arthur was alive. i can refresh my memory from after the war, i have the most clear knowledge. i know was probably we had to

move into the basement of our home, it was very wet hair and there was electricity. -- no electricity. fathers condition really deteriorated. he suddenly looked very old. my mother, who up to that point because -- as was my grandmother. she was rather pampered and given to be easily discouraged upset about little things like the tablecloth didn't iron to properly, or the lease was wrong -- showed incredible strength and fortitude. as a matter of fact, she was the one who did not cry when one brother left. my father wept, it was the first time i saw my father crying. to me, it was a very devastating thing to see my father helpless.

i never saw my father helpless before. so we lived in the basements, i learned new skills. i saw my mother bringing an old petroleum lamp which i learned to clean the chimney of the lamp and if we got some illumination because we had no light. pretty soon of course, we exhausted our funds because we had no money. everything was frozen. i father didn't learn anything. other things are very hard to come by. things were unobtainable. we had a nanny who was wonderful to us, and she lived across the

street and would go over and give vegetables and bring things to us. but my mother could do wonderful things with her hands. so we would be knitting, i learned to knit before the war but i wasn't particularly good at it. i settle down, and we would start knitting sweaters for people. my mother had a wonderful reputation, she could embroider things on sweaters and did marvelous things. we had quite a store of candles because we couldn't use the lamp too often because note trillium -- petroleum wasn't available. there was very little to eat.

so my mother and i would knit for as long as daily would allow. my father would sit and read to us. my father was wonderful, i went to polish school but my first leg which was german and we spoke german at home. i would come home from school and switch to german. i couldn't read or write german. i spoke at naturally come it was my first language. but my father and my mother's books, he started teaching me to read and write german. my father would read to us. he would let the candle go down and we would take the wax and my mother made little wicks and we were the candle on again and we would net. i'm never very clearly knitting a sweater, i would that this leaves and my -- the sleeves and

my mother would do the intricate work. if you can buy food and rations was fine, but we had to buy food on the black market. you could buy a loaf of bread after knitting a sweater. that was how things went. every so often, a little card would come announcing that -- the first one came when we had not heard from arthur. either member at that point my mother had a nervous breakdown. she was totally out of things. my father was up with her, my father told me we were leaving

with 20 pounds of our belongings. my father brought us three suitcases, and told us to pack some things. when the word went around in the community, elderly were selling things, all the jews thought that was the way to do it. people started to come and my father said whatever anybody gives you, take. he stayed with my mother. then word got around that -- and remember the exact amount. but say a kilo of gold, it might've been less or more. if that would be given, that would save -- [indiscernible]

everyone scrambled to bring jewelry. that was another ruse that people did -- that the germans did to get the valuables of people holding. whatever was aided for that purpose, because a note came to say we could stay. that would happen roughly a verse six or seven months. -- roughly every six or seven months. afterwards, my mother bounce back and became her strong sell. i would say to the very end, my mother was absolutely a tower of strength. looking back now, mother was a very young woman. she was 41 years old when the war broke out. to me, she was an old woman. to a 15-year-old girl.

i father was 10 years old -- through the existence, one from worst to worse. this is how we survived, this is three years 1939, two the spring of 1942. to the very early spring, it could have been march. when the order came we had to move to the jewish ghetto, which was a shabby remote part of our town, quite far away from where we had lived it was where the twin cities were. it was a very old cemetery.

we had to move. my cart held most of my childhood memories, and fairly soon, i would say early 1940, there was a sign on it that said node jews or dogs permitted in the garden. we naturally did not go. on the morning which we were forced to leave our home, i jumped over the fence and went to the garden. and i ran around and there were the first violets, where we had broken the into the garden. the first violets which i picked an i.r. number climbing a branch of a tree were used to sit pretending about what it would be like if nothing happened.

my parents would be a breakfast, my mother would be -- after breakfast, my brother would be going to school. i always firmly believes that go back home. looking back now, i realized i must've had a premonition because our member i started imagining what it would look like and i really would not see it. i didn't know if that would be finality. i really don't know. you sort of take memories out and hold them and look at them. and that was it. >> tell us about going into the ghetto.

klein: strange as it may seem, i was happier in the ghetto than at home at home, -- it isn't quite true. there were several girls particularly the ones we came to medicine close to me, my friend ilse. she lived not too far away, my father would teach us at home, he would take books out and tedious. -- teach us. he was knowledgeable and a fragmented way. i think in those first three years, almost three years at home i think i had quite a bit of knowledge. my father was supposed to be a rabbi.

because he came from -- i mother was born in an austrian area. my grandmother, my maternal grandmother, still celebrated the kaiser's birthday on the 18th of august, which i store member. i think they all talked about the good old days. my father's family came from a place even now, that it is friedman. my father's family was related to them. i have wonderful childhood memories as a child going there. should i have continued with what i talked about before? >> you are going into the

ghetto, used to talking about that. klein: i don't remember why i want to tell this particular story. in any event my friends, there were a number of girls. in the ghetto, it was one large building and a number of my friends were there. it was in a way, a bit nicer for me. there was a very sharp curfew, i could never see my friends. living in the same building was sort of nice to see my friends. there were some babies there, i loved babies and i go play with the babies. for me, in a way, it was a bit easier. it wasn't for very long, looking back, how little time there was. there is soon, in order came that we had to go and work in a

shop, sort of a factory. so my mother and i had to go. we went and regard to a train station, it was not too far away. and we worked sewing garments there. and then my father had to go to fortify and my father couldn't bend his arm very well. but he started looking a little better and he was very pale. but it seemed to me the popular better -- that pap looked better. -- papa looked better.

it wasn't very long, maybe two months. in may, my 18th birthday. i was 15 years old when the were broke out. i mother decided we were going to have a party. it was oh big birthday, my 65th and a friend of mine and my children gave me a party. she came to the party she lives in arizona. she was at that birthday party. the birthday party was rather grand because my mother had some oatmeal and she had made wonderful cookies, which we all swore were absolutely tasted like nuts. and i had a birthday party which

was crowned by an incredible thing -- i got an orange. i was loved oranges. only later did i find out that my mother had gone out of the ghetto, sold the diamond and pearl rings to get me an orange. that was the last print a gift for my parents. a couple of my friends were there, one of them from new york, and she reminded me of something. the orders came from a 20th of june, all the men had to leave. it was a sunday.

we went to the station. my father said on the platform. -- stood on the platform. he wore the yellow star. there is however, one thing i would like to mention. it's a tribute to my parents. the last time before my father left, we all lived in one large room at that point. i heard my parents talking, i don't know if it was for them or for my benefit. they did not mention at all the party in the morning. but they spoke about their years together about the happiness they had shared, about my brother's birth in mind, about

the hopes they had for us. i think in that, they instilled something in the which has been my legacy always. the value of the love, of the commitments, of the pride in the family. and when the going was rough, as it was in subsequent times it was a very comforting thing -- always be grateful for that. i mentioned seeing my father for the last time, and after that, i went -- they were taking a limit on sunday, and this took place on monday morning.

we decided, gretel and i, we knew what was going to happen to all the books, prayer books and there were books in jewish families that were treasured. after my father was taken away, we went and collected all the books. i was afraid that the germans were going to use it for unspeakable purposes. and we drag it to the jewish cemetery, which was on the edge of the ghetto. and we buried them there.

i'm sorry for not understanding my mother's grief completely at the time, i was terribly close to my father. and that i didn't come for my mother i think i needed to be alone to lick my own wounds, so to speak. i'm sure that many people have given you the descriptions of the leading, i guess ours was not too much different. except that my mother decided to fast on that day, it was a monday and my mother fasted every monday since my father had left. she had a bit of precious cocoa which she had hoarded throughout the entire war for a special celebration. and she made that cocoa for me that morning.

i must say, it did not taste very sweet. we were marched through the town under the whips of the ss. there are reflections, happened to me many times during the war. that one sees in rapid succession, the things which you see and the feelings which it evokes. like they were putting in new name of a movie on the marquee. marching by a shop which sold fabrics. and remembering the type of

fabrics that my mother bought for a summer dress. but it wasn't colorfast. i.r. number them then and iron of them now. -- i remember them then and i remember them now. we went from the ghetto through the town, to the other side of the town. i marched with my mother as i came, he asked me how old i was in the ice at 18. he told me to go to the left. we were loaded and packed sometime later i would like to get this over with this fast as i can, ok?

i heard my mother's voice, i did. and she was calling be strong. when i heard that i was in the truck. i jumped off. i said i want to go to my mother. the little man in the raincoat came by and i don't know how he had this enormous strength, he was quite short, it was raining he raincoat and hats. he took me and through me back on the truck and said you are too young to die. so it was the man who probably sent my mother to her death.

decided i should not run back to her. we went to a place which was a transit camp. it was the 29th of june, 1942. a monday. a long story, i will confine it to my own -- i have the opportunity of leaving there. there was a boy who liked me, his parents try to get me out. >> tell us a little bit about that. klein: [indiscernible]

anyways, in my naïveté, i'm a decision that i did not -- i made a decision that i did not want to go out of the gulags. the young man was a very fine artist. and his family suggested that you could get out of the gulags if you had a place to work, some working permit. you can get out. he had two sisters, and they had to sewing machines. and they were willing to put one in the shop to secure place for

me, which was an incredible sacrifice. however, i knew that if i did that [indiscernible] i made the decision not to go. maybe is a good story to tell because i wanted to stay with my friends. it was when i was going to camps. my strange and almost incredible coincidence, the men in the gulags and came and told me that i was able to go out, he now lives in buffalo, new york. where i lived for so many years. the decision proved to be a decision which saved my life.

unfortunately, his family, all of them, were deported and killed about two months later. and my hometown was renowned for its textiles. it was in central europe. they registered your name, your age, the place you hail from. and industrialists from all over germany would come to my slaves. a man by the name of keller, i think it's good to use the names. he was from a firm that had several spinning, weaving and textile oriented slaves.

they needed people to work in the factories. when he came in he saw that x number of girls were there, for some reason he thought we might have more dexterity and weeding or whatever. it was still fairly early, that was nice and 42. they needed german-speaking people to be trained. so we bought all of us. for a place which was a new weaving camp very in fact, this is where we went. in all fairness, i must say that camp was probably better than most of them because it was new. there were only 50 girls there. and the person who became our --

[indiscernible] i first say, she looked like a bulldog and i thought she was going to terrorists -- terror us limb from limb. she was pro chosen for her looks. but we all over debt of gratitude. i think by her very decency she pinned a lie to the lips of everyone who said they had no choice. i won't say she particularly loved us trade she saved my life once. for which i'm eternally grateful. as far as i know -- i do know that as long as we were there and later in the place where she also was.

the way was sent to auschwitz. from those two camps. she showed that people could help come individually. she did. only met two were really kind, and i think they should be singled out for that. her name was frau kugel. when we first saw her, she barked and i thought this was the end of it all. i was with my friend ilse, who i really would like to mention. in the camp there, we became his closest sisters. ilse was a childhood friend only in the sense that her mother and my mother were friends. she played the piano beautifully, she was exquisitely mannered. my mother always told me i

should try and be more like ilse. i hated to play with her, she seemed to be the paragon of all virtue. we became quite close in the ghetto. the cemetery was the only place to go. but in the camps, she had a little sister, her name was kitty. and kitty was sent auschwitz. my other friend gretel, her sisters, everybody had a buddy. bills then i became that to each other. she sewed -- showed great promise as a pianist. she was sent to study at a conservatory, great future was predicted for her. ilse and i looked quite alike. there was something else, perhaps, give you sort of an inkling of what it was like. on the train to the camp, i met

a wonderful girl. a vivid red head, one of those beautiful people tall, wonderful girl. her name is suzi kuntz. she was born in vienna, but her mother had died when she was quite young and she was sent to czechoslovakia to live with her grandparents because in that particular transport, most of the girls were from czechoslovakia. we were all german-speaking and this is where winter that camp. i was standing next to her on the train. it was a certain freedom there. we were not confined yet, when we were out of the gulags and going someplace. susie said we will never, ever get out from where we're going. i said yes we will. and i said i'm sure there will be over in less than a year. and susie said no, we're not

going to make it. and i said i bet you, and she said ok. let's bet. for a quart of strawberries in accord with cream. and we shook hands on that. and susie died the liberation morning. i don't know if she knew her she didn't. she won the bet. anyway we came to born chaim. it's terrible thing to say, but i think because we are recording a, certain things should be said. for me, it was easier. easier in terms that i didn't see my parents suffer. i was convinced that my parents would survive, someplace.

which they are probably working. i pushed all thoughts aside. i was in a way liberated in the fact that i wasn't worried that each of my actions might spell danger for my parents. i knew if some is going to beat me, all the indignities that one was suffer. and vice versus. when you are 18 years old, you have resiliency. anyway, it was rough in terms of -- until he mastered what was expected of us, it was dreadful. used to amuse myself when he told us about the things that we are going to be taught decency all those things.

the very things that we knew so well which obviously were designed to break our resistance. consider we behave ourselves, we can live through all our lives. i used a sort of speculate what he would look like when he was dead and things like that. fortunately, i was on was around when i was a little girl, i could lift myself from some of the things and do other things in my mind. to remove that. i think in the very first weeks were there. it was a watch stopwatch you had to do very intricate -- decide something -- to tie

something, a knot. you had to do x number of minutes. when you have someone with a stopwatch above you, to do that but for some reason, most of us were able to do it. those who were not were put on other things. cenote was sent auschwitz. -- nobody was sent to house which. -- auschwitz. we were not that hungry, we got some food because she was decent. we worked in a factory long hours. i think that was the very best thing. it was so exhausting. at the end of the day, you had to concentrate so much. your mind couldn't absorb it great.

she was quite generous, nor member exactly how often you are permitted. who could you write to? i was fortunate that i had my father's address where my father was allegedly working. i wrote to my father. i did not hear, of course i wrote to him and he started sending me letters as well as packages, which again through the type of person that mrs. keeler was, [indiscernible] i wrote to my father and i waited here for my father. and one day, the most incredible thing happened.

she called my name and i saw a letter and i jumped to get it. and then i realized it was a letter which i had written to my father, and on it instead without forwarding address. i think that we needed to go into that. -- neednt go into that. i lost my speech for a day and a night. i couldn't utter a sound. anyways, we worked there. and the thing was the type of things that i don't know if it really comes across.

it's a tremendous support system which existed in the camps. the love and the friendship and the sharing and caring and loyalties that people had for each other. the girls had for each other. that was sort of the balance against the cruelty which we experience. to me, i feel that was one of the most important rings that existed. i somehow wish that would filter down, i tell my children or grandchildren because they are the spiritual heirs of those who did not survive. to know that the legacy of the camps is not the legacy of the horror, but of the greatness of our people. to have that in the face of the incredible demanded. i want to talk about my friend for a moment but that happened in another cap.

i will give you a progression from camp to cap. -- camp. pretty soon, the raw material started to disappear. pretty soon we had to work on paper. paper they were spending. in warm weather it brittle little break. in cold weather it would disintegrate because it caps off. -- it got soft. if it toward -- it tore, you can be sent to house which. somehow, she was convinced that people were not it was shortly after i received the news about my father that i became very ill.

i was running a very high fever. all of a sudden -- he came on a sudden inspection. he charged into the room. i last saw my father on the 28th of june and i left home on the 29th. before my father left he said to me, where your skiing boots. we were all avid skiers. i said, why? father said, i want you to wear

them. i said, father, skiing shoes in june? he said, you have to wear them could you did not argue with your father in those days. i wore them every single day. in the lining i had hit the pictures which are in my book. -- hidden the pictures which are in my book. later on on the death march i had concealed them there. she charged in and she dragged me out of the bunk. she said is -- it is a matter of life and death. i will take you to the factory. she started to lay my boots and she dragged me for the -- lace m y boots and she dragged me to the factory. she said the looms in motion and she said, pull yourself together.

i was running a very high temperature. he came for inspection. if he had found me there, she could not have saved me. there was no question about it. pretty soon it became obvious that they needed us in another camp. our camp was disbanded and we went to three different ones. i really don't remember the third one. it was a horrible, horrible camp. we were locked up on the fifth or sixth floor. every morning they would wake us with whips. i worked in the flax etaidetail. there was flax submerged in a

swamp. you had to pull it out of a swamp. and then you open to the things. it was sweltering in summer and mosquitoes were all over us. and then i was singled out to do something else, namely to unload coal at night. allegedly i gave a fresh answer to one of the supervisors. for that i was banished to work flax during the day and coal details at night. it was incredibly tiring. loads of flax came to silos. i think now they were 10 stories high. it probably was three or four.

i remember it is nothing but torture. as soon as i got back to camp, i was called to unload coal. my father had asked me earlier when my mother was so ill, i remember we heard that a family had committed suicide together. i remember looking out at the garden my mother being so sick. we had not heard from arthur. i wished that my parents would suggest that. my father and i were very close. he came behind me without looking at me and he said, when you are thinking now is cowardly. promise that you are never going to do that. i did not answer him. he put his hand and he turned my

head towards himself. he said, promise me now. i promised him. i remember working the coal trucks trains going by, i remember the tracks beckoning in the moonlight. at one moment i came fairly close. i felt a strange pain in my neck. obviously, i did not do it. things were very hard. we work in the swamp. it was one of my lowest hours.

she was the exact opposite of ms. kitler. her great joy was to have a child's wagon and she had us pull her around in the wagon. she was having a web. you can imagine the caliber of intelligence of that person. all of a sudden she came with somebody else, a man, and they were calling numbers. we all had numbers, of course. i was working next to hilda and i heard them call her number. i sort of looked up. she pointed and said, you idiots, don't you know your numbers? she pointed to me and said, that

is her number. she obviously wanted to get me out from whatever it was. she slapped me and said, don't you know your own number, you idiot? i did not know what was happening. we came to the camp. there was the director. hilda said, my sister, you don't have your number. he said, i know you per it you work the looms -- you work the looms. you are coming along. they needed more people for working on looms in another camp.

hilda was out of it too. it was the sister camp. when we got there, who would be there? that was like a homecoming. i had one incident with keller. he called me into his office. there was a huge room, a single carpet and a desk. he sat alone at the desk. probably in a room of that size, 50 of us slept. he had a letter in his hand. he said to me, you have smuggled out a letter. i said, i have written some

letters. i had an uncle in turkey in a textile business. i gather that he knew my uncle. my uncle, when he found out what camp it was, had written to keller. keller looked at me and asked me a number of questions. apparently my uncle had sent a package, and they encouraged me to write for more packages. the packages apparently contained chocolate and things which were not obtainable. they said the package had been ripped up, but it was in a sturdy wooden box. i was only too happy to write to my uncle. this way i knew my uncle was safe, but he knew where i was.

it was like heaven by comparison. we then faced another difficulty. we worked the night shift only. we do not see any light of day except if you got up during the day. we worked there for probably a year or even longer, the night shift. things got worse than because there was very little food. she went on in the same vein as she was before. [indiscernible] gerda: if someone was ill, you

got some sort of care or understanding, things were covered for you as far as work was concerned. she tried to get vegetables. whatever was so-called coming to us, things were laughable. young people, they knew of the jewish holidays. on yom kippur they called us about holidays and if anybody would be foolish enough as to fast, that would be considered as sabotage and punishable by death. and everybody fasted. those are the things that future generations should know. i remember that night when we got our miserable smelling vegetables or whatever it was,

there was such feeling of sanctity. such a oneness, so much mobility -- nobility of spirit in the camps, which i wish could somehow be recorded. people reached out, somebody had a birthday and so he would save -- on sunday we had a little margarine under the bread. you would cut some of the fat and scrape the margarine and give it to the person so they would have a lot of margarine on their piece of bread. we knew it was hanukkah. mrs. keeler was busy so dreading

christmas and hanukkah altogether. we made a menorah -- celebrating christmas and hanukkah altogether. we made a menorah out of potatoes. there was a song about hanukkah which we sang. i went to israel for the first time in 1961. i knew of three that were in israel. but actually 10 showed up. in tel aviv singing a song which we had written for the first hanukkah in camp, and she carried a menorah which i have now, a beautiful old menorah that they give me an memory of the menorah which we made of potatoes. if you made it of potatoes, that meant you did not eat that night

craig you can imagine what this menorah means -- night. you can imagine what this menorah means. that was possible under frau kiegler. under the looms were reworked there was a white, powdery substance. we put it on our head. we had a performance between the bunks and the one electric light . see the faces in the bunks, all we did, it started out we were two grandmothers. we predicted a brilliant future for everyone. then our two grandsons came to listen to us.

she lives in israel. hilda never lived to have a grandchild. but our granddaughters listened to our tale of the past. i will say it in german. the exit line, and that was -- [speaking german] do you understand german? linda: translated. gerda: -- translate it. gerda: i will show you my newest film. old people exaggerate so much. then we see them exit.

you were 18 years old at the time. we say to each other -- [speaking german] dear children, let us just say that the humans endure more than they think they could. considering how young we were we must've touched the core of our existence, the hope that someday to live in a world for our children and grandchildren but best of all to listen to such a climate that they would not believe our tales of the past, that was possible under frau kiegler. she did not exactly here the performance, and we would sing songs that would probably make it sound like a summer camp. some would throw in a few things in polish that were not meant for her ears.

by and large, that contrast -- we were fortunate we were taken early, before auschwitz was in its full -- people did not go to working camps anymore. briefly, and finally the camp was liquidated, and we went to the most miserable and bitter camp. greenberg was an enormous camp. its factory was one of the most beautiful in germany in that it boasted the most beautiful collection of roses surrounding the factory. it was direct contradiction, the beauty.

i don't remember his name now. the most brutal, sadistic -- i don't know if he was director, but he was one of the people. he would jump like a cat and beat his victim until blood showed, mostly to the victim's faces. i don't know if i suppressed his name. things changed very drastically then. i still worked a very little time in the weaving factories

but pretty soon they had very little raw material for that and i was moved into what they considered sentence of death. we were spinning fabrics rather, threads which came from raw materials. the raw materials consisted of clothing, which came from auschwitz. there were huge machines. it was not difficult to imagine that some of the clothes belong to our parents. i worked most of the time on the night shift their.

i remember the four of some of that became overwhelming -- horror of some of that became overwhelming, i played a game and that affected it, and that was to imagine my homecoming with all the details being there, including the things we had long sold. that was the america, that it would be there. the most dreaded thing in greenberg was -- i'm not sure if it was every four or six weeks we would go to a doctor's office to be x-rayed because tuberculosis was rampant. who ever anything was immediately sent to our shorts. -- auschwitz.

something there was those x-rays. i did a thing which i will always regret. the last day i was with my brother, we had to go to something like the jewish federation and get registered. next to it was the room of the temple. we climbed over the debris and we sat there for a moment. one column, the eastern wall, stood undisturbed. everything else was in ruins. i picked up the little stone and he handed it to me and he said just look at that column and always rather that. -- remember that. other people would survive. he gave me the stone. i carried it.

when we went to have those x-rays, i took it off and i had it in my pocket. it was later, probably, that i lost it. the picture survive because i have them in my boot, but i had lost the peace of stone. -- piece of stone. greenberg was a miserable camp. there were a lot of people being sent to auschwitz. i think then we knew things were going bad for the war.

there was no electricity. they were going crazy, being vicious. everybody there was incredibly bad. if it peas of bread flew over the fence everybody was beaten to say who got it. nobody gave away the culprit. we all knew who it was. what has troubled me so much, i have heard some of the accounts that say how cruel people were or they stepped on each other. they make it sound like it was a snake pit. i don't know about other camps. i would say that people behaved

in the most incredible manner imaginable, by and large. i think this should be something that cannot be emphasized enough. it was in greenberg that hilda found a raspberry. she kept it her pocket all day long and presented it to me that night. she gave it to me as a present. i asked her to take a little bit of a bite and she wouldn't. one single raspberry. she gave it to a friend. there were other acts like that, many.

unfortunately are not recorded. this is probably the greatest tragedy of them all, the nobility and love that was felt. when things got really bad, we sort of knew when things are going bad for the germans they are probably going to finish us. if things are going well for them they are not going to let us go on, we are going to be slaves. in january of 1945 -- we were told we were not going to go to the factory and longer, together our belongings, the night between the 28th and 29th of

january a great commotion, and suddenly the doors opened at camp. we were then 2000 girls. an additional transport of 2000 came from auschwitz. they told us they had walked from auschwitz, and we were going to go on a march the following morning. the destination we later heard on -- it was a murder camp also near berlin which fell into the hands of the allies when dwight eisenhower made the swift move on berlin. we started to march on the death march, 29th of january. i had a terrible cold. i was coughing terribly.

we were told to assemble in four. she was probably the most beautiful girl i had ever seen. she moved like a deer, with huge brown eyes. she and susie were like sisters, like hilda was and i. the four had formed friendships. she would look up and i would say, it's raining today. should i wear my green raincoat? no where the blue one. she would fall into any imaginary game. i remember that morning very vividly, and such scenes where

you see a wasteland of freshly snow. in front of the camp was all covered with snow. they lifted their whips and forward march. hilda said to me, i don't know how you are going to make it. we are all going to make it. i was coughing so hard. we started the first step in i remember saying to myself, this is the last chapter. but i never had any doubt that we will make it.

hilda was to my left. and susie on the extreme right. i was the only one left. i think the marches documented -- march is documented in so many other stories. it was unspeakable. i had my skiing boots. i was the best equipped because i had my boots. at first we had a little bit to beat. -- eat.

we marched and don't know how many miles a day. we came to rest sometimes. we stopped in a camp where a few of our girls escaped. i didn't. people were shot continuously. somebody stepped out of line and you would see smoke and red. the forest beautifully covered with snow, and birds chirped sometimes.

the marching, every day the number got smaller. and then we came to a place called [indiscernible] susie and i and her were going pretty strong. one time we had nothing to eat so we started eating snow. the more you eat, the more thirsty you are. of course, diarrhea and all the phantoms. we left one morning, one time

they put us outside. they would spray us with water. and then they would herd us. people died like flies. one morning we were told to assemble. hilda was frantic. she said, that is going to be the end. all of a sudden came an incredible announcement, that president roosevelt died.

jubilation broke out that all the enemies of the furor would perish in such a manner. it was horrible, but we found something that david compensated us for that. -- day that compensated us for that. we found margarine. there was still some vestiges of margarine in it, so we licked it dry. things got very bad from then on. it was really very bad. we always used to sleep outside. it started to snow. it reminded me of the story of

wake up, don't fall asleep. if you follow sleep you won't wake up. some people said the best thing we can do is pull asleep like this. before we came to that orchard something incredible happened. i saw hilda was so sick. we saw a lot of people on the road already. people were unwed and scum similar to when the war started -- on wagons similar to wendy war -- when the war started. we concocted a story that we would run away, and we would say we were with our mother in the wagon and we got lost.

with names like hilda and gerda -- we had a whole thing how we were going to do it. susie, something similar. we said our father was ordered to get the numbers. we used our house numbers in 1939. we came into that little forest where we rested. we took a signal to each other that we are going to stay there when everybody assembles. suddenly hilda looked up at me and said, i'm afraid. i was going to say, come on. and i didn't.

and we got out of the forest they rounded up 14 girls. they were all shot. i decided i'm never going to run away. people were already running. the ss was not too much in charge. we made a pact. i said, we are never going to run away. an incredible thing happened. people were running in the streets and threw bread at us. and so we had bread. that night we rested in an orchard.

it was spring already, april. president roosevelt's death must have been the third week in april. i told hilda to watch the bread and hold onto it. she was very funny. she survived. she is in detroit. it is quite a story how i found her the war. -- after the war. but we did not realize was that we had crossed over into czechoslovakia. if i had known that, i would've stayed because they would have hidden us. if you could make it and went to a barn -- the czech people threw

us things. it landed, and it was an egg. i was sure that that egg would make hilda well. hilda did not feel like having it. one night we were again out in the meadow, snowing and raining. a dear friend of mine, her name is helga she came by and brought two potatoes. i don't know where she found it. hilda said, i'm not hungry. i could not believe it. she said to me, you eat it. i said, maybe she will feel better later. i kept it.

she said she was thirsty and i went to try to get water for her. the ss men came and kicked her and she said, why? i tried to catch some water in my hand for her. she said something incredible. she said, i'm not angry at anyone. i hope no one is angry at me. and then she said to me, you are going to survive. she said, if my parents survive don't tell them how i died. she said something else. she said, you have to promise me

that you are going to go on for one week. she said, promise. i said, i will try. when daylight broke, there were blossoms on the trees. i had gone earlier and got a blossom for her to smell. the blossom was all dead probably from her fever. it was awful for her. we were told to bury the dead of

that night. i could not do it. i know she was. because my friend told me under a tree -- she was buried because my friend told me under a tree. i remember the most minute details, cities and towns. i cannot remember the name of the place where she died. she has become over the years my alter ego. every year the 29th of april i step back. some incredible things happened on the 29th in the past how many

years, 40? linda: 45. gerda: april 19, 45. -- april 1945. i did not see my friends. i did not know where they were. at that point i could not walk for a well myself. -- very well myself. it was quite a few days later. they really descended on us, scr eaming, it is all our fault hitler is dead. we thought either they will kill us now or we will survive.

we came to a place in judges slovakia -- jet slovakia -- czechoslovakia. it was crazy. a lot of people were under oath's, soldiers running away. we had one woman ss with us and a couple of men. i do not know to how few are group -- it diminished enormously from thousands to maybe a little over 100. i think i was quite ill already. i was ill anyway, and terribly upset about hilda's death. one evening we came to rest.

we were sort of outside. it was quite quiet suddenly. a truck came. one ss woman came and told keller to take off my boots. helga said to me, i'll hide you. helga said to me -- the truck came, and the truck was going to take us someplace. she said, you better get under the truck so they do not see you. i said, i am in no hurry.

whatever. it was the feeling that it is probably going to happen now they are going to kill us. it was a balmy night. i said, i'm going to start thinking about what it would be like to be at home on a night like this with my parents. the truck came and some of the other girls went on it. i didn't. we waited and waited. the truck did not come back. unfortunately, i heard that truck, there was one of the ss women who was pregnant. they were shooting and she was hurt. the ss woman then turned and killed 14 girls on that truck.

and we stayed there. they came back for us and took us to a baruch or -- barrack or hall or something like that, and they locked us up there. we heard a lot of commotion. there was shooting and planes overhead and everything. and in the story -- then the story, they had attached a time bomb. a reunion of the liberators, they spoke about that bomb. we thought maybe they threatened it was a bomb, but apparently that was so.

they barricaded the doors with chains and things. they told us we are going to be killed. i think before that there was some shooting going on. at that point, i'm not clear -- i remember that night was quite turbulent. and remember sort of curling up. the ss left their coats behind. i tried to sleep there. a lot of people were very ill. we knew the americans were coming.

there was a crazy night. into morning, i asked my friend -- they were shooting from planes and susie was hit in her foot. she was lying there on the straw. i asked where susie was. it was morning. she told me that she went to try to find some water at the pump. i went to look for her. and there she was, laying in the mud, and she was dead. i did not want to go back to tell my friend that.

i went out. that is very vague to me. i remember all the things of that morning. it was after i found susie and i could not tell my friend. went outside and i stood in the doorway. it was a brilliant morning. the steeple of a church, a homemade wide -- white flag of peace. that was the first time i cried in many months. strange things i remember.

now i cry at the slightest provocation. i was standing there, and all of a sudden i saw a strange car coming down. no longer green. not during the swastikas. but a white star. it was a mud splattered vehicle, but i've never seen a star brighter in my life. two men jumped out, came running towards us. one came towards where i stood. he was wearing battle gear.

he was wearing dark glasses. he spoke to me in german. he said, does anybody hears the german or english? -- here speak german or english? i said, i speak german. i felt i could tell him that we were jewish. i was a little afraid to tell him that. i said to him, we are jewish, you know. he did not answer me for quite a while. then his own voice betrayed his emotion. he said, so i might. -- so am i. i would say it was the greatest hour of my life. then he said, may i see the

other ladies? to hear this man -- i weighed -- 69 pounds. my hair was white, and i had not had a bath in years. this creature asked for the other ladies. i told him that most of the girls were inside, they were too ill to walk. he said, want to come with me? i said, sure. but i did not know what he meant. he held the door open for me. and let me proceed. that young american is my hus

band. and that is my story. i was very ill after that. i was told i was going to die. my friend unfortunately died a few days later after wounds she sustained. i was in the hospital for quite a long time. he asked me if he could do something for me. i said, if you could write to my uncle in turkey and tell him i was alive, any news about my parents and my brother?

i did not see him for quite a long time. the following day the war was over. linda: you can to america? -- came to america? gerda: we were married a year later in france. he came back from the army. i can with him to the united states. i landed here in august, 19 46, came to buffalo, new york on the 13th of september. i have three children and eight grandchildren. i wrote in my first book something that is very dear to me. it goes like that. i finished the last chapter of

my book, i feel at peace at last. i have discharged a burden and paid the debt too many unnamed heroes. i am haunted of the thoughts that i might be the only one left. i have written my story with tears and love, and hope that my children asleep in their cribs should not awaken from a nightmare and find it to be reality. it is the prayer in my heart for all children everywhere. i hope the world will remember. >> with live coverage of the u.s. house on c-span and senate on c-span2, here on c-span3 we consummate that coverage -- co

mplement that coverage. on weekends, c-span3 is the home of american history tv. visiting battlefields and key events, american artifacts touring museums and historic sites to discover what artifacts reveal about america's past. history bookshelf, with the best-known american history writers, the presidency, looking at the legacies of our nation's commanders in chief. lectures in history with top college professors. and our new history, -- new program, reel america. c-span3, created by the cable tv industry and funded by your local cable or satellite provider. watch us in hd, like us on facebook, and follow us on twitter. >> this weekend the c-span cities tour is partnered with comcast to learn about the history and literary life of fort lauderdale, florida. >> this is really cultural

tourism. when they set up their villages along the way, along the tamiami trail, here was a tourist attraction. seminole's camping by the road. when they came to the tourist attractions, they were getting food. carpenter would rent and let people use sewing machines when they lived in the sewing machines. they also sometimes would get fabric. it removed the tourist attraction people to supply them with fabric. they were sitting there selling and making things for market. this is a little boys shirt belted shirt from the 1920's. this was an experimental time for patchwork, and you can see that on the bottom this is not a design that made it down today. this is a little experimental design.

the designs were bigger in the 1920's and sometimes they were not used any longer than during that particular decade. >> the thing about the devil's triangle, there are all things that have happened. it was a regular training mission. they would take off from base. flight 19's, they would go east towards the bahamas. they would drop on sun that and then they would continue another 70 miles or so and and they were supposed to make the turn north and they would go 100 something miles, and and they could turn back west towards fort lauderdale. they never came back. they were out of fuel, they had sent out these big rescue planes. that one disappeared. the next day they started a five-day search with hundreds of planes and ships and never found anything. >> watch all our events from fort lauderdale today at 5:30

p.m. eastern on c-span2's >> history bookshelf features popular writers and heirs on american history tv every weekend at this time. up next, andro linklater and the discussion of james wilkinson. politics and prose in washington dc hosted this event in 2009. mr. linklater: died in november of 2013. mr. linklater: i spent the best part of three years reading and researching and writing about a nasty piece of work. there is little good to be said in favor