DEKEL, LUCETTE MATALON LAGNADO SHEILA COHN (21 page)

I remember feeling very happy there. It was a carefree, idyllic period.

In Buenos Aires, Mengele discovered a metropolis that was thoroughly Latin American, yet longed to be European. Although smaller than Sao Paulo and less attractive than Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires was unquestionably the capital of South America, the city that had the most to offer.

Cafes lined the wide avenues, as in Rome and Paris. Late at night, one could amble through the streets and hear faint strains of jazz or the samba. The cabarets were crowded every night with bejeweled young women and their wealthy escorts.

Reigning over them was the charismatic Juan Peron, a dictator’s dictator, with a movie-star smile and an iron-clenched fist, ruthless and charming. Peron was the embodiment of machismo-yet he worshiped only one woman, his wife, Eva.

During the seven years they were married, Evita was seen everywhere, discussing military strategy with the generals, whispering to Juan at state meetings, helping him to make policy decisions, presiding over groundbreaking ceremonies for charitable institutions, and, after a long day, idly smoking a cigarette in a nightclub where she had once been a chorus girl. Peron, shrewd politician that he was, realized that his wife was one of his best assets in retaining control over the fickle Argentinian population. Evita was adored, a mythical creature, enshrined even before her premature death.

Of course, Evita had her critics, including the American diplomats who thought her a hindrance, and maybe even a threat, to Peron’s power.

But Peron shrewdly disregarded the Americans’ opinion. He had his gripes with a country that persisted in calling him a closet Nazi even though, as he never tired of reminding them, in the late 1940s he was welcoming more Jewish immigrants than the United States. As for the Nazis he allowed to immigrate to Argentina, he argued that letting them in was yet another demonstration of his humanitarian bent. Juan Peron would not turn anyone away. Thanks to him, Argentina was a haven for all war refugees, Jewish or Nazi, fleeing Europe in the late 1940s and early 1950s.

Concentration-camp guards and their victims alike were drawn to Argentina for its Western charm and culture and, more significantly, its open-door policy. Nazi war criminals fled their old homes.

Jewish survivors sought new homes to replace the ones they had lost.

They knew that Peron would not tolerate any displays of antiSemitism.

The two did not mix, although Nazis did occasionally frequent Jewish-owned shops. Both groups discovered large communities of their compatriots who had been in Argentina for years. Even before the war, Jews had flocked to Argentina-one of the few countries that allowed them in-and had built a cohesive community.

Similarly, thousands of Germans had emigrated to Argentina, beginning a century before, in search of better economic opportunities than those available in Europe. They founded German clubs, German schools, German shops, and-most tantalizing for Mengele-a German hospital, which served as a symbol of what his future would hold if he flourished in the New World. And there were also several Nazi organizations that pledged loyalty to the Reich and the Fuhrer even years after the war was over.

Endemic to the community was a strong nostalgia, a heartfelt longing for their homeland that underscored every activity.

JUDITH YAGUDAH: Mother regretted leaving Romania. She disliked Israel from the moment we set foot on the ground: she said it reminded her of Auschwitz.

When we arrived, we were taken to a refugee camp in Atlit. We lived not in houses, but in tents. The country was very poor. Whatever you needed to live-bread, milk, eggs-had to be purchased with coupons.

Life was very hard.

In our camp, there were a lot of immigrants from Asia and North Africa.

The men walked around all day in their pajamas-striped pajamas. At Auschwitz, male inmates had also worn striped uniforms that looked a lot like these pajamas. That’s what reminded Mother of the concentration camp.

“This is like Auschwitz,” Mother would say.

MOSHE OFFER: When I arrived in Israel, all the children I had traveled with had someone they could go to-a cousin, an uncle, a friend. I had nobody.

I was placed in an orphanage. I was the only Holocaust victim there, and it was very hard for me. On the weekends, the children went home to their relatives. I was left all by myself I was very jealous of the other children. When the weekend was over, they returned with care packages and pocket money given to them by their families. They could buy themselves little treats, go to the movies. But I had no money at all.

I lived from hand to mouth. Sometimes, I would sneak into the cinema.

If I was caught, the ushers or the owner would beat me up and throw me out.

These were very hard times, and I was extremely depressed. I felt completely alone.

Sometimes, they would close the kitchens. Since I always felt hungry, I picked through the garbage for food to eat.

Restaurants in the German-Argentine community disdained the local cuisine, favoring beer over fruit juice and serving schnitzel rather than the ubiquitous steaks. An old Victrola cranked out nostalgic songs from before the war a famous lied, perhaps, or a patriotic German anthem. Clusters of old men sat around recalling the days when it seemed certain that Germany would rule the world. Discussions invariably returned to the empire they had lost. Such conversations made these defeated soldiers of the Reich much less gloomy. They spent their days in cozy establishments that bore a striking resemblance to the restaurants and beer halls of Frankfurt, Munich, and Berlin.

For the wealthier, more cosmopolitan Germans, Buenos Aires was a favorite city, a place that offered some relief from the arid drudgery of the South American hinterland. Its natives were also more sophisticated, and there was some social mixing of the Germans with the Argentine upper classes. Wealthy Argentines rivaled the Germans in their tastes and snobbish sense of superiority. There was also a deep and pervasive antiSemitism among the Argentine elite that was attractive to Nazi immigrants. But as long as Juan Peron was in power, these antiSemitic sentiments were not allowed to go beyond the priVate drawing rooms of Argentina’s upper crust.

At first, Mengele’s world was far removed from Argentine-or German-high society. He arrived in Argentina penniless, the money his father had sent him via Sedlmeier having been used up during his Genoa adventures.

A German contact who was supposed to meet Mengele at the boat’s landing never showed up.

EVA MorEs: When we stepped off the boat in Haifa, an uncle was waiting for us.

He hugged us. He said he wished our parents had left Cluj and settled in Palestine before the war, as he had done. Then they would have been with us, instead of gassed in a German concentration camp.

But Mother had said no. We were leading a good life in Eastern Europe.

She had heard conditions in Palestine were too “primitive,” especially for raising young children. She convinced Father to stay put and not make the family emigrate.

Miriam and I cried in our uncle’s arms about those lost years and our parents tragic mistake.

He took us to a distribution center for immigrants. A week later, we were moved to a Youth Aliyah village. This was a center for children who were either orphans or whose parents could not take care of them.

These centers had been started in 1934 to rescue children from the Holocaust. After the war, they were used to help children who had survived the concentration camps.

LEA LORINCZI: When we arrived in Israel, we were met by my future husband although of course, I did not know then that we would get married.

He was my stepmother’s brother.

He was very nice. He arranged it so that we did not have to go to any refugee camp. Instead, he got us a room in Jerusalem. My parents, my twin brother, and I all lived in that one room.

Mengele was forced to spend his first few weeks in a cramped room in a fourth-class hotel, one built especially to accommodate the thousands of refugees who poured in each month from Europe. The racial hygienist shared a room with two other people. He made do with a community toilet and sink located at the end of the hall.

Mengele could stroll by the elegant cafe’s and admire the pretty women.

In actuality, he was more impressed by Argentina’s soldiers than its women. In letters composed many years later, Mengele bemoaned the younger generation of Germans and what he saw as their “cowardly inferiority complexes.” In Argentina, soldiers and generals were revered, and showered with status and privilege. He admired the respect the country gave to “military tradition,” and ruminated sadly on the fall of the German Army. He was especially drawn to Juan Peron’s imposing personal guards, who stood on duty outside the Casa Rosada, the presidential palace. Despite his poverty, Mengele felt at home-more so than he had in his own country after the war.

EVA MOZES: I will never forget our first Friday night in the Youth Aliyah village.

Miriam and I entered the dining room, and we saw everyone wearing white. There were candles on the table, and wine.

Children from many different countries were seated together-yet they were all speaking one language, Hebrew.

We recited prayers and sang Israeli songs. After the meal, we were taken to a large room where all the young people were dancing Israeli folk dances.

They taught us how to dance. That night, Miriam and I even learned a few words of Hebrew.

I felt so at home. I could have stayed at the Youth Aliyah forever.

Mengele had one contact in Argentina other than the person who had not met him at the dock. The man was also a doctor, named

“Schott” in the autobiographical novel, and Mengele went to see him with high hopes.

The encounter was disappointing: The doctor was now employed in a weaving mill. The best he could do for Mengele was to get him a job at his company, combing wool.

Mengele realized that he would not get any work commensurate with his experience and abilities. Although the old doctor assured him that many other prominent ex-Nazis were employed in his firm, the prospect of such work was depressing to Mengele, and he decided to forgo the opportunity. He left intensely discouraged.

PETER SOMOGYL: When we arrived in Israel, it was very hard for any of us to get jobs to support ourselves.

My father, for instance, who had always been very successful running his own business, had a hard time trying to reestablish himself He simply could not make a living. He was in his late fifties-not a young man anymore.

When I looked for work after getting out of the Israeli Army, I could find nothing. And so I decided to learn a trade. I became an auto mechanic. It was not very Jewish, to learn a trade. We had always been brought up to be “professionals.” But I thought it was useful.

I worked as a mechanic for three years. I was very good with my hands.

TWINS’ FATHER: We arrived in Israel on my wife’s birthday. Luckily, I was able to quickly find a job in my field, accounting. I worked for a large firm.

They let me handle a very glamorous account-one of the largest theaters in Israel. I did well, and they came to rely on me. I kept their books in tip-top order. They would deal only with me.

MOSHE OFFER: I was fifteen years old, and still living at the orphanage, when I got my first job-as a dishwasher at a nearby restaurant. I had decided I needed to make money. I was going to school, which was expensive. I went to classes in the morning, then I would wash dishes in the afternoon to pay for my studies.

I would come home very late from the restaurant, go to sleep, and wake up early the next morning to go to school.

By chance, Mengele met a carpenter who knew of both a job and a place to live. The carpenter was quitting his job and told Mengele he was welcome to have it. He then directed Mengele to a small rooming house in the Vicente I,oPez neighborhood. The Auschwitz doctor would be sharing a small, windowless room with an engineer.

But even that was considerably nicer than the fleabag hotel where he had been living.

In 1949, Mengele began work as a carpenter, presumably a more respectable and interesting line of work than wool-combing. The recipient of a Ph.D. and medical degree discovered he had a knack for building and fixing furniture. Little by little, he started establishing himself. Then, when his roommate’s daughter became sick, Mengele was asked to treat her-secretly, of course. Although the little girl lived with her mother, her anxious father brought her to Mengele for expert medical care. Mengele agreed, delighted to be able to put his medical abilities to use.

LEA LORINCZI: Shortly after we arrived, I decided to study to become a nurse. I had decided I wanted to help the sick. At Auschwitz, a nurse had saved my life. She was a Jewish inmate who worked at the infirmary where they placed me when I got very sick. If it hadn’t been for her, I would not have survived the concentration camp.

I was only sixteen years old when I began working as a nurse at Shaare Zedek Hospital, one of Israel’s leading medical centers. I had no money. I worked very hard, very long hours. And I didn’t speak a word of Hebrew.

One of my duties was to prepare basins of water each morning and wash the patients. One day, an old woman started crying,

“Hum, hum, hum.”

I had no idea what was bothering her. And then, I realized she was complaining because the water was scorching her. Hum was the Hebrew word for hot.

I began to carry around a little Hebrew-Romanian dictionary in my pocket. Whenever a patient said a word I didn’t understand, I simply looked it up. That’s how I learned to speak the language.

EVA MOZES: After a while, Miriam and I were drafted into the army and had to leave the Youth Aliyah village. We were both asked what we wanted to do with our lives.

Miriam immediately asked to serve as a nurse. I wanted to do that, too, but our uncle felt it was not good for both of us to be so alike.

He said,

“Eva, you are good in math-become a draftsman.”

MIRIAM MOZES: In Europe, my great dream had been to become a doctor.