The Secret Holocaust Diaries: The Untold Story of Nonna Bannister (27 page)

It was early in the spring of 1944 (February) when I received the first letter from my mother. The letter had been written in German. I knew that Mama had dictated it because she used my pet nickname in the letter. It was a brief message; the Gestapo would only allow eight lines in a letter, and they censored every letter that went out from the concentration camps. The letter read as follows:

Dear Daughter Nonna:

I am well. Do not worry! Stay well and wait for me.

I kiss you, Krumchen.

Your Mama, Anna

The letter was written from the women’s concentration camp in Ravensbrück, as was the first postcard. This letter was sent to the nuns at the Catholic hospital where I was being protected from the SS and the Gestapo. A Catholic priest who was in the KZ camps had arranged for this letter to be sent so I could hear from my mother. This gave me even more resolve to get well, even though I was heartbroken. If I had not had the nuns and my friends to support me, I am not sure that I could have handled this situation alone. I was very sick, but I never was lonely because my friends and the nuns would sit with me and read books and poems to me. I was unable to hold a book in my hands because the rheumatic fever had stiffened my joints. They were also very painful. I studied almost constantly when I was not asleep, and this made the time pass a little more quickly. The doctors were trying to find a way to treat the rheumatic fever and myocarditis, but the only medicine that they were giving me was salicylic acid. They were also giving me therapy treatments.

FLOSSENBÜRG •
This concentration camp in the town of Flossenbürg, Germany, incarcerated 111,000 prisoners between 1938 and 1945. About 73,000 prisoners died there. Malnutrition, lack of hygiene and medical care, and the brutality of SS guards caused most of the deaths at Flossenbürg. Nonna gave no reason why the Nazis moved Anna from Ravensbrück to Flossenbürg. The Second U.S. Calvary liberated Flossenbürg on April 23, 1945. [Information from: http://www.jewishgen.org/ForgottenCamps/Camps/FlossenburgEng.html, accessed July 10, 2008.]

I received another letter from Mama that was dated May 21, 1944, and was written on concentration letterhead from Flossenbürg Camp. This letter read as follows:

Dearest Nonna,

I am concerned about your health. How are you getting along? You are on my mind both day and night. You must take care of yourself and stay healthy. Don’t worry about me. I am doing fine. Please write to me by whatever means that are available. Ask the Oberschwester or Sister Pia—or anyone that you can trust to write me. I need to hear from you, and for you to let me know how you are doing. Please send me two toothbrushes and a needle and thread and anything else that you can round up. Do not send luxuries such as chocolates, but I need soap, toothpaste, and if possible send socks, panties, and a warm cap. It is very cold here. I am having trouble with my arms, but I am concerned about everything, especially since I have learned that you are having some health problems. Please write to me and take care of yourself.

Kisses—Anna

I didn’t know what Mama meant about having trouble with her arms, but I learned later that the Gestapo had been using Mama to entertain the “brass” by performing concerts both on the violin and the piano. When she refused to perform because she was sick, the Gestapo had broken her arms and, later, broke her fingers. With the help of friends, the nuns, and Father Nikolas (the priest who had been sent to the KZ camp), I was able to send packages to Mama with some of the things that she asked for. I was deeply worried about Mama and was so sad that she was going through such tortures. I just didn’t know how bad it was for her.

I received letters from Mama as follows: June 18, 1944; August 6, 1944; and a letter that was started on August 22, 1944, and finished on August 29, 1944, but which was postmarked on September 3, 1944. Each letter was written in German, and I knew that Mama was not able to write in the German language. So I knew that she was having someone write these letters to me. Each letter was inquiring about my health and encouraging me to take care of myself. Mama expressed her thanks to the Catholic nuns and the priest for taking care of me and protecting me. In each letter, Mama would ask for potatoes, dried bread (like Zwieback), and onions and any kind of food that would not spoil. Schwester Gutegera, who was in charge of the kitchen, always managed to get a few potatoes, onions, and dried bread together, and I would have these packages sent to Mama through the priest (who had a few privileges).

I received a letter again that was written on October 1, 1944, postmarked October 3, 1944, in which Mama was not as positive and optimistic as she had been in her previous letters. She again asked me to please write to her and to keep her aware of my health situation. She would acknowledge the receipt of the packages and thank us for sending the food and other items to her. She also said that she had to hide her things under her bed because people were becoming desperate and would steal and even kill to survive.

PACKAGES TO ANNA •
Prisoners were sometimes allowed packages, since the Germans provided so little. These possessions were the currency of the camps’ black-market barter system.

It was some relief to get this correspondence from Mama because at least I knew that she was still alive, and this gave me some hope that we would find each other again when the war was over. My health was not improving, and the rheumatic fever was really taking its toll on me. The doctors were doing everything in their power to help me get well, but I continued to be very sick—I was still bedridden. The time passed slowly, and as I look back on it, I was so intent on getting well that I really didn’t worry about the time that it would require.

I received the last card from Mama, dated April 11, 1945. The first thing I noticed was that her prisoner number had been changed from 23893 to 52234, and this was cause for horrible thoughts about what had happened to Mama.

CHANGED NUMBER •
Anna’s prisoner identification number would have been changed when she was transferred from Ravensbrück to Flossenbürg. However, both Anna and Nonna seem surprised by the change, and they commented on it long after her transfer.

The card read as follows:

My darling daughter,

I am writing this letter hoping that it will reach you. When you get this, it is possible that this will be the last communication from me. However, there is hope that the packages may still be arriving from you. The packages must carry this new number 52234—I can only guess about this new number. How are you doing? I am well and wait for at least one more letter with news about you from the Schwestern. It would be only fair to hear from you once more before it is all over. Write everything if it is possible.

Your loving, loving mother

The war ended officially on May 5, 1945, after the Americans arrived and freed the prisoners out of the prison camps. But it was too late for my mother. The Germans had known that they had lost the war but apparently decided that they would kill a few more people before the Americans arrived. How sad that my mother had endured and suffered so much, and came so close to surviving, yet was destroyed just days before she would have been free.

ODE •
It is unclear whether Nonna wrote this poem in the early postwar era or much later, when compiling her transcription:

ODE OF MEMORIES

Be still my heart.

The thought is generous

Of those who are near you.

Why trouble those who care and love?

The past is gone and what is ahead

Is still to be felt.

The sun is bright,

The skies are blue,

It is no longer you who murmurs.

So, why do we feel the pain?

Perhaps of someone else who is near us.

But forgiveness is only an act,

Of much generosity and wisdom.

38: Last Message from Mama

The last message from my mother came about four months after the war was over. A letter was left on my table beside my hospital bed by an unknown person or persons. The letter was scribbled on an old piece of paper and was folded into a small square. I never found out who left the letter, but my hands were bandaged and I could barely move because of the pain brought on by the rheumatic fever. I was also very sick with the ensuing myocarditis that had affected my heart, so a woman who was sharing my room in the hospital was kind enough to hold the letter so I could read it.

There was no date to denote when the letter had been written, but the letter was addressed to Nonna Lisowskaja. The first part of the letter was very hard to read since the first half of the page was written in Yiddish and Polish (not even good Polish). It was hard for me to understand since I could not or did not make out some of the words. But from my memory, the letter went something like this:

My dearest Kitten Nonnatchka—

(It was the name my mother called me when I was a small child, and I immediately knew that the message was not from anyone but Mama.)

It read on:

If this message will reach you, it will probably be the last one you will get from me and by God’s miracle we will meet soon. Don’t give up hope but if you don’t hear from me within the next six months or see me after it is all over, please, my Koshechka, leave Europe as fast as you can. Don’t waste time looking for me because you know that I would be coming to you first. Get away from Germany as far as possible. Your papa and I would want you to go to America, and that is where we would like you to settle. O God, I pray that you will stay well and alive. You are maybe the only one that is left, so remember to stay strong and have a lot of courage. I am also so very grateful to all the Sisters (nuns) who helped to keep you in a safe place and take care of you. May God bless them for protecting you from all the horrors. Love, love you for me and your papa, and all of us for eternity.

Mamatchka (Mama)

ENDEARMENTS •
Anna’s names for Nonna—
Nonnatchka, Kitten Nonnatchka, Krumchen,
and
Koshechka,
as well as her own
Mamatchka
—all employ German diminutive endings and are derived from either the word for “crumb” or the word for “little cat.”

At the bottom of Mama’s letter, there was the following message, written in pencil and in large letters in Yiddish:

Anna was my very best friend, and I hope that you have as much talent as she did. Oh, how well she could play the piano and violin and sing. She also painted beautifully—she was a beautiful friend—and we loved her so. Anna fell and broke her arm, and they did not give her any treatment, but they still insisted that she paint and play the violin during the concerts held for the German “brass.” Her arm became infected and your mother became very sick and was running a high fever from not having the proper treatment. However they continued to pressure her to play and to continue her painting. She developed gangrene in her arm and became very sick, but the Germans thought she was faking her sickness. They took her to the infirmary, where they broke her other arm and some of her fingers. She became sicker, and the general ordered her to be thrown into the incinerator. She was in shock and unconscious and was of no further use to them. Little one, don’t wait for your mama—she only lived to see you again, and that kept her going for a long time. Do what she wanted you to do, and if I were going your way, I would love to meet you, but my destiny is a different road.

It was signed “
S. I.
”