Remembering the Dark Night of Auschwitz 
Part Three
By Scot and Maurine Proctor

 

Such evil as Hitler was about, such evil as he had enlisted millions to follow, was incomprehensible.  Wiesel said that people in his village went on living—accommodating themselves to each new restriction.  "People said:  'The Russian army's making gigantic strides forward…Hitler won't be able to do us any harm, even if he wants to.'

"Yes, we even doubted that he wanted to exterminate us.

"Was he going to wipe out a whole people?  Could he exterminate a population scattered throughout so many countries?  So many millions!  What methods could he use?  And in the middle of the twentieth century!

"…Here and there, anxiety was aroused.  One of our friends, Berkovitz, who had just returned from the capital told us:

'The Jews in Budapest are living in an atmosphere of fear and terror.  There are anti-Semitic incidents every day in the streets, in the trains.  The Fascists are attacking Jewish shops and synagogues.  The situation is getting very serious.'

"This news spread like wildfire through Sighet.  Soon it was on everyone's lips.  But not for long. Optimism soon revived.

"The Germans won't get as far as this. They'll stay in Budapest.  There are strategic and political reasons…"

"Before three days had passed, German army cars had appeared in our streets."

Wiesel writes, "The barracks we had been made to go into was long.  In the roof were some blue-tinged skylights.  The antechamber of Hell must look like this.  So many crazed men, so many cries, so much bestial brutality!

"There were dozens of prisoners to receive us, truncheons in their hands, striking out anywhere, at anyone, without reason.  Orders:

"'Strip! Fast! Los! Keep only your belts and shoes in your hands…

"We had to throw our clothes at one end of the barracks. There was already a great heap there.  New suits and old, torn coats, rags.  For us, this was the true equality:  nakedness.  Shivering with the cold.

"Some SS officers moved about in the room, looking for the strong men.  If they were so keen on strength, perhaps one should try and pass oneself off as sturdy?…

"Later we were to learn that…those who were selected that day were enlisted in the Sonder-Kommando, the unit which worked in the crematories. Bela Katz—son of a big tradesman from our town—had arrived at Birkenau with the first transport a week before us.  When he heard of our arrival, he managed to get word to us that, having been chosen for his strength, he had himself put his father's body in the crematory oven.)

"Blows continued to rain down.

"'To the barber!'

"Belt and shoes in hand, I let myself be dragged off to the barbers.  They took our hair off with clippers, and shaved off all the hair on our bodies.  The same thought buzzed all the time in my head—not to be separated from my father.

"Freed from the hands of our barbers, we began to wander in the crowd, meeting friends and acquaintances.  These meetings filled us with joy—yes, joy—'Thank God!  You're still alive!'

"But others were crying.  They used all their remaining strength in weeping.  Why had they let themselves be brought here?  Why couldn't they have died in their beds? Sobs choked their voices."

For those who made it past the sorting on the first day in camp, a supervisor would announce that they had "come to a concentration camp, from which the only way to escape is through the crematorium chimney."  Clothes and personal possessions were confiscated.  In an effort to strip them of their identity, their humanity, their hair was cut short, they were sprayed with disinfectant, then finally given a number and registered. Their names were lost.  To the world they were only a number tattooed on their arm.

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