Holocaust Survivor: Yisrael Feld

Born 1928 in Satoraljaujhely, Hungary. Parents can't get Hungarian citizenship; expelled to Ukraine. Flight during murders at Kamenitz-Podolsk. Attempt to reach Hungary; arrested after someone informs. Detention camp in Hungary till 1943. Refugees bring news from Czechoslovakia and Poland. Privileges to communal leaders till deportation to Auschwitz. Transfer to Durnau camp. How different prisoners cope with plight. Flossenburg camp. Death march. Return to Hungary. Zionist training camp. To Israel, 1948.

They won't take it out of your belly

After the air raid along the way, they collected all the people who had been hit. Instead of treating them, someone with scissors simply went around snipping as needed a hand, a foot. Sheared them off like trouser fabric, and tied them; those who had the strength did their own tying. Some of those hit whether killed or just wounded were piled up criss-cross, the way freshly cut logs are piled in the forest. I can still see that sight next to the rail line. They piled them up the way wooden carts are sometimes piled in rows alongside the railroad tracks. Inside the pile there were some people who were still alive. But we paid no attention. Our minds were no longer functioning enough for us to notice.

When we had got ourselves reorganized, I started entering the wagons to see if there was anyone from my town, somebody Hungarian. In one wagon I saw someone from Ungvar. "Who is that?" It seems it was the younger of two brothers who had been with us. He was so exhausted that he didn't have the strength to come out of the wagon. I went over to him and asked: "What happened to my brother? What happened to your brother?" He answered: "We ran away! I didn't have any strength left, so they put me on the train and they continued walking." That was the last bit of information I got about my brother. Meanwhile, they re-assembled us. They got the wagons ready, brought a locomotive and repaired the rails.

Again they packed us into the wagons. We didn't eat a thing, because they didn't give us any food. Only at the beginning of our journey, before we boarded the wagons, they gave everyone a portion or two of bread, which was supposed to suffice for the entire trip. They didn't give us a thing after that. I don't even remember us drinking water. I had already eaten my bread. I had already learned from experience not to save bread for the next day. It was when I was still together with my brother. He had less will power than I when it came to going without food.

He always ate up his ration while I left some over. The next afternoon, while I was eating the bread I had saved, he would ask me for some and I gave him. In the evening he would pay me back, and he had less to eat. The next day I would again have some "extra" bread, and again I would give him some. Then I told him: "You know what? Don't pay me back. Let's make a common pantry. We'll combine our rations and we'll save some and eat it together. I'll do the dividing." He was always very hungry, and so was I, but I seem to have had more will power, or my body didn't need as much food. Then I remember: we had a bigger ration of bread, and I wrapped it well and put it under my head before we went to sleep.

The next morning it was gone. My brother cursed me: "Not only didn't we eat it, but we don't have anything left! From now on I'm finishing my bread the second I get it." I also learned the lesson: I ate up my food the moment I got it. What is already inside the belly is there to stay; nobody will take it out of there.

back to top of page

back to Holocaust Testimonies Homepage

back to top of page

Previous Articles