NEWS A Non-Jew's Escape From The Gas Chambers Madeleine Michaud, a Catholic French Resistance fighter, was marked for death at Mauthausen. RICK HELLMAN Special to The Jewish News PHOTO © GLEN CALVIN MOON I INNOVATIVE DESIGN CUSTOM CABINETS FOR HOME OR OFFICE MANUFACTURED ON OUR PREMISES From concept to reality, our custom designs, expert craftsmanship and quality installation suit your specific needs. Our custom cabinets and furniture will enhance your surroundings. (313) 624-7300 3149 Haggerty Rd. • Walled Lake • 48390 Wishing All Our Friends & Customers A Healthy and Happy Passover '( 4 ,,,;•• I Marilyn, Marlene, Carol, Randee and Samantha •• • • • • • • • • • • • • IRANDEES • 40 10•lb 10 lb 11 ID IP ID 0 ID Franklin Savings Centre Bldg. 26400 W. 12 Mile Road Southfield, Mich. 354-6070 34 FRIDAY, APRIL 5, 1991 WE'RE FIGHTING FOR YOUR LIFE American Heart Association • - n 1945, Madeleine Michaud was taken to the gas chambers in the Mauthausen concentration camp. But, unlike more than 119,000 of her fellow in- mates, she survived. "They were ready to turn the gas on us when the Red Cross came;" said Ms. Michaud, 70, during an interview in her Kansas City, Mo., home. "They had locked the doors. But when the Red Cross came, they had to let us go." It wasn't her first brush with death, but it was perhaps the closest Ms. Michaud came to being killed during her two years as a prisoner of the Nazis. Ms. Michaud, a Roman Catholic, said she was not victimized by the Nazis be- cause of her religion, but be- cause of her French Resistance activities. Today, she tells her story to adults in church and university classes. "I like to talk about it be- cause we forget too easily," Ms. Michaud said. Dr. Joseph Schultz, direc- tor of the Danciger Judaic Studies Program at the Uni- versity of Missouri-Kansas City, has had Ms. Michaud talk to his classes about the Holocaust. He said Ms. Michaud is a remarkable woman with a cheerful per- sonality. "It has to do with her outlook on life," he said. "She is a very deeply re- ligious woman . . . I think it was the ethical imperative of her faith that led her into the Resistance." The only child of a military family, Ms. Michaud was born in Paris and educated at the Sorbonne. She earned a doctoral degree in Euro- pean history in 1939, just as World War II began. During the Nazi occupa- tion of France, Ms. Michaud joined the French Resistance movement, first as a secre- tary and later as a hotel clerk. "It was very exciting, very Rick Hellman is a staff writer for the Kansas City Jewish Chronicle. scary," said Ms. Michaud of those days. "You would get a phone call saying to meet somebody with a red hat or a carnation at the station. You went and got (a package) and passed it on, not knowing who you were dealing with, so that if you were caught . . . you were fairly fail-safe. But it didn't save me from being arrested on April 6, 1943." Ms. Michaud said her ar- rest was "just like in the movies — at 3 a.m. came the knock at the door, and there was the Gestapo and the French police." She was taken to a securi- ty prison at Fresnes, outside Paris, where she was inter- "At least we had the comfort of knowing we had done something. It Was like gambling you lose, you pay." Madeleine Michaud rogated and beaten. She was then placed in solitary con- finement for six months before being transferred to the Nazi concentration camp for women at Ravensbruck, Germany, near the Baltic Sea. Some of the Frenchwomen had their heads shaved, Ms. Michaud said, and all of them were stripped and issued clothing with red triangular arm patches signifying their political prisoner status. The women were then placed in quaran- tine barracks. "We looked out and saw all those women standing there," she said, "wearing their striped uniforms, look- ing skinny and scared. And we said, `Uh-oh. We're really in trouble now.' " It was shortly after her ar- rival in Ravensbruck that Ms. Michaud had her primary contact with Jewish prisoners. "Some Jewish ladies from Theresienstadt shared our block," Ms. Michaud said. "They were so charming. I was 23, and they looked an- cient to me. At least we had the comfort of knowing we had done something. It was like gambling — you lose,