HOLOCAUST

A ONE PERSON ART SHOW

MIXED MEDIA

works on paper and in glass

The Young Girl
In The K.L. Dress

by

GEORGE KATZMAN

SYBIL MINTZ

Special to The Jewish News

7:30 - 10 p.m.
Thursday, April 18th
Reception: Saturday, April 20th • 9:45 p.m. - Midnight
Noon - 4 p.m.
Sunday, April 21st

CONGREGATION BETH ABRAHAM HILLEL MOSES
5075 West Maple, West Bloomfield

851-6880

..••• • •

• . ... . •

.•

•

jy tmigraik

,s

SPRING START UP
5
489•5862
RICK WALD $3
(U

P 1° ZAJnes)

(Expires 5131)

KING HEART PRODUCTIONS

27040 EVERGREEN RD. LATFIRUP VILLAGE, MI

BRICK PAVING

NE

Corner of

1-696 /

Evergreen Exit.

FOR THAT PERFECT LOOK

Interlocking brick paving stone is
available in a range of styles and
blended colors to create a custom
look that will complement any
architectural style.
Our full design service and
prdfessional installation will enhance
the appearance and value of your
home or business.
• Patios
• Walks
• Drives
• Pool Decks
• Retaining Walls

Michigan
Brickscape Co.

"Where You Come First"

Kosins

Uptown

Call For A Free Estimate!!!

Southfield Rd. at
11 1/2 Mile • 559-3900

373-2733

FRIDAY, APRIL 12, 1991

569-2288

RESIDENTIAL & COMMERCIAL

8:30-5:00 M-F

38

WE PRINT ANYTHING
ON ALMOST ANYTHING!

Big & Tall

Southfield at
10 1/2 Mile • 569-6930

I

t was almost over. Ger-
man forces were on the
run everywhere.
My unit, the 16th Tank
Battalion, U.S. Army, was
part of a lightning push
across a slice of Nazi ter-
ritory still unconquered. We
were heading toward Pilsen,
Czechoslovakia, about 75
miles away. I was a 25-year-
old GI on patrol to spot areas
of possible resistance or
danger in the path of the
tanks.
We intercepted a convoy of
German trucks, and our
tanks put them under a bar-
rage of fire. Through my
field glasses, I could see peo-
ple, mostly civilians, jump-
ing off the vehicles and fran-
tically running toward the
woods. Little did I know that
one of them was my 17-year-
old daughter-to-be.
Three weeks later, the war
was over. There were still
small pockets of resistance
and we continued our com-
bat patrols. On a narrow
Czech side road, I came upon
two scrawny girls. They
were so emaciated, it was
hard to judge their ages.
They wore ragged dresses,
marked with the letters K.L.
stamped across the front in
white.
As I approached, unshaven
and with grenades hanging
from my shoulders, I could
see the fear in their eyes. I
tried to relax them with
light conversation.
In halting German, I said
to the taller one, "Bitte,
Fraulein, was ist das K.L.?"
She hesitated, and with a
quiver in her voice an-
swered, "It means Konzen-
trations Lager. Concentra-
tion Camp. We are Jews."
They were startled when
my face broke into a giant
smile. I quickly reassured
them that there was nothing
to fear, and that I, too, was a
Jew. They began to relax
and told me they were on
their way from Auschwitz to
Vienna on the truck convoy
my unit had shelled.
They had escaped into the
woods during the bombard-
ment, and stayed in hiding
for a week. Then the war
ended, but they had nowhere
to go. They made their way

Mr. Katzman of Miami, Fla.,
told his story to Arnold Geier,
who is editing the book, "Rays
Of Light: Amazing Tales From
The Holocaust."

to a little village and found
temporary shelter.
"Katzman, cut the chatter
and let's get moving!" the
captain interrupted.
As I drove off, I waved and
had a last look at the two pa-
thetic children standing
barefooted, with ugly
malnutrition sores visible
through their tattered little
dresses. I wondered what
would become of them.
During the next few days,
our outfit moved out of
Pilsen and closer to the
German border. The area,
known as Sudetenland, was
populated by over three mill-
ion ethnic Germans, most of
whom were ardent Nazi
supporters. One afternoon, a
Jewish soldier from my unit
came by as I was cleaning
my rifle.
"George," he said, "a
buddy of mine told me there
are a couple of Jewish kids
holed up in the town down
the road." He pointed in the
direction of the area I had
patrolled a week earlier.
My interest was stirred.
"Let's check it out," I sug-
gested.
I quickly finished cleaning
the rifle and loaded it, and

The girls had lost
their parents,
survived Auschwitz
and escaped into
the woods.

the two of us started out on
foot. From time to time,
fanatic hold-outs still sniped
at American soldiers, so our
rifles stayed loaded.
We reached the village,
with its typical church in the
main square, a few streets
leading to the square, and a
duck pond at the far end.
Near the pond, I looked up at
a window and there she was
— the little girl with the
K.L. dress. Her face lit up
when our eyes met.
"What are you doing
here?" she asked excitedly.
"We're looking for you," I
responded with joy in my
voice and heart.
"Come in; please come in,"
she motioned toward the en-
trance.
The room was small and
bare, except for a large bed
and some chairs. There were
three girls — my "girl,"
Helena, age 17, her red-
headed friend Agnes, age 16,
and Heidi, age 19, who was
sick in bed. They felt comfor-
table with us because we

(

<

