Morton Wolin and his
daughter, Jennifer.

LI)

but Rabbi Rosenthal's
daughter found just the
thing.

We learned (at Buchen-
wald) for the first time what
is meant by being "legally
shot to death": an SS officer
rips the cap off of someone,
hurls it over the railing and
commands the prisoner to
recover the cap. While the
prisoner is obediently doing
this, another SS officer aims
at the prisoner and shoots
him down — "in the act of
trying to escape."
— Rabbi Frank Rosenthal

It was eerie to walk where
the dead had walked, were
walking and will always
walk.
— Rachel Erdstein,
on a visit to Mauthausen

The most devastating of
our chores (in labor camp)
was stamping on the Russ-
ian mine fields in front of the
regular German and Hun-
garian army units. The
highways and dirt roads
were mined by Russian par-
tisans. There were small
mines, cigar box size, with a
small plastic spring sticking
out containing dynamite or
TNT. The German mine de-
tectors could not cope with
these type of mines as they
did not contain any metallic
substance. So the Jewish

slave laborers were forced to
walk like a living chain, arm
in arm, in front of the Hun-
garian and German army
units. The results were dev-
astating. Every day there
were mine explosions; the
victims were always from
our units. During the three
weeks my unit was up front
our number was reduced
from 265 to 123.
— Leslie Schey

It is a mitzvah to remem-
ber, and it is a mitzvah to
defend the memory against

those who want to take it
away from us. Also impor-
tant to Jewish survival is
our surviving as Jews, liv-
ing Jewishly. As Jews we
have been bequeathed a "pre-
cious legacy" that is both a
joy and a weighty responsi-
bility. I feel a connection
with those who were killed,
and the connection trans-
lates itself into a sense of
commitment to Jewish sur-
vival ...
Before saying Kaddish, if
I do not have to remember a
friend or a family member,

I will try to think of someone
who died in the Holocaust. I
will imagine a name and
sketch a very brief biography
in my head: maybe a child,
or an ordinary worker who
rarely gave Jewish matters
much thought. I try to imag-
ine someone who has for
some reason gone un-
mourned.
— Michael Scrivener

Over half a century later,
I still have a vivid mental
picture of my father saying
goodbye to me at the Warsaw
railroad station, as I was on
the way north to Gdynia,
about 187 miles, and Dad
was on his way home. We
both cried uncontrollably,
shaking with chills, not a
word uttered, knowing full
well that we would never see

THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS

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