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  #1  
قديم 25-08-2008
ريجان ريجان غير متصل
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تاريخ التّسجيل: Jun 2006
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ريجان is on a distinguished road
The Girl With A Apple

This is a true story

August 1942. Piotrkow , Poland . The sky was
gloomy that morning as we
waited anxiously. All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish
ghetto had been herded into a square. Word had gotten around that we
were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus, which
had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that
our family would be separated.



"Whatever you do," Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me,
"don't tell them your age.. Say you're sixteen." I was tall for a boy
of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as
a worker.



An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He
looked me up and down, then asked my age. "Sixteen," I said. He directed
me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood.



My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children,
sick and elderly people. I whispered to Isidore, "Why?" He didn't
answer. I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her.
"No," she said sternly. "Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your
brothers." She had never spoken so harshly before. But I
understood: She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this
once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.



My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany . We
arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night weeks later and
were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms
and identification numbers.

"Don't call me Herman anymore." I said to my brothers.
"Call me 94983."



I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a
hand-cranked elevator. I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a
number.



Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald 's
sub-camps near Berlin ..



One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice, "Son," she said
softly but clearly, I am going to send you an angel." Then I woke up.
Just a dream. A beautiful dream. But in this place there could be no
angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear..



A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the
barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily
see.
I was alone. On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a
litle girl with light, almost luminous curls. She was
half-hidden behind a birch tree. I glanced around to make sure no one
saw me. I called to her softly in German.
"Do you have something to eat?" She didn't understand. I inched closer
to the fence and repeated question in Polish.
She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around
my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life. She
pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence. I grabbed the fruit and,
as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, "I'll see you
tomorrow."



I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day.
She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread
or, better yet, an apple.



We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us
both. I didn't know anything about her, just
a kind farm girl, except that she understood Polish. What was her
name? Why was she risking her life for me? Hope was in such short
supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some, as
nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.



Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal
car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia ..



"Don't return," I told the girl that day. "We're leaving." I turned
toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the
little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the apples.



We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down
and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed.



On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM ..
In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself.. So many times death
seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived.. Now, it was over.
I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited.
But at 8 A. M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people
running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers.
Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone
was running, so I did too.
Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived; I'm not sure how. But I
knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival. In
a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had saved
my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none.



My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.
Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish
charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the
Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America , where my
brother Sam had already moved.



I served in the U. S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New
York City after two years.



By August 1957 I'd opened my own
electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.



One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me.



"I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date."
A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me. But Sid kept pestering me, and
a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date and her
friend Roma. I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma
was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too,
with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled
with life.



The four of us drove out to Coney Island .. Roma was easy to talk to,
easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too! We were
both just doing our friends a favor.



We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze,
and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn't remember having a better
time.
We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the backseat.



As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had
been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, "Where were
you," she asked softly, "during the war?"
The camps," I said, the terrible memories still vivid, the
irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget.



She nodded. "My family was hiding on a farm in Germany , not far from
Berlin ," she told me. "My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan
papers."



I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion.
And yet here we were, both survivors, in a new world.



"There was a camp next to the farm." Roma continued. "I saw a boy
there and I would throw him apples every day."



What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. "What
did he look like? I asked. He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have
seen him every day for six months."



My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be.
"Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?"



Roma looked at me in amazement. "Yes," That was me! " I was ready to
burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it!



My angel....
"I'm not letting you go." I said to Roma.
And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait.



"You're crazy!" she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for
Shabbat dinner the following week. There was so much I looked forward
to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew:
her steadfastness, her goodness.



For many months, in the worst of
circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that
I'd found her again, I could never let her go.



That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of
marriage, two children and three grandchildren I have never let her
go.



Herman Rosenblat, Miami Beach , Florida
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  #2  
قديم 25-08-2008
Nefertisis Nefertisis غير متصل
Registered User
 
تاريخ التّسجيل: Mar 2008
الإقامة: Jersey City, NJ
المشاركات: 29
Nefertisis is on a distinguished road
flower Re: The Girl With A Apple



Guaoooooooooo, LONG LIFE TO ALL JEWS WHO SURVIVE THAT HORRIBLE TIMES BY THE EVIL OF ADOLFO HITLER NUTS!!!!!!!!!!!.

I'm really like your history, its really helpful for people who had been living a very hard situation, one more time with your history, you prove, one more time, there is a GOD ALMIGHTY in every hard moment of the life.
Yeah is true my friend that happend to you was written for his HOLY hand, who save your life from the suddenly death, you must be proud and happy to live every day a miracle, really its a miracle all what you live; I'm happy that you find your another half; your girl, your sweet apple; I'm not Jewish; but as Egyptian ( non- born in Egypt) me I had been suffering a lot things too; but now that carefully I reading your amazing history; one thing is the entire true, that doesn't matter how you been though in bad or hard situations, always GOD makes the light upon shine to everyone who has a really good heart as you, my dear friend...

Thanks for share your valuable history with us, and please submit more memories of your experience for learn and understand better the divine mystery that GOD in his work makes with everybody's life.

GOD Bless you...my friend and the light of all his blessings be with you...

Really your amazing experience make me , in the deep of my soul, , but at the same time gives me courage to survive in this life, thanks my friend.

PLEASE IF YOU HAVE A GOOD WEBSITE FOR MERCHANDISE JEWISH, ( I LOVE ALL THAT IS JEWISH LET ME KNOW) SPECIAL FOR ALL THE PRETTY THINGS ALL OF YOU MAKE AND PREPARE FOR ROSH-HASHANAHH, BYE....
NEFERTISIS.
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  #3  
قديم 26-08-2008
ريجان ريجان غير متصل
Registered User
 
تاريخ التّسجيل: Jun 2006
المشاركات: 563
ريجان is on a distinguished road
مشاركة: Re: The Girl With A Apple

[QUOTE=Nefertisis;299375]

thanks nefertisis for your passage ..... god bless u too
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