• Diary of a Prisoner

    Many long years ago when the love was strong between two people, I was born. My name is Corina. My mother Anne, died during child birth. Although I knew that I was the one who caused my mother to die, my father, Otto, didn't blame me for any of it. My whole life my father raised me. I had become the only child as my brother was shot by the Getaspo in 1935.

    The year was 1941, Hamburg, Germany has been over-run by the Nazis, but most importantly, Adolf Hitler. A tyrant in his own right, the Nazis were just an extension of that tyranny. Blasphemous men ready to beat and kill all who oppose them. Jews, friends and my family were rounded up like dogs and thrown into Ghettos. My father and I were just two of those many people. Although most people stayed in the Ghetto for a year or more, my father and I only stayed there for a month. We were one of the last to enter the already crowded Ghetto and we were among the first to leave. Each day seemed like an eternity, wondering which day would be our last, it was the worst than torture, worse than the Nazi's brutal and sometimes fatal beatings.

    The year was now 1942, a full year had now past. Upon arrival at Birkenau my father and I were forced to split up. We were told that this new place was a camp to keep us safe while we were being arranged transfers to Sobibór work camp and that we were only to be there for a week. They lied to us and many people were led away never to be seen again. As the men and women were forced to split up, I had not seen my father since our arrival at Birkenau and I was beyond the point of reassurance.

    Two months had past since our arrival at Birkanau when I was led back to the trains that bore us there. the were cattle cars packed to the brim with people. Their arms stuck out of the holes flailing about calling to their loved ones like the branches of a tree in a stormy wind.

    As i was thrown into the cattle care I landed on something soft. We had stale bread thrown in at us and I thought that was what I had landed on. As I was helped up by fellow prisoners I looked down to see what I had landed on. It was an old and weak looking man. As I rolled him over I recognized him to be my father. Everyone had in their possession a small piece of stale bread that was to last us the five day long journey to our next destination, Sobibór.

    It was the second to last day of our journey when my father, balled up into a fetal position. After having his ration of bread stolen from him by another ravenous prisoner he became very ill, worse than before. I remember him calling my name feebly, "Corina...Corina," he said. "Promise me you will find a way to escape from this hell and save as many as you can." As I made my promise I took my bread ration and gave it to him, pretending I wasn't as hungry as he was. I was famished but I was too disgusted with the world to eat anything. I handed it to him and he ate it like a starving wolf. Due to all the disease that was running ramped, most of the people in our cattle car had died and the air smelled like feces, urine and decaying flesh.

    As the sun rose on the fifth day and our long and murderous journey was coming to an end. I tried and tried to wake him but he wouldn't move. He was dead and his skin was still warm to the touch, the rigormortis had not yet set in. I started to weep and as the car came to a stop and the doors opened, i was beside myself with anger and grief. I was now alone at the age of 18.

    We had arrived at Sobibor and I was pulled forcefully from the train, even though I was far too exhausted to fight back. As were were being lined up to give our names to the record keeper, a Jew, yet more importantly, a fellow prisoner, told me to to lie and say that i was 20. As he walked away he whispered, "You're a seamstress..." When the SS officer came to me, he asked me my name, age and occupation. "Corina Edelstein, age 20, I am a seamstress sir." Bowing down to that son of a b***h was nauseating but I was willing to do anything to keep myself alive. He told me to step forward and he led me into the camp and to a barrack where there were at least a dozen women working sewing machines. as we walked in we heard a baby crying. The SS officer who led me in grabbed the baby and when the mother tried to protect the infant, she was shot, then so was the baby.

    ~~~~~

    I was in Sobibor for so long that I lost track of how long I had been there. I was told that it was now October of 1943 by one of the new prisoners that had come in off of one of the many trains that delivered its victims to this camp.

    We had planned the escape of everyone in the camp and we were already starting to kill the SS guards. It was as I was crawling under the electrified barbed wire fence that I realized just how hopeless our escape attempt seemed. While we were running through the mine fields, the SS we firing at us with machine guns. It was exciting yet frightening to have a sense of foreboding freedom which was so close we could all taste it. Running as fast as I could, I made it into the woods but I was not out of danger. A horrible tear jerking pain shot through my body. I fell to the ground and held my hand up to the back of my head. When I pulled my hand away it was wet and when I looked at it, it was bright red. I had been hit in the head with a bullet. I thought of my promise to my father and saw his ghost in my head. He smiled at me and held out his hand and I took it. He helped me up and led me away from the woods. I closed my eyes and with a final breath, I died.

    This is my diary, and I write this with the hopes that everyone will do what they can from preventing this horrible portion of our world's history from ever repeating itself.