We were finally informed that Berlin had been occupied on
May 1, 1945. Joy and hope filled our hearts, but nothing
changed. It was "business as usual" with even
more death. Following such feelings of hope, our despair
became more profound than ever. The end seemed so close, yet
so far away. A few SS tried to escape, and the others lost no
time in hanging them.
Our leaders learned that there existed an order: If enemy
troops were approaching, the prisoners would be machine-gunned
and the camp burned down. We made a deal with the guards: some
of us went to meet the approaching Americans and bring them
in.
May 4, 1945, the Americans arrived! The young men from
overseas risked their lives and saved ours. They were
liberators bringing freedom and the beginning of an unexpected
new life. What a relief it was to see their kind faces as they
threw food, clothes, and candy to us. I had to crawl to pick
anything up, since I could not bend down and still keep my
balance. The vanguard American troops–who had fought the
Germans all the way from Normandy until they met the Russians
in the East–even they were puzzled by our situation. They
couldn't believe their eyes or our stories. Who could? Who
could believe that we suffered our "Calvary" only
because we had a different religion?
