As survivors die out, it’s more important than ever to tell stories from the Holocaust.
I never met my maternal grandfather, Yeedel Nebenhaus.
He died of lung cancer in 1984 following a difficult life, the majority of which I discovered this past weekend while listening to audio of his Holocaust testimony.
Since I was young, I knew several of my family members were killed during the Holocaust. I have at least eight relatives who were either killed in a concentration camp or at the hands of the Nazis. Three of those individuals were my grandfather’s first wife, Yitta, and his two young children, Isaac and Bella. My grandfather named the second daughter from his second marriage — my mother — after his slain daughter.
Prior to being sent to a concentration camp in Auschwitz, my grandfather sat in a Polish jail for 10 months starting in July 1941. According to him, he’d been traveling into town to get food for his family when he was caught by Germans for not wearing a Jewish badge on his clothing. What was originally an eight-month sentence unknowingly became 10 in order for him and other Jewish prisoners to be sent to a concentration camp against their will. It was during his prolonged sentence that Yeedel saw his wife and children for the last time.
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After about a month in Auschwitz, Yeedel was transferred to a cement factory miles away. During his time there, he witnessed the murder of several political prisoners who were publically shot as a tactic to instill fear in others. He would stay there for three years until word of the Russian army’s approach scared the Nazis into evacuating his camp in 1945. When asked if this possibility gave him and the other prisoners hope, my grandfather simply said, “We couldn’t believe in miracles.”
For the next four months Yeedel and the other prisoners walked through parts of Austria and Germany in harsh winter conditions. During this march he acquired frostbite and ultimately lost several of his toes.
Eventually, his group was surrounded by foreign troops who had come to stop the Nazi regime. He was finally free.
After living off rations of bread and potato soup for four years, Yeedel weighed in at only 75 pounds. Having completed a week of treatment, my grandfather went to live in a displaced persons camp set up by the United States government in Feldafing, Germany. There he met my grandmother, Gitel. After a six-week relationship, the two married and about a year later moved to New York, where I would be born nearly 50 years later.
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So, why am I telling this story?
Many people have heard tales from Holocaust survivors, but 70 years after the end of World War II, first-hand stories are harder to come by. The Holocaust holds importance in today’s society, and not just for the Jewish people. Nations around the world still experience atrocities, so it’s up to us to be critical of our past and try to create a better future.
Prejudice can lead to horrific things, and it’s my hope that today, Holocaust Remembrance Day, serves as a reminder of what happened to my grandfather and the 11 million people who died all those years ago.
Dina Berliner is a sophomore studying journalism and assistant campus editor for The Post. Yeedel Nebenhaus’ testimony was recorded for the World Gathering of Jewish Holocaust Survivors in June 1981.
