The German's Chocolate Cake

I was thirteen years old it was 1943 the war had come to our doorstep. Our bags were packed sitting by the front door. Mother was cooking our last supper to be eaten in our beautiful little home. Mother nervously fussed over our supper, she had made a chocolate cake. The cake was beautiful she took time to carefully frost it making pretty scallops in the icing. I could not wait to enjoy a slice. Chocolate had even become a rare treat in Germany due to being rationed to the soldiers.

Our friends were to pick us up in two hours. Mother called out “Elizabeth can you please set the table?”I immediately went to gather the dishes, supper was ready to be served. My father and brother were checking the home for any details that might have been forgotten. My brother David was 16, we looked similar deep brown eyes , dark hair, both of us tall and thin like father. We never fought we always agreed on everything. We loved our parents they were wonderful, we were happy until today.

Father had talked to us individually and as a family. He told us “we would stay together , we would be alright and there was no shame in hiding”. He apologized for not being able to get us out in time. We did not feel that he let us down, we knew he tried his best.

We enjoyed our dinner quietly alone with our thoughts about what was to become of us, finally mother broke the silence and said "come on now there is the chocolate cake!" We laughed genuinely, I hopped up to clear the plates and put the small dessert plates on the table. Mother served our father first, then David, she winked at me when she finally put a slice onto my plate, she knew I adored chocolate. She had just served herself a slice and began to sit down but we suddenly froze not a bite was taken, the sound of large trucks screeching to a halt outside our room struck terror back into our hearts. I felt sick I began to shake violently.

The door was kicked in , in seconds. German soldiers came in barking harsh orders, they grabbed my father and threw him to the floor. My mother had grabbed me and put me behind her holding onto my arm tightly. A cruel looking man dragged my father outside like he was an animal. My brother was shoved out the door behind him. Two of the young men laughed when they looked at our dinner table they joked about being late for dinner. One of them grabbed my slice of cake and sampled it telling the other it is was quite good. He then picked up the cake stand with the rest of the cake on it and walked out the door, the other man grabbed the other slices of cut cake and followed.

Mother and I held onto each other for dear life, would they leave us alone? Where are my father and brother being taken? Another soldier entered the room grabbed us both roughly and dragged us out into the street. We were put on one of the trucks with our neighbors , as was my father and brother. We had minutes to discuss what was happening. My father mentioned a train, we were going to a train. My parents looked at each other knowingly....They pulled David and I closer.

We met the train in what seemed like minutes but father speculated it was an hours drive. The adults around us whispered loudly over the truck's engine. They were trying to protect us from hearing their thoughts on what was next. I heard the words rumors, camps and separation. I didn't understand but I knew it was the worst that could have happened to us.

We were loaded onto the train, the box car stunk like filth. It was hot we couldn't breath it was like walking into an old rotting barn. They put so many people inside the car mother and I were being crushed against the wall. The only comfort we had was a small window just above our heads. My mother began screaming hysterically calling for my father , another woman tried to calm her by telling her “the men would be going to the same place, we would see them again.”I looked around it was entirely women and children.

We arrived at the camp after dark, having stood for hours. We were exhausted but my heart would begin to pound in my chest over and over again even so. The feeling was horrific it made me think of my pet rabbit Bunson his heart would pound erratically when he was startled, this was me for hours. We cried until we could not breath well enough and had to compose our selves to take in some air. It was a nightmare.

We exited the train to be put in lines and sign our names in a book. We were stripped of our clothing and jewelry. It was so matter of fact for the soldiers just another day for them. For us it was humiliating, gut wrenching sadness, everything we were that made us an individual was stripped away in under an hour. Shots rang out people screamed in terror every few minutes. The begging and pleading for their spouses was heartbreaking. I held onto my mother for fear she would collapse.

They lined all of the children up, my mother refused to let go of me as did most mothers they were ordered to step away or be shot. I looked back at her only once I couldn't bear to look at her terror stricken face. We were sized up handed some clothing I was pleased to get dressed. Some children who were weak and small were put into another line with younger children. I found out later these children were exterminated, found too young to be of use in the camp.

We were both assigned the same bunk house we were so glad we weren't separated. We didn't see or hear from my father or brother, some of the other Jewish prisoners said they were taken to another prison camp, but not to worry they would work hard but find a way to survive.

Mother and I learned very quickly in the days and weeks that followed. Eat anything that was edible regardless of how it looked or smelled even if it made you sick. There was no guarantee there would be food from day to day. A rotten apple was a delicacy, the appreciation for a piece of rotten fruit was unmatched. My mother tried to give me her morsels of food I would never take them. She begged to know why when I grew so painfully thin and pale. “I told her I wasn't trying to be strong, I knew if I took the food I would never want to stop taking it.” I implored her to stop offering , she did. Lice were the most detestable things in the bunkhouse we itched and burned all the time they were rampant. We froze, we suffered from the heat and the horrific smells. We worked until our fingers bled and then worked some more. We were inspected monthly for any weakness that would make us useless to continue working.

And then there were the showers. The most terrifying place that fellow Jews would walk to voluntarily. You had no choice , you went in and died or you refused and died if you were lucky. Otherwise there were torture sessions that could be viewed while we worked. I dreamed of being shot but I couldn't leave my mother alone. My mother admitted she dreamed of the same but couldn't leave me alone. And then there was the hope that our family members were still alive. This was how they had us, many people wonder why so many people cooperated while suffering. Why didn't we band together and strike back, break out and run away!? Why? We thought about these things , formulated plans together, sought information. We looked for escape routes. We were nice even respectful to the guards even though it made us sick.

We hoped, dreamed and prayed for a solution. But alas the problem was they had every avenue sealed up tight and as I grew up in this horrid camp. even at a tender age, I knew this.

One cold winter morning after years of the two of us working together to survive my mother collapsed on the frozen ground and never got back up. I pleaded for just a moment to hold her. For whatever reason the guard allowed it. In My grief I don't know why but I looked up and thanked him for the allowance. It was the man that took my mothers last cake she had made us. I wanted to kill him! I almost stood up but I wanted my mother! I wanted to touch her one last time. Her name was Sarah , she was still beautiful, still perfect. I missed her every minute of everyday. I had friends but I was alone. My bunk which was too small for the both of us in the beginning felt empty. I carried on I have no idea how I did to this day.

I continued on for another year on my own, tirelessly. Still no word from my father or David, I wondered if my father was still alive quite often. Then one day a flourish of activity outside screeched everything to a halt at our prison. Huge trucks came rushing in, I recognized the language as English. I thought how odd? Why were they speaking English? We spent many days in a complete daze for lack of food and despair. I thought maybe I'm hallucinating? They looked at us like they couldn't believe their eyes. We were painfully thin half naked and sick. Its no wonder they turned away with tears streaming down their faces. And then they let it be known ,they were here to free us! I stayed at this camp 2 years, 2 months and 17 days. I survived. I cried for days so much emotion came pouring out of me it was terrifying.

I searched for father and David as soon as I was strong enough to walk for a good length of time. I checked hospitals, our old neighborhood, boards with messages and countless names located on the streets. I was advised to leave Germany and never look back but I had to know if they were alive. I gave up after looking for another 2 years and I finally moved on in so many ways.

I was sitting at a café in France writing my memoirs, it was something I began doing to deal with everything I had been through. It was the eve of my 18th birthday. I decided to celebrate and for the first time in all those years I ordered a slice of chocolate cake with pretty icing in scallops and thought of my mother of course. I teared up a little but I told myself to smile she would want me to enjoy my cake. The waiter brought two pieces I tried to explain I only ordered one. He turned and said “your friend is not joining you?”I looked in the direction he motioned and there was David smiling at me tears running down his beautiful face! I was overjoyed crying hysterically hugging him. He remembered the cake as well. “I told him sadly our mother did not make it”, he said “father had passed the same way.” We embraced over and over again. Finally we sat and talked for hours over coffee and chocolate cake. And of course we ordered another slice.