Chapter 9 A Fateful Decision

Bergen-Belsen, 1947

T he first day in the Bergen-Belsen camp was one that Franka would never forget. She entered the camp exhausted, with Danka in her arms and pushing Helena's stroller. Her eyes darted about everywhere, searching for people she had spotted from the entrance gate, hoping to see someone familiar. She was astonished to discover that the place was teeming with life – people walking the paths, chatting away peacefully. In the distance she saw a short woman with a big smile coming towards her. "Do I know her?" she asked herself. They approached each other and stopped. The woman greeted her with a friendly "hello."

"Mrs. Butter is my name. Did you come alone with the babies?"

"Yes," answered Franka in Yiddish, the language of her questioner.

Mrs. Butter immediately offered her help and took the suitcase.

"Have you been assigned to a residence? We have space available in the apartment and I would be happy to have you stay with my husband and me. We've been waiting a long time for a woman with children with whom we can share our lives," she said, as if she had known ahead of time that Franka would arrive with her two daughters. We don't have children of our own and we can help you with the babies...What are their names?" she asked directly.

"The older one is Danka and the baby is Helena," replied Franka, "but about your question, I just arrived and haven't yet gone to the registration office with my documents. I'd been waiting for this approval for a very long time."

"How old are the girls?" The woman continued her questioning.

"Danka is almost two and Helena is four months," she quickly answered.

"Are you breastfeeding?"

"Yes," answered Franka.

"It's not easy to find dairy products here every day, but don't worry. I know someone from whom we can get milk and cheese for you. It's good and it's important for you," she said in a mother's warm and caring tone.

Franka followed her to the registry office. On the way, Mrs. Butter asked to see the entry permit. She looked it over quickly, as someone who knows the forms well and is acquainted with the registration procedure. She promised Franka that she would help her with all the paperwork and that she had nothing to be concerned about. When they reached the office, Mrs. Butter went in with her and exchanged a few words with the clerk. Franka was assigned to live in the apartment with Mrs. Butter and her husband. All Franka wanted by then was to reach a place where she could put her head down and get some sleep.

They walked between the rows of identical buildings until Mrs. Butter motioned her to the entrance of one of them. They went up to the first floor. As they approached the end of the corridor, the door of one of the apartments opened and a man appeared in on the threshold.

"Hello. My name is Yanek," he said, holding out his hand for a hearty shake. Franka held out her hand and they stepped inside together.

Mrs. Butter went in after her, put Franka's suitcase in the center of the room and turned to welcome Franka, as befitting an invited guest. "I'm glad you're with us. We'll share our apartment with you and help you get used to the camp. None of us knows how long we'll be here, but we'll do all we can to make you feel comfortable. Remind me of your last name."

"My name is Franka..." she began to say… and got stuck. What should she say this time? Krotenberg? Syten? Yejon? Lewinska? After a short pause she said, "Franka Lewinska. Do you know anyone named Syten or Krotenberg in the camp?"

Mrs. Butter answered without hesitation, "Unfortunately, I haven't come across those names yet, but we'll expand the inquiry later. Come in, sit here on the chair. Would you like some tea?"

Franka nodded. She felt affection for this woman and thanked fate for bringing them together. A short time later, Franka went up on the loft bed feeling relieved, but her rest was soon interrupted by trying to calm Danka, whose sleep that first night in the camp was a restless one.

The tension and anxiety didn't dissipate, and Franka didn't get any sleep. She reflected again on the moment she decided to take her fate in her own hands, return to her real identity and Judaism, and leave Marian. If there's a chance to find someone, it's there in Bergen, she thought at the time. After a long wait at the camp in Hirte, she finally reached her destination. Will she find what she's looking for here?

On Franka's first morning as a camp resident, Mrs. Butter suggested that she come with her to help get a number of things ready for a wedding that evening. "That way you can get familiar with the camp and meet some of the people," she said.

Franka eagerly agreed. Weddings were common in the camp, an almost everyday occurrence. The format was fixed: A rabbi officiated in a makeshift synagogue under the wedding canopy, and after the ceremony, everyone sat down to a meal around a long wooden table. Afterwards, everyone danced and danced. A wedding day was all celebration and elation. Many new loves blossomed in the camp; young couples got married and children were born even less than a year after their parents had married.

These young people found solace in the new families they created. Feelings of renewal and hope for a new life stirred within them after the heartbreaking despair and depression they suffered when they realized that the chances of being reunited with their families were almost nil. It was most difficult right after the liberation. They were weak and listless, and harbored feelings of loneliness, grief, and sorrow – along with feelings of shame and guilt for having survived. Grievous anguish came over them each time they asked themselves how it was possible that they'd remained alive. They had very little information about the fate of their loved ones, or where each of them had taken their last steps in this life ? and there were so many questions. Their hearts were filled with fear and apprehension for the future. Now, in the DP camp, the will to live was reignited and they were quick to build new, trusting, and loving relationships. However, these weren't always successful relationships, and didn't always last after the children were born. Many of the survivors weren't really ready to start families. Some were taken by surprise when the woman got pregnant, as they hadn't planned to start a family at this stage and didn't commit in advance to continue caring for the child after it was born. As a result, many of the babies were given up for adoption.