Zofia Lubińska, born in 1933

Political prisoner no. 79393

I was born in Łódź as the only child of parents who were no longer so young. My mother, Chaja (after the war, Halina), née Menkes, and Father, Juda Leon (after the war, Józef) were not rich people, but our home was comfortable. Both my parents had positions in offices of private firms, and I was taken care of by a nanny.

The war began very early for me. At the end of August 1939, I was on my way back from Zakopane, where Jurek Weltfreid, the son of friends of my parents, and I had been recovering from whooping cough. The trains were filled with soldiers, the lights were blue and dimmed, and there were long stops at railroad stations. Father was waiting for us at the Łódź Fabryczny Railroad Station, happy that we had returned.

At the end of August 1939 – war broke out on September 1, 1939.

Later, everything moved very fast. Father was severely beaten by a German officer for refusing to clean his boots. At the beginning of 1940, there was a hurried move to the ghetto. We settled in a single small room without any conveniences that also served as a kitchen. Little of our furniture could fit there—half of my parents’ marital bed set, my small bed, a round table, and a few chairs.

After the ghetto was closed, I attended school for a short time (maybe a couple of weeks). However, only Yiddish was spoken there, and I had never heard that language before. Therefore, Jurek’s mother started teaching us (they lived on the same floor and in the same house as we), but these studies took place very irregularly and only until 1942. It was then that Jurek and his mama were deported to Auschwitz where they both perished.

When the word spread that children below the age of ten would be resettled, my birth certificate was altered; a year and a half was added to my age. Thanks to this, I was able to begin work, first, as a laborer in a straw “shop.” There, protective boot covers were being sewn out of straw for German soldiers. However, this job was beyond my abilities. Some merciful soul transferred me to an office where I carried out the duties of a courier. When I proved unproductive there as well, my parents arranged to get me a place in the tailoring department.

During a blockade in 1942, I was sick with the measles. I had a fever of 40°C (104°F), a cough, and an intolerance to light. And it was just then that all the children were being taken away, particularly those below the age of ten. Nobody asked to see documents. I was small, slight, and sick, and, therefore, to be deported. When Jewish policemen entered our apartment, Mama blocked the part of my bed sticking out beyond the wardrobe and asserted categorically that there were no children there. To this day, I do not know whether the policeman did not see or did not want to see. It was enough that he announced to the supervising German that he did not find any children.

During the entire stay in the Łódź Ghetto, both my parents worked, undertaking various jobs. I don’t know what work Mama did. However, Father was, in succession, an office worker in the Jewish Community’s Department of Provisions, in the bakery, and in the fire brigade. Thus, we lasted until the end of the summer of 1944, when I was deported to the concentration camp in Ravensbrück together with my mother. Here, I spent the initial period of time in the notorious tent camp together with a group of Gypsies. Later, I stayed together with them, in Block 23, as political prisoner no. 79393. My mother worked hard, frequently outside the camp, cutting down a forest. Malnourished and sick, she landed for a time in the infirmary. I found myself alone, fortunately, not for long.

In the winter of 1944 on Christmas Eve, we children were taken to a Jugendlager (youth camp) I saw beautifully set tables, bending, so it seemed to me, under the weight of food. I brought Mama an apple, which later, in the end, I ate myself. It was my only apple during the war.

As the front line was approaching, the liquidation of the camp be- gan. In this way, I found myself in the next camp, Königs Wusterhausen. This camp was less rigorous than Ravensbrück, but one wasn’t supposed to get sick there, either. But I had a high fever, inflammation of the blad- der, and, in addition, mumps. Complications of the diseases from those times still affect me today. In spite of this, I recall this period as being better than others. Perhaps the approaching end of the war caused those guarding us to be less cruel. In any case, I do not remember them tor- menting prisoners or shooting them during that time.

A short time later came a further evacuation deeper into Germany, to the Oranienburg-Sachsenhausen Camp. Here, total chaos reigned already. The camp was being liquidated and transports of prisoners departed daily, and our turn came, too. One night, we traveled on foot some forty kilometers. In this enormous mass of humanity, at a certain moment, Mama saw Father. He was exhausted to the limit, continuously lagging behind the group, which placed one in danger of being shot. As usual, a chance occurrence, but also human kindness, permitted him to make this journey together with us. We reached some German estate (perhaps the place was called Lotarghof, but I am not sure) where we were placed in enormous stables while the horses were let loose in the fields.

After a few hours, a German soldier appeared and announced that all the other Germans had fled. He advised us to escape because they might come back. Thus, we walked or rather dragged ourselves further on. We spent the night in some abandoned barn, then in the fields under Russian and German fire. In the morning of May 1, 1945, at four o’clock, we were free. I remember to this day the smell of pea soup (from a Soviet field kitchen) which Mama would not let me eat. All those hungry people whom nobody kept from eating probably did not return to their homes. (_)

“nobody kept from eating”… – many people died after liberation from eating rich food to which their stomachs were unaccustomed.

Two weeks later, on the fifteenth of May, after many difficult moments, all three of us found ourselves again in Łódź. My father, exhausted and ailing, never fully recovered. He passed away in 1958. Mama survived him by ten years. From Mama’s very large family, only one sister survived (also in the Łódź Ghetto) as well as a niece who ended up in a cloister after the liquidation of the ghetto in Stanisławów. She promised her mother that she would never admit her origins, and she has kept her word. Despite many efforts by my parents who found her, she did not want to have anything to do with her Jewish family. On Father’s side, several cousins were saved. They all lived in Warsaw and survived the entire occupation on the Aryan side.

As for me, two weeks after returning from the camp, I started studying in the fourth grade of an elementary school. However, because of tuberculosis symptoms in the lungs, I had to interrupt my studies and was treated for over half a year in a sanitarium in Łagiewniki near Łódź. From the sixth grade on, I attended the First General Education School of the Society of Friends of Children where, in 1952, I received a matriculation certificate.

After passing the required examinations, I was admitted to study in the Department for Physicians at the Medical Academy in Łódź. In December 1958, I received a medical diploma. I started professional work in January 1959 in the clinic for children, and from 1961 on, I have been, in succession, assistant, senior assistant, and lecturer, in the Neonatal Department at the Institute of Gynecology and Obstetrics of the above mentioned academy in Łódź. In 1986, I left work at my own request, and I remained on disability pension until December 1987. At that time, I undertook work again at the Polish Mothers Health Center where, until now, I have been employed as deputy chief of the Neonatal Department.

Department for Physicians – a Polish medical academy typically has three departments – for physicians, dentists, and pharmacists.

I achieved specialization in pediatrics, the first level in 1967, and the second, in 1973. In 1972, I defended my thesis for a doctoral degree in Medicine. I have been married since 1961. I have two sons (twenty-eight and twenty-three years old) and a magnificent two-year-old grandson.

Łódź, 1992