Category Archives: Stories of Terezin

Vera and Pavel Stransky: Messengers of the Terezin Ghetto

Children in Terezin, Stories of Terezin, Terezin Writers,

Soon after discovering the remarkable story of Inge Katz and Schmuel Berger, who met and fell in love in Terezin, I learned about another incredible Terezin love story. It’s the story of a young couple, Pavel Stransky and Vera Stadler, who met and fell in love during one of the darkest times in human history.

Pavel Stransky and Vera Stadler’s Life Before the War

As Pavel relates in his account, As Messengers for the Victims, he met Vera during the summer of 1938, when both of their families vacationed in a small town in eastern Bohemia. 16-year-old Vera, a pretty, dark-haired girl, caught Pavel’s eye, and he invited her to go to a dance with him. As the months progressed, their relationship
blossomed, and by 1941, they were engaged
to be married. 

The young couple struggled to retain hope for the future in the face of tremendous odds, including Nazi persecution and the tragic suicide of Pavel’s father. Drawing strength from the love he and Vera shared, Pavel underwent a teacher training course and accepted a job teaching Czech at the one remaining Jewish elementary school in Prague. 

But Pavel never had the chance to start his teaching job. On December 1, 1941 he was transported to Terezin along with one thousand other young men. Not long after, Vera and her family arrived in Terezin on another transport. 

A Terezin Ghetto Love Story

Upon their arrival, Vera and Pavel were assigned to barracks and given jobs in the camp. Pavel worked in a food warehouse as a porter while Vera was responsible for distributing meager food rations to the residents of Terezin. 

After two incredibly difficult years in Terezin, Pavel was assigned to a transport in
the winter of 1943. In despair at the thought of being separated, and not knowing where the transport was heading, Pavel and Vera decided to get married. This would allow Vera to join him on the journey to the unknown. 

Vera and Pavel married the night before the transport, under a makeshift cloth chuppah held up by four men. No wine was available for the ceremony, so the couple drank from a bowl filled with a bitter coffee substitute. There were no rings to exchange and no glass to step on, and they never even received a marriage contract. 

The newly married couple spent their wedding night in a vast room with Vera’s mother and 2,500 other prisoners, sitting on their suitcases and holding hands as the hours passed. The next morning, the young couple was crammed into a cattle car with other prisoners, where they were forced to remain for days without food or water.

Auschwitz and the Czech Family Camp

Days later, the transport arrived at Auschwitz, where Pavel, Vera and thousands of
other exhausted and starving prisoners staggered from the cattle cars onto a
ramp illuminated by blazing spotlights. SS guards shouted at the prisoners and beat them as they forced the men away from the women and children. They grouped the new arrivals into rows of five and marched them from the ramp. No selection took place, and
no prisoners were sent to the gas chambers that night. 

Pavel and the other men arrived at a large washroom, where they were forced to remove all their valuables and clothing. Then other prisoners shaved their bodies,
tattooed numbers on their left forearms, and then forced them to stand under freezing cold showers. Driven from the showers, Pavel and the other men had to wait outside in the icy air for hours, until other prisoners delivered threadbare uniforms and wooden shoes. 

The treatment that Pavel and the other people on his transport received was different from what most new arrivals at Auschwitz experienced. Their heads were left unshaved,
and everyone on the transport – men, women, and children – were sent to one camp and housed in separate men’s and women’s blocks. This camp was known as the “Czech Family Camp”, and it was another Nazi hoax concocted to fool the Red Cross into thinking that
the  prisoners were treated relatively well. 

To keep the hoax going, the Nazis kept this camp filled with relatively healthy prisoners, most of whom arrived on transports from Terezin. Every six months, the Nazis
sent surviving prisoners to the gas chambers and replaced them with prisoners
from another transport. 

Soon after arriving in the camp, Pavel was put to work carrying heavy rocks for use in the construction of a road, while Vera had to transport barrels of soup to the workers. In
an incredible act of love, Vera often risked her own life to smuggle extra rations of soup to Pavel so he could keep up his strength. 

After a few days of this bone-breaking work, something remarkable happened due to the efforts of Fredy Hirsch, a gifted athlete and youth leader who also arrived in Auschwitz in September 1943. Determined to help the children in any way he could, Fredy
fearlessly approached Doctor Mengele and asked for permission to create a children’s block in the camp. Mengele agreed and put Fredy in charge of the children’s block. 

Since Pavel had taken a teacher training course in Prague, he was assigned to be one of the coordinators of the children’s block. In this hell on earth, Pavel, Fredy, and several others did everything possible to improve the lives of these condemned children, to shield them from the horrors of camp life, and to provide them with fleeting moments of happiness.

They taught them songs and lessons from memory, organized art and poetry competitions, and helped them create skits and dances. Tragically, the devotion of Pavel and the other coordinators could not save these children, and almost all of them were murdered in the gas chambers of Auschwitz. 

Years after the war ended, Pavel remained haunted by the loss of these children, and could never stop wondering who they would have grown up to be, what gifts and contributions they would have made to the world.

Liberation and Life After Terezin

By June 1944, the Nazis were on the losing side of the war, and they made a desperate push to manufacture more weapons. They sent transports of healthier prisoners, including Pavel, to work in a factory at the Schwarzheide concentration camp. Vera was also chosen to work, and placed on a different transport to another factory.

At Schwarzheide, Pavel and the other prisoners were forced to work long hours clearing away the debris of Allied air raids. The conditions were unbearable, with meager rations, no hygiene options, and nothing to wear but ragged clothing, even in the bitter winter.

Then, in April 1945, all surviving prisoners at Schwarzheide were forced on a terrifying 19 day death march through the German countryside, back towards Terezin. Finally, on May 7th, 1945, the SS abruptly stopped the march and fled. There Pavel stood with his surviving companions, starving, ragged, and weighing just 70 pounds, but a free man at last. 

Within days, Pavel returned to Prague with just one mission: to find his beloved Vera once again. As the months passed, Pavel gradually recovered his health and continued to search tirelessly for news of his wife, but learned nothing. Still, he refused to give into despair, and continued to hold out hope. 

Then, two months later, the doorbell of the apartment where he was staying rang. Pavel opened the door, and was overwhelmed with emotion as he gazed at Vera standing right in front of him, looking as beautiful as ever. 

Filled with indescribable joy at being reunited, they married a second time, this time under a real chuppah, with wine for the ceremony. They were never again separated in more than 50 years of marriage, during which time they raised four children and six grandchildren. 

Pavel later wrote a book about their experiences during the war, and traveled to schools throughout Europe and the United States sharing their story with younger generations. He considered himself and Vera to be messengers for the victims of the Holocaust and after Vera’s death, Pavel continued his mission in her memory. In 2015 Pavel himself passed away, rejoining his beloved Vera once again. 

 

Roses in a Forbidden Garden: A Holocaust Love Story

Stories of Terezin,

On an autumn evening in 1944, a young man and woman meet behind the
Hamburg Barracks in the Terezin ghetto to take an evening walk, as is their
custom. Somehow, despite the terrible conditions of the ghetto, they
found each other, and their friendship quickly blossomed into love. Even
here love can thrive, in spite of tremendous odds and the constant threat
of transports to the unknown. 

For many months they’ve been spared, but now the young man’s luck has run out and he’ll be leaving on a transport in the morning. Sensing he has nothing to lose, the young man leads his beloved to a walled garden, where wild roses beckon to them from beyond the wrought iron gate. The garden
is forbidden to them, but the young man climbs over the gate and searches the prickly branches until he finds a perfect pink rose. He presents the rose to the woman he loves, along with a picture of himself as a final gift to remember him by. 

In just a couple more days, Schmuel Berger boards a transport to the East, and neither he nor Inge Katz know if they’ll ever see each other again. They both knew the risks of falling in love in Terezin, knew that they were on borrowed time, and still they made the courageous choice to love one another.

Ironically, if it hadn’t been for the war, they would have probably never met. Inge was born and raised in Bremen, Germany, the daughter of a successful businessman, while Schmuel grew up on a farm in a small Czech town. It was only after they were sent to Terezin that their paths crossed.

Inge and Schmuel’s love story is the focus of the book Roses in a Forbidden Garden:
A Holocaust Love Story, a compelling and powerful memoir written by
their granddaughter, Elise Garibaldi. The book details Inge’s early life,
including her family’s suffering at the hands of the Nazis, her time in Terezin,
and her experiences after the war.

Inge’s Life Before Terezin

Inge Katz, a strikingly pretty girl with dark hair and vivid green eyes, grew up in a close-knit and loving family consisting of her charming, handsome father, elegant mother, and Oma Rosa, her gentle, devout grandmother. From the time she was a young child, she had
a special bond with Ruthie Cohen, her cousin and best friend. Inge was more on the
quiet and reserved side, while Ruthie was outgoing and confident, and always looked out for Inge. 

Under the Nazis, both girls experienced increasing persecution, and were eventually banned from attending school. A Christian woman offered them apprenticeships in her dress shop, and they eagerly accepted this opportunity. As their skills grew, Ruthie and Inge dreamed of opening their own dress shop one day, even as life became increasingly difficult.

During Kristallnacht, the Nazis broke into Inge’s home, smashing everything in sight, and jailing Inge’s father, Carl, for several weeks. Soon after, the family was forced to move into a cramped house in a dilapidated section of town. 

They coped with the situation as best as they could, despite their tight living conditions and food shortages. But things changed forever in November 1941, when Inge, Ruthie, and their families were assigned to a transport East.

At the last moment, the Nazis removed Inge’s family from the transport, but Inge was heartbroken that she would be separated from Ruthie. She accompanied Ruthie and her family to the train, where she hugged Ruthie tightly and reassured her they would meet again soon. Choked with emotion, Inge waved to her cousin as the train took off, the wind blowing Ruthie’s long brown hair over her face. Inge stayed on the platform for a long time after the train departed, wondering if she would ever see Ruthie again. 

Despite missing her cousin terribly, Inge, like the rest of her family, continued following her daily routine and tried to maintain a positive outlook. As the winter of 1942 dragged on, Inge often worried about Ruthie, and hoped she was safe and warm wherever she was. They’d never been apart for so long, and Inge just wanted to be reunited with her cousin and best friend. 

The Transport to Terezin

Then in June 1942, right after her eighteenth birthday, Inge’s family received a summons to report for the next transport. Inge boarded a train to the unknown wearing her new skirt suit of soft brown wool, a birthday gift from her parents. 

The train left them at an isolated station called Bauschowitz, and everyone on
the transport was forced to walk for two hours in the hot July sun until they arrived at Terezin. They were led to a large building to register and assigned to barracks. Their block leader, also a Jewish prisoner, took a liking to Inge and allowed her and her family to stay in a small room at the top floor of the building. 

Inge’s family was grateful to be together, but that didn’t spare them from the unspeakably awful conditions in the camp. Dozens of people shared a single filthy outhouse, and they only had cold water from a pump to wash with. Their meals mostly consisted of watery soup with rotten vegetables, small loaves of bread, and “coffee” which was actually
a tasteless brown liquid made from grain. 

Still, Inge’s grandmother insisted that the family pray together each night, and urged them not to turn their backs on God. Despite everything, Inge remained grateful that she, her parents, and her grandmother were together.

But Inge soon suffered two terrible losses. Immediately after arriving, Inge began searching for Ruthie, only to learn that no other transports from Bremen had ever arrived in Terezin. The news dashed Inge’s hopes that she would be reunited with her cousin.

And just two weeks after their arrival at Terezin, Inge’s grandmother passed away suddenly, leaving another gaping void in the lives of Inge and her parents. Despite their grief, they continued to pray together at night, knowing that’s what Oma Rosa would have wanted. Inge also attended religious services in the ghetto, determined to hold fast to her faith. 

Few younger people attended these services, but during Yom Kippur prayers, Inge spotted two young men. One of the men was tall, blond, and extremely handsome, and impressed Inge with his reverence as he prayed. When he glanced up and met Inge’s eyes, she shyly looked away. But for many weeks that followed, she found herself hoping to meet him again. 

Little did Inge realize that the young man was also taken by her, and was determined to find a way to meet her. It took him four months, but eventually he discovered that Inge worked in the records office and appeared outside the building one day. Speaking in Czech-accented German, he told Inge his name was Schmuel Berger and invited her to go for a walk with him after work. 

The next afternoon, they walked through the streets of Terezin, getting to know each other. When Inge discovered that Schmuel worked in the bakery, she balked. Since food was so scarce in the camp, many young women threw themselves at men who worked in
the bakery or kitchens. For this reason, Inge worried it would damage her reputation to be seen with Schmuel. But Schmuel reassured Inge that she never had to worry when she was with him.

They continued to walk together in the evenings, and as the weeks went by Inge realized her mood was lifting, and even found herself beginning to enjoy life again. 

On Inge’s nineteenth birthday, Schmuel presented her with two special gifts – a small cake and a tiny flowerpot with a single bright marigold in it. He’d secured the flower at a tremendous risk to himself, and Inge became choked with emotion when she held it in her hands. Even though keeping a plant was forbidden, Inge held onto that flower for many weeks.

As the months passed, their connection deepened, their love continued to grow, and Inge found herself dreaming of their future together. Then, in late September 1944,
Schmuel arrived for their walk deeply shaken, and told Inge he was assigned to the next transport. They tried to remain strong but were both devastated by the news, knowing it meant they would probably never see each other again. 

The night before the transport left, they walked together one last time, and
Schmuel presented Inge with a perfect pink rose from the walled garden. 

Inge’s world was shattered after Schmuel left, and she spent countless evenings thinking of him and fearing what he might be going through. Still, Inge held fast to the dim hope that one day they would be reunited. 

Liberation and the Long Journey Home

Inge continued to hope after Terezin was liberated by the Russians in May 1945, and after she and her parents returned to Bremen to start rebuilding their lives. 

But as months went by with no word from Schmuel, Inge’s parents began to worry about her, feeling she needed to move on instead of holding out hope for someone who would probably never return. Even so, Inge continued to search tirelessly to uncover information about Schmuel, but with no luck.

Then one day, in late summer 1945, Inge received a letter, written in handwriting that looked familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it. Her heart leaped when she opened the envelope and found a note from Schmuel, saying that he was on his way back to her. Scarcely able to believe it, Inge read his letter over and over until she was finally convinced it was real. 

Inge on her wedding day. Photo courtesy of Elise Garibaldi.

But as weeks and then months passed with no sign of
him, Inge began to fear he would never arrive. Then on New Year’s Day, 1946, Inge spotted Schmuel walking hesitantly up to the front door of her family’s apartment building and hurried to greet him.  Both of them were overcome with a mix of joy and apprehension, wondering if their feelings for each other would still be the same. 

But soon after Schmuel entered the apartment, he spotted the picture he had given Inge the night before he left Terezin. At that moment Schmuel knew Inge hadn’t forgotten him, and had been waiting for him all this time. And when he smiled at Inge and asked her to go for a walk, Inge knew he had been thinking of her and only her during the many months of suffering he’d endured in the Nazi concentration camps.

Together, arm in arm, they exited the apartment and walked through the streets of Bremen, free and together at last.

Schmuel and Inge’s story is a remarkable and inspiring tale of love and hope
that flourished in the most unimaginable of places, a Nazi ghetto and concentration camp.
Even though World War II was one of the darkest times in human history, it’s crucial
to remember the human side of the story, that many people still held onto their humanity, and continued to love and dream and hope for a better world. Through their remarkable story, Inge and Schmuel teach us the powerful lesson that pure love can endure in the face of insurmountable odds, and is capable of radiating hope and light in even the darkest times.

Inge and Schmuel with their daughters Hanna and Ruthie. Photo courtesy of Elise Garibaldi.