The story of Gizela - Afik Shiraz. Abinun Shmuel

and forth. When the Berlin train station area was bombed the German soldiers, who were watching over us, opened the doors and fled the train, leaving us unattended. Some prisoners, who knew German, took the opportunity and fled too, but I didn't join them because my father was already in a very poor condition and had to be looked after. Some young guys, who were in relatively good physical condition, entered the food cart and brought us condensed, sweetened milk tubes, which I applied to the slice of bread left for me. It was an act of mutual guarantee that characterized the Yugoslav community - we are all Yugoslavs, all Jews, all of us suffered the same and we all cared for each other whenever possible us. Then we continued our journey, back and forth. Soon the food portions that were distributed to us were very low, and once in a while the train had to stop to evacuate the deceased prisoners and bury them in a mass grave. At every such stop the Germans kept a neat record of the dead. On April 17, 1945, my father died from typhus, starvation and from weakness, despite all my efforts to keep him alive. At that moment I couldn't feel sadness. I was sealed. At Shipakao Station he was taken off the train, and I didn't shed a single tear. I was devoid of any emotion. The only thing I knew at that moment was that now I had to take care of Cila and Dinah as Dad cared for them to this day; I'm the big one of all three of us, and now it's my responsibility. From Shipakao we continued for several more kilometers to Treobitz, where the train stopped, and on April 23, 1945, we were liberated by the Russian army. To this day, I mark this date as my second birthday. In Bergen-Belsen I lost my uncle, grandmother, mother and father. Of our entire family survived only my aunt Flora, my father's sister-in-law and her three children: Salomon, Moses and Matilda, my cousin Bato (Menachem), my cousin Dinah, my sister Cila and me. When the train stopped at Treobitz, the Germans fled. My sister and my cousin, were with fever of typhus, and with others, who were too sick and weak to go, stayed on the train. I got off the train and walked a km or two until I got to town. There I entered one of the abandoned houses, opened the wardrobe that I found. I took off my clothes, which were filthy and lice infested, and I wore clean clothes for the first time after long time. I took clothes for my sister Cila too, but for my little cousin I didn't find suitable clothes, as it was a childless home. When I left, I met a Russian soldier of Jewish origin who gave me a third loaf of big bread, which weighed almost like I did. Beyond the bread that soldier gave me he gave me also a piece of ham, fatty pork. As I approached for the train I asked to help me get on the trailer, and fortunately one of the people shouted at me to throw the ham, not because it wasn't Kosher but because with our health it could not be digested, and it could cause us dysentery or even death. Despite being hungry I heard his advice and we ate from the bread smeared with the sweet, concentrated milk. Then we didn't know yet about all those unlucky The Liberation in Treobitz

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