Finding Hannah

            Finding Hannah

Suzanne Marsh

October 31^st, 2022, Auschwitz Poland

“The wraith like specter threw itself on the top of the unmarked grave. The wail made my skin.

crawl.” I wondered if the whole scene was simply my imagination or something more sinister. I had made a promise to my grandmother that I would go to Auschwitz to find what happened to my grandfather. I had no idea what I would find, but I had promised her and I would keep my promise.

I can still see the pain in her face as she told me her story:

“I was born in 1922 to Josef and Ida Lebowitz in Budapest, Hungry. My parents and I hid for

a short while in an old barn on the property of a dear friend of my father’s. The Gestapo,

somehow discovered where we were hiding. We were arrested and deported to Auschwitz.

We were separated when we arrived. My parents were sent to the left; I was sent to the right.

I was quite shaken, but I promised I would survive for their sakes and my own. I was alone.

and afraid. Soldiers shouting orders, whips, dogs…”

Grandmother began to cry as she continued:

“We were marched into a building, sprayed with a disinfectant, our heads shaved and

our left arms tattooed with a number. The number took away I think who we were, our

identity and humanness. We were then marched to our barracks. Dear Gott, there thirty-six

bunkbeds with five to six prisoners across. We were given watery soup, with rotten

vegetables. The barracks had no windows to look out and worst of all no heat in the

winter.

Grandmother’s eyes began to tear:

“There were private companies such as IG Farben and Bavarian Motor Works, you

them as the BMW cars. We were forced to work there as free labor. I saw so many

things when I was there. I saw a baby tossed in the air and caught on a bayonet. I

heard the screams of people being tortured. Public whippings I remember a girl not

much older than I being whipped, her back was like strings of flesh. They left

her tied there to die. Her crime was stealing a rotten cabbage leaf. The sights I

saw, I can never let go of. How many of us suffered and perished during those

years will never be known. I want you to promise me you will go there; see if you

can find any records of my friend Hannah Swartz. I need to know what happened to

her. This is my only request.”

I stared at the frail old woman sitting opposite me in a wheelchair; how was I going to trace one woman? I had no idea where to start but I patted grandma’s hand:

“I will do what I can grandma.”

Since I was a journalist, I did have access to all types of documents; maybe it would be easy to simply go to the German Embassy, if nothing else the Germans kept very good records. I called the embassy the following morning:

“Good morning, my name is Sarah Rabinowitz I am calling in regard to a Hannah Swartz.

She was an inmate in Auschwitz in 1944.”

The voice on the other end began:

“The embassy does not keep those type of records. I can give you a central number to call

the museum in Auschwitz. They may be able to help you.”

I continued:

“I need to find her and soon. I will begin by calling the museum, thank you for all your

help.”

Help, I hung up the phone and dialed the number:

“Ja, how may I assist you?”

I was at a loss for words as I stammered:

“I, I am seeking help in finding Hannah Swartz. She was a prisoner until she was

freed in 1945.”

The voice was shaken:

“I have no record of her in Auschwitz/Birkenau that does not mean she was not here. I

don’t vish to discourage you. Let me try several other listings. May I have a phone

number?”

“1-555-5511?”

“I vill call you back shortly.”

This made no sense to me; I decided I was not going to wait for a call back. Grandmother was so frail that every minute counted. I quickly made a plane reservation to Krakow, Poland. I put together a

small carry-on bag driving to the airport for a plane that left in two hours. I thought of grandma showing me the tattoo on her left arm. She trembled as she showed me. I hoped I would be able to trace Hannah Swartz and quickly.

The plane landed in Krakow the following morning. I rented a car I turned onto A4, it would take one hour and two minutes. My stomach began to churn the closer I got to Auschwitz; I felt very

uneasy. I saw the sign at the entrance: “Arbeit Macht Frei” translated: Work sets you free. I quickly found the museum, strode in and found myself face to face with the person I spoken to the day before:

“Are you the person I spoke with yesterday regarding Hannah Swartz?”

“Ja, I am her. I found the information>”

Her hand shook as she handed over the file folder. She was kind enough to show me to a quiet area where I could read. I opened the file there was a side portrait of a beautiful dark haired young woman.

Her story was terrifying, how could I possibly return to the United States and tell my grandmother what fate had befallen her friend. I began to read the report dated 30 December 1945:

Prisoner 45661 caught stealing bread. Kapo Stillman discovered theft. She was taken to

one of the special cells. She was injected with carbolic acid.

My heart sank at this discovery; how could I face my grandmother? I sighed handing the folder back to the white-haired woman who had helped me. She appeared to have something to say:

“I don’t know what your connection was to Hannah Swartz but there is something else you should

know that is not in the file. Hannah was not stealing the bread for herself, she was stealing

it for me. I am her sister Rebekah.”

This was something totally unexpected I stumbled over my words:

“My grandmother is Sarah Lebowitz, she asked me to see if I could locate Hannah.”

“Come, sit over here and I will tell you the entire truth. I remember your grandmother,

she was always with Hannah; they were the best of friends. Hannah, was caught by

that miserable she- devil of a Kapo. She had a very small crust of bread that she was

bringing to me, I was starving. The Kapo, was merciless. Hannah was marched to the

commandants’ office. She was sentenced to a special starving cell, after two weeks of

nothing to eat she was given an injection of carbolic acid. I was still very weak so I

was not informed about her death until much later. Your grandmother, had been removed

from the barracks that Hannah and I were in, we never saw her again. I am assuming she

survived.”

The tears trickled down my face as I replied:

“Thank you for your candor, I will tell my grandmother.”

I flew back home the following morning. I had no idea what I was going to tell my grandmother. I visited her on January 1, 2023. I transverse the sidewalk of the nursing home, making my way to her room. I knocked; her frail voice answered:

“Yes, please come in.”

She saw me through cloudy eyes:

“Did you find Hannah?”

Grandmother was not going to make this easy:

“Yes, grandmother, I found her. She passed away from an injection of carbolic acid in a

special starving cell, for stealing a piece of bread. I met her sister Rebekah, she told me

the entire story. I am sorry the news was not better.”

Her breathing became ragged:

“I vill never forget Hannah; I will never let her go in my heart.”

Those were her last words to me and to the world.