The Strength to Survive

Szol a Kakas Mar - The Rooster Crows (Hungarian Jewish Song of Hope) Rabbi Yitzchak Isaac Taub, the renown rabbi of Kalev, penned several songs which grew into standards in the Hungarian Jewish scene. The songs' underlying themes - a thirst to commune with the Almighty, ingathering of the exiled Jews in the Land of Israel, and the rebuilding of the Beit Hamikdash (Holy Temple in Jerusalem). Rabbi Taub often picked up the melodies of Hungarian love songs from shepherds as he strolled the fields, and converted them to Jewish themes. Many Jewish concentration camp inmates sang his "Szol a Kakas Mar" for inspiration in their desperate state. More...

We heard air raid alerts and air raid attacks more frequently those months. We knew this meant that Nazi Germany is heading for disaster, approaching its downfall and defeat - an end to its barbaric and murderous reign.

This served us as a glimmer of hope in the midst of a desolate and unhappy existence - a prospect of nearing freedom. Oh, how much we needed to witness, to know about those air raids for our survival. So many perished already from starvation and inhuman treatment. Our existence did not subsist on the inferior provisions that the German Nazis more often than not did not even distribute to us. Our survival depended more so on false rumors, the inspiring air attacks, and our deep faith in the Almighty.

In those passing days, I would "take my post" for long hours, in anticipation of the air attacks. No rain, no snow or storm could divert me from my routine in my utter despair. Every single day, I would faithfully gaze, in a hypnotized condition. From my observation post, I discovered a great source of cattle-beets one of those gray raining days. Just over the fence, at the far side of the road, there was a hill. Its mixture of black cinder and straw covered a large quantity of frozen cattle-beets. Since spotting it, my eyes craved it. Staring long hours at this source of food, I felt I became one with it, longing to reach out and take a few with me.

The distance to the hill of cattle-beets, located by the barbed wire fence, was not far. The problem was how to get there alive, grab a few cattle-beets, and come back alive to enjoy the results of my daring action! This food source stood in a different direction from the kitchen. I thought about walking there and grabbing a few cattle-beets when taking the empty dorge-muse dish back to the kitchen. But this was unthinkable, as the way leading from our gate to the kitchen was almost in the opposite direction. The guard in the watchtower was ready every minute to shoot to death anyone who took a step in the wrong direction. Only eight meters from the kitchen, but no chance to fill my famished stomach with those longed-for cattle-beets. In spite of this hopeless and bleak situation, I dreamed night and day that one day - yes I would - I must - reach over there alive to have a few of those cattle-beets and get back alive to my three-tiered bunk bed. But in the meantime, I just faithfully took my stand sending sad yearning looks over to the cattle-beet hill.

During those endless hours behind the barbed wire fence, other much more heart-rending occurrences attracted my attention. While I stood there without a break, enormous army trucks were filled up to full capacity with skeleton corpses. To where were they hauled? To the crematoria to be burned. In between there were also many naked skeleton bodies transferred by cart. But instead of two strong horses, these horse-carts were pulled and pushed - or rather lugged - by four unfortunate skeletal "living-dead" creatures, in a decaying condition themselves. They hardly dragged themselves along, all four of them propped against the four-wheels of the horse-cart while an armed SS German Nazi guard walked at their side.

As I focused on these inconceivably cruel treatments, one of the skeletal creatures halted. The SS Nazi guard kicked him with his heavy boots on his shinbone. Helplessly, I watched the aftermath, worrying that within a minute or two, the poor fellow would drop dead. But no - the unbelievable happened. The unfortunate skeletal slave pulled along as he leaned against the moving horse cartwheel.

© David Muskal, 2001