Politics & Government
Surviving the Holocaust: Finding Family
Silberberg also feasts on a meal of a lifetime.
Writer's note: Sam Silberberg spoke at Soka University on April 14. His story was extraordinary, and I was given the chance to interview him at his home in Laguna Woods. His story of survival and tragedy will be told through a multi-part series on Aliso Viejo Patch. View the previous story .
Free from bondage and S.S. overseers, Silberberg walked toward a highway that led toward Neisse. Russian bombers still swooped down from the sky and dropped a barrage of bombs aimed at German convoys that headed east and west.
“Whenever the Russians would bomb convoys, the civilians would run to the sides of the road until the raid was over,” Silberberg said. “During one of the raids, I lost my tin can which I kept my water in and had to eat snow in order to quench my thirst.”
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Silberberg moved on, his stomach pain overwhelming him. Just the sight of German peasants eating bratwurst and Kartoffel (potato salad) made the pain worse. Then he smelled something delicious.
“I saw a military field kitchen on a horse-driven sled,” said Silberberg. “There was a German guard and a French POW chef. In the rear of the sled was a large kettle with burning coal that heated the food.”
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Silberberg knew that in order to survive he had to take a gigantic risk: ask the chef for some food.
“I’m a Jew, and I just escaped the march. Could you please give me a piece of bread?” he asked the French chef.
The chef looked down at him and handed him a huge bowl of soup and a large slice of bread covered with melted cheese.
“You know that feeling when you have a great meal?” Silberberg said. “Imagine that multiplied by infinity, and that’s how I felt that day. My stomach blew up like a balloon because I hadn’t eaten for six days, but I didn’t care.”
With Neisse in his sights, Silberberg knew his mother must be near. Only one obstacle remained between their reunion: an S.S. guard.
“Ausweis, bitte,” (ID, please), the guard told Silberberg.
So the guard would not recognize his Jewish-German accent, he used a French-German accent instead.
“I lost my papers. I worked for a German farmer on the outskirts of Gleiwitz,” Silberberg told the guard. “The Russians bombed the fields, and we had to run for cover. I lost him and my papers during the raid.”
“Ausweis, bitte,” the guard repeated back.
At that point, Silberberg pretended he didn’t understand the guard well. They went back and forth until the guard finally told him, “Get the hell lost.”
“The S.S. was really strict, unlike the Vehrmacht [regular army],” Silberberg said. “So I found another way into the city where the S.S. weren’t guarding.”
Once inside he began looking for No. 12 Cloister Strasse. That was where his mother was taken, according to letters he received from Mr. Frank.
A boy passed by, and Silberberg stopped him.
“Do you know where Cloister Strasse is?” he asked.
The boy pointed to a large church.
An iron gate was now the only thing that stood between Silberberg and his mother. He approached the church cautiously, then slowly opened the door inch by inch to see what was inside.
His heart raced. He debated if he should have rung the bell. But he looked inside.
“I saw a large, beautiful wooden banister next to the stairs, and to the left of the door was a huge sculptured cross,” Silberberg said. “The floorboards were polished, and there was an eerie stillness inside.”
Then he walked inside and huddled under the cross.
“The irony of the situation didn’t escape me,” Silberberg said. “Here I am, a Jew hiding underneath a cross, the symbol of Jewish persecution for centuries.”
A woman then passed by as he huddled under the cross.
“Excuse me, please,” he said to the woman.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Do you know a woman by the name of Barbara Zigmund?” Silberberg asked.
“I am Barbara Zigmund,” she replied. “Who are you?”
“It’s me, Mama! Don’t you recognize me?” Silberberg said.
Noticing a tray of cookies and tea on the tray she carried, he reached up and grabbed a cup of tea and as many cookies as he could.
“My mother tried to stop me so no one would be suspicious,” Silberberg said. “She thought I was the chauffer who came to pick up the German couple she was working with. She told me to go outside and wait for her.”
Finally reunited, the Silberbergs finally had hope. Maybe they could make it out of the war alive.
Check back Friday for more of Silberberg's story.