Surviving the Holocaust: The Journey to Neisse

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 .

Inside the farmhouse where the prisoners were huddled together, Silberberg finally slept for a full night. Using the hay in the barn as a blanket, he huddled close to his father for warmth.

“If I ever survive this war, I have to fulfill my obligation to everyone that died here, my obligation to Uncle Moses. I have to make my way to the promised land and end the persecution of the Jews once and for all,” Silberberg said to his father.

His father looked at him, and his eyes were filled with tears.

“From my mouth to God’s ears,” he said.

***

Tuesday, Jan. 23, 1945

Sirens roared the next morning at dawn. Russian airplanes soared in the skies, dropping hundreds of bombs across the fields. Silberberg looked up at his father.

“What do we do?” he asked his father.

“We are in God’s hands,” he replied.

Silberberg took a quick look around to find his loaf of bread, but it had been stolen. Then the S.S. guards came in and shoved everyone outside. Silberberg had a tin can and needed water desperately.

“I took my canister and filled it with snow,” he said. “Then I pushed it up against my body so it would melt the snow into water. That’s all I had to drink.”

The Nazis gathered all the prisoners and forced them to march toward the highway.

“As the Russians began to drop their bombs, the Nazis became even nastier to us,” said Silberberg. “Every bomb that was dropped caused them to become worse and worse.”

Finally, the Russian bombers flew past the prisoners' convoy and moved on to their next targets. The prisoners marched on. The S.S. guards in the rear continued to whip the prisoners and unleashed German shepherds to maul them. Finally, they came upon another barn and rested.

***

Thursday, Jan. 25, 1945

“Mach schnell! Mach schnell!” (Hurry up! Hurry up!) the S.S. guards yelled at the prisoners and began to whip them out of the barn at dawn. They gathered their belongings and marched out—nearly trampling each other to death—into the freezing cold of the Polish winter.

“We marched towards the direction of Neisse, where my mother was,” said Silberberg. “I knew that my chance to escape was coming soon, and I had to take it.”

As they marched, more and more prisoners collapsed from exhaustion, dying from malnourishment and thirst. Luckily for Silberberg, he found something in his clothing that would sustain him a while longer.

“I remember I was really hungry on the march to Neisse,” he said. “Then I reached into my back pocket and found a few pieces of bread. If I didn’t have those, I wouldn’t have made it.”

***

Friday, Jan. 26, 1945

Finally, at 5 a.m. the group reached Neisse. The prisoners, in shackles, encountered a group of Hitler Youth who stopped by to pay their “respects.”

“That was the time I knew I had to escape,” said Silberberg. “I tore off my prison uniform and had French clothing underneath. I ran away, and I heard the Hitler Youth calling the prisoners “Jewish bastards” and such. I joined in as I walked by so no one would suspect that I was once part of them.

Silberberg then made his way to Neisse to find his mother. The cold chilled him to the bone, the wind howled, and he shivered furiously. On the side of the road he had to go to the bathroom, but even that wasn’t that simple.

“When I stopped to go to the restroom, I relieved myself and just collapsed,” Silberberg said. “I don’t know how long I was on the floor for,  but later on, some Russian prisoners found me when I woke up, and I begged them for a piece of bread, which they gave me.”

Free at last, Silberberg made his way to Neisse. He knew his mother was there. He knew it was where freedom awaited him.

Check back Tuesday for more of Silberberg's story.