The emotional turmoil we are all going through in Israel may lead to a new concept of how we are going to defend ourselves in the hostile world surrounding us. Almost all Israelis are deeply convinced that we have no other country and are ready to defend it, no matter what. But as Holocaust survivors, Israel means much more to us than people realize.
Israel not only gave us back a country after two thousand years of Galut, but it restored our dignity as human beings and as Jews. As a young boy, I witnessed how the Nazis were murdering our people, but I also remember the contempt they had for us. They humiliated us, and ground our dignity and humanity into the dirt. To them, we were less than human - as they repeatedly told us.
I will never forget how a German humiliated my father and made him crawl for his life. There is a big difference between having to crawl for your life and having to crawl to defend your life for the sake of your country, with weapon in hand. Israel not only gave us back our country, but it also restored our dignity.
"What does Israel mean to you as a Holocaust survivor? And why did you risk your life after surviving the Holocaust, going to Israel to fight in its War of Independence?"
I was asked that question by a German youth three years ago while lecturing in Frankfurt. The young German had read my book Light One Candle (which was translated into German under the title of Das Andere Leben).
My answer was that I was born in Lithuania, where most Jews were Zionist and we all aspired to emigrate to Israel, our ancient homeland. But there was another reason why we Holocaust survivors went to Israel. And that will also answer the first question, what Israel means to me as a Holocaust survivor.
Fifty years after our liberation, I was lucky to have my book published and later translated into German and Japanese. The book is based on my childhood diary, describing our sufferings in the Kovno Ghetto and in the Dachau concentration camp. It took me 50 gut-wrenching years to be able to expose myself, my family, my friends not only to the horrors of the Nazi camps, but to the humiliation of being reduced to a pitiful creature, groveling at the feet of our torturers for a scrap of food. We didn't beg for our lives - we knew that we were going to be murdered sooner or later - we begged for food.
The Nazi aim to reduce us to creatures that had no shame, no pride, no self-esteem, was achieved. We were those creatures. We were reduced to the primal animal instinct of self-preservation, which is why most of us did not commit suicide en masse. Animals don't commit suicide.
Later, fighting in the Jewish defense forces, with rifle in hand, restored our dignity as human beings and as Jews. Regaining our dignity was as important as coming home to Israel.
To give you an idea of what I am talking about, what follows is an excerpt from my observations on the day of our liberation, May 2, 1945, in Waakirchen, Germany.
Years later, I described myself as the trunk of a burnt tree that gradually, through the years, grew new branches and restored itself to a normal shape. I managed to get married, have children and lead a satisfying life. But I was not the same human being that I was before the Holocaust.
Everything that I am today, I owe to my country, the State of Israel. Quite often, I strongly disagree with the policies of our politicians, but I will quote a saying I once heard in England:
"Right or wrong, this is my country."
Israel not only gave us back a country after two thousand years of Galut, but it restored our dignity as human beings and as Jews. As a young boy, I witnessed how the Nazis were murdering our people, but I also remember the contempt they had for us. They humiliated us, and ground our dignity and humanity into the dirt. To them, we were less than human - as they repeatedly told us.
I will never forget how a German humiliated my father and made him crawl for his life. There is a big difference between having to crawl for your life and having to crawl to defend your life for the sake of your country, with weapon in hand. Israel not only gave us back our country, but it also restored our dignity.
"What does Israel mean to you as a Holocaust survivor? And why did you risk your life after surviving the Holocaust, going to Israel to fight in its War of Independence?"
I was asked that question by a German youth three years ago while lecturing in Frankfurt. The young German had read my book Light One Candle (which was translated into German under the title of Das Andere Leben).
My answer was that I was born in Lithuania, where most Jews were Zionist and we all aspired to emigrate to Israel, our ancient homeland. But there was another reason why we Holocaust survivors went to Israel. And that will also answer the first question, what Israel means to me as a Holocaust survivor.
Fifty years after our liberation, I was lucky to have my book published and later translated into German and Japanese. The book is based on my childhood diary, describing our sufferings in the Kovno Ghetto and in the Dachau concentration camp. It took me 50 gut-wrenching years to be able to expose myself, my family, my friends not only to the horrors of the Nazi camps, but to the humiliation of being reduced to a pitiful creature, groveling at the feet of our torturers for a scrap of food. We didn't beg for our lives - we knew that we were going to be murdered sooner or later - we begged for food.
The Nazi aim to reduce us to creatures that had no shame, no pride, no self-esteem, was achieved. We were those creatures. We were reduced to the primal animal instinct of self-preservation, which is why most of us did not commit suicide en masse. Animals don't commit suicide.
Later, fighting in the Jewish defense forces, with rifle in hand, restored our dignity as human beings and as Jews. Regaining our dignity was as important as coming home to Israel.
To give you an idea of what I am talking about, what follows is an excerpt from my observations on the day of our liberation, May 2, 1945, in Waakirchen, Germany.
...David came back with a huge can of carrots and peas that he found outside an American army field kitchen. The can was bulging out and it was obvious that the food inside was spoiled. He tried to open it with a sharp stone, but the can wouldn't budge. I told him that the food must be spoiled and he laughed. He reminded me of the rotten potatoes we found in a field and ate, when we were in Lager 10. He didn't think that the food inside the can could be worse.Years later, I spoke to some of my survivor friends about their feelings and thoughts on the day they were liberated. The majority told me that they don't remember having any feelings. They only felt sensations; and the overwhelming one, that drowned out all others, was the insatiable craving for food. It took some time for the stunning shock of being free to sink in. That happened only after the craving for food gradually subsided, when we stuffed ourselves with huge amounts of food provided by the passing US army. Many died from overeating the type food that our emaciated bodies couldn't digest.
Gershon suddenly got up and started running towards us screaming, his eyes bulging, and vomiting all over himself. Then, he collapsed in the snow, twitched a few times and lay still.
The horsemeat was getting soft. I tasted a piece; it was still hard, but soon I would be able to eat it. I put some more twigs on the fire to keep it going and the melted snow bubbled in the can, softening the horsemeat. David was still trying to open the can of carrots and peas. Gershon's face was getting gray. David finally managed to make a hole in the can and a stream of foul-smelling gas came out of it. I offered him some of my horse meat. We chewed the hard meat and looked at Gershon.
"You know, they not only murdered us, but murdered our feelings and compassion," David said, continuing to chew the horse meat.
Years later, I described myself as the trunk of a burnt tree that gradually, through the years, grew new branches and restored itself to a normal shape. I managed to get married, have children and lead a satisfying life. But I was not the same human being that I was before the Holocaust.
Everything that I am today, I owe to my country, the State of Israel. Quite often, I strongly disagree with the policies of our politicians, but I will quote a saying I once heard in England:
"Right or wrong, this is my country."