The Blue Eyes of Auschwitz

An Interview with Lola

Narration: Today I’m in New York City and I’m going to visit Lola.

Interviewer: Hello.

Lola: Hi. Hi.

Interviewer: Hi, Lola. How are you? Don’t stand up, you’re fine. It’s good to meet you. Very good to meet you.

Lola: Oh, you’re beautiful.

Interviewer: Thank you. So are you. Beautiful. I brought you a little something. It’s a Leica. Oh my gosh. Would you like a piece? You have to share.

Lola: I share with you. We have to share.

Early Life & The Łódź Ghetto

Narration: Lola was born in 1929 in a small village near Łódź, Poland. A few years after the war, she met Max and they got married.

Lola: I was married in Paris.

Interviewer: Ah, I am from Paris. I was born in Paris. No kidding.

Lola: I remember I was a little girl and my neighbors, the kids, yelled at me, “You killed Jesus.” I said, “I don’t know Jesus and I didn’t kill anybody.” Being a child five or six years old and being accused of killing someone, it’s upsetting.

Narration: Very early on, Lola and her family were forced into the Łódź Ghetto. The actions, mass deportations, and killings grew more and more frequent. As the people were sent away, they made the ghetto smaller and smaller.

Lola: So my father felt we’ll go to the empty homes. We’ll hide in a basement or somewhere and go on the Polish side.

Interviewer: So your father got caught at this point?

Lola: My father and my brother, my cousin, there were two other cousins and 200 people. They were all shot. They were all shot and their bodies burned. I still smell this scent of burning bodies. And we were in hiding.

Interviewer: You and your mother…

Lola: …and my aunt and her daughter. Eventually they found us. We were supposed to be shot. At that point there were 100 people left in the ghetto to clean it out. Then they sent us to Plaszów, of Schindler fame. My mom and myself. We walked in a factory uniform. The commandant—he was crazy. When you knew that he came out, people would hide because he would just shoot.

Interviewer: You’ve seen this with your own eyes?

Lola: Yeah. It was just target practice for him.

Survival in Auschwitz

Lola: Then we went to Auschwitz. I remember the train. It was awful. It was just packed with people. I remember when we stopped, they opened the door and they screamed. They overwhelmed people with those screams. It was such a shock to get in, to be tattooed, to be stripped naked. Everybody got some other clothes, but for us, it was a culture shock. I have my tattoo.

Interviewer: What is your number?

Lola: It is A-14989. My mother was 14990, right after me. My mother always stood behind me at that time. I don’t think I knew about gas chambers then, but there was always a smell.

Interviewer: What was a day like in Auschwitz?

Lola: What was a day like? They started first of all very early at night. They started screaming. We got some kind of liquid, it was awful. Then we just stood until they counted everybody. Some people died. If they were missing, we just stood there for hours.

In one selection, we were put into a gas chamber. By that time, we knew what the shower meant. My mother had a piece of bread which she kept. And I said, “Let me have the bread. I’m hungry.” And my mother said, “You’ll be hungry tomorrow.” And I said, “I do not want to die hungry.”

I don’t know if she wanted to make me feel that there would be a tomorrow by saying that. But she gave me that bread and I ate it. All of a sudden, a German opened up the door and he shouted, “Raus! Raus!” And of course, the next day I told my mother, “I’m hungry.” And my mother said, “I told you so.”

The Death Marches

Narration: Later, Lola and her mother were forced onto the brutal death marches, but her mother was already too weak to keep going.

Lola: She said, “You have a chance. You can walk. You’ll survive.” I was too young and too small to fully understand. And the way she felt faint, she sat down immediately. There was a German… I keep repeating it like a mantra: Let her rest a minute.

And I will never, never forget. There was a smile in his blue eyes. He had very blue, icy blue eyes. They were the coldest eyes. I still see those eyes. The soldier started hitting me with the rifle butts. She told me to run quickly, “Maybe you will save yourself.” And he shot.

It’s strange. I never cry. I never…

They took us to a train and we went to another camp. The commandant walked in and he said, “First you will go take a shower.” I remember his smile. He said, “Oh, no, no, don’t be afraid. It’s a shower.” So, we did get a shower—a warm shower, which was amazing.

A Message for Posterity

Narration: After the war, Lola set her sights on what would become the future State of Israel. She boarded the Exodus and eventually, with Max, immigrated to the United States where they built a life and raised four children. Eighty years after liberation, and despite the full life she’s built, Lola reflects with a sense of bitter clarity.

Lola: I feel the world does not learn. People did not learn what happened from it. They still kill. They are still murdering people. I was always a pacifist. I’m against killing anybody. So, I hope I wasn’t too hard on you.

Interviewer: No, you definitely were not. I admire your willingness, your volunteering to do this. It touches my heart, my soul.

Lola: I hope that posterity will appreciate it. And take good care of yourself.

Interviewer: Okay. I try. I try. You’re holding up well.

Lola: Yes. Okay. Yes.

Interviewer: Bye, Lola.