Lola Holocaust Survivor Testimony
Holocaust Survivor testimony

Lola

Lola Holocaust Survivor Testimony

Lola Mozes was born in Katowice, Poland. In 1939, at just nine years old, the war abruptly ended her childhood. Her family was forced into the Bochnia ghetto, where they endured persecution before being hunted down. Her father and brother were executed.
 

Lola, her mother, and other relatives were deported to Plaszów, and later to Auschwitz-Birkenau. There, against all odds, Lola and her mother survived the gas chambers.

In January 1945, during a brutal death march through the snow, her mother, weakened and exhausted, collapsed. Desperate, Lola begged a Nazi guard to let her rest—“You have a mother,” she pleaded. The soldier smiled, drew his pistol, and shot her. Lola was forced to walk on alone.

She went on to survive Ravensbrück and Malhof, bearing witness to both the depths of human cruelty and the boundless love of a parent who gave everything to protect her child.

After the war, Lola rebuilt her life with extraordinary resilience. She married a fellow survivor and raised four children. For decades, she has shared her story—not only to remember the horrors she endured, but to remind future generations of a fundamental truth: no one has the right to live at the expense of another.

Her voice stands as a testament to loss, courage, and the enduring power of human dignity.

Video Transcript

Today I’m in New York City and I’m going to visit Lola. Hello. Hi. Hi, Lola. How are you? Don’t Don’t stand up. You’re fine. It’s good to meet you. Very good to meet you. Oh, you’re beautiful. Thank you. So are you. Beautiful. I march you a little something. It’s a leaker. Leica. Oh my gosh. That’s like from would you like a piece? You have to share. I share with you. We have to share.

Lola was born in 1929 in a small village near Lodge, Poland.

A few years after the war, she met Max and they got married.

I was married in Paris. Ah, I am from Paris. I was born in Paris. No kidding. Fr. No. No. It’s gone. Papa.

I remember I was a a little girl and my neighbors the kids yell at me you killed Jesus. I said I don’t know Jesus and I didn’t kill anybody. Being a child five six years old and being accused of killing someone it’s upsetting. Very early on, Lola and her family were forced onto the lodge ghetto. The actions, mass deportations, and killings grew more and more frequent. As the people were sent away, Mhm. they made the ghetto smaller and smaller. So my father felt we’ll go to the empty homes. We’ll hide in basement or somewhere and go on the Polish side. So your father got caught at this point. 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. You and your mother 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 plush off of the shindless 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. You’ve seen this with your own eyes? Yeah. He was just a target practice.

Then we went to Ashit. I remember the train. It was awful. was just packed with people. I remember when we stopped, they shown the commando, they opened the door and they screamed. They overwhelmed people with it screams. It was such shock to get into a to get in the bed to be tattooed to to be stripped naked and everybody got some other clothes but our was a culture shock. I have my tattoo. What is your number? is age 14 989. My mother was 990 after me. My mother always stood behind me at that time. I don’t think I didn’t know about guest chambers, but there was always a smell. What was a day like in Awitz? What was a day like they started first of all very early at night they started screaming to bring we got some kind of liquid it was awful. Then we just stood till 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 hung.” 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 they said tomorrow. There will be a tomorrow. But she gave me that blet and I ate it and all of a sudden a German opened up the door and he said, “A ruffs, ars.” And of course the next day I told my mother, “I’m hungry.” And my mother said, “I told you so.” Later, Lola and her mother were forced onto the brutal death marches, but her mother was already too weak to keep going. She said, “You have a chance. You can walk. You’ll survive. I was too young and too small to hear the you.” Mhm. And the way she felt faint and 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. soldier started hitting me with the rifle bats. She said to run quickly, “Maybe you will save yourself.” And he shot.

It’s strange. I never cry. I never.

Took us to a train and we went to another camp and 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 don’t be afraid. It’s a shower.” So, we did get a shower, a warm shower, which was amazing.

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. 80 years after liberation and despite the full life she’s built, Lola reflects with a sense of bitter clarity. 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. No, we definitely were not. I admire your willingness, your volunteering to do that. It’s it touches my heart, my soul. I hope that posterity will appreciate it. And take good care of yourself. Okay. I try. I try. You’re holding yourself. Yes. Okay. Yes.

Bye, Lola.