The Next Chapter Project: Herbert Heller
Courage and Determination:
The Survival of Herbert Heller
By James Benner
San Rafael High School, Santa Rosa
An 81-year-old Herbert Heller can still remember staring up at the “Angel of Death.” He was only 12 then, but Dr. Mengele’s cold black uniform with its brass buttons remains vivid in his mind. For Herbert, that combination of black and brass still inspires a certain hatred and horror in him today. However, the more important things to remember are the bravery and aplomb he showed as a boy. Striding up to the intimidating doctor, Herbert flexed his small arms and told him “Ich kann arbeiten!” These words, declaring simply “I can work!” in German, are possibly what saved his life.
Herbert was brought up in a small town outside of Prague called Teplice-Šanov. He lived with his father, Karel, and his mother, Melania. His father, an engineer with degrees in electricity and mechanics, often traveled for his work. His mother was a homemaker, and his older brother, Heinz, was in college.
He doesn’t remember life there too clearly. “After all, I was very young at the time,” he says. He recalls going to school, as well as one instance when his father allowed him to try smoking a cigarette. It was an unpleasant experience, and Herbert never touched nicotine after. However, other memories are too distant or hazy to recall.
Evacuation to Terezin
Memories from after 1942, however, flow easily and clearly. That year, his family was evacuated to Terezin, the labor camp 40 miles north of Prague. Although life was indeed harder there, they were treated relatively well. “Hitler used Terezin as a sort of showcase for the Red Cross, and so they didn’t treat us so badly,” Herbert explains. He had a job as a gardener, and his family was able to stay together. Then, they were shipped to Auschwitz.
Herbert knew something was wrong when he and other Jews from Terezin were loaded into cattle cars, but the fear really set in when the doors were closed and he could hear them being nailed shut from the outside. “It was incredibly crowded,” he recalls. “They kept pushing more and more people inside the train.” But it was kind treatment, compared with what he’d learn to expect at Auschwitz. When the cattle cars arrived, selection began almost immediately, and Herbert had his first encounter with Josef Mengele. It was also the first time Herbert saw Auschwitz’s infamous chimneys, although he didn’t yet know their purpose. Fortunately, none of his family was sent to the gas chambers at this time. They were sent to work instead. His hair was cut, his possessions taken, and the numbers A2109 were tattooed on his forearm. Herbert and his father shared the same barracks, but his mother and brother were in a separate complex.
Thus began a period of Herbert’s life dominated by terror and grief. He was appointed as messenger for the medical tents, where he learned about the horrors of the Nazi experimentations. Food was regular, but completely insufficient. Life was not a pleasant thing, but it was bearable. Then the worst part started. One by one, Herbert’s family was shipped out of Auschwitz, leaving him alone with the horrors of the concentration camp. “The feeling is indescribable.” Herbert says, shaking his head. “The worst thing I’ve ever felt.” Herbert was on his own.
A Backpack to Salvation
Luckily, in 1945, an opportunity arose to escape, and Herbert leaped at it. General Patton of the United States Army was advancing on Auschwitz, and the Nazis ordered a retreat. Every prisoner was forced to walk in the freezing snow for miles and miles without end, with no rest or nourishment. Thousands died within a day, with many more to follow. However, it was
on this march that Herbert found his salvation. One night, after finding an abandoned cabin to take shelter in, he happened upon something unexpected: a backpack. In this backpack were invaluable items: clothing that could help Herbert escape. “I figured that the Nazis could not possibly keep track of every one of us, since so many people were dying, So I put on the clothes over my pajamas—also to stay warm—and I started walking the other way.” Once again, his bravery saved his life.
Herbert walked for countless miles without food, driven forward by each mile marker he passed, a sign that he was just a bit closer to his goal. After days, he finally reached the railroad station he was looking for. A train was about to leave. If he could get on it, he could get back to Czechoslovakia and to relative safety. However, barring his way were the numerous SS soldiers patrolling the station. In an impressive display of courage, intelligence, and perhaps some luck, Herbert ran after the train yelling “Mutter! Mutter!” (“Mother” in German). “I was lucky enough to know some German, and so I was able to convince the soldiers I was a German child who was left behind,” he recalls. “After all, my clothes made me look German also. In the end, [the soldiers] helped me get on the train that took me back to Prague.”
Safe in Prague
Once Herbert made it back to Prague, things started looking up for him. He searched out a Catholic family his own family had known before the war, and they took him in. Out of concern for his and the Catholic family’s safety, he burned off his identification tattoo with porcelain-cleaning acid. He had to spend all of his time inside, because the Germans could still see him at any time. Although every day was a new risk, it was infinitely better than Auschwitz. Through wit and perseverance, Herbert survived. This was the first step to the beginning of his new life.
Bibliography
Herbert Heller, interview by James Benner, January 14, 2011
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum: www.ushmm.org
JFCS, The Next Chapter Project Folder (San Francisco, 2010)
Proquest Internet Database: proquest.umi.com/pdqweb
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