Evacuation marches in the accounts of Survivors and witnesses

Transcription of the podcast

On 17 January 1945, the SS began evacuating the Auschwitz camp. Around 56,000 men and women, prisoners under the escort of armed SS men, marched out from various parts of the camp complex in the direction of Wodzisław Śląski and Gliwice. Several thousand people were killed during these so-called Death Marches. In this episode of the “On Auschwitz” podcast, we quote fragments of eyewitness accounts relating to these events.

Róża Dryjańska:
“News of the imminent end of the war reached us through the camp functionaries. At first, these hopes were fuelled by reports that America would soon liberate Poland, but from July or August 1944 it was firmly stated that we would be liberated by the Soviet army, which was winning victory after victory and moving closer to Oświęcim. Oh, how we waited!”

Jan Gabryś:
“There was great excitement in the camp, but we did not know what was going to happen to us. There were several possibilities, including the option that we would be liquidated by the Germans. So we remained in uncertainty.”

Erwin Olszówka:
“I received an order to carry all the documents out in front of Block 24, where they were to be burned. Raportführers Kaduk, Hertwig and Clausen watched over the execution of this order. Some books that I had hidden under the desk in the Schreibstube remained there, but I do not know what happened to them later.”

Antonina Piątkowska:
“The SS female auxiliaries were running all over the camp with cans of petrol. The women prisoners were ordered to carry all the office books, card indexes, lists of prisoners – various pieces of evidence of German crimes – out of the offices, parcel room and other administrative rooms, and pile them up outside the barracks. There they were doused with petrol and set on fire.”

Helena Włodarska:
“During the night of 17 to 18 January the air-raid alarm lasted a very long time. Impenetrable darkness lay over the entire camp, no one slept, as if in expectation of something that had to happen.”

Anna Tytoniak:
“We were jolted out of a short sleep by the sound of explosions. It was the bombing of Oświęcim. With joyful shouts the entire women’s barrack greeted every bomb blast. After midnight, movement began in the fenced-off service yard, where silence normally reigned. Shouts, short guttural commands barked in German showed that something was happening in the darkness of the night. You could see male prisoners with carts, in feverish haste and confusion they were loading fodder for the cattle. The German block elder whistled to summon the block elder from the men’s block, and he quickly called out that the whole camp was being evacuated.”

Janina Hinczowa:
“We were woken up in the night from 17 to 18 January 1945. The block elder announced to us, in line with the order, that the ‘enemy’ was approaching. We were to get dressed quickly and line up in ranks for roll call.”

Maria Ślisz:
“The whistles for roll call woke us earlier than usual, before 3 a.m. It was the last roll call in the women’s camp at Auschwitz, after which we were not allowed to return to the blocks. Lined up five abreast, we waited for the distribution of coffee, or rather herbal brew, which in the camp was called breakfast. Since evacuation had been announced for that day, in addition to breakfast each of the women received dry rations in the form of two one-kilogram loaves of bread and half a cube of margarine. We were also each given one blanket.”

Irena Konieczna:
“The SS men were literally ‘driving’ the women to join the transport. They said […] that the entire camp was mined and would be blown up after they left.”

Franciszek Wieszała:
“The evacuation of the camp began. Our group, numbering almost 5,000 prisoners, left the camp at about midnight. The prisoners were allowed to take with them two loaves of bread, tins of meat and two blankets.”

Jadwiga Zając:
“[…] the block elder burst in, shouting to get up and take blankets with us. But how were we supposed to take blankets when there were only two on a bunk and four of us? The block elder did throw in a few more, but there were not enough for everyone. I did, however, manage to grab one. As we left the block, each woman was given a loaf of bread and we were lined up in front of the barracks. Small children who could walk also went. The older ones took care of them. We led them, holding their hands. We walked along the Lagerstrasse towards the gate.”

Jan Dziopek:
“We were marching in columns five abreast, 100 people to a column. At the gate stood several SS officers who removed the limping and the older prisoners from the transport. They wanted to take me because of my age, but I begged them, saying that I was strong and healthy – so they let me go. For the journey we were given 2 loaves of bread, 33 decagrams of margarine and 1 tin of meat, 1 kilogram, for 3 men.”

Abraham-Dawid Feffer:
“We walked through various localities, whose names I no longer remember.”

Maria Świderska:
“Even as we stood in the ranks, you could still hear chatter and conversation – we were still full of enthusiasm. But this did not last long. The pace of the march was murderous. It grew ever quieter in the ranks – heads drooped – our enthusiasm faded. Our legs began to tangle, the ranks became mixed, you could no longer see groups of five, the transport stretched out over an enormous length of road. You could hear more and more frequent sighs in the ranks and remarks like: ‘We won’t get far at this rate.’”

Franciszek Wieszała:
“The column of marching prisoners was stretching out terribly. Sometimes part of the column would halt for 10–15 minutes, and then we had to catch up, which was very exhausting, both because of the tempo and because the road was worn smooth and icy.”

Israel Berkowski:
“Beyond Oświęcim, at a distance of 5–10 kilometres, they began shooting into the ranks of marching prisoners. We learned that the SS men were deliberately firing at people, wanting to reduce the size of the transport in this way. Ahead of us there was a transport of women. The road on both sides was strewn with women who had been shot. Behind us there were also still women.”

Józef Tabaczyński:
“After Bieruń we began to come across the bodies of prisoners lying by the side of the road. These were those who had been killed by SS bullets as unfit to continue marching. From time to time shots could be heard […]”.

Wanda Błachowska-Tarasiewicz:
“[…] Every now and then a shot rang out – that was how the SS dealt with those who had weakened and could no longer walk. The wind and frost took their toll on us. The weaker ones gradually began to empty their backpacks. They threw away blankets, underwear, spare dresses or shoes to lighten the load a little. At 2 a.m. a halt was ordered. For the night we were given a barn and a stable – we were simply packed in there one on top of another. There was no straw. The doors were left open. We froze even more, and instead of resting, our fatigue only intensified. Our shoes were completely soaked, our feet were floating inside them. In the morning, at 8 o’clock, we marched on without breakfast. […] The frost was severe. We wanted to sing a little to lift the spirits of the weak and the older ones, but the SS drowned out our singing with gunshots. We encountered more and more corpses in various positions, mostly with smashed skulls, lying along the edges of the road. We also left many from our transport behind us […]”.

Jan Gabryś:
“During the march I realised we were passing through an area I knew quite well, so I decided to use the first favourable opportunity to escape. I did manage to carry out this plan. It was slowly getting light – it was the morning of 18 January. We were passing near a small grove beyond Brzeszcze when I noticed a fairly large gap had opened between one guard post and the next, walking along the side of our column. From time to time one of them would stop and intervene; in such moments they could not simultaneously watch every marching prisoner. That was the chance I used. (…) I quickly jumped away from the marching column and ran into the grove on the same side. It must be noted, however, that because of illness I was weak, I could not run fast, and besides, there was quite deep snow in the forest. If my escape had been noticed, I would have had little chance of surviving. But I was lucky. I heard no call to stop behind me, no one shot at me.”

Zofia Stępień-Bator:
“[…] A white road, and on both sides two large black walls of forest. […] You could hear the crunch of snow and the heavy breathing of exhausted women prisoners. […] Shots kept tearing through the silence of the night and someone kept collapsing into the ditch for eternal rest. At one point someone in front of me fell. I helped her up. She was a small girl, utterly exhausted and just as alone as I was. She stumbled every moment. On her back she carried a huge bundle. ‘Throw it away, it’ll be easier,’ I pleaded. ‘No, my bread is in there; if I throw it away, I’ll die of hunger.’ She was breathing heavily and whimpering like an infant. I dropped her bundle to the ground. She burst into loud tears. ‘Don’t cry. I have bread. I’ll walk with you and share mine with you. You have no strength to carry anything.’ Walking beside her and holding her up, I learned she had no one in the world, that she was a Jewish woman from near Radom, that her parents had been killed, that she had nowhere to return to, no place at all. She kept lamenting, wasting energy. In the end I forbade her to speak and moan. I declared she would come with me to my home, that I would not leave her. I begged her to gather strength—just until dawn—because in the morning, when the sun rose, it would be easier. She calmed down, walked evenly for a while, then fell again. I lifted her. Now I was dragging her. No one helped me. Women prisoners passed us, barely walking themselves. And I… I also lost my strength. I was drenched in sweat from the effort, but I could no longer leave her. That is how we ended up at the back of the column. When she fell one last time, and I no longer had the strength to lift her, I cried out for help—then someone’s hands grabbed me and pulled me forward. Exhausted, I did not realise that I would not save that girl anymore, that I myself could die with her. Some unknown woman prisoner understood the situation, took my hand and pulled me along. A moment later a shot rang out. My poor little charge, whom I had promised not to abandon, stopped suffering. […] the echo of that shot remains in my memory to this day […]”.

Natan Żelechower:
“After a few hours of marching we clearly feel fatigue. Our legs freeze in wooden clogs, blankets do not protect us from the cold. More and more often, we see corpses of men and women on both sides of the road. They lie discarded any which way. You can see they were dragged off the road to the side. Around each corpse, a pool of blood has frozen. These did not endure the march. They collapsed from exhaustion, and the guards, wanting to make sure they would not rise again, shot everyone who fell. […] The sight undermines the morale of those marching. We hear shots—far ahead, at the head of the column—brief commotion, prisoners drag the shot man by the legs, lay him in a ditch and return to the ranks. The march is not interrupted. Another shot—this time behind us. […] We keep going forward, legs mechanically performing the heavy service of carrying the body, the stomach demanding food. We ate all our bread […] Night falls, bright, silvered by the whiteness of snow and moonlight. We move our legs with difficulty. A wave of immense exhaustion washes over us; the body weighs toward the ground, cannot find in itself enough stiffness to remain upright. […] Mechanically we avoid those lying there. […] I become indifferent to everything; my legs hurt badly—I start dozing as I walk, every few dozen steps I open my eyes—and find that I am still dragging myself along. […] We pass a village. Human faces with normal colour press against window panes and disappear in fright at the sight of the numerous German guards.”

Maria Śleziona:
“[…] I observed the tragic march of the prisoners together with the household from the window of the building where I still live today. Women prisoners were being driven along Pszczyńska Street. On the left side of the street, a woman in an advanced stage of pregnancy stepped out of the column. Leaning against the wall of a transformer station, she held her belly. The column passed without stopping. An SS man came up and pushed the woman, who was in labour, to the right side of the road, onto the verge. We ran to the other window, from which the view was better. The woman prisoner was lying on her back in the snow. The SS man shot her in the face with a pistol and a second time in the belly. […] When the street emptied, we went out to look at the murdered woman. She was a young woman about twenty-five years old […]”.

Teofil Balcarek:
“[…] One night […] single shots from the road next to our house woke us from sleep. This alarmed us, but we did not dare go out toward the road. From the windows nothing could be seen […]. In the morning, around 7:30 or 8, as a so-called cart driver, I set out in a horse-drawn cart with milk churns—my own and my neighbours’—toward Kobielice to deliver them to the agreed place near the cross. Not far from my house I saw the body of a man in striped uniform on the roadside. It lay on the embankment; blood was visible. Further on I saw several similar bodies of men. Some of the shot men were in striped uniforms, others in work clothes. The sight frightened me, so I did not stop. While driving to Kobielice I also met columns of men—prisoners in striped and work clothes—going in the opposite direction. These were two or three groups of prisoners, each numbering several dozen people. They walked under escort of armed guards, very slowly, ‘barely dragging their feet.’”

Ilona Strusińska:
“During the march, Polish residents of various Upper Silesian localities ran up to us, bringing us milk and bread. The SS men drove these people away with force and we marched on, without a moment’s respite, without the possibility of drinking anything.”

Jan Dziopek:
“We have 12 hours of marching behind us. Physical exhaustion, compounded by thirst, is reflected on our faces. We look as if after an illness. We enter Pszczyna. They lead us through the town by side streets. We pass the impressive castle of the Pszczyna princes. On the faces of passers-by we see vivid compassion for us; in many women’s eyes we see tears. […] We are going, as the SS men say, to Poręba, a locality two kilometres from Pszczyna. So on the first day we covered 29 kilometres. In Poręba we received lodging in manor buildings. One barn and a stable with cattle.”

Maria Żumańska:
“It was the first rest. They housed us in some barns, allowing us to disperse into private homes. It gave the impression as if the SS men did not care about us, as if they wanted to get rid of us.”

Jadwiga Zając:
“[…] It was some kind of farm or manor. There was an enormous barn and some other outbuildings where they lodged us. I managed to get into the barn. There was straw, under which I managed to squeeze myself and fall asleep. After spending the night that way, in the morning they drove us onward. Of course, nothing more was issued to us to eat; each of us just tore off a piece of the bread issued in Oświęcim, and we gathered snow from the road when the Germans walking with dogs were not looking, because you couldn’t stop, and we were thirsty.”

Józef Ciepły:
“From Poręba we marched to the locality of Brzeźce, then Studzionki. An older man came out in front of the school building standing by the road, holding a bucket with some liquid to drink—supposedly grain coffee with milk. At one moment an SS man approached him and asked: ‘Is that for us?’ The man nodded, and the SS men drank it. But I am sure the coffee was intended for the prisoners.”

Eulalia Kurdej:
“When we were roused to march, one of the women prisoners said to me: ‘Don’t take off your boots, child, because you won’t get them back on.’ She was right. My legs were so swollen that if I had taken off my boots, I could not have put them on again. I joined our column.”

Róża Dryjańska:
“Along the way we passed many who were weakening, unable to go on. Among them was Zosia Zdrowak, my dear friend. Her legs were terribly swollen and wrapped with a blanket. We began to haul her along—together with Anielka. She was taller than us—she leaned on us and walked on her aching legs.”

Franciszka Pieczka:
“During the march various tragic situations occurred. At one point a woman broke away from our group, collapsed into a ditch and began giving birth. We stopped beside her, wondering how to help, when one of the SS men approached, ordered us to move away, and then shot the woman. It was a terrible sight.”

Leszek Zienc:
“My shoes were tight, and wooden clogs at that; my legs were swollen and rubbed raw; I dragged myself along with the last of my strength. I looked back—behind me on a sledge, dogs were pulling a heavy machine gun; an SS man was fiddling with the bolt. Everything went dark before my eyes, I felt weakness, my legs wobbled, and my whole family appeared before my eyes. I knew the SS man would shoot me in a moment. Suddenly someone grabbed me by the arm and said in Russian: ‘you must make it—your family is waiting for you.’ Another prisoner took my other arm and put water to my fever-parched mouth from a mess tin. I don’t know why the SS man didn’t shoot. Maybe because I gathered a little strength.”

Wanda Bienioszek:
“The further route of the march led through Pawłowice; we passed by the dairy and on to Jastrzębie-Zdrój. There, after a short stop, we were taken over by the Wehrmacht. After the change of escorts we marched on.”

Jan Dziopek:
“In the evening we reached Jastrzębie-Zdrój. They lead us into the courtyard of a large manor farm. Just as in Poręba, only a small handful of lucky ones found shelter under a roof, while the rest had to bivouac in the open field.”

Józef Ciepły:
“In Jastrzębie-Zdrój another overnight stop was ordered. The prisoners were assigned to manor buildings, like barns. Some prisoners slept on the manure heap. We spent two nights there […] Only on Monday around eleven in the morning was the signal to march given.”

Jan Dziopek:
“We are heading toward Wodzisław. We march in a heavy snowstorm. The snow lashes our faces, the wind penetrates to the marrow, and despite marching we freeze.”

Maria Świderska:
“Suddenly we learn in fright from the guard post that in Wodzisław they will load us into wagons and we will travel on. Some are glad that there will be no need to walk further. We are depressed—the hope of escape—of freedom—moves farther away from us.”

Wanda Bienioszek:
“We were marching on the last of our strength. We marched together with my mother and two sisters. As we approached Wodzisław we were completely broken. Swollen legs, diarrhoea and weakness led us to decide we would rather die together than endure this nightmare march. I turned to the SS man walking beside us and asked him simply to shoot the four of us, as we could not march on. He was an SS man of Hungarian origin, because in broken German he said that in Loslau there would be loading. Those words may have saved our lives—we were not left behind the column.”

Jadwiga Zając:
“In this way we reached some station—only later did I learn it was Wodzisław, because then we saw no signs and paid no attention. We reached a siding where freight wagons stood, but not covered ones—only open coal wagons.”

Józef Ciepły:
“They loaded us into coal wagons of a slightly different type than those found in Germany or Poland. They were apparently wagons made in France, with a floor area of 20 square meters, which meant five prisoners per square metre.”

Józef Tabaczyński:
“In the wagons there was a terrible crush. None of the prisoners could really move or change the position once taken.”

Jan Dziopek:
“One night passes, then a second night, and we are still in the same conditions without food or drink. Cold, hunger and thirst torment us. In the day, a bit of sunshine warms us, so we stick our heads out from under the blankets we spread above us, and before our eyes are the same weary, exhausted faces of our comrades.”

Józef Tabaczyński:
“Stopping often along the route, we travelled very slowly. It is hard for me today to describe exactly what began to happen during the journey. Without shelter from the frost, prisoners lost strength. Dantean scenes unfolded. Everyone fought for the spot they occupied. The weaker and exhausted prisoners, dying, slid down to the bottom of the wagon. There they died trampled by those who could still stay on their feet. The tearing groans of the dying mixed with the shouts of some prisoners falling into madness. Biting, kicking and scratching the nearest neighbours, they became too dangerous. So they were pushed over the sides of the speeding train.”

Wanda Koprowska:
“A night as long as an entire age, and the cold… if only for a moment to rest one’s head somewhere, because it was so terribly heavy. The wagon fell completely silent; some women are asleep, having fought for a little space. Only the train moves on tirelessly. Where to? Where to? Only toward morning did it stop. In the wagon, commotion again. And this darkness, terrifying—you can’t even see your own nose.”

Ilona Engelova:
“The wagons were so overcrowded that none of the women prisoners could sit down. I unconsciously slumped onto others. I don’t remember how long the journey lasted. In any case, we were taken to the Ravensbrück concentration camp. When we got off at the station, the inhabitants (Germans) looked at us with hatred.”

Jadwiga Zając:
“Frozen, in tears, we arrived in Ravensbrück. Again the same procedure: a bath, hair-cutting. They took everything we had with us. […] Since there was no room for us in the permanent barracks, they led us through the entire camp to an area with enormous tents […]. We were packed into them, as many as would fit. Inside there was nothing, only bare ground. How long we stayed there I do not know. Only after four or five days did they begin to register us and assign numbers. I received some number, but I don’t remember it. […]”

Jan Wawrosz:
“I am unable to state even approximately how many prisoners died on this route from exhaustion and cold, and how many were finished off with a pistol shot to the back of the head.”

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Excerpts from accounts read by narrators (Therese McLaughlin & Mike Skagerlind) come from the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum Archives:

Teofil Balcarek, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 115, k. 204-205.
Israel Berkowski, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 35, k. 29.
Wanda Bienioszek, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 116, s. 176.
Wanda Błachowska-Tarasiewicz, APMAB, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 1, k. 19-20.
Józef Ciepły, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 86, k. 48, 127-128.
Jan Dziopek, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 10, k. 29.
Jan Dziopek, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 50, k. 138-143
Róża Dryjańska, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 88, k. 211, 233.
Ilona Engelova, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 80, k. 171.
Abraham Dawid Feffer, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 16, k. 54.
Jan Gabryś, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 104, k. 138-140.
Janina Hinczowa, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 62, k. 60.
Irena Konieczna, APMAB. Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 113, k. 130.
Wanda Koprowska, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 13, k. 66-68.
Eulalia Kurdej, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 66, k. 142.
Erwin Olszówka, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 72, k. 138.
Antonina Piątkowska, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 85, k. 45
Franciszka Pieczka, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 88b, k. 133.
Ilona Strusińska, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 80, k. 170.
Marii Śleziona, APMAB. Inne Zespoły [Others] (IZ) – 27/3.
Maria Ślisz, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 61, k. 134.
Zofia Stępień-Bator, APMAB, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 74, k. 167.
Maria Świderska, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 21, k. 85, 88.
Józef Tabaczyński, APMAB, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 44, k. 60-63.
Anna Tytoniak, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 12a, k. 198
Jan Wawrosz, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories]t. 1, k. 59.
Franciszek Wieszała, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 16, k. 81.
Helena Włodarska, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 66, k. 78.
Jadwiga Zając, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 139, k. 13-15.
Leszek Zienc, APMA-B, Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 2, k. 226.
Natan Żelechower, „Siedem obozów”, [in:] Zespół Wspomnienia [Memories], t. 83, k. 68-72, APMA-B.
Maria Żumańska, APMA-B, Zespół Oświadczenia [Statements], t. 4, k. 420.