"We managed to get hold of some Special Hostage Letters or "schultzhaffling. I think they were supposed to be used for the musicians - through using these letters I managed to send news home and even asked for a few underclothes and a pair of leather shoes.
Caniuz, a Belgian member of our Resistance Group, organized the whole thing as well as translating my letter into perfect German. I think he owned a company or bookstore in Belgium. If one were to ask for too much in the letter it probably would not pass the censor - you could definitely not ask for food. The clothes would pass the censors on the premise that they were going to be used for some type of gymnastics - the shoes would be a bonus if I could get them for this "holiday camp"!!!
I couldn't believe my eyes when I received a reply, together with a new pair of leather shoes. My family were now aware that I was still alive and had proof of where I was located - that was the big bonus! For many of my fallen friends, their parents would not even know where their children had died. It would be an awful job to have to tell them how they had spent their last moments.
I am now remembering one such story of a good Belgian friend of mine - his story would be very hard for me to tell when I got home. One evening, on my return from a commando, my friend continuously kept asking me how things were going and what the news was, these were pretty common remarks! He also asked me when I thought the war would end - I responded with a short, snappy, August 23rd. I think I was snappy due to stress and the rapid aging process I had been undergoing since being in the camp!
My friend now looked at me with such a pitiful and pleading look, as if I shouldn't have said so. Such a damned glance - with all the sorrows of the world embedded into it.
After he had asked me the questions I was silent for a couple of minutes and kept to myself but afterwards said I was sorry. This was the same day he was killed during the bombing at Steinbruck. I had foreseen his end.
My friend had been a late arrival at Buchenwald but had still been directed to do hard labor in the quarry. On the day of the bombing, the S.S. building had remained intact but one wave had fallen in front of it and the other wave had gone past moving right into the quarry.
Real havoc was caused as the wave rolled on - it seemed like it was playing billiards with the rocks and boulders. By now, its momentum had doubled which had a big effect on the prisoners in the quarry. Of course, my friend and the other prisoners had no chance of escape.
Steinbruck had become a grave for many prisoners. The quarry at Buchenwald had become my friend's destiny and stone monument.
With Allied help, we had succeeded in getting Buchenwald bombed but my potential escape was not yet over. I was now ready and The Resistance wanted to help get me away!
Soon after the bombing I got put back into going on commandos and lost track of "Valkenhof...........
To be continued ...
Caniuz, a Belgian member of our Resistance Group, organized the whole thing as well as translating my letter into perfect German. I think he owned a company or bookstore in Belgium. If one were to ask for too much in the letter it probably would not pass the censor - you could definitely not ask for food. The clothes would pass the censors on the premise that they were going to be used for some type of gymnastics - the shoes would be a bonus if I could get them for this "holiday camp"!!!
I couldn't believe my eyes when I received a reply, together with a new pair of leather shoes. My family were now aware that I was still alive and had proof of where I was located - that was the big bonus! For many of my fallen friends, their parents would not even know where their children had died. It would be an awful job to have to tell them how they had spent their last moments.
I am now remembering one such story of a good Belgian friend of mine - his story would be very hard for me to tell when I got home. One evening, on my return from a commando, my friend continuously kept asking me how things were going and what the news was, these were pretty common remarks! He also asked me when I thought the war would end - I responded with a short, snappy, August 23rd. I think I was snappy due to stress and the rapid aging process I had been undergoing since being in the camp!
My friend now looked at me with such a pitiful and pleading look, as if I shouldn't have said so. Such a damned glance - with all the sorrows of the world embedded into it.
After he had asked me the questions I was silent for a couple of minutes and kept to myself but afterwards said I was sorry. This was the same day he was killed during the bombing at Steinbruck. I had foreseen his end.
My friend had been a late arrival at Buchenwald but had still been directed to do hard labor in the quarry. On the day of the bombing, the S.S. building had remained intact but one wave had fallen in front of it and the other wave had gone past moving right into the quarry.
Real havoc was caused as the wave rolled on - it seemed like it was playing billiards with the rocks and boulders. By now, its momentum had doubled which had a big effect on the prisoners in the quarry. Of course, my friend and the other prisoners had no chance of escape.
Steinbruck had become a grave for many prisoners. The quarry at Buchenwald had become my friend's destiny and stone monument.
With Allied help, we had succeeded in getting Buchenwald bombed but my potential escape was not yet over. I was now ready and The Resistance wanted to help get me away!
Soon after the bombing I got put back into going on commandos and lost track of "Valkenhof...........
To be continued ...
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