Rebecca
They arrived at Yad Vashem, the Israeli Holocaust Memorial, late in the morning. They were shown into a side room. Rebecca shivered as she entered but made herself comfortable in one of the four chairs arranged around a bare table. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a battered bookcase sparsely populated with dust covered tomes, reminding Rebecca of the decaying smiles of the old beggars they had passed on their journey. Savek, her grandson, sat next to her and held her trembling hand. He wondered whether it was the temperature or their search which was unsettling her. He no longer saw the strong confident woman who had guided him through his childhood and adolescence. It was she, not his parents, who had inspired him to win a university place. Her pride at his graduation was his greatest reward for four years of determined study. But now as he looked at her, he saw a frail old woman anxious about what she might discover. This was the first time he acknowledged to himself the subtle changing of their relationship. It was his turn to support her.
The researcher, which Savek had worked with during the previous two weeks, joined them a few minutes later. She had three files under her arm and she explained that all matched the search criteria we had provided. She wished Rebecca good luck as she left them to peruse the files. The top file was marked deceased, and Rebecca lingered over this rather too long before picking it up. Her hands refused to obey her command to open the file and she silently passed it to Savek. They looked through it together; it was with great relief a few minutes later that Rebecca announced this was definitely not her brother's file. She looked through the other two files unaided. One file she quickly discarded, the other she examined much more closely. The photograph attached to the file was of an old man she did not recognise and yet she knew it was him. She fixed Savek with moist eyes shining from within a tired, crumpled face. Her usual confident voice was soft as she announced,
"this is my brother Mandel."
The researcher provided Savek with Mandel's telephone number before they left and took a taxi home. Rebecca was agitated throughout the journey and did not concentrate on the conversation Savek was trying to have with her. Nevertheless they somehow agreed that Savek would telephone Mandel when they arrived home.
"Hello," Savek began, "is that Mr Silverberg?"
An old gruff voice responded, "Yes, I'm Mr Silverberg"
"Did you have a sister called Rebecca?" Savek asked.
"Yes," said Mr Silverberg after a short silent pause. He felt a shiver of apprehension. Was this unexpected caller going to confirm what he had long ago assumed, that his kid sister, Rebecca, whom he had last seen in 1941, had been murdered in the Holocaust.
"Would you like to talk to her?" Savek asked.
A much longer pause followed this question, during which Savek waited patiently.
"Who are you?" was the question that finally came.
Rebecca was waving her arms frantically, Savek walked over to her as he replied
"I am her grandson, Savek," he caught his breath before continuing, "we got your details from your testimonial at Yad Vesham. I am just passing you over to Rebecca now."
Rebecca grabbed the phone as soon as it was in reach. Her eyes were full and a single tear breached the dam. It felt warm against her cheek.
"Mandel Silverberg, is that you?" she asked.
"They call me Manny now." he said.
"From Gumniska, Krakow, you joined the Soviet army in 1941," she continued.
"Yes," his voice cracked and he took a second before asking, "Is it really you Rebecca?" "Sixty six years it's taken me to find you and you ask if its me," she retorted more forcefully than she intended to prevent her voice weakening.
"I did try to find you," Manny began, "but the Germans had already taken Krakow before I got back. I couldn't find any trace of you or Dad, even after the war. Did you get out?"
Rebecca looked down at the tattoo on her left forearm.
"I was sent to Auschwitz. Dad was executed by the Germans in Warsaw in 1942. The Red Cross contacted me a couple of years after the war, but they didn't have any information about you."
"Oh no, not Auschwitz, you were only a kid. You were only a kid."
He was becoming difficult to hear, but he continued.
"I was part of the army that liberated Auschwitz, I saw," he couldn't find the words, "I saw."
"I know what you saw," Rebecca interrupted, "but it was a long time ago."
"But you weren't there, I checked. You weren't," he paused, "oh my god, the death marches."
"Yes," she said, "the Gestapo started to evacuate the camp, they knew they were losing the war and that the Soviet troops were close. They didn't know what to do with us. I was in one of the death marches to Ravensbruck. It was horrific, I passed body after body. Some had been shot, some died from dysentry or some other disease and some just got weak and gave up. There was no food you see, only what people in the villages and towns threw for us. We were so hungry that we fought over these odd scraps, not even caring that the Germans were shoting at us when we broke line." Rebecca returned her focus to the present, the past only served to torment her.
"Rebecca," Manny started, "I'm so sorry I wasn't."
Rebecca interrupted for a second time.
"It’s too late to change the past so there is no point trying. We've lost so much time already. I want to spend what time we've got left getting to know each other and sharing all the good things still to come."
"You're right," he answered.
"OK, so when are you going to take your sister out for lunch?"
The researcher, which Savek had worked with during the previous two weeks, joined them a few minutes later. She had three files under her arm and she explained that all matched the search criteria we had provided. She wished Rebecca good luck as she left them to peruse the files. The top file was marked deceased, and Rebecca lingered over this rather too long before picking it up. Her hands refused to obey her command to open the file and she silently passed it to Savek. They looked through it together; it was with great relief a few minutes later that Rebecca announced this was definitely not her brother's file. She looked through the other two files unaided. One file she quickly discarded, the other she examined much more closely. The photograph attached to the file was of an old man she did not recognise and yet she knew it was him. She fixed Savek with moist eyes shining from within a tired, crumpled face. Her usual confident voice was soft as she announced,
"this is my brother Mandel."
The researcher provided Savek with Mandel's telephone number before they left and took a taxi home. Rebecca was agitated throughout the journey and did not concentrate on the conversation Savek was trying to have with her. Nevertheless they somehow agreed that Savek would telephone Mandel when they arrived home.
"Hello," Savek began, "is that Mr Silverberg?"
An old gruff voice responded, "Yes, I'm Mr Silverberg"
"Did you have a sister called Rebecca?" Savek asked.
"Yes," said Mr Silverberg after a short silent pause. He felt a shiver of apprehension. Was this unexpected caller going to confirm what he had long ago assumed, that his kid sister, Rebecca, whom he had last seen in 1941, had been murdered in the Holocaust.
"Would you like to talk to her?" Savek asked.
A much longer pause followed this question, during which Savek waited patiently.
"Who are you?" was the question that finally came.
Rebecca was waving her arms frantically, Savek walked over to her as he replied
"I am her grandson, Savek," he caught his breath before continuing, "we got your details from your testimonial at Yad Vesham. I am just passing you over to Rebecca now."
Rebecca grabbed the phone as soon as it was in reach. Her eyes were full and a single tear breached the dam. It felt warm against her cheek.
"Mandel Silverberg, is that you?" she asked.
"They call me Manny now." he said.
"From Gumniska, Krakow, you joined the Soviet army in 1941," she continued.
"Yes," his voice cracked and he took a second before asking, "Is it really you Rebecca?" "Sixty six years it's taken me to find you and you ask if its me," she retorted more forcefully than she intended to prevent her voice weakening.
"I did try to find you," Manny began, "but the Germans had already taken Krakow before I got back. I couldn't find any trace of you or Dad, even after the war. Did you get out?"
Rebecca looked down at the tattoo on her left forearm.
"I was sent to Auschwitz. Dad was executed by the Germans in Warsaw in 1942. The Red Cross contacted me a couple of years after the war, but they didn't have any information about you."
"Oh no, not Auschwitz, you were only a kid. You were only a kid."
He was becoming difficult to hear, but he continued.
"I was part of the army that liberated Auschwitz, I saw," he couldn't find the words, "I saw."
"I know what you saw," Rebecca interrupted, "but it was a long time ago."
"But you weren't there, I checked. You weren't," he paused, "oh my god, the death marches."
"Yes," she said, "the Gestapo started to evacuate the camp, they knew they were losing the war and that the Soviet troops were close. They didn't know what to do with us. I was in one of the death marches to Ravensbruck. It was horrific, I passed body after body. Some had been shot, some died from dysentry or some other disease and some just got weak and gave up. There was no food you see, only what people in the villages and towns threw for us. We were so hungry that we fought over these odd scraps, not even caring that the Germans were shoting at us when we broke line." Rebecca returned her focus to the present, the past only served to torment her.
"Rebecca," Manny started, "I'm so sorry I wasn't."
Rebecca interrupted for a second time.
"It’s too late to change the past so there is no point trying. We've lost so much time already. I want to spend what time we've got left getting to know each other and sharing all the good things still to come."
"You're right," he answered.
"OK, so when are you going to take your sister out for lunch?"