Story of a Girl From the Warsaw Ghetto©

8/3/2019 Story of a Girl From the Warsaw Ghetto©

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Hello, I am Annegret Freud and I am a Jew in the Warsaw Ghetto. Iam going to die soon, so I shall document my life in this hell in themiddle of heaven. But first I need to take this story back to thebeginning, the beginning of 1939. We lived in a house. That is, myfamily and I. My father, Arnold Freud and my mother, Gratia Freud. It

was a very pretty little house with white windows and a little garden inthe backyard where my mother and I would plant and take care of daffodils, carnations, and some lilly of the valley. It was so pretty and Ishall remember it forever. On the inside was two bedrooms, one for meand one for my parents of course. I loved my room because I had a bigroom where I could look outside and see our beautiful little garden.And, if I opened my window, I could smell the flowers! We also hadone bathroom, one very big and nice kitchen, and the living room. Nowthe living room was always one of my favorite places because we hada big piano that my mother and father would play for me. They even

taught me a few things. But I was never as good as them. Too bad Inever will be. I had been hearing about conflict from Jews and Germansbut I figured that since I was only 13, it didn’t matter even if I was a

Jew. It was stupid and immature and now I am paying for it with my life.It first started when my mother and I would go down to the

grocery store and they wouldn’t let us buy anything because we were Jews. So, we had to go to different stores. I didn’t mind it like I shouldhave. Then, lots of people stopped coming to my father’s candy shopbecause he was a “filthy son of Abraham” and I got angry. But it gotworse. Oh, so worse. Next, the Nazis forced us to wear bracelets with

the star of david on them, clearly stating that we were Jews. Soonafter, we couldn’t even walk the streets without people hurting us andcalling us filthy Jews. My mother made me stay home after that, sayingit was too dangerous for me. Then, the most dreadful thing happened!A bunch of drunk Nazis broke into my fathers candy shop, stole almostALL of the candy, then spray painted the star of david on the windowso that nobody would come there! We lost a lot of money and now hadno ways of making any. So, we started selling small items to eitherother Jews or sympathetic Germans. For a little while we lived off of that but then things got much, much worse.

The Nazis forced us out of our home! So we each grabbed a fewpersonal belongings and got out of there, on our way to the ghetto. Ihad taken an extra pair of clothing, a blanket, my favorite book, and asewing kit if I needed it. My mother brought an extra pair of clothing, ablanket, a sewing kit, and a few pieces of nice jewelry. My fatherbrought an extra pair of clothing, a blanket, the rest of our food, therest of the candy from his shop, and a pillow for us all to share. When



we were nearing the ghetto, it was a race! Everybody was running,trying to get a “good” room. But our room was definitely not mydefinition of good! It was about half the size of my bedroom, covered infilth and grime, and there were rats! Luckily though my father chasedthem out of the room. We then tried to make ourselves feel at home by

finding an old, big mattress, lying our blankets and pillows on it, thenputting all of our other belongings in special places. Then, I exploredthe ghetto. I walked along the dirty streets, filled with scared, tiredlooking people who just wanted to survive. I saw children playing withrocks. I saw two women fight over a piece of bread. I saw peopleselling their items: their jewelry, their books, their clothes, even theirpets! Just for money for food. It was heartbreaking. But that was justthe beginning. While I was exploring, I saw a long and tall brick wallbeing built. When I asked what it was for someone explained it was tokeep us out. I stayed away from the brick wall. I also spent my time

reading my book over and over and sewing up holes in my clothesafter exploring. One day, while I was reading, I wondered how wewould keep track of the days. So I decided to start scratching it into thewalls. But first I had to know the day! There was a man I knew who hada calendar on the next floor so I went up to him and asked. He said itwas March 17, 1939. So I went back to our room and wrote it down.

Finding food was tough. But I did it for my family. My mother orfather would sometimes help while the other would keep watch of ourroom and our stuff. Occasionally we would find some dry bread but itwas mostly rotten vegetables. But, you’ve got to eat! So we did. And it

kept us alive. I was grateful. After about 3 weeks, they took mymother away. They took her to go sew uniforms for the Nazis. Butbefore she left she make us both promise we would sell her things forfood. We promised. Then she was gone. I cried. I haven’t seen hersince. I think she’s dead. But I did what she told me to and I sold herextra clothes and her jewelry. It got my father and I 4 roasted squirrels,2 apples, and 1/2 a loaf of bread. That night we both feasted. I did keepher blanket and sewing kit though because they were useful. I addedher sewing kit to mine and now my father and I had 2 layers of blankets. Live went on. Slowly, painfully. The ghetto looked more and

more different everyday. Everybody was filthy and smelled horrible.People were sick, starving. People were lying dead on the street,wrapped in newspaper. But the worst thing I saw was the Nazi Jews.

Jews ashamed of who they were, trying to make it up by trying to be aNazi. Hurting Jews. Bad. Holding clubs, ready to swing. Or alreadyswinging. I saw one swing a club so hard so many times at a little girlthat she died right there on the street. Nobody did anything but me. I



weeped. She was just a little girl! When I asked what she did all theNazi Jew did was snicker and say, “She breathed.” I wanted to kill him.But I didn’t. Couldn’t. I continued to weep. I ran home. And, if youthought things couldn’t get worse...

My father became ill. Very ill. And I had no idea what it was or

what to do. So I made him lie on the mattress, covered in the 3blankets, head rested on the pillow. I found an old, rusty, soup can,filled it with water, then made a fire and put it over to boil. Next I gotsome of the rotten vegetables I had found the other day, broke themup as much as I could, then put them in the water and made soup. Itried some and it was like heaven. But it was for my father. So I gave itto him. He loved it. But it didn’t help, nothing could. On May 5, 1939my father died from a sickness I didn’t even know. I didn’t know whatwas worse: the fact that my father was gone from me forever or seeinghim go away from me on the cart of dead Jews. I weeped all day and all

night right there on the street. But it didn’t help. It never does. And if that wasn’t bad enough, when I went back to my room I call a home, allof our possessions were gone, stolen by some greedy Jew or even aNazi AND a new Jew family had taken the room. So, I was forced toroam the streets. Looking for food, trying to stay healthy. But I couldfeel myself slowing starving. And now we are almost caught up withthe story! But not yet. About one week ago, I was walking aroundlooking for food, when I saw a Nazi Jew. There was a group of littleboys, hurting him, calling him names. But he was too slow to get him.He got very, very angry. But they escaped. And I was now the only one

in site. “YOU FILTHY STUPID JEWS!!!!” he yelled. And not even at theboys. At me. Then, he charged. He got out his club and took out all of his fury. He hit me so many times and so hard on my left shoulder andarm that he knocked it right off. I screamed. A lot. But he kept going.He next aimed for my knees, hitting them again and again until, one byone, both of my knee caps shattered and I dropped to the ground inagony, still screaming. That’s all I could do, was scream. Just scream,scream, scream. I just wanted the pain to go away! But the Nazi Jewhad one last blow. He raised his club, and with full force, hit my face.Everything went black.

When I woke up I was on the cart. But I wasn’t dead! So Islowly, painfully dragged myself with my one arm off the cart, droppingmyself on the ground. I couldn’t walk because of my knees but luckily a13 year old boy I had known from school, Marwin Kuhn, saw me anddragged me over to a building and propped me up against the wall. Hethen found the cleanest shirt he could and ripped it into many strips.

The first one, and biggest, he used to wrap up my stub of an arm. He



then used two strips to wrap up my knees. And with the last strip hedipped it in dirty water and cleaned my face. After that he found me ablanket and pillow and tried to make me as comfortable as possible.For the next few days, he stayed right beside me, talking to me while Islowly died from blood loss and starvation. He kept me alive. I owe him

my full gratitude. I would say my life, But I am going to die. He still ishere, right beside me, keeping me company as I write this. Thank youMarwin. Thank you so much. I wrote this tragic story because I wantyou to cringe. I want you to cry. I want you to NOT want to read thisbecause it is absolutely awful. I want you to make sure this will neverhappen again. I feel that my time is up, and I am tired. So, I shall sleep.Hopefully, when I wake, I will be in my mother and father’s arms.

Abschied,

Annagret Freud

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Story of a Girl From the Warsaw Ghetto©