By Esther Waldman (nee Frankel)

I was born in Berettyoufalu, Hungary, to a family of a known rabbinical dynasty.  My father's great-grandfather, the Rabbi of Dorog, Rabbi Shmuel Frankel, was considered one of the leading rabbis of Hungary in his time (19^thcentury).   My father was the rabbi in a hamlet – Zsaka, near Debrecen.  When the children grew a bit older, we moved to the city of Debrecen, which had better schooling for my siblings and myself.

In 1941, I married Shimon Friedman, a scion to a prominent family.  He was drafted immediately after our wedding and taken away for forced labor in the Ukraine.  When he got the draft notice, I begged him to go into hiding.  I was willing to hide with him in a certain cornfield, but he refused because he was frightened to do so.  Thus, I was left alone as my husband was taken away together with the rest of the young Jews that were drafted and I stayed with my parents.  I did not hear from him until after the war. (Eyewitnesses told me that in 1943, he was burnt alive in a barn that was set afire.  Through a special Bet-Din (Rabbinical Court) I was declared a widow and allowed to remarry.)

Early morning,  April 16, in 1944. My father gently woke me up (and no one else in the family, so as not create a commotion) and in a hushed voice choked with emotion told me, "Esther, you always listened to me.   It is a dark time now for the Jewish people.   You must go into hiding.  Take the next train to Szbadka (a small town in Hungary) and try to set yourself up in an apartment as a non-Jew.   Later, we will send  your brother Yidel and maybe some other family members, too.  When Yidel will join you, please take care of him so that at least two members of the family should remain alive.   Remember you are a Jew - first and foremost.  Remain Jewish!  Remember your heritage!  Keep all the Mitzvot as best as you can as circumstances will allow."

We both cried as I quickly packed what I was able to, and I walked away from the house in the predawn hours to catch the train to Szabadka.  In our minds was the horrible thought, that this might very well be the last time we will see each other.   (Unfortunately, it was.)

In the train, scared and forlorn as I was, I held back my tears and tried keeping my composure.  It was so difficult for me as a young woman, to travel alone in the train, heading to the unknown – a Gentile town, with no address to go to.  My father gave me enough money to sustain myself for a while, but not for too long. The train chugged away as the world I left behind, quickly disappeared.

When I arrived in Szabadka, I checked into a hotel for the night and early next morning, I went out to look for an apartment a possible job.  Being very nimble with my hands, I was able to find a job weaving the hair of rabbits.  It was next to the factory that I was also able to find a room where I would be able to stay.

Months passed by and one day I met a familiar face in the street.  We passed each other and then we both turned around for a second look.  It was my brother Yidel!  With the strange attire of an army hat and a Yeshiva boy type jacket, it was difficult to recognize him.  We were both overjoyed and Yidel related some of his recent experiences. One difficult incident that he endured was hiding in a tree for two days without any food.  However, he survived by using the non-Jewish identity documents that he had once found and which were kept by my father for some "rainy days."  Yidel had been sent out of the ghetto by my mother through a hole she had dug under the fence.  He told me the sad news that my father was arrested and sent to a forced labor camp.

(My mother later tried to use the same escape plan for my younger brother Simcha, who was just fourteen at the time. However, he was caught, beaten and returned to the ghetto.  Later, he was transported to Auschwitz together with the rest of the family, where unfortunately they were all murdered. )

After giving Yidel some food, and letting him sleep in my apartment, we set out to find him a room to rent.  My father had instructed us to do so, so that if one of us is caught at least the other would have a chance to survive.

With Divine providence, my manager at work asked me if I knew someone who could help out with the twining work, since one of the workers had become ill.   I immediately suggested that they accept Yidel.  Besides the additional income, it was important that he should not be seen roaming around without work.  Yidel did not have working papers, so I went instead of him to the police station to get him the appropriate documents.  (The male Jews, who were on the run, were stopped many times and checked for physical proof of being Jewish.  Thus, it was always safer for the women.)

Throughout this period, Yidel did not have his Tefillin with him.  Nevertheless, he would hide in a closet and pray with tears.  He was a young teenager then, but with the maturity of an experienced  grown adult, he acted far beyond his actual age.  He worried about his parents, siblings, and never stopped praying for them.

Late at night, while laying awake, weak and weary from our clandestine life-style, I would sometimes hear the trains with human cargo speeding by on the nearby railroad tracks.  We were even able to hear the anguished cries of the children and adults caused by their arduous journey.  They were so crammed in the freight cars, that there was little room to move even a limb.  It broke my heart whenever those trains passed by the room in which I was staying, knowing that in these trains my fellow Jews are being tortured and carried to their demise and decimation.  Rivers of tears flowed from within the train; due to the fear, pain and hunger.  In my little room in Szabadke, I would join them in their crying and prayers.

Yidel was always praying and studying Torah from memory and never socialized.  Thus, his landlord suspected that he was Jewish.  One day, when Yidel came back from work, the landlord asked in astonishment what he was still doing there, because the police were looking for him.  We then realized that the landlord was an informer. So we decided that we must leave Szabadka immediately.

In middle of the night, we ran away from the town and hid in a distant forest.  My father's parting words rang loud in my ears - "Please take care of Yidel, so that at least the two members of the family will survive."

We were frightened to death in the forest, lest we get caught and sent to our death.  We felt like hunted animals fighting for survival.  We’d pray and cry all night until we saw the first light of dawn.  There wasn’t much of an alternative; we had to move on to a place where our lives were less at risk.

We walked to a different town and took trains in a roundabout way to our destination, Budapest.  We chose Budapest because (of what) we heard and understood from radio and newspaper reports, that the Jews were still in Budapest and the various decrees, orders  and new laws have spared the Jews there. However, it was only a temporary reprieve.

When we first arrived in Budapest, we went to the home of acquaintances of ours, Mr. & Mrs. Mandel.  When we stepped into their apartment, they looked at us and without saying a word gave us a meal, which was very refreshing. After the meal they pulled out two beds and told us to go to sleep right away.  When we woke up, we thanked the Mandels’ profusely and went out to search for rooms to rent in the non-Jewish section of the city.  We found rooms, and settled in.

Yidel was very daring and made many trips into the Jewish ghetto, by scaling the ghetto wall, to provide food for needy families.  This entailed risking his life.  One day there was a decree that all young and able Jews from eighteen to forty years of age, should report to the commander in charge, for the purposes of relocation.  When Yidel heard this, he climbed over the wall, and bribed the guard on-duty with some whiskey.  Yidel whisked away seventeen members of the Frank family (whom we knew from before the war, through a common relative), in the presence of the drunken guard.  He helped them, (babies and children as well) climb the ghetto wall, and bring them to my apartment (or rather room).   At this point, let me translate (Hebrew - English) excerpts from pages 183-8 in a book written by a member of the Frank family, Dov Frank - "K'Chachlom Yo'uf" (“It will pass like dream").

“.....The guard appeared and viciously declared that all Jews, male and female, ages eighteen to forty, have to report in the yard with their personal belongings and the babies on their back.  From there they will be taken by  S.S. personnel for work details.  When Edith asked, "What should I do with my baby?"  The answer was, "Take her along, and they will take care of her there."   While crying bitterly, Edith sewed a backpack for her dowry.  She also sewed a bag for Yehudit, the baby, so that she can put in the diapers and other baby paraphernalia.  Thus, she would be able to give over the baby in an orderly manner.

THE GRAND ESCAPE

Suddenly, a figure appears by the gate to our building and motions to us that he wants to talk to us. This was Yidel Frankel!  I went to speak to him, and told him that Edith, her baby and others were being deported tomorrow.

Yidel in a shocked tone asked, "Have you gone insane?"

He removed his shoes, and climbed the gate like a cat, and ran up to the apartment Edith was in.  He told her emphatically, "You are not reporting for deportation!  Stop sewing the backpack, and start thinking of escape!  If you report tomorrow for deportation, it is a certain death sentence.  If you'll escape, you stand a chance.  Tonight you all have to leave this apartment. I will come back at midnight, and I will help you all escape."

As soon as Yidel finished his persuasion, he retraced his steps, climbed the gate and disappeared.

We then thought – “What should we do?  Even if we are able to get around the physical obstacles of escape, where can we find shelter?  Even for one night; and then what?  However, the will and desire to live, started to have an effect on our decisions - We will not go like sheep to the slaughter.  We will at least try to escape!”

Evening came, darkness set in and Yidel kept his promise and arrived!

Quickly we ran down, we tore off the yellow stars, and took out the forged Gentile documents we had prepared.   Our main task was to climb over the gate, but till the gate was a hurdle as well.  Every step made such noise on the dry leaves, as if they were cannons in our ears, which would awaken even the dead.

Thank God, we arrived at the gate.  Now we had to climb it.  Somehow we managed.  We had to jump from a height, but we made it with a fall, from which, thank God, we were not hurt.

Yidel took the baby, Yehudit, in his arm and climbed the gate with agility.  As he was climbing, we heard the guard screaming, "Who is there?"  Yidel froze in his place, between heaven and earth, with the baby in his arm.  He remained as such till the guard calmed down and went back to his apartment.  What a miracle that Yehudit did not make a sound!  Then Yidel jumped down, followed by Edith.  We now arrived, thank God, on Hollo Street [outside the confines of the ghetto]...

We started to go through the dark and empty streets, while being aware that a group as large as ours had to draw the attention of passer-bys.  Yet again God sent His angels to guide us in our way...

Yidel, the angel, gave us the address of his sister, Alice (My secular name – EW.]  He was disguised as a non-Jew.  This was a tremendous risk of life for her, being that she lived by a German Gentile, who had no idea that Alice was Jewish.  In spite of it, Yidel directed us how to get to her apartment because of our dire predicament.  In order to avoid being with a crowd and needless risks, Yidel just gave us directions, and left to his apartment.

We continued our wandering to Alice's residence.  Alice lived on the ground floor, in a room rented from a German widow who lived alone in an attached apartment.  When we knocked hesitantly on Alice's window, she immediately opened the door.  Without saying a word, she invited us all in.  BLESSED BE ALICE!"

In a true case of Divine providence, my landlady had gone away for the night to visit relatives.  Except for that crucial night, she rarely left her apartment for an overnight stay elsewhere.   The Frank family, numbering seventeen people, managed to fit into my tiny room.  Some slept on the table and some under it, while others slept on the bed and others under it.  It was very frightening.  We were especially concerned that the baby, Yehudit, should not alert neighbors with her crying.

The next morning the family split up and went apartment hunting, but they left some tell-tale signs.  In spite of the careful and meticulous cleaning, when my landlady came home she found a pair of Tzitzit left over by one of the children.  She confronted me, and asked me in an accusing tone, "What's this?"

During those trying and dangerous times, I learned how to answer quickly, sharply and without emotion or fear.   I answered, "I have never seen such a garment, what is it used for?"   She was convinced that it had nothing to do with me.

Though my landlady was an elderly woman, she was a sworn and vicious anti-Semite.  She would constantly curse and degrade the Jewish people.  I had to listen to all this, grind my teeth and not respond.  She even bragged about the parties she threw for the German soldiers in a local restaurant.  Every Sunday, I would disappear from the house, pretending that I was at a church.  She made my life miserable, checking every move I made but it appears to me that she was convinced that I am a true Gentile. [After the war was over, I made it my business to visit her.  I told her that I am Jewish and how much I despise her despicable behavior.  When she heard this, she nearly fainted, but did not utter a word.]

A few days after Yidel rescued the Frank family, the SS in Budapest were rounding up people whom they suspected of being Jews. Yidel was one of the hundreds that were arrested and jailed. One day, I found a note slipped under my door,  that Yidel had sent through someone.  On it was written the jail address and that the jail guards were starving them to death.  “Please send me a loaf of bread.”  I had no idea where to get a loaf of bread but I immediately went out to search for one. As I was walking down the street I saw someone dragging his dead horse that was just killed by fragments of a missile.  I went over to him and asked him if he could sell me a piece of horsemeat.  Sure enough he sold me a piece.   As I continued walking I saw a house of a foreign diplomat.  I knocked on the door and asked the maid if they could trade the fresh meat for a loaf of bread and she did.  As soon as I got the bread, I went to the prison where Yidel was staying.  I approached the SS guard and told him that my boss sent this loaf of bread for her son and that I should try to see how he is doing.  The officer looked at me and said, “You look like his sister and you better get lost if you know what’s good for you.”  I denied it very firmly, gave him the loaf to give to Yidel and left. However, Yidel never got the bread.

The next day everyone in that prison was taken to the Duno River, between Buda and Pest and were all shot to death and thrown into the river. Yidel was the only one put into a reform school because he had identifications that he was a minor of only 16 years old when they captured him.  From the reform school he again sent me a note that he needs a loaf of bread because he is starving. Somehow I was able to get a loaf of bread again for Yidel and this time they did give it to him.

Weeks past, and Moshe Wiesner (one of the Frank family members saved earlier by Yidel, when he directed them to my apartment), went to court  to fight for Yidel’s release. He indeed succeeded in gaining his release.

After a while, when it became too difficult for me to hear all the anti-Semitic remarks from my landlady, I moved into a glass factory which has been turned into a large refuge or safe house. This glass factory belonged to Mr. Arthur Weiss, a wealthy Jew, who had sacrificed his life in order to establish this safe house.  The house was referred to as "Vadasz Utca” (“Vadasz Street” – the street where the building was).

(Mr. Arthur Weiss, offered a large ransom and his own life, in exchange for the thousands of Jews he helped save.  He was taken away by the S.S., and unfortunately never returned.  Blessed be his memory!)

Some activists were able to obtain Swiss diplomatic protection for the building and its occupants.  It had two floors and a yard.  The upper floor had offices and the bottom floor, a cellar, which served as a storage place for the glass in prewar times.

In the yard, two makeshift outhouses were built (one for men and the other for women). The food was distributed very sparingly.   The hygiene was atrocious and everyone was infested with lice.  In general, the conditions were horrible.  Yet, Jewish people from all over were constantly begging entrance into this safe house.  When the conditions became unbearable, the next building, which previously, the building belonged to the Hungarian Football Federation, was rented as well.   We stayed at the 'glass safe house' till the final liberation of the Budapest Jews by the Russians.

Upon liberation, Yidel and I decided to go home to Debrecin, to see if there were any family members that survived.  We had no money to travel, so Yidel offered to help shovel the coal into the engine of the train.  He also asked the conductor to let me sit with the female soldiers that happened to have been on the same train route. The conductor agreed.

When we arrived home, we realized the magnitude of the tragedy. Except for the two of us we found no one alive from our family.  We set up a household there and earned our living through buying and selling jewelry.

Months passed by. One day my cousin Mendel Waldman came to visit, trying to find relatives. We dated for a short while and though it was very difficult to gather evidence that our former spouses had been killed and then obtain  rabbinical permission to remarry we did get married, barely a year after our liberation from the Nazi terror and atrocities.

Thank God, we were able to rebuild our lives and we have a family of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren – all following the footsteps of our parents - in the very spirit of the parting words of my father ZT"L - REMEMEBER THE HERITAGE!

My brother, Rabbi Yidel Frankel ZT”L went on to do for others as well.   After many years of being the Klausenburger Rebbe’s ZT"L right-hand-man in every project, including building and maintaining his institutions the world-over, R' Yidel built the Imrei Shefer Shul and Yeshiva in the Har Nof area of Jeruslaem.  He also established a night Yeshiva and Kolelim.   He passed away the third day of Chanuka 5766. Blessed be his memory!