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left up for a while, because a severe typhus epidemic was spreading quickly through the camp. Having survived the war, many prisoners died of the disease even after liberation. I remember climbing one of the barricades to accept a piece of black bread with what seemed a mountain of butter from a Russian soldier. I chewed it gently, allowing the butter to melt slowly in my mouth. Was I awake or dreaming?
    Despite the typhus quarantine, my father and I went outside the camp walls in search of food. We walked to the fields and picked rhubarb, and in the surrounding towns we begged for food. Back in the camp we bartered the rhubarb for bread and potatoes.
    I joined a few other children, and together we stole into the former Nazi living quarters just outside the camp compound. We found bullets lying on the floor and strips of movie film showing sea battles. To our surprise, we saw a swimming pool inside a beautiful park next to these quarters. How different life must have been on the other side of the walls! While we were starving, suffering, and living in fear for our lives, these people just a few yards away lived a life of luxury.
    When the typhus epidemic subsided, a few of the survivors began to leave the camp on foot. Most of them did not know where to go or who would help them. Finally, in early July 1945, a bus appeared from Stuttgart, Germany, to pick up the small group of survivors from the state of Württemberg, Out of our original transport of about twelve hundred people, there were thirteen survivors. Three of them were from my family.
    LIBERATION
    Our camp’s population began to swell,
Remnants of other places sent to our hell.
Time was running out; the tyrants began to retreat,
It was clear their armies were facing certain defeat.
One by one each guard was abandoning his post,
The uncertainty what next, we feared the most.
Urgency and anticipation filled the air,
Each minute we were torn between hope and despair.
     
    I climbed the barricade and stole a forbidden glance,
A hand grenade flew close, but missed me by chance.
The sudden explosion gave me a scare,
I touched my head to make sure it was there.
Quickly I sought my parents’ side,
In a dark cellar we would hide.
A stream of people joined us as we did descend,
“Could we survive, would this tomb become our end?”
One small candle emitted a ray of light,
A beacon of hope against this darkest might.
     
    Minutes became hours; time was impassively fleeting,
Deadly silence; only the sound of my heart beating.
I found solace in reading my prayer book,
Would someone dare go upstairs and take a look?
Evening had come; the hour was close to nine,
One man chose to go forward and lead the line,
We waited with trepidation; his absence was brief.
“The Allies are here, we are free, we have relief!”

    MY OMA‘S 2 LULLABY
    In some strange and distant land,
A life snuffed out by flick of hand.
I hear the shot; I feel the pain,
My Oma did not die in vain.
     
    I read her last postcard now and then,
“With God’s help we’ll be together again.”
Her birthday has become our Yahrzeit 3 date,
To remind us of love and man’s hate.
     
    She sang me to sleep with a lullaby,
My child, be happy, do not cry.
     
    Her Shabbos 4 candles had a special glow,
I hope she knew that I loved her so.
Only she held the secret to prepare,
The challes 5 and cakes without compare.
     
    I will always recall her last gaze,
Her eyes, soft smile, and beautiful face.
Her spirit still radiates with undying love,
I know she is looking down at me from above.
     
    She sang me to sleep with a lullaby,
My child, be happy, do not cry.
    We set off from the camp and soon found ourselves passing through badly bombed German cities. The once majestic city of Dresden had been turned completely to rubble. Wherever we stopped, curious Germans gathered outside our bus. One little girl pressed a small doll into my hands and insisted that I keep it and remember her.
    After a few