By Joyce Parkey

When Nazi concentration camp survivors address why or how they survived their imprisonment, they state luck or chance as the primary or only possible reason. However, in the next sentence, the same individual tells of a friend or relative without whose companionship, aid, and support they would have died. The Nazis aimed at isolating Jews, segregating them from loved ones, as part of the process for their ‘Final Solution,’ but they failed to take into account that human beings are at heart social creatures and will create substitute relationships or strengthen and redefine existing ones to fill the void left by separation and death. The newly formed surrogate families were not only coping mechanisms for dealing with the brutality encountered in the camps, but actually increased an inmate’s chances for survival. While current research shows evidence of bonding occurring between men as well as between women, this paper will examine only those relationships experienced by women, often referred to as ‘camp sisters’ or ‘camp mothers,’ specifically how and why they were formed, what needs they met, and how they contributed to survival in the camps.

When prisoners first arrived at the camps, they were immediately segregated by sex, followed by an initial selection. Those to live went to the left, and the others marked for death, to the right. In a matter of moments, most, if not all, of their closest relatives were beyond their reach. From there they were stripped of any remaining belongings, their hair, and their names. The inmates were suddenly reduced to a number, naked alongside other women and among male guards and prisoners, being searched in every crevice of their bodies. When they were finally given clothes to wear, the dresses were ill fitting and didn’t belong to them. They ended up in an overcrowded barracks without any personal space, a bucket for a toilet shared among hundreds of women, if they were lucky enough to have access to any facilities at all, and given what was called food but lacked any real nourishment. They were even denied a source of potable water for drinking purposes much less to use to clean themselves up. Standing at roll calls, hard labor, and minimal sleep followed. All this was meant to humiliate and dehumanize, shock the prisoners into submission, and lead them willing to death. Yet, many still maintained their will to live, and were determined to “survive at any price, and (they) clung to life with all (their) might.” (Birenbaum, 100) When confronted with the number of dead upon awakening her first morning in Ravensbruck, Sara Tuvel Bernstein writes she “decided then. I would not die. Somehow, in whatever way I could, I would remain alive; Esther (her sister), Ellen, and Lily, as well. As long as I had the strength, we would live. I would see to it.” (Bernstein, 206) She extended her desire to live to the other three members of her camp family, linking their survival with hers.

The will to live is an animal instinct for self preservation, but “cooperation for survival among members of the same species is a basic law of life” as well (Davidson, 122). One can lead to the other because there is “strength in cooperation and mutual aid,” and the harsher the environment, when extreme levels of degradation, cruelty, and deprivation are the norm, the greater the need for reciprocal, helping relationships (Tec, 344). Forming these cooperative associations is therefore adaptive behavior under traumatic circumstances which improves quality of life for the individuals involved, and these relationships were as important to survival as following base instincts. Survivor accounts agree that it was almost impossible to remain alive on your own, certainly not and maintain any semblance of humanity at the same time. (Gelissen, 149 & Goldenberg, 337 & Tec, 183)

Human beings have a strong need for affiliation, what Goldenberg refers to as a “need for connectedness. (Goldenberg, 329) Even though people seek out other groups later in life, the primary way they satisfy this need for others is through the family they are born into. Deprived of these connections, people quite naturally form new ones. It is no wonder that prisoners in concentration camps sought out relationships with other inmates because they satisfied this basic requirement for belonging. Additionally, camp families came together through shared misfortune and suffering, “motivated not by trivialities, but rather by a genuine sense of solidarity among people who shared each other’s grisly fate.” (Adelsberger, 99) Identifying with a group in this manner generates “feelings of connection that are often intense,” (Staub, 14) to the point that Liana Millu notes “most of the sisters in camp loved each other with an almost morbid attachment.” (Millu, 151)

Often the women were bound by familial relationship or friendship prior to deportation, and from the start, the elder of the group took it upon herself to look after and protect the younger one(s). Sara Tuvel Bernstein reminds us that the old European school of thought came into play in that you listened to the oldest even if she was a fool. (Bernstein, 210) She was deported alongside her younger sister, Esther, and two young friends, coming to think of them as sisters, too, and it was Sara who determined the best course of action to keep them all alive. Rena Gelissen arrived at Auschwitz before her sister, Danka, but took care of both her and Dina, a friend from their hometown of Tycliz, after their subsequent arrivals. Judy Weiszenberg Cohen ended up at Auschwitz not only with her oldest sister Erzsebet, but with two other sisters as well. She remembers Erzsebet making the rules for them to follow, too. Halina Birenbaum was separated from her mother during the initial selection at Majdanek, but Hela, her 20 year old sister-in-law, immediately stepped in and told her “from now on, I’m your mother.” (Birenbaum, 78) Judith Pinczovsky Jaegermann and her mother were interned together, and she attributes her survival to her mother. She also mentions that her mother sheltered all the young girls who were alone. In a less traditional family group, Dr. Lucie Adelsberger was adopted by two teenage girls who became her “camp mother” and “camp grandmother” even though she herself was in her forties at the time.

While there was usually one ‘sister’ who took charge of the group, the relationships formed were by necessity fluid and reciprocal, changing when one or another became ill or perhaps died. This reciprocity was an important characteristic of these families because the brutal conditions in the camps made it next to impossible for any one person to be strong all the time, either in mind or body. When one family member was depressed, ill, or injured, it was up to the other to take charge. While initially Hela stepped in as Halina Birenbaum’s mother, eventually she became ill, and Halina had to nurse her. Because Hela and subsequent camp sisters died, Halina ended up creating multiple camp families in succession who provided her with needed protection, warmth, and affection. Frequently, camp families were separated because of transfers between camps, leaving the members to realign themselves with other groups. Judy Weiszenberg Cohen was sent to Bergen-Belsen while her three sisters remained in Auschwitz. There she asked two friends, Sari and Edith Feig, if she could become their camp sister so she wouldn’t have to be alone.

One very important function of camp families was to physically care for one another, especially in the sharing of any extra food organized and in nursing any member who fell ill. Survivors speak of the care that went into dividing food absolutely equally among their groups because “these are hungry people; everyone must receive exactly the same portions.” (Gelissen, 216) Not that there was much to divide, but an occasional piece of meat or vegetable discovered in the soup, extra bread acquired in a bartered transaction, or a gift from a prisoner in a better work detail could provide much needed nourishment. By banding together, the odds increased that one of these extra sources of food materialized. There was also a special need for protection when a woman became ill or injured. To begin with, any evidence of illness or injury, such as fecal matter or blood, needed to be cleaned up because if the kapo, a prisoner in charge, suspected someone was sick she would send the woman to the infirmary, and the infirmary meant almost certain death. Also, any weakness or disease shown before the SS meant selection and subsequent death. Something as trivial as scabies was now a life threatening illness and must be covered up or salve bartered for to heal it. Someone too ill to keep up with the work demands placed upon the prisoners must be compensated for and protected, including being propped up at roll call if unable to stand. Irene Csillag speaks of even engaging in a form of physical therapy with her sister who had fallen so ill she was unable to walk. Irene would take her out of their bunk twice a day and put one foot in front of the other until she could manage on her own again. Sara Bernstein’s camp sister Lily lost her glasses during a beating by a kapo. She was unable to see without them; so from then on one or more of her camp family stayed by her side. More than one prisoner recounts feeling unable to keep going, especially on the death marches away from the camps and the advancing Allies, and only the other members of her lager family urging her on, physically pulling her each step of the way, or making her promise to keep trying kept her from dying. Rena Gelissen, became gravely ill on the march out of Auschwitz, extremely weak and ready to die, but her sister Danka and their friend Janka wouldn’t let her give up so they each took one of her elbows until she was able to walk again on her own. Had these women not had camp sisters by their sides to physically provide for them, they could not have survived.

More importantly, though, than physical care was the psychological, spiritual, and emotional support these surrogate families gave to one another and which took on many forms. Each woman experienced high levels of stress and anxiety brought on by the uncertainty of the camps. Unable to determine their own fates, they were subject to the whims of the SS guards and the prisoners they placed in charge. Groups provided relief from the stress by conveying a sense of security, real or imagined, to the women. Just knowing she was not alone but part of a group eased an individual’s mind and gave her strength to continue. Also, by being able to take part in group decisions, an individual regained a sense of control over her life. (Davidson, 135) When Gelissen’s camp family was deciding whether to find a way to remain at Auschwitz during the evacuation or leave as ordered, Janka spoke up and said “All I know is that I don’t want to die here. Let me die anywhere but Auschwitz.” (Gelissen, 244) She understood the Nazis were bent on murdering her, but in her mind she was determining the where. They left with the others.

Spiritual comfort between and among women only rarely took on a religious expression. Birenbaum mentions a “makeshift service with candles” (Birenbaum, 133) held by the women in her block, and Millu recalls a similar Hanukkah ceremony that became a time to mourn the dead. Rena Gelisen and her sister Danka fasted together their first year in Auschwitz but refused to give up a day’s ration of food the following year. More often than not, if women tried to assert their belief in a just and helping God as a source of consolation, it was met with scorn. Liana Millu comments after one such occasion that she “felt like asking them why God would help us in particular and allow last year’s unfortunate souls to freeze to death.” (Millu, 150) Differing views of God actually came between two sisters. While Gustine continued to believe that “God can’t allow injustice to triumph,” her sister Lotti could only see that “meanwhile the crematorium just keeps puffing away and ashes are dropping on (her) head.” (Millu, 172) Although Gelissen believed luck or perhaps a mistaken fate kept her and her sister alive, she was unable to completely disavow God. She also acknowledged burying the dead at Neustadt Glewe as very important to her personally, but even more significant, she and her camp family found saying a prayer over their grave “makes (them) feel good, and there is not much that does that.” (Gelissen, 260) Prayer provided a connection to their past lives and community as well as spiritual comfort for their group.

Women of the Third Reich ~Page 5