As I was growing up, my parents, Cibi and Mischka, were busy building a new life in a new country, after surviving World War II. They were never outspoken about what happened to them ‘before’， and us kids never really asked or were concerned about my mother’s arm tattoo. Maybe it was because my parents were never particularly interested in sharing, or because nobody else in my immediate surroundings ever voluntarily shared their past, I didn’t feel like something was amiss.
Not until I met my future wife, Ronit （Sophie）， and discovered she had known her great-grandparents, was I struck by how much I had missed – I had missed a generation I never met or even imagined could be present in my life.
It was only when my daughters, Noa and Anat, grew up enough to start asking questions, that I was confronted with the scope of what had happened to my mother. This was the first time I realised her heroism: the way my mother and her two sisters survived those horrible times.
The story of these three sisters, Cibi, Magda and Livia, is an amazing tale of wits and courage. Their incredible survival, their arrival to and settlement in Israel, and their thriving ‘tribe’， are all evidence of their victory.
The document on the opposite page is an extract from Magda’s diary. Magda found a notebook and a pen at Retzow （part of Ravensbrück Concentration Camp） after the sisters were moved there from Auschwitz-Birkenau, and kept it with her on the death marches and after they broke free. Here, Magda reflects on the news that the war is over. The sisters were by then in a small village in southern Germany, Mirow, which had been abandoned by its residents. Russian soldiers passing through the village told them the war had ended.
8th May 1945
We have packed up and are on the move once again. We passed our camp at Retzow. It feels strange not to be behind that fence and being pushed around. There’s no one to shout at us if we choose to run away.
Mirow
Mirow is such a small town. We used to come here to get milk and meat for the camp （when we were at Retzow）。 We don’t recognise it now though. Houses have been bombed, barns and shops are still burning. It’s an awful sight – even the livestock have been burnt – the smell is terrible! The sun is high and strong. We continue walking. Soon, we are in another small village where we can wash and get our strength back for the next bit of the journey. We find a nice, clean room where we can stay. The name of this tiny village is Zirtow. It has been abandoned – there are no civilians here anymore. We are almost alone. There are Russian soldiers around, but they are quite kind and don’t bother us. This is a pleasant surprise.
Midnight, 8th May 1945 – The End of War
We cannot imagine what other people are doing outside this village. This is not an easy thing to write: It is the End of War. This is not only the end of the war, it is the end of tears, the end of death, the end of the sound of gunfire, the end of air raids; and finally the capitulation of Germany.
It is the end of this massive sadistic German Empire. The Empire which believed it could not ever be defeated, by anyone. The end of an Empire which has enslaved thousands of good and honest people and many nations.
That Great Third Reich is now in ruins and her powerful leaders, The Bandits of Europe, now will be punished.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
L
ivia and Magda, thank you for inviting me into your homes, sharing your meals, showing me the candlesticks and photos, trusting me to tell your story. You have my undying love and devotion, my respect and admiration for your courage, resilience, commitment to each other and Cibi, and your families.
Kari and Yossi, my heartfelt thanks to you for your support and encouragement to tell the story of your amazing, much loved, mother – Cibi. Her strength continues to give me strength, her love for her family will inspire others to emulate her values in caring and loving unconditionally, no matter the risks.
Chaya and Ditti, thank you so much for your support and encouragement in obtaining memories from your mother, Magda, and sharing them with me. Without this, I could not have told the story of Three Sisters. Her courage, love and compassion are a beacon lighting the way for others who may at times feel lost and alone.
Odie and Dorit, no words can express the love and gratitude I feel towards you for inviting me into your world, into your mother Livia’s home and life. You have been my guide in obtaining the memories – painful and joyful – from Livia, which have brought this story to life, to the page. The many hours I have spent with you, in person or via video, have been joyous, sad, hilarious.
Kari, Yossi, Chaya, Ditti, Odie and Dorit, I wish to acknowledge my gratitude for the sometimes very painful journey you have all experienced as you have relived the evil period of history your amazing mothers endured and survived. I am eternally indebted to you for the emotional rollercoaster you undertook to ensure I could tell the true story of Three Sisters.