Small Riga Ghetto

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III.
A new transport of Hungarian Jews, women and men, arrived in our camp
from Buchenwald. Although they were not the least bit nationalistic in their
attitude, they were Jews all the same. In terms of their outward appearance
they made a very good impression. This group included excellent professional
people, and the women were young and pretty. They weren't keen on making
contact with us, for we didn't appeal to them in the least. The camp elder immediately
got to work on them, using his methods to "make human beings of
them". The only thing they could do to his satisfaction was to march. They had
been officers and soldiers, and they knew how to do it because of their army
days. In a marching competition they won the first prize.
We used Sundays, when we didn't have to go to work, to clear up. Now and
then the camp elder made sure we "got some fresh air" by chasing us outside
to march in the cold without our coats on. We spent our free time in our "dining
room". We mended our clothes and waited to be ordered to go to work
again. Schuller would always appear very suddenly. What angered him the
most on his visits was when he found one of us wearing a scarf around his
neck. That person would immediately receive a real beating.
On Sundays we also visited our comrades in other barracks, for often we
hadn't seen them all week on account of the day and night shifts. On one of
these visits I met a certain Mr. Schäftel, a teacher from Vilno, and over time I
became quite friendly with him. He was a very gifted human being and, most
importantly, had a broad political perspective. His optimism was as great as
mine, and both of us firmly believed we would eventually be liberated. On the
great Jewish holiday of Purim he held an excellent lecture in his block. The
meaning of Purim gave him a great deal of material to compare with our life at
that time. His listeners were gripped by his talk. Unfortunately, I was unable
to attend, because I was working elsewhere.
Also living in this block were Dubin's son and his secretary Golowtschiner.
Both of them looked ghastly. They were still observing the kosher regulations
and thus were hardly able to eat a thing. Golowtschiner soon collapsed from
weakness, so he requested a work assignment inside the camp. When the camp
elder offered him a position that involved using a rubber truncheon, he refused
it. He lasted only a short time doing factory work and soon died of starvation.
Young Dubin often visited me in his free time to pour out his heart to me. He
regarded me as a genuine native of Riga and was still convinced that his father
was living in Soviet Russia. Also lodged in the same block were the artists