Ernst Israel Bornstein - The Long Night: A True Story

The Long Night

A True Story

Ernst Israel Bornstein

The LONG NIGHT

TRANSLATED BY

Noemie Lopian (nee Bornstein)David Arnold, MBE

The Toby Press

The Long Night

A True Story

First Maggid Edition, 2015

The Toby Press LLC

POB 8531, New Milford, CT 067768531, USA

& POB 2455, London W1A 5WY, England

www.tobypress.com

Original German edition Ernst Israel Bornstein 1967

English translation Noemie Lopian 2009

Cover design: Yehudit Cohen

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

ISBN 978-1-59264-440-7

Printed and bound in the United States

Authors Original Dedication

Dedicated to the sacred memory of my father

Usher Bornstein

Who always saw the best in others

my mother

Hella Bornstein

my sister

Noemi Bornstein

and my brother

Yehuda Bornstein

who in 1943 were all gassed in Auschwitz
by the Nazi barbarians

This revised English translation is
dedicated to their memory

and

to the memory of the author

Dr Ernst Israel Bornstein

(26 November 1922 14 August 1978)

With gratitude to David Arnold MBE who selflessly
and graciously devoted his time over three years
in assisting with the translation of this book.

Tribute to the Author from His Children

Papa,

You will live with me always: In the short 11 years I knew you, you taught me by example to love and give to fellow man, to believe and give the best of myself.

Noemie Heli Lopian nee Bornstein

In memory of my father who taught me the essence of life. He instilled in me the value of life, Right from Wrong and to live life filled to the brim with love, joy, light and no hate. I am forever indebted and grateful always.

Muriel Davis nee Bornstein

I look back at my fathers all too brief life with awe and admiration.

After suffering a harrowing physical and psychological ordeal and losing nearly everyone he loved, he not only rebuilt his life by qualifying as a dentist and medical doctor, marrying and having a family, but he remained true to his human and religious values. He strove both, to help whomever was in need in any way he was able and to keep the memory of his martyred brethren alive.

His enduring legacy was that he lived his life without bitterness and hatred and, by his example (as well as our mothers), ensured that we too live our lives in the same way.

As a father, his love and warmth is fondly remembered and very much missed. May his memory be a blessing.

Asher Alain Bornstein

Contents

A story that I was told about my grandfather when I was young always used to puzzle me. It was about his First World War medals.

When my grandmother and her three young daughters were arrested in Amsterdam and imprisoned in first Westerbork and then Belsen, they took with them Alfred Wieners war medals.

My grandfather was by that point in London, setting up his famous Holocaust archive and contributing to the war effort, but unable to help his family. His wife thought that, perhaps, his medals might help in some way. They were proof werent they that the family were loyal Germans. Maybe they would be of use.

Sadly, of course, they were of no use at all. My grandmother starved to death. She died just after arriving in Switzerland as part of a rare prisoner exchange, leaving her three daughters to fend for themselves in war torn Europe.

The girls managed to contact my grandfather, who was in New York collecting material, and they set off in a Red Cross ship to meet with him. And on the way, they discussed a problem. What should they do with the medals? Maybe when they arrived at Ellis Island and were quizzed, the insignia might make them seem like spies. They wrapped the medals in a handkerchief and dropped them out of a porthole.

And there they lie, in the waters by the Statue of Liberty.

Heres what confused me as a child. My grandfather was quite cross about his medals. And I couldnt understand it. Why would he want them? Why didnt he see immediately that disposing of them was the right thing to do?

As an adult, however, I think I understand. Or at least, that I understand better.

There were two things that were precious to my grandfather above all other values in his public life. The first was his belief that he was a German. A true and loyal citizen of a great country. The second is that he believed in the power of truth. That was his lifes work, after all. Documenting the truth so that it could be used as a weapon in the fight for liberty.

And what happened with the medals offended against both these things.

I share these values. I too believe that Jews must be true and loyal citizens of their home country and must be recognised as such. And even more strongly, I believe in the power of truth. I believe that laying out, unsparingly, without bias, without embellishment, the truth, has a special force in argument and in the maintenance of social relations.

That is why I am so grateful, so moved, so taken with this extraordinary book. Because it is more than a book. It is a piece of armour. It is a declaration of intent. It is a cry for freedom and justice. It is a rock to cling to. It is a barricade that we can man. It is truth.

The Bornstein family bringing us this truth is a form of heroism. Not the heroism of fighters or mountain climbers or daredevil stuntmen. The heroism of people prepared to confront their emotions and expose themselves and their inner secrets, the secrets of their precious Ernst, so that others may live and others may learn.

This powerful testimony tells stories of those who stood firm under terrible pressure and those who crumbled. It affirms the humanity of all who suffered, whatever their response. It is brave enough even to deal with the way those who suffered sometimes imposed suffering on others, a beating, say, making them more difficult with other prisoners.

It copes with this terror just by calmly, clearly, with open eyes telling it how it was and letting the power of truth do its work. Its simplicity makes it luminous, its very lack of elaboration makes it complicated, its very straightforward narrative style makes it deep.

With every Holocaust story one learns something new. I never feel that I have read it before or that I know it already. Each one has the shock of new revelation, each one brings new questions. And that means that if you havent read The Long Night you havent read about the Holocaust.

At the party for my fiftieth birthday, I reflected to my friends how lucky I felt that I had reached that age living in the suburbs of a country at peace, in a nation that respects the rule of law.