Eva Moses Kor - Surviving the Angel of Death: The true story of a Mengele twin in Auschwitz

BY E VA M OZES K OR AND
L ISA R OJANY B UCCIERI

Tanglewood Terre Haute, IN

Paperback edition published by Tanglewood in October, 2011.

Eva Mozes Kor and Lisa Rojany Buccieri, 2009.

All rights reserved. Neither this book nor any part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, microfilming, and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Cover and interior design by Amy Perich.
Cover font: 5AM Gender Chance Type Co.

The publisher would like to thank Holly Kondras for her assistance with this title.

Tanglewood Publishing, Inc.
4400 Hulman
Terre Haute, IN 47803
www.TanglewoodBooks.com

ISBN: 978-1-933718-28-6 (HC)
ISBN: 978-1-933718-57-6 (PB)

Printed by Maple-Vail at York, PA, USA, in August, 2011. First printing.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Kor, Eva Mozes.
Surviving the angel of death : the story of a Mengele twin in Auschwitz / Eva Mozes Kor and Lisa Rojany Buccieri.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-933718-28-6 (hardcover)
1. Kor, Eva Mozes. 2. Zeiger, Miriam Mozes, 1935-1993. 3. Jews--Persecutions--Hungary--Juvenile literature. 4. Jewish children in the Holocaust--Hungary--Biography--Juvenile literature. 5. Holocaust, Jewish (1939-1945)--Hungary--Personal narratives--Juvenile literature. 6. Twins--Biography--Juvenile literature.
I. Buccieri, Lisa Rojany. II. Title.
DS135.H93K673 2009
940.5318092--dc22
[B]

2009009494

This book is dedicated to the memory of my mother, Jaffa Mozes, my father Alexander Mozes, my sisters Edit and Aliz, and my twin sister, Miriam Mozes Zeiger. I also dedicate this book to the children who survived the camp, and to all the children in the world who have survived neglect and abuse, for I wish to honor their struggle in overcoming the trauma of losing their childhoods, their families, and the feeling that they belong to a family. Last, but not least, this book is dedicated in honor of my son, Alex Kor, and my daughter, Rina Kor, who are my joy, pride, and challenge.

EMK

To Olivia, Chloe, and Genevieve: the reasons for everything. And to my sister, Amanda, for saving my life.

LRB

The doors of the train car were thrown all the way open for the first time in many days, the light of day shining upon us like a blessing. Dozens of Jewish people had been crammed into that tiny cattle car as it rattled through the countryside, taking us farther and farther away from our home in Romania. Desperate, people pushed their way out.

I held tightly to my twin sisters hand as we were shoved onto the platform, not sure whether to be glad for our release or afraid of what was coming. The early morning air was chilly, a cold wind nipping at our bare legs through the thin fabric of our matching burgundy dresses.

I could tell at once that it was very early morning, the sun barely making its way above the horizon. Everywhere I looked there were tall, sharp, barbed-wire fences. High guard towers with SS patrols, Schutzstaffel in German, leaned out, aiming their guns at us. Guard dogs held by other SS soldiers pulled against leashes, barking and growling like a rabid dog I had once seen on the farm, their lips foaming, their teeth flashing white and pointy. I could feel my heart pounding. My sisters palm clenched sweaty and warm onto my own. My mother and father and our two older sisters, Edit and Aliz, were standing right next to us when I heard my mothers loud whisper to my father.

Auschwitz? Its Auschwitz? What is this place? Its not Hungary?

We are in Germany, came the reply.

We had crossed over the border into German territory. In actuality, we were in Poland, but the Germans had taken over Poland. Germanys Poland was where all the concentration camps were. We had not been taken to a Hungarian labor camp to work but to a Nazi concentration camp to die. Before we had time to digest this news, I felt my shoulder being pushed to one side of the platform.

Schnell! Schnell! Quick! Quick! SS guards ordered the remaining prisoners from the cattle car out onto the large platform.

Miriam pulled herself closer to me as we were jostled about. The weak daylight was blocked and unblocked as taller people were first jammed up next to us, then pulled away by the guards to one side or the other. It looked like they were choosing some of us prisoners for one thing and some for another. But for what?

Thats when the sounds around us began escalating. The Nazi guards grabbed more people, pulling them to the right or to the left on the selection platform. Dogs were snarling and barking. The people from the cattle car started crying, yelling, screaming all at once; everyone was looking for family members as they were torn away from one another. Men were separated from women, children from parents. The morning erupted into pure pandemonium. Everything started moving faster and faster around us. It was bedlam.

Zwillinge! Zwillinge! Twins! Twins! Within seconds, a guard who had been hurrying by stopped short in front of us. He stared at Miriam and me in our matching clothes.

Are they twins? he asked Mama.

She hesitated. Is that good?

Yes, said the guard.

They are twins, replied Mama.

Without a word, he grabbed Miriam and me and tore us away from Mama.

No!

Mama! Mama! No!

Miriam and I screamed and cried, reaching out for our mother, who, in turn, was struggling to follow us with her arms outstretched, a guard holding her back. He threw her roughly to the other side of the platform.

We shrieked. We cried. We pleaded, our voices lost among the chaos and noise and despair. But no matter how much we cried or how loud we screamed, it did not matter. Because of those matching burgundy dresses, because we were identical twins so easily spotted in the crowd of grimy, exhausted Jewish prisoners, Miriam and I had been chosen. Soon we would come face to face with Josef Mengele, the Nazi doctor known as the Angel of Death. It was he who selected those on the platform who were to live and those who would die. But we did not know that yet. All we knew was that we were abruptly alone. We were only ten years old.

And we never saw Papa, Mama, Edit, or Aliz again.

Miriam and I were identical twins, the youngest of four sisters. To hear my older sisters grudgingly tell the story of our birth, you would have known immediately that we two were the darlings of the family. What is sweeter or cuter than identical twin girls?

We were born on January 31, 1934, in the village of Portz in Transylvania, Romania, which is in Eastern Europe near the border of Hungary. From the time we were babies, our mother loved to dress us in the same clothes, putting huge bows in our hair so people would know right away that we little people were twins. She even seated us on the windowsill of our home; passersby thought we were precious dolls, not even real people.