Artie to his girlfriend Shana on his Mothers Suicide:

28 May 1968
Dear Shana,
Sorry I have not talked to you in last few days. Upon returning home from your house the
other night, I was greeted by the blank stare of a crowd of people. You know that feeling you get
when you have the idea that your worse fear has happened, like your stomach has dropped to
your feet? I had that feeling, that gut instinct that she was gone but I suppressed it. I didn't want
to admit to myself that it was possible.
A few moments later my cousin Daniel led me away. He said that my mother was sick
and that Doctor Orens would explain. I knew he was lying - you could see it in the expression of
pain on his face - but I played along, continuing to choke down the feeling that she was gone.
When I got to his office I sat down in front of him. It's easy to remember the way he said
it, "Sit down, Arthur" he began. "I thought I should be the one to tell you...Your mother killed
herself - she's dead!" - He acted like he was my father. He barely even knew her, or me for that
matter. The only other time he has spoken to me was when he decided that I needed to be sent
away to Broughton for my depression. The only good thing that came from that was meeting
you...but that's besides the point.
Once he told me, I couldn't deny it any longer. She was gone. His words clattered around
inside of me. I felt confused, angry, and numb. I didn't feel like crying but I felt like I should. So
I did. His words kept rattling around my head. "She's dead! A suicide!" dancing around and
around.
Apparently my father found her in the bathtub. Her wrists were slashed open and their
was an empty bottle of pills nearby. When I arrived home he had completely fallen apart. He just
kept asking why. I was expected to comfort him.
Somehow we made the funeral arrangements. That night he insisted that we sleep on the
floor. He spent the whole night holding me and moaning. I was uncomfortable and we were both
scared but we made it through the night.
The next day at the funeral home was worse. My father fought desperately for self control
and prayed. I was spaced out. Then when we reached my mothers casket, my father lost it. He
jumped atop and kept calling her name. It was just too much for me, I had to leave. I went out
into the hall way and began to wept. A friend of the family, Ben, found me in their. All I
remember him saying was "Now you cry! Better you cried when your mother was still alive!"
What he didn't know is that I regret it. I felt nauseous the entire time. The guilt was
overwhelming. It still is. And despite all of my fathers friends offering their hostility-mixed

condolences, they believe I was the reason she did it, I was primarily left alone with my
thoughts. I keep picturing her lying naked in the bath tub, bringing the razor blade to her wrist,
popping the pills into her mouth, and just slowly slinking down into the water.
I also keep replaying the last time I saw her. She sauntered into my room late at night,
clutching her bath robe with her hand, and she said to me "Artie...you...still...love...me...don't
you?" And I did but I didn't say it like I should have. Instead I turned away, resentful of the way
she kept tightening the umbilical cord like she could keep me her little boy forever. I just said
"Sure, Ma" and she walked out and closed the door. Its like I'm a prisoner of this memory now,
of the guilt that encompasses me.
Anyway, I will not keep you much longer my dear. Sorry this is not more of a cheerful
letter. I hope you are well.

Love always,
Artie

Vladek's First Letter to Anja In a POW Camp in 1939

5 September 1939
My dearest Anja,
I am terribly sorry that I have not written in a while. As you know, I was shipped off to
war shortly after completing my Army training. During combat one day, we were dug into
trenches near a river with German Nazi's on the other side. Everything was quiet until just before
dawn then the shooting started on both sides. Captain Lundy, the officer in charge of me, snuck
over beside me and advised me to dig deeper into my trench. As he said this, he gripped the
barrel of my gun, allowing me to dig in a little, and when he handed it back to me he stated that it
was cold and that I needed to begin shooting. I didn't see what I was supposed to shoot at, but I
followed my orders and began to shoot into the utter darkness.
Bullets began to fly my direction, making a "PNNG" sound as they flew by. The only
response that I knew was to dig a little deeper into my trench and continue shooting. The thing
was, I don't see why I should kill anyone. These men in front of me had done nothing but
followed orders by a officer, just like what I was doing now. Although I didn't understand why I
had to, I did kill a man. He was camouflaged as a tree and as soon as I saw him begin to run, I
fired and he fell to the ground. He held up a hand to show that he was hurt and that he
surrendered, but I just kept shooting and shooting until he stopped moving. It was like I was

some kind of trigger-happy monster. I don't necessarily like it but if I hadn't done it, he could
have shot me and I would be the one that was dead right now.
After about two hours of fighting, the Nazi's crossed the river and overcame our troops.
"Get up!" they shouted at me. They requested to see my weapon and then commented on how it
was hot and that I was shooting at them. They didn't know that I didn't want to shoot. But that
was not an acceptable answer from a soldier by any standards, I mean, I'm supposed to be a
"lean, mean, killing machine right?".
Anyway, I answered them, in German I might proudly say, that my commander made me
shoot and that it was only in the air. Had I not responded in German, I would possibly be dead
right now, it was the only thing that kept one of the Nazi's from letting the other beat me.
Instead, I was marched, hands in the air, to where there was more solider like myself. War
prisoners.
Those of us who weren't injured were forced to march across a bridge to the German side
and look for their dead soldiers. They ordered us to carry all of their dead and wounded to the
waiting Red Cross trucks. I immediately walked over to the one that I shot and killed, not
without being questioned by a German soldier of course.
When I arrived to where he was lying, dead and motionless, the German announced that
his blood and ran out. Before I carried him to the truck, I took note at the name on his dog tags.
"Jan" it said, and I killed him. The only thought that I could think at the time was that at least I
had done something, albeit something horrible.
After that they took us to a place near Nuremberg where there were many War Prisoners.
They had the Jews stand separate, yelling at us that the war was our fault and that they should
hang us right there on the spot. Of course, none of us said a word. They ordered us to put down
all of our valuables. Of course I had maybe 300 Zlotys, a vast, vast difference from the 5 or 6 of
the others. This was noted and they asked me if I expected to do business and they ordered to see
my hands.Although you know that to be false, they did not and instead took my delicate hands as
a sign that I have never worked a day in my life. They said that they would change it and they
did. They found work for cleaning out a stable in an hour. We worked hard, very hard, but it was
impossible to do in one hour, and in response, they took away our soup.
We lived and worked for a few weeks in the stable until they took us to a bigger POW
camp where the Polish prisoners were given heated cabins and we were just left to freeze in
tents. The only thing that we have to keep warm is our skimpy summer uniforms and a thin
blanket. It would be much more bearable if they would give us more to eat. The other prisoners
get two meals a day. We only get a crust of bread and a little soup.
I think one of the only things that saved me while I am here is that I am willing to do
what I need to survive. Once I saw all of the other prisoners beginning to get infected frostbite

wounds containing lice, I began to bathe in the icy river. They told me I had gone mad, but it
protected me from the lice and frostbite, even making me feel a little warm because I was clean
in comparison to the other prisoners. I also may have helped that I did gymnastics everyday to
keep up my strength.
Work wise there is always little to do. We pray and often play chess to keep our minds
occupied and make the time go by just a little bit faster. Now of course, I can spend at least one
day a week writing to you thanks to the International Red Cross.
While I know I have seen and done things that I never thought I would do and that they
have changed me as person, loving you is something that will always stay consistent. All I ask is
that you do not worry about me, I will be home soon enough.
Always and Forever,
Vladek

A Letter from Anja to Vladek while at Birkenau

Vladek,
I have no knowledge of the date nor much time so please excuse me being so informal. I
miss you terribly. As soon as Mancie told me that you were alive, I began to sob with joy. Each
day I think to run into the electric wires and finish everything. But to know you are alive, to be
getting your letters, it gives me hope. Maybe soon we can be together, or at least near each other.
But for now we are here and here is a horrid, dark place.The Kapo are horrible. They give me
work impossible to complete, such as running to the kitchen with the barrels of soup or digging
ditches. I'm so small that I can't carry my weight and I always end up spilling the soup and
getting beaten because of it. It's even worse if I spill all of the soup because then nobody gets
food to eat that day and its my fault. Perhaps things will get better and the American's will begin
to win the war. Until then, I love you.
Always and Forever,
Anja

A Lefter form Vladek to Anja while at Auschwitz (in response to the above)
My dearest Anja,
The formalities are nothing but a reminder of the time that I have been apart from you. I
think of you always and it makes this hell seem a little more like heaven. I know that things are

hard but you are a strong person and I know that you can get through this. To die is easy, but you
have to struggle for life and until the last moment, you and I must struggle together. I need you
and you'll see that together we will survive.
Right now I am working in the tin shop. Hopefully, I will be selected to go over to
Birkenau and work on the roofs. If so I will try to get someone to come and get you. I cannont
wait to see you my love.
Always and Forever,
Vladek