“Suddenly, the Germans were gone. They ran away and we could move around freely. But we were too weak for any long walks. Those who were somewhat stronger went to plunder the German food stockpiles. They took whatever food they needed. So some really got hold of the food provisions but most didn’t as they were already too weak for it. This was the case of my mom. She was heavily suffering from dysentery and diarrhea. She also had high fever and probably was delirious. We thus simply vegetated there, but at least we were free to go out and sit on the lawn in front of the houses. The English arrived on April 14. They arrived at the camp but were ordered to stay behind the barbed-wire fences as a spotted-fever epidemics raged in the camp. So not much was really happening – they came and they disappeared again. I think they might have been afraid. They appeared again the next day and tried to be helpful. They would toss us meet cans or chocolate. We grabbed a pork-meet can and I opened it. I was a stupid youngster and thus we ate all the meat from the can, giving some of it even to my mother. It should have dawned on me that pork lard and meat wouldn’t do her well. Of course she then got worse.”
“A huge bulge had developed on the left side of my mom’s neck. She had to go to the ‘Krankenstube’, where they cut it open and removed a large load of pus or some fluid. It then healed really nicely. Later, when we had to go through the selection, she went ahead and approached Mengele in such a way that he was standing on her right-hand side. Thus he couldn’t see the scar. We were all naked, of course, during the selection. Then it was my turned and my younger sister followed after me. At that time, she looked like an eleven-year old. So they advised her to walk on her tippy-toes to appear taller. She followed the advice and made it through the selection. He simply didn’t notice and let her pass. So all three of us made it to the Frauenlager, the women’s camp and then they transferred us to Christianstadt.”
“They took us to the sauna where we had to wait for ages. We queued for some time and then we were tattooed by some Polish women. It was a pen with a reservoir at the top and a needle. The ink ran from the top to the needle at the bottom. Then they herded us into the showers. We had no idea that these showers were also used for gassing the inmates. They pushed us into the hot water that poured from the showers. I had a ring and that ring was all that was left of my personal belongings. It was round-shaped and honed. It wasn’t round. Little platforms would form a semi-circle. It was quite simple but the glass would change its tone depending on the color of the sky. The sauna was made of bricks. In some spots, the mortar was worn out and little niches formed. I put that ring into one of these crannies. I would remember the spot and retrieve it on the way back. But we never went back as they lead us to a different place, where they gave us lice-infested rags and kicked us out of the sauna right into the freezing cold. This was done on purpose so that we all got pneumonia.”
“I recall that once we were approaching a village when we smelt freshly-baked bread in the air. You can’t imagine what effect this had on us. Or at least on me. My appetite for bread was almost unbearable. When we entered the village, we saw German women carrying loafs of fresh bread from the bakery. One of us, Erika Rottová, a beautiful blonde girl with rosy cheeks, couldn’t take it any longer and jumped at one of the Germans, yanking the bread out of her hands. Of course that she was immediately apprehended by the Wehrmacht soldiers. After we left the village, they took her to the side to shoot her. But luckily these old grandpas had been around in this world for quite a while already and they had probably grown tired of the war, too. So thank God, they let her live. She survived.”
Hana Kumperová, née Sachsel, was born on February 23, 1926, being the older of two daughters in a Jewish family in Plzeň. Her father Alfred ran a business to provide for the family while her mother Růžena took care of the family. On September 1, 1939 - the day WWII broke out - Hana‘s father was arrested and imprisoned in the Bory penitentiary in Plzeň. He died on November 19, 1942, in the Auschwitz concentration camp. On January 22, 1942, Hana, her mother and her younger sister Eva were deported to Theresienstadt, from where they were transferred to Auschwitz on December 18, 1943. All of them passed the infamous „selection“ and in July 1944 were selected for labor in the Christianstadt camp. In the beginning of 1945, they set out on a death march to Cheb, which lasted several weeks. In Cheb, they boarded a train to the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp - the worst camp they had experienced so far. It was here where they were liberated by the British army in April 1945. However, Hana‘s mother died only shortly afterwards. Hana herself had to recover from spotted fever and temporarily turned deaf. After their convalescence, both sisters returned to Czechoslovakia and settled in their native city of Plzeň. Hana got a job, supported her sister in studying and soon married to Karel Kumpera, with whom she raised two children. In 1968, the spouses were considering emigration. In 2010, Hana became a widow and she lived in the north of Bohemia. She died on 18th of June, 2022.
Hrdinové 20. století odcházejí. Nesmíme zapomenout. Dokumentujeme a vyprávíme jejich příběhy. Záleží vám na odkazu minulých generací, na občanských postojích, demokracii a vzdělávání? Pomozte nám!
