The Tubes

When it got blazingly, sticky hot in the country we went to the creek. This was an everyday occurrence in the sweltering summer heat. The place we swam was where Bryant Creek meets Double O. There was a sandy gray nondescript concrete slab bridge that met a dusty gravel road on both sides of the river. To allow for water to flow under the bridge it was built over a series of huge, circular aluminum culverts. The locals had aptly named these yawning tunnels ‘The Tubes’. These culverts served as a backwoods water park ride to kids of all sizes and were a blast! You would squat at the opening of a tube and hold onto the top of the arch and let your legs get sucked in by the water and then let go and you would shoot through to the other side from the force of the water. When the river was at its normal volume, the tubes were about one third full. Today was not one of those days. Today, the sparkling blue green water of the Bryant River was way up. Today the tubes were full to capacity and beckoned the water into their gaping mouths from below the water’s surface, creating underwater tornados and making wet sloppy sucking noises.
My youngest cousin, Jennifer, was visiting from the suburbs of Johnson County Kansas. She was used to crystal blue swimming pools and occasionally swimming in a lake. Jennifer was shy. She was always a quiet, reserved girl with not much to say about anything. I was loud, obnoxious, and no one ever accused me of being bashful. We were so different, but we had fun together when we were younger. We had gone to the creek that day to have fun in the river.
Sue, my mother, brought our lint covered, line dried towels down to the rough concrete poured to create a makeshift bank to the river. She warned us to stay as far upstream as we could from the overloaded culverts so we didn’t get sucked in because there was after all a real risk of drowning if one was plugged with debris.
We had been in the water playing for about a half hour, moving away from the culverts several times when Sue would yell at us. I remember looking over my shoulder to check to see how close we were and realized we had gotten very close to the concrete retaining wall that was built to slow the spill of rushing water into the tubes. Most of the time that wall was only halfway under water and intermittently the top of the wall would stick out of the water at the edge of the bridge. Today, however, that retaining wall was completely submerged. I yelled loudly to Jennifer to move back. We fought against the pull of the creek, feet digging into the powdery silt and loose gravel of the river bed, but we didn’t stand a chance against that kind of force. I was around eight years old at the time, tall for my age, and didn’t weigh much. I looked like a walking, talking bean pole. I tried to grab the edge of the jagged, moss covered concrete bank, but it was like trying to grab a greased pig. I was trying to hold on to Jennifer at the same time because she was closer to the culverts. I finally grabbed someone’s leg on shore, and from my look I think they realized what was going on. I couldn’t hold on to Jennifer! Her slender wet hand slipped from mine, and I saw her slip underwater towards the opening under the bridge.
I was screaming her name as I was being hauled out of the water, and Sue came running. She could see that Jennifer was still trying to fight against being sucked into the tubes. But she was underwater, and if she didn’t let go, she would drown. I don’t know if she realized it, or if she just couldn’t hold on anymore and let go. Her tiny body was whipped like a noodle into the second tube.
Sue and I both scurried to the other side of the bridge. Sue ran down the bank on the other side and started crossing the jagged concrete spillway as if to catch Jennifer. I stood on the bridge in a panicked and helpless state. Time had slowed down, and I thought for sure Jennifer was caught under the bridge in a web of tangled tree branches and leaves, or worse, a rusty old piece of a car. Suddenly, like a streak she came shooting out the other side of the bridge. Sue had not made it far enough to catch her and she shot past her into the wider, deeper part of the river. Sue frantically followed her and helped her to the shore. I ran fast down the hardened concrete and through the black sand, but by the time I got to her my knees were wobbly and felt with each new step I would collapse. By the time I reached Jennifer, I was shaking all over. I grabbed her and hugged her as hard as I could, repeating the words, “I’m so sorry”, over and over again into her drenched black curls.
As I let her go, I looked into her stricken ghostly face, and she stared blankly at me. She had thin pink streams of water streaking down her face. Water from her hair was mixed with fresh blood coming from a nasty scrape on her forehead. She turned and walked slowly up the bank like someone sleepwalking in a movie. She turned when she got to the apex of the bridge and headed towards where we had parked the truck. When she got to the truck, she got in her bag that was sitting on the tailgate and pulled something out. I couldn’t tell from a distance what she had needed so badly, but realized as she went to the mirror on the truck and started pulling something through her hair that it was her comb. She was combing her hair. At that moment, I knew that my cousin hated me. How could I have let her go? Why wasn’t I strong enough to pull her out of the water? It was my fault. Jennifer was hurt, and it was entirely my fault. I looked at my mom and started crying. She pulled me into a one armed hug, and we walked up to the bridge. By the time we got to the top, I had confessed I was the reason that Jennifer had gotten hurt, and that I hadn’t been paying attention to how close we were to the bridge, and I couldn’t hold onto her hand and pull her out of the water.
Sue looked at me right in the eye and told me it wasn’t my fault and Jennifer wasn’t mad at me; she was in shock. I had never seen anyone act so strangely. I wasn’t familiar with the effects traumatic events could have on a person. Jennifer combed her hair for at least five minutes with blood running down between her eyes and dripping off her nose. Sue was able to get Jennifer to allow her to wipe up her face and hold a towel to her head, and we packed up the truck and headed home. Jennifer didn’t say anything for about two hours. I wasn’t sure if my mom was right about her not hating me, but I wanted it to be true so badly.
I was upstairs lying down and crying still over what had happened when Jennifer knocked on my door. She wanted to know what I was doing and why I was crying. I told her I was so sorry about what happened at the creek, and I thought she hated me, and I didn’t mean for her to get hurt. She looked at me and told me she knew that. It was an accident. Of course it wasn’t my fault, how silly. I felt the weight of the world lift from my young shoulders and was so relieved I started crying again. I hugged her tight. I was so glad that she was going to be alright.
We didn’t visit the river again during the week that Jennifer was there, but we still had fun in the sun.

Anton Mason Survivor Summary - Katherine Alexander

Anton (Meisner) Mason was born in Austria, Hungary (now Romania) in April 1927.

He lived in a town called Sighet with a population of 30000 and about 40 percent of the town was Jewish. His family was well off and very generous to the poor. Of the 40 percent of Jewish people 30 percent were very poor.

He said in 1942 the families’ hopes that the war would pass them by were gone. He had an aunt and uncle that were taken for 3 months to Poland. When they returned they told them that the Nazis were murdering Jews, in horrible ways. The only way they had escaped was that the uncle knew some peasants in the area and he and Anton’s aunt hid out in a barn, unknown to the peasants, until he could find passage back. This was first hand information to confirm the rumors.

In Hungary in January 1944 he started to see the big changes. They were not allowed to travel, slaughter Kosher meat, be in the front of any lines, and they had to be off the street by 7pm. He was still attending school during this period. 2 years previous the Nazis had taken all the radios so they had no news coming in.

In March 1944 they were taken to a ghetto in Sighet where approximately 20000 Jews were crammed into a space that used to hold about 3 to 4000 people. They were allowed 2 beds and 1 suitcase each. The Hungarian authorities took all their valuables and all their money. They had heard rumors about this happening, so they had transferred food to the ghetto earlier. His father’s niece owned the house they were moved into. There were approximately 30 to 40 people living in a 4 person house. There were 12 people in the room that he and his family claimed. They used a time share system to cook and clean. They were there for 6 weeks.

In May of 1944 the Nazis started emptying the ghetto. They now could only take one change of clothing, and food rations for one day of travel. 1500 people left the ghetto one morning, marched to a synagogue and left there overnight. The next morning, after no sleep they were marched to the railroad station and loaded onto cattle cars. He said there were about 70 to 80 people loaded into each cattle car. It was only after about 5-6 hours of travel did they realize they were headed to Poland. Within the cattle car, one side was set up as a section to relieve themselves, and to put bodies of people that had died during the trip. They were held in the car for a little over 72 hours.

The people were taken off the cattle car at about 10 pm and the men were separated from the women and children. His mother and little brother were killed immediately. His father and he were put through a processing center that took about 12 hours. They were stripped, showered, deloused, tattooed and their heads were shaved. Once they were in the barracks they were told that their mother/wife and brother/son were dead. He said they were in Birkenau “Auschwitz 2” for two days and then marched to “Auschwitz 1”. They were sent then to Buna-Monowitz on June 12 1944, “Auschwitz 3”. They woke at 4:30am, were given a piece of bread and a little margarine and some sort of hot black drink made from a root. They would march out to work at 6:30am and they worked until 5:30pm and marched back to camp. At 6:30pm they had soup and then lights out by 8pm, and they did this six and a half days a week. They worked til noon on Sunday and they got their heads shaved on that afternoon and washed and fixed their uniforms for work. Every 4 weeks there were at least 200 dead, and 200 new people would be shipped in.

Anton’s father died after a 100 mile “death march” to Buchenwald in January 1945. In Buchenwald they cut the rations again but they didn’t have to work. The camp was made for only 20000 people but there were about 80000 people there when he arrived. At Buchenwald he said he didn’t only have to worry about the Germans, you had to be careful of other prisoners who would steal your food. During the last 10 days before liberation, in order not to show up to the square, where he feared he would be killed, he hid anywhere he could including a pile of dead bodies. Every morning he would get his bread and crawl under the barracks and stay there or he would stay in the barracks hidden by a Frenchman he had made friends with.

On April 11^th the Americans showed up. There were 32000 people left in the camp.

Out of 62 people in his family, only he and his aunt’s husband survived.

“…it was a disaster! But, it’s amazing what people can get used to.”- Anton Mason discussing the time in the ghetto.

“We tried to be civilized to the very last moment.”- Anton Mason speaking about his time spent in the cattle car during his deportation to Auschwitz.

Ursula Levy Survivor Summary- Katherine Alexander

Ursula Levy was born in Osnabruck Germany in May of 1935. In 1939 her father was carted off by Nazi officers. Within two months he was returned home with a gangrenous infection in his leg and he only lived a few more days once returning home. Ursula and her brother George were sent to a convent in Holland that took in children to try to hide them from the Nazis. In 1943 Ursula and George were deported to Vught Concentration Camp in Holland. While in this camp Ursula had her eighth birthday and she was allowed a visit by Mr VanMacklenberg. While he was visiting the camp he mentioned her blue eyes and that she had one American parent. Ursula believes this may have helped her and her brother survive. It was a lie, of course, but one that helped her and her brother get some privileges that others didn’t have.

In October 1943 they were taken to Westerbork where they lived in an orphanage barrack in the camp until February 1944 when they were deported to Bergen-Belsen. At Bergen-Belsen Ursula lived in the same barrack as her brother George, and they were starving. They were given some sweet hot drink in the mornings, rutabaga soup (which she said was really just flavored water) for lunch, and a piece of bread for dinner. Ursula and her brother George stayed in the star camp which is where they put prisoners who were intended for exchange. There was still some question about their heritage.

In the spring of 1945 the camp was loaded onto a train to be moved, but the train never really went anywhere. Ursula said they were allowed to get off the train, and they could have escaped at any time, but everyone just kept returning to the train even though there was never any food. Of the 2600 prisoners that were loaded onto that train, only 600 survived. The Russians liberated the train after two weeks and told the survivors to go to the small village of Trabitz which had been evacuated before the Russian armies showed up. She and George both came down with Typhus, a disease perpetuated by lice, and they miraculously lived through it. When they were better they learned that their mother had not survived the war. After leaving Trabitz Ursula and her brother lived with Joseph and Agnes VanMacklenberg for several months while recuperating. Then they were sent to America in 1947 to live with their aunt and uncle in Chicago.

“When a crumb of bread can be the difference between life and death, it would have been so easy for someone to snatch that piece of bread and no one ever did, and I find that remarkable.”- Ursula Levy speaking on the character of the people she was in camp with.

“It was a wonderful experience to be free, to have survived. At the same time it was very sad.”- Ursula Levy relating her feelings upon being liberated by the Russians.

The Storm

The Storm

Katherine Alexander - Sensory Exercise

It was a quiet, bright evening as I sauntered over to the Taj Mahal, the new Disco in town. I decided to take a cold swim on the way. I jumped out of the dark green water almost before I touched the smooth surface. Something about my quick dip made me hungry for something sweet and chocolatey to eat.
As I stepped out of the candy store I was engulfed by an acrid and bitter smell. I looked for the origin and in the corner near the alley there was a furry animal curled up. I walked over to it and bent down to touch it's soft fur, when suddenly there was a loud, high-pitched scream. I turned to see where it had come from and I fell backwards with a crunch. I was so grossed out, I got up and ran home. I changed into my pajamas, had a very salty margarita and decided I really didn't want to go dancing after all.

I am from by Katherine