This is the full text of the letter from Zalman Ziegler to his son Toby
Ziegler:
Dear Toby, My time is coming my son. I can sense it. I feel it in my bones at night. I don't want to leave you without passing something to you. A piece of knowledge. I'm writing to David, Lisa and Brenda as well. You have all done me proud. But you most of all, Toby. When I came here to America with your mother and sister, I knew this would be the land my family would prosper in. That we could all grow strong here. You have grown strong, son. You work for the leader of the free world. Everything we hoped for came true with you. That any child can be successful. It is the American dream. It was our dream for you. I was at Auschwitz for a week, son. It is there I lost many of my family. I know I never told any of you about my time in the camps before but I am telling you now. Not your sisters or David... I love you all equally but how can David appreciate my story when his heart isn't even on Earth? Why burden the girls with the truth when they already their young ones to worry about? Toby, I entrust this with you because you are now the man of the family. It is to you everyone will look up to. And I believe you can understand and appreciate what I am about to tell you. I was fifteen when they found us hidden in our neighbor's attic. It was my father, my mother, my three sisters and my brother-in-law who were all hiding there together. We didn't know it, but the war was almost over. So close... we almost made it. It was August of 1944. We had heard of the invasion in France two months before and it filled us with hope. Hope that we would be safe, that the Germans would be too busy at the front to find us. It was not so. I do not know the date in which it happened, but I know for certain that it was August. The fine weather outside, what other month could it be? We heard screams from the floor below us and a second later, Nazis burst through the attic door. They shouted at us to get up, to leave. All we could think of as they shepherded us out was of the massacre in Jozefow two years before. Would this be our end? After all we had done to survive? After all the Delphinkis had do to help us? We all hurried out of the house and into the street. I saw my best friend, Andrzej Delphinki and his sister behind a push cart as they watched their parents be arrested and us marched out into an awaiting truck. They later killed - his father and mother, I mean. He never forgave me and my family for it. He still lives in Rabka, Poland, living a life of bitter hate and pain. How I pity him. But never did he pity me. They drove us to Josefow and put us on a train. We packed into cattle cars, our bodies pressing together. There was no room sit down or sleep. So many people were packed in with us we could hardly breath. Chava fainted twice and we couldn't let her rest. There was nowhere for her to rest. It is impossible to say how long the train ride was. Day and night seemed to elapse. But the train finally stopped. Panic shot through the train because we all knew what was coming. Then the train doors opened and German soldiers shouted for us to get out. We herded out like frightened sheep. "Form lines!" a German ordered. "Men on the left, Women and children on the right!" Father, Szymon and I went to the left and watched helplessly as my mother and my sisters went to the right. Szymon wanted to fight the Germans so he would not be separated from his wife. But Father and I stopped him. Perhaps, if he had known what would happen to Mother, Chava and Krysia, he would have been keener to fight. Perhaps if he knew what would happen to him, he would have rebelled. We marched along until we came with a man jotting down information on the Jews. I saw a boy my age, who said he was my age, cast over with the woman and children. When it came to be our turn, Father went first, telling the man that he was fifty-two and a lawyer. The German laughed and pointed to another line on the right. Then Szymon went, telling the man he was twenty-five and a carpenter. The German pointed to the right. Szymon looked to my father but he nodded and so Szymon did as he was told. My turn came. "How old are you, boy?" "I'm eighteen, sir," I replied. He looked me over. "What do you do?" Szymon came to my rescue. "He's my apprentice," my brother-in-law lied. "He's been working with me for three years now." The German looked skeptical but didn't really seem interested. He pointed for me to go with Szymon. But I didn't want to leave Father. I looked for him but he was already gone. I sighed and went with Szymon. I never saw my father again after that. We stayed at Birkenau for just a week. Szymon and I were all each other had but we were driven apart by something. By the fact that he was willing to fight to stay with his wife and I was not. When a week was up, they came around and gathered many of us up. I was forced into the departing group and I panicked when I realized Szymon was not with me. As they marched us forward, I rushed about the mass of people, searching for him. But he was not there. I was all alone. The Germans loaded us into a cattle car and as they closed the door, I vowed to myself, I wasn't going to lose faith. I was going to make it no matter what happened. I arrived a Buna not long after. I was assigned to the building unit and I knew that it wasn't good. We worked twelve hours a day and hefted heavy bricks around all day. I was sure that I would die. But I wasn't going to just give up. While everyone else groaned and cursed, I remembered what I had been taught in school on Saturdays. I knew that this was just a test from God, to see if I had the faith to make it. But it was hard to hold on to faith when in the camps. When they fed us, I would wander about and talk with those in other units. I met a man named Joel who worked in the electrical warehouse. He took pity on me, instantly realizing I was not eighteen like I pretended to be. Everyday when we ate, Joel and I would talk. He had a family, though he was sure none were alive. His oldest had been my age and admitted to being only fifteen. They had made him go with his mother. Joel told me how much I reminded him of his son and how he couldn't bear watching a young boy be treated so much like a slave as I was. I constantly told him it wasn't so bad. But the cuts on my hands and bruises from the beatings I was subject to daily betrayed me. Joel was like a father to me and I didn't want him to do anything that would hurt him. One day, he told me he was going to talk to his Kapo about transferring me into the electrical warehouse. I thanked him and when we finished eating, returned to my unit. The next day, I was transferred. But when I searched for Joel, he was no where to be found. No one knew what had become of him but what ever had happened, everyone was sure it wasn't good. God had saved me through Joel, I was convinced. I broke down in praise to him. The people in the electrical warehouse looked at me like I was insane. But I didn't care. I was saved. Every night I prayed to God and meditated. It was helpful in many ways. I was always whole, always full of God and it helped me tune out the beatings from the Kapo that came from time to time. You know, they laughed at me in the warehouse. They found humor in my faith though they did not laugh at man named Juliek who poured his soul into his violin. The music soothed them. My faith annoyed them as many had lost their own. But I took their jests. God had been good enough to send me there, Toby. Who was I to pass judgements on God's favors? One person, a boy around my age, did not mock me openly. Yet he was one of those who had lost his faith. I remember a day that almost made me join him in his disbelief. I remember that it was a trial for me not curse God. The Germans made us assemble for a hanging. We all did, thinking nothing of the deaths that would occur before our eyes. We'd see worse before. It turned out, we hadn't. He was just a child, my son. I can't say for sure how old. Around twelve perhaps. They hung him along with two adults. They made it seem gallant but the boy... his fear showed in his eyes. When the chairs fell back, we marched past the bodies. His eyes were open, watching us as we pass. I don't mean he died with his eyes open. I mean he was watching. He was still alive, Toby! And we had to march past him. We couldn't come to his aide. It was horrible. But it didn't seem to hit any of us more than it hit that other boy I mentioned before. His name, I can remember, was Elie. Elie was my age and had lied to the Germans and said he was eighteen as well. But he had lost his faith and seemed angry at God. He didn't fast on Yom Kippur. I know many didn't, but he seemed to take some pleasure in not fasting. But who was I to judge? God had blessed me and I knew that He had. Those who turned a blind eye on God were not to be thought lesser of. They could not realize how anything could be good in the camps. They hadn't been saved like I had. My life was like that for a time. Nothing really happened. It was a lull of work, pray, work pray. Then news that the front was advancing on Buna came. There were rumors that the Russians were coming, and soon. And then the Germans organized an evacuation... Was freedom coming at last? It was cold and the snow was falling when we set out. Dear Toby, if a fellow stopped take a breath on that march, the SS guards shot him! It was horrible, the men shot just for a moment's pause. Never did I stop, I just recited parts of the Talmud to myself quietly as we marched. I remember clear as yesterday the day that was nearly my end. I was marching along side Elie. I was then overcome by these terrible cramps in my stomach. I felt like I was dying, like I was being eaten from the inside. I had to stop. Elie tried to make me go on. Oh, how I tried! But I could not. I stopped, pants lowered, to the ground. Men raced over me as I relieved myself and I realized if I didn't get up soon, I'd be trampled to death. So I forced myself up and onward. We marched for days and days. Many times I thought of sinking to the ground and giving up. But I remembered that God had given me the chance to live and I wasn't going to make his offering in vain. I was going to make it. They stopped us at Geliwitz for three days and packed us into barracks. For three days, we stayed there with no food or water. On the third day, the selected some of the Jews to be killed. I pinched my cheeks and ran in place, using what energy I had left to make myself look as lively as possible. I made it and those of us who were not chosen were forced into cattle wagons and sent off. We arrived at Buchenwald soon after. I spent most of my time in the barracks meditating. My block mates were all adults, my lie of being eighteen believed here. I couldn't talk to any of them and none really seemed to want to talk. You know, for three and a half months that was mostly all I did? I was convinced I had made it. Then on April fifth, the SS ordered all the Jews to assembly. The men and I started to comply, knowing our end was near. But the non-Jewish prisoners told us to go back to our blocks so we would not be shot as the Germans planned. The camp resistance helped pass us off as non-Jews which caused the Germans to be greatly angered. They ordered a roll-call for the next day. Everyone had to go. At the roll-call, the head of the camp told us that Buchenwald was to be liquidated. Ten blocks of deportees would be evacuated everyday and they would no longer hand out rations. It was horrible, for four days we went without food. Then on the tenth of April, the Germans decided to evacuate everyone at once and blow up the camp. Everyone was assembled when shots began to fire and grenades exploded. The resistance was finally acting! I dove to the ground but my face was in a wide grin. The SS were retreating, Toby! We were free! Two days later, I set out from Buchenwald in search of my family. It took me two weeks to find them. And I only found Szymon and Shifra. They were the ones that told me of the deaths of my parents and two sisters. Together, we decided to go home to Poland and try and rebuild a life. But when we returned there, we weren't welcome. But there was one thing we had to do. We found the materials we needed and set about paying tribute to our lost family members. I carved their names as neatly as possible into the wooden plank. I brushed the debris away and blew across the wood for good measure. Then I admired my work. The four names were crooked and read from top to bottom: Zelig Ziegler, Feige Ziegler, Chava Ziegler and Krysia Ziegler. It was much less than my family deserved but it was all I could do. I shoved the plank down into the earth with as much force as I could muster. Szymon came over and helped me and we secured the simple marker into the ground. It was the only detour on our journey to find work in France. Putting our family to rest was something we had to do. It was all we could do for them. Shifra came over and Szymon wrapped his arm around her. I hug my head and let tears stream silently down my face. The three of us said fair well to them in our own way and then we turned back to the road and walked away. Since then, I have not been back. I can't even tell you for sure in which town that cemetery they are 'buried' in lays. But I do know that I am for ever grateful they cane be at peace together. From there, we went to France. Szymon became a carpenter on the outskirts of the city and he and Shifra raised three children. Me? You know the story. I found your mother shortly after my seventeenth birthday. Less than three years later, your mother and sister were in America and I was in Korea. And we led a good life. Toby, I know you and Andy have been having problems lately. I hope you are able to resolve them, I really do. You two remind me of your mother and I in our younger days. Such bustling youth I see in you both. Don't make a decision either of you will regret later on. You love her, son. Treat her well and don't put your work before your wife. Yes, you will have to find a new work after you leave the White House. That is alright but don't leave her out in the cold. Work things out. Keep the love alive. On that matter, I know it has been hard. But it will happen. I just regret I won't be around to see your children. Lisa and Brenda's families are wonderful, but I do wish I could see you and David's families... if either of you would settle down! But I know you will someday, both settle down and start your family. That is why I ask this simple request. Don't let my story fade away. Don't forget me and what happened to me and my family. Tell your children. Pass this letter on to your children. Please, Toby. I trust you... don't let me be forgotten. And now my son, I am saying good bye to you. I wish I could be with you as your life goes on. I will forever regret that I can not. I love you, Toby, and I am proud of you. I know that you have grown to be a great man and will continue to become greater. I know you and Andy will work things out and will raise beautiful children. Remember, tell them what I have told you know. Don't let what happened disappear into history. Good bye, son. Live well and live happy.
Love to you, Zalman Ziegler
Dear Toby, My time is coming my son. I can sense it. I feel it in my bones at night. I don't want to leave you without passing something to you. A piece of knowledge. I'm writing to David, Lisa and Brenda as well. You have all done me proud. But you most of all, Toby. When I came here to America with your mother and sister, I knew this would be the land my family would prosper in. That we could all grow strong here. You have grown strong, son. You work for the leader of the free world. Everything we hoped for came true with you. That any child can be successful. It is the American dream. It was our dream for you. I was at Auschwitz for a week, son. It is there I lost many of my family. I know I never told any of you about my time in the camps before but I am telling you now. Not your sisters or David... I love you all equally but how can David appreciate my story when his heart isn't even on Earth? Why burden the girls with the truth when they already their young ones to worry about? Toby, I entrust this with you because you are now the man of the family. It is to you everyone will look up to. And I believe you can understand and appreciate what I am about to tell you. I was fifteen when they found us hidden in our neighbor's attic. It was my father, my mother, my three sisters and my brother-in-law who were all hiding there together. We didn't know it, but the war was almost over. So close... we almost made it. It was August of 1944. We had heard of the invasion in France two months before and it filled us with hope. Hope that we would be safe, that the Germans would be too busy at the front to find us. It was not so. I do not know the date in which it happened, but I know for certain that it was August. The fine weather outside, what other month could it be? We heard screams from the floor below us and a second later, Nazis burst through the attic door. They shouted at us to get up, to leave. All we could think of as they shepherded us out was of the massacre in Jozefow two years before. Would this be our end? After all we had done to survive? After all the Delphinkis had do to help us? We all hurried out of the house and into the street. I saw my best friend, Andrzej Delphinki and his sister behind a push cart as they watched their parents be arrested and us marched out into an awaiting truck. They later killed - his father and mother, I mean. He never forgave me and my family for it. He still lives in Rabka, Poland, living a life of bitter hate and pain. How I pity him. But never did he pity me. They drove us to Josefow and put us on a train. We packed into cattle cars, our bodies pressing together. There was no room sit down or sleep. So many people were packed in with us we could hardly breath. Chava fainted twice and we couldn't let her rest. There was nowhere for her to rest. It is impossible to say how long the train ride was. Day and night seemed to elapse. But the train finally stopped. Panic shot through the train because we all knew what was coming. Then the train doors opened and German soldiers shouted for us to get out. We herded out like frightened sheep. "Form lines!" a German ordered. "Men on the left, Women and children on the right!" Father, Szymon and I went to the left and watched helplessly as my mother and my sisters went to the right. Szymon wanted to fight the Germans so he would not be separated from his wife. But Father and I stopped him. Perhaps, if he had known what would happen to Mother, Chava and Krysia, he would have been keener to fight. Perhaps if he knew what would happen to him, he would have rebelled. We marched along until we came with a man jotting down information on the Jews. I saw a boy my age, who said he was my age, cast over with the woman and children. When it came to be our turn, Father went first, telling the man that he was fifty-two and a lawyer. The German laughed and pointed to another line on the right. Then Szymon went, telling the man he was twenty-five and a carpenter. The German pointed to the right. Szymon looked to my father but he nodded and so Szymon did as he was told. My turn came. "How old are you, boy?" "I'm eighteen, sir," I replied. He looked me over. "What do you do?" Szymon came to my rescue. "He's my apprentice," my brother-in-law lied. "He's been working with me for three years now." The German looked skeptical but didn't really seem interested. He pointed for me to go with Szymon. But I didn't want to leave Father. I looked for him but he was already gone. I sighed and went with Szymon. I never saw my father again after that. We stayed at Birkenau for just a week. Szymon and I were all each other had but we were driven apart by something. By the fact that he was willing to fight to stay with his wife and I was not. When a week was up, they came around and gathered many of us up. I was forced into the departing group and I panicked when I realized Szymon was not with me. As they marched us forward, I rushed about the mass of people, searching for him. But he was not there. I was all alone. The Germans loaded us into a cattle car and as they closed the door, I vowed to myself, I wasn't going to lose faith. I was going to make it no matter what happened. I arrived a Buna not long after. I was assigned to the building unit and I knew that it wasn't good. We worked twelve hours a day and hefted heavy bricks around all day. I was sure that I would die. But I wasn't going to just give up. While everyone else groaned and cursed, I remembered what I had been taught in school on Saturdays. I knew that this was just a test from God, to see if I had the faith to make it. But it was hard to hold on to faith when in the camps. When they fed us, I would wander about and talk with those in other units. I met a man named Joel who worked in the electrical warehouse. He took pity on me, instantly realizing I was not eighteen like I pretended to be. Everyday when we ate, Joel and I would talk. He had a family, though he was sure none were alive. His oldest had been my age and admitted to being only fifteen. They had made him go with his mother. Joel told me how much I reminded him of his son and how he couldn't bear watching a young boy be treated so much like a slave as I was. I constantly told him it wasn't so bad. But the cuts on my hands and bruises from the beatings I was subject to daily betrayed me. Joel was like a father to me and I didn't want him to do anything that would hurt him. One day, he told me he was going to talk to his Kapo about transferring me into the electrical warehouse. I thanked him and when we finished eating, returned to my unit. The next day, I was transferred. But when I searched for Joel, he was no where to be found. No one knew what had become of him but what ever had happened, everyone was sure it wasn't good. God had saved me through Joel, I was convinced. I broke down in praise to him. The people in the electrical warehouse looked at me like I was insane. But I didn't care. I was saved. Every night I prayed to God and meditated. It was helpful in many ways. I was always whole, always full of God and it helped me tune out the beatings from the Kapo that came from time to time. You know, they laughed at me in the warehouse. They found humor in my faith though they did not laugh at man named Juliek who poured his soul into his violin. The music soothed them. My faith annoyed them as many had lost their own. But I took their jests. God had been good enough to send me there, Toby. Who was I to pass judgements on God's favors? One person, a boy around my age, did not mock me openly. Yet he was one of those who had lost his faith. I remember a day that almost made me join him in his disbelief. I remember that it was a trial for me not curse God. The Germans made us assemble for a hanging. We all did, thinking nothing of the deaths that would occur before our eyes. We'd see worse before. It turned out, we hadn't. He was just a child, my son. I can't say for sure how old. Around twelve perhaps. They hung him along with two adults. They made it seem gallant but the boy... his fear showed in his eyes. When the chairs fell back, we marched past the bodies. His eyes were open, watching us as we pass. I don't mean he died with his eyes open. I mean he was watching. He was still alive, Toby! And we had to march past him. We couldn't come to his aide. It was horrible. But it didn't seem to hit any of us more than it hit that other boy I mentioned before. His name, I can remember, was Elie. Elie was my age and had lied to the Germans and said he was eighteen as well. But he had lost his faith and seemed angry at God. He didn't fast on Yom Kippur. I know many didn't, but he seemed to take some pleasure in not fasting. But who was I to judge? God had blessed me and I knew that He had. Those who turned a blind eye on God were not to be thought lesser of. They could not realize how anything could be good in the camps. They hadn't been saved like I had. My life was like that for a time. Nothing really happened. It was a lull of work, pray, work pray. Then news that the front was advancing on Buna came. There were rumors that the Russians were coming, and soon. And then the Germans organized an evacuation... Was freedom coming at last? It was cold and the snow was falling when we set out. Dear Toby, if a fellow stopped take a breath on that march, the SS guards shot him! It was horrible, the men shot just for a moment's pause. Never did I stop, I just recited parts of the Talmud to myself quietly as we marched. I remember clear as yesterday the day that was nearly my end. I was marching along side Elie. I was then overcome by these terrible cramps in my stomach. I felt like I was dying, like I was being eaten from the inside. I had to stop. Elie tried to make me go on. Oh, how I tried! But I could not. I stopped, pants lowered, to the ground. Men raced over me as I relieved myself and I realized if I didn't get up soon, I'd be trampled to death. So I forced myself up and onward. We marched for days and days. Many times I thought of sinking to the ground and giving up. But I remembered that God had given me the chance to live and I wasn't going to make his offering in vain. I was going to make it. They stopped us at Geliwitz for three days and packed us into barracks. For three days, we stayed there with no food or water. On the third day, the selected some of the Jews to be killed. I pinched my cheeks and ran in place, using what energy I had left to make myself look as lively as possible. I made it and those of us who were not chosen were forced into cattle wagons and sent off. We arrived at Buchenwald soon after. I spent most of my time in the barracks meditating. My block mates were all adults, my lie of being eighteen believed here. I couldn't talk to any of them and none really seemed to want to talk. You know, for three and a half months that was mostly all I did? I was convinced I had made it. Then on April fifth, the SS ordered all the Jews to assembly. The men and I started to comply, knowing our end was near. But the non-Jewish prisoners told us to go back to our blocks so we would not be shot as the Germans planned. The camp resistance helped pass us off as non-Jews which caused the Germans to be greatly angered. They ordered a roll-call for the next day. Everyone had to go. At the roll-call, the head of the camp told us that Buchenwald was to be liquidated. Ten blocks of deportees would be evacuated everyday and they would no longer hand out rations. It was horrible, for four days we went without food. Then on the tenth of April, the Germans decided to evacuate everyone at once and blow up the camp. Everyone was assembled when shots began to fire and grenades exploded. The resistance was finally acting! I dove to the ground but my face was in a wide grin. The SS were retreating, Toby! We were free! Two days later, I set out from Buchenwald in search of my family. It took me two weeks to find them. And I only found Szymon and Shifra. They were the ones that told me of the deaths of my parents and two sisters. Together, we decided to go home to Poland and try and rebuild a life. But when we returned there, we weren't welcome. But there was one thing we had to do. We found the materials we needed and set about paying tribute to our lost family members. I carved their names as neatly as possible into the wooden plank. I brushed the debris away and blew across the wood for good measure. Then I admired my work. The four names were crooked and read from top to bottom: Zelig Ziegler, Feige Ziegler, Chava Ziegler and Krysia Ziegler. It was much less than my family deserved but it was all I could do. I shoved the plank down into the earth with as much force as I could muster. Szymon came over and helped me and we secured the simple marker into the ground. It was the only detour on our journey to find work in France. Putting our family to rest was something we had to do. It was all we could do for them. Shifra came over and Szymon wrapped his arm around her. I hug my head and let tears stream silently down my face. The three of us said fair well to them in our own way and then we turned back to the road and walked away. Since then, I have not been back. I can't even tell you for sure in which town that cemetery they are 'buried' in lays. But I do know that I am for ever grateful they cane be at peace together. From there, we went to France. Szymon became a carpenter on the outskirts of the city and he and Shifra raised three children. Me? You know the story. I found your mother shortly after my seventeenth birthday. Less than three years later, your mother and sister were in America and I was in Korea. And we led a good life. Toby, I know you and Andy have been having problems lately. I hope you are able to resolve them, I really do. You two remind me of your mother and I in our younger days. Such bustling youth I see in you both. Don't make a decision either of you will regret later on. You love her, son. Treat her well and don't put your work before your wife. Yes, you will have to find a new work after you leave the White House. That is alright but don't leave her out in the cold. Work things out. Keep the love alive. On that matter, I know it has been hard. But it will happen. I just regret I won't be around to see your children. Lisa and Brenda's families are wonderful, but I do wish I could see you and David's families... if either of you would settle down! But I know you will someday, both settle down and start your family. That is why I ask this simple request. Don't let my story fade away. Don't forget me and what happened to me and my family. Tell your children. Pass this letter on to your children. Please, Toby. I trust you... don't let me be forgotten. And now my son, I am saying good bye to you. I wish I could be with you as your life goes on. I will forever regret that I can not. I love you, Toby, and I am proud of you. I know that you have grown to be a great man and will continue to become greater. I know you and Andy will work things out and will raise beautiful children. Remember, tell them what I have told you know. Don't let what happened disappear into history. Good bye, son. Live well and live happy.
Love to you, Zalman Ziegler