Do read this if you have time.....


"A Girl with an Apple"
August 1942. Piotrkow , Poland.

The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square. Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.

"Whatever you do," Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me,"don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen." I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker.

An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down, then asked my age. "Sixteen,"I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood.

My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children,sick and elderly people. I whispered to Isidore, "Why?" He didn't answer. I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her. "No,"she said sternly. "Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers."

She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.

My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany . We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night weeks later and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms and identification numbers."Don't call me Herman anymore." I said to my brothers. "Call me 94983."

I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator. I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number.

Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald's sub-camps near Berlin. One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice,"Son," she said softly but clearly, I am going to send you an angel." Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream. But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear.

A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone. On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a little girl with light, almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in German. "Do you have something to eat?" She didn't understand. I inched closer to the fence and repeated the question in Polish. She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life.

She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence. I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly, "I'll see you tomorrow." I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple. We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both. I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.

Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia. "Don't return," I told the girl that day. "We're leaving." I turned toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the apples.

We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed. On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM. In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived. Now, it was over. I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited.

But at 8 A.M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers. Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too. Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived; I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival. In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none. My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.

Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America , where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U. S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years. By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.

One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me. "I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date." A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me. But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma. I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too, with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.

The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to, easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too! We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn't remember having a better time.

We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the backseat. As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, "Where were you," she asked softly, "during the war?" "The camps," I said, the terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget. She nodded. "My family was hiding on a farm in Germany, not far from Berlin ," she told me. "My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers." I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion. And yet here we were, both survivors, in a new world. "There was a camp next to the farm." Roma continued. "I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day."

What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. "What did he look like? I asked. "He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months." My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be. "Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?" Roma looked at me in amazement. "Yes!" "That was me! " I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it! My angel.

"I'm not letting you go." I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait. "You're crazy!" she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week. There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, her goodness. For many months, in the worst of circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I'd found her again, I could never let her go.

That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage, two children and three grandchildren, I have never let her go.

Herman Rosenblat, Miami Beach, Florida

Angel at the Fence

Angel at the Fence: The True Story of a Love That Survived, written by Herman Rosenblat, was claimed by its author to be a Holocaust memoir telling the story of his reunion with and marriage to a girl who had passed him food through the fence while he was imprisoned at Schlieben, part of the Buchenwald concentration camp. The book, described as "the true story of a Holocaust survivor whose prayers for hope and love were answered", was scheduled for publication by Berkley Books in February 2009; its publication was canceled on December 27, 2008 when it was discovered that the book's central events were untrue.[2]

Prior to being exposed as a fabrication, the film rights to the book were purshased for $25 million by Harris Salomon of Atlantic Overseas Pictures. Other fans of the story include Oprah Winfrey who has described it as the single greatest love story she had heard in 22 years of doing her show. In June 2010 Atlantic Overseas Pictures and producer Harris Salomon signed a co production agreement with Castel Film Studios, the largest film studio in Central and Eastern Europe and the studio for "Cold Mountain and "Borat" to produce a feature film on the Herman Rosenblat affair based on an original screenplay by Ivo Marloh to be shot in 2011.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angel_at_the_Fence

Futari,

Thank you for sharing the truly love story. It is still touching when I read it again. The first time I read it was in 2000 and it was published in Chinese.



主題: 人海中找到你~~~蜜麗安索柯作

一九四一年，二次大戰方酣，赫門與母親居住在波蘭皮歐特科的猶太人居住區。兩年前，他們被迫遷居至此，如今，德國軍隊又將他們與其他猶太區的居民集合，送往死亡集中營翠比凌加。

赫門那年十二歲，他站在路邊等著上牛車，雙手緊緊抓住母親不放。赫門的母親很清楚橫在眼前的命運，她用力推開赫門，兇惡地罵他：「你已經不是小孩了，不要跟著我，快走！」赫門不肯聽話，但母親不斷吼他，他感到既困惑又害怕，只有轉身逃跑。那是他最後一次見到母親。

此後的一年半，赫門輾轉從猶太居住區遷往兩個集中營，最後被送到距柏林七十英里遠的史萊本勞動營。他與其他許多老少男性一同居住在骯髒擁擠的營房內，每天做著粗重的工作，除非累倒、病倒，或在守衛的鞭笞下不勝體力，否則不得歇息。

然而最苦的還是飢餓。每個人每天的配額是一小片麵包和一些稀得不能再稀的湯，赫門看著同伴飢餓而死，每天早晨，推車把沒能活過漫漫長夜的同仁一一載走。

一九四四年二月，一個寒風刺骨的日子，赫門哆嗦著站在環繞集中營的鐵絲網旁，望向隔壁的農莊，襤褸的囚衣鬆垮垮地掛在身上，腳上裹著破布。他發現鐵絲網外有個小女孩正盯著他看，小女孩發現赫門也注視著她，便走上前。

餓得軟弱無力的赫門四下張望，確定沒有守衛在附近後，便開口用德文問道：「你可以拿點吃的給我嗎？」「我不懂德文。」小女孩答道。赫門於是用波蘭文重新問了一次。小女孩用棕色的圓眼睛注視著赫門，好一會兒，她點點頭，表示她明天會再來，便一溜煙兒跑開了。

第二天的同一個時間，小女孩來到鐵絲網旁，赫門確定周遭沒有人後，一個箭步衝上前，小女孩迅速拋了一小片麵包和一個蘋果給他。赫門接著了食物，塞進口袋裡，就忙不迭跑回營房。他把麵包切成許多小片，在一整天中一點一點地吃。赫門很清楚，萬一這件事被人發現，他就劫數難逃。他不敢期待小女孩會再度出現，然而第二天，小女孩在相同的地方等他，一雙小手藏在大衣下，衣服裡蓋著她帶來的食物。

這個八歲女孩沒有把認識新朋友的事告訴父母。這完全是出於直覺，她知道父母絕對會禁止他們繼續會面。有七個月之久的時間，她每天在相同的地方等，每當赫門走近，便拋些食物給他，然而他會一溜煙兒地跑開。在戰火頻仍、民生凋敝的時日，多餘的食物不易取得，小女孩總是包起自己的食物給他。兩個孩子從未交談，也從未告訴對方彼此的姓名。

一天，赫門靠近鐵絲網比平時要晚。他喊：「小妹妹。」小女孩走上前來。「我要被調到特瑞席安史達特，妳不要再來了。」赫門說。小女孩注視著赫門，一臉的困惑。「是在捷克，我明天就要走了。」赫門解釋。小女孩睜大眼睛，眼眶裡噙滿淚水，她知道她再也見不著他了。赫門強忍著淚水，垂著頭離開，胸臆中滿滿地都是悲傷與恐懼。他回過頭看小女孩，終於無法自持。

一九四五年，二次大戰近尾聲，惡名遠播的毒氣室運到了特瑞席安史達特。隨著同盟軍的逼近，用毒氣室處決戰犯的速度也如火如荼地加快。一九四五年五月八日清晨，赫門在納粹禁衛軍狂暴的吼聲中驚醒。禁衛軍指示這些體力虛弱的戰囚早上十點去沖澡。所謂沖澡，指的就是前往毒氣室送死。然而早上八點時，同盟軍到達，全營的戰囚都獲得釋放。

戰爭結束後，赫門遷居以色列，他的體力恢復了，人生也有了新的開始。他成為一名士兵，在一九四八年以色列獨立戰爭中奮勇殺敵。但沒有幾年，他便厭倦了戰爭與打鬥。一九五○年，赫門揮別以色列，遷居紐約。

赫門身材高，肩膀寬闊，能說善道，有著一股超乎年紀的成熟。他老成世故，卻在某些時刻無端陷入沈思。他發現這樣的外型與性格對女性形成無可抵擋的魅力，於是平生第一次開始認真與女孩交往。此後幾年間，他甚至三度與情人論及婚嫁，卻又在直覺的催促下，不顧對方的失望與哀傷，斷然解除婚約。走過了如此慘澹的感情路，赫門決心暫時不再與女人有任何深入的交往。

他的朋友不時熱心地要替他介紹對象，他卻不為所動。直到許多年後，有位朋友堅持要他見見一個名叫若瑪、有著黑色頭髮和棕色活潑雙眼的女子。赫門同意了，於是他的朋友安排了一場二對二的約會。若瑪美麗、直率且善良，渾身散發著溫柔氣息，卻又對自己的理念與想法有著高度的自信。兩人非常投契，整晚天南地北談個不休。

談話中他們驚訝地發現，赫門在以色列從軍時，若瑪也在同樣的地方擔任護士，兩人甚至曾參加同一場活動，卻不曾相遇。赫門發現自己竟深深愛上了這個年輕女郎。

夜晚，赫門的朋友開車送若瑪回家，赫門和若瑪坐在車後座聊天，聊天的話題轉向戰爭。赫門告訴若瑪：「戰爭期間我幾乎都待在柏林附近的史萊本勞動營。」若瑪吃驚於這樣的巧合，回應道：「我知道史萊本在哪裡，我也在史萊本待過。我們家人假扮成信基督教的農人，在勞動營附近的農地耕作。有個傳教士幫我們偽造假的身分證明，他救了我們的命。」

赫門的興致愈來愈高，若瑪仍繼續說：「我當然沒住在勞動營裡，但我認識一個勞動營的男孩，他餓得要命，跟我要吃的，我有一陣子天天帶食物給他，丟進鐵絲網裡。」

「他長什麼樣子？」赫門問。若瑪想了想：「大約十三、四歲吧！很瘦很瘦。我那時還小，但我看得出來他很餓。」「他吃些什麼？」「多半是麵包。有時我也會弄到蘋果。」若瑪答道。

赫門坐直了身子：「妳跟他這樣碰面持續了多久？」「七個月。」若瑪回答。赫門的心開始狂跳。他問了更多的問題，若瑪的每一個答案都和他自己的記憶相吻合，他開始戰慄。

「他有沒有告訴妳，他要調到特瑞席安史達特，叫妳別再來了？」赫門小小聲怯懦地問道。「有，他就是這樣說的。」若瑪滿臉的莫名，不懂他何以知道這些。赫門倒在椅背上，驚詫得不能自已。坐在身邊的女子，原來就是當年救他一命的波蘭農家女孩。

「那個男孩就是我。」赫門輕輕地說，聲音細得幾乎只有自己聽得見。「怎麼可能？」若瑪不相信赫門就是勞動營那男孩，不可能這麼巧。「你告訴我，」若瑪遲疑一會兒，問道：「你是不是用破布裹住腳當鞋子？」赫門點點頭。

若瑪終於明白了這不可思議的事實，淚水湧入了她的眼。兩個人第一次真情相擁。赫門在車子到達若瑪的住處之前向若瑪求婚，一九五九年兩人在紐約步入禮堂，如今已有兩個孩子和數個孫子。赫門深信在集中營時，是命運數度把他從鬼門關前救回，命運也三度阻止他和其他女人踏上紅毯，他才得以在悲慘的童年結束了十五年後，與命中注定的伴侶重逢。

(本文摘自智庫公司出版《人海中找到你》一書)



http://www.books.com.tw/exep/prod/booksfile.php?item=0010005921