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Survival Stories, Greenbrook, Southaven, MS (2025)

12/27/2025

On 26 September 1929 at Prague, Czechoslovakia

Františka Hellerová was born on 26 September 1929 in Prague, Czechoslovakia, into a loving Jewish family. She was the daughter of Richard Heller and Marie née Poláková and grew up surrounded by the warmth of family, the rhythm of daily life, and the traditions that shaped her childhood. Františka’s early years were filled with school, play, and the simple joys of growing up, yet the shadows of persecution gradually crept into her world. As anti-Jewish laws and N**i oppression tightened across Czechoslovakia, the safety and normalcy of her life began to erode, leaving a young girl on the brink of adolescence facing fear and uncertainty.

On 27 July 1942, Františka and her mother were deported to the Terezín ghetto, a place presented as a “model settlement” but in reality marked by overcrowding, hunger, and fear. Her older brother Jiří followed three days later, and together the family clung to one another in the face of mounting terror. On 8 September 1942, Františka and her family were deported to Maly Trostenets, where they were mu*dered upon arrival in the Blagovshchina forest. Františka was kil*ed shortly before her thirteenth birthday, a young life extinguished before it could fully bloom. The fate of her father remains unknown, leaving the family story incomplete and marked by tragedy.

Remembering Františka Hellerová restores the humanity of a child stolen too soon and honors the family torn apart by the Holocaust. Her story stands as a solemn reminder of the countless young lives destroyed, the cruelty inflicted on innocent families, and the importance of preserving memory. By speaking her name, we bear witness to her existence, her brief life, and the enduring need to remember. May her memory forever be a blessing.

12/27/2025

On 12 November 1942 at Auschwitz, Germany

Else Abt, a German woman and trained accountant, was deported to Auschwitz on 12 November 1942. Registered under prisoner number 24402 as a Jehovah’s Witness, she was targeted not for her ethnicity, but for her faith and refusal to conform to N**i ideology. In Auschwitz, Else faced the daily hardships of forced labor, extreme deprivation, and the constant threat of violence that defined life in the camp. Her identity, beliefs, and resilience made her a target, yet also provided the inner strength necessary to endure the relentless cruelty around her.

In 1945, Else was transferred between multiple camps Gross-Rosen, Mauthausen, and Bergen-Belsen—each stop exposing her to further suffering, exhaustion, and the terror of near-daily death. Despite the physical and emotional toll, she survived where so many others perished, navigating a brutal system designed to crush both body and spirit. Her endurance is a testament to courage, faith, and the human will to survive even under the most extreme conditions.

Eventually, Else Abt was liberated in Buchenwald, emerging from years of captivity and witnessing firsthand the horrors inflicted upon countless prisoners. Her survival stands as a powerful reminder of the persecution faced by Jehovah’s Witnesses under the N**i regime, the resilience of faith, and the enduring strength of those who refused to abandon their principles. Remembering Else Abt honors both her struggle and the broader community of victims who suffered under N**i tyranny. May her memory forever be a blessing.

12/27/2025

During 8 September 1932 at Șimleu Silvaniei, Romania

Dov Imre Berkovits was born on 8 September 1932 in Șimleu Silvaniei, Romania, into a Jewish family that cherished him and nurtured his early years with love, care, and hope for the future. His childhood, like that of many children in Europe at the time, was filled with simple joys play, learning, and the warmth of family bonds. Yet as the shadow of N**i occupation spread across Romania, Dov’s world began to shrink, and the innocence of his youth was threatened by forces beyond his understanding. Each day carried the growing weight of fear, uncertainty, and the looming threat that his life could be violently interrupted.

In May 1944, Dov and countless others were deported to Auschwitz, a place designed to extinguish life and hope. Upon arrival, he was subjected to the camp’s brutal selection process, and, far too young to survive, he was mu*dered in the gas chambers. His brief life was cut tragically short, leaving behind only his name, his birth date, and the knowledge of the life that could have been, a future filled with laughter, growth, and possibilities that were never realized. The loss of Dov represents not only a personal tragedy but also the systematic destruction of thousands of children whose potential was stolen by hatred and violence.

Remembering Dov Imre Berkovits restores his humanity and honors the countless young lives lost during the Holocaust. Speaking his name ensures that his story is not erased and that the memory of those who perished continues to remind us of the consequences of intolerance, persecution, and indifference. His life, though brief, matters, and by preserving it, we acknowledge the profound loss and commit to never forget. May his memory forever be a blessing.

12/27/2025

During 1930s–1940s at Auschwitz, Poland

Abraham Weiss was a Jewish teenager when he was imprisoned in Auschwitz, forced to wear the striped uniform that symbolized both dehumanization and survival. Born into a family targeted simply for being the “wrong race,” Abraham witnessed the mu*der of his entire family, a loss so profound it marked the foundation of his adolescence with grief and trauma. Each day in the camp was a struggle against starvation, violence, and despair, yet Abraham survived, miraculously escaping death on nine separate occasions. His endurance was not the result of chance alone, but a combination of resilience, quick thinking, and an indomitable will to live amidst circumstances designed to extinguish hope.

Life in Auschwitz for a young man like Abraham was defined by fear and uncertainty. Prisoners were subjected to forced labor, random selections, and constant surveillance, where any misstep could lead to ex*****on. Despite these conditions, Abraham clung to life, carrying with him the memory of his lost family while navigating the daily horrors of the camp. His uniform, now captured in photographs, is a stark reminder of both the systemic cruelty imposed by the N**is and the personal courage required to endure it.

Remembering Abraham Weiss honors a story of survival against almost impossible odds. His life testifies to the resilience of the human spirit, the strength required to endure profound loss, and the imperative to bear witness to history. By speaking his name and recounting his experience, we preserve the memory of those who suffered, celebrate the miracle of survival, and ensure that the lessons of Auschwitz continue to resonate for generations. May his memory forever be a blessing.

12/27/2025

In 1944 at Philippines

In 1944, at a prisoner-of-war camp in the Philippines, American soldier Thomas Reed endured a level of starvation that left his body lighter than the uniform he wore. Days blurred together as hunger erased the passage of time, forcing prisoners to tie knots in strings to mark days because calendars and clocks had lost all meaning. The men whispered about the food they longed for, dreaming of meals they might never taste, each moment carrying the uncertainty of survival and the constant weight of despair. Thomas’s world had contracted to the bare essentials: breath, hope, and the faint, persistent desire to live.

When the camp was liberated in 1945, Thomas’s weakened body could barely bear its own weight. Medics tried to stand him, but his legs had forgotten how to support him. He was carried instead, a mixture of shame, relief, and disbelief washing over him as the reality of freedom slowly sank in. The liberation marked a return to life, yet the physical and psychological toll of prolonged hunger lingered, leaving scars that would not be visible but would remain deeply imprinted.

Thomas survived, but he later reflected that starvation had done more than shrink his body—it had narrowed the world to its most elemental parts, reducing existence to air, hope, and the faint, persistent drive to endure. His story reminds us of the unimaginable suffering POWs faced, the resilience of the human spirit, and the fragile, precious nature of life reclaimed after terror. May the memory of Thomas Reed and all who endured similar hardships forever be a blessing.

12/27/2025

On 24 December 1920 at Ostrava, Czechoslovakia

Herta Reicherová was born on 24 December 1920 in Ostrava, Czechoslovakia, into a Jewish family. Her early years were shaped by the rhythms of home, community, and cultural traditions, a life filled with ordinary joys and the quiet security of family. Herta grew up learning, playing, and forming bonds with those around her, each day contributing to the life she might have lived in peace. Yet, as the shadow of N**i persecution spread across Europe, her world was increasingly threatened, and the future she had once imagined grew ever more uncertain.

In 1943, Herta and thousands of others were forced into the Theresienstadt ghetto, a place presented as a “model settlement” but in reality a site of deprivation, fear, and cruelty. On 6 September 1943, she was deported from Theresienstadt to Auschwitz, the infamous extermination camp where survival was measured in hours and hope was a rare commodity. Upon arrival, Herta did not survive, her life cut tragically short by the systematic machinery of the Holocaust. The records do not reveal her final moments, only the date and place of her death, a stark reminder of the countless individual stories erased in the process.

Remembering Herta Reicherová restores her humanity, preserving the memory of a woman whose life, though brief, mattered deeply. Speaking her name honors not only her existence but also the millions of others who were silenced, ensuring that their lives and losses continue to resonate in history. Herta’s story reminds us of the fragility of life under tyranny and the enduring responsibility to bear witness. May her memory forever be a blessing.

12/27/2025

On 10 October 1912 at Cernăuți, Romania (now Chernivtsi, Ukraine)

Anna Gelles (née Steinbock) was born on 10 October 1912 in Cernăuți, Romania, to F***y and Nahum Steinbock. She grew up alongside two younger sisters, surrounded by the traditions and rhythms of Jewish family life. At fifteen, Anna began a courtship with Itzik Gelles, a relationship that blossomed over thirteen years before they married in July 1940, when Anna was twenty-seven. Their union was soon overshadowed by the growing menace of the N**i occupation. Within a year, the N**is invaded Cernăuți, and Itzik was conscripted into the Red Army, separating him from Anna and leaving her to face the escalating horrors alone.

In October 1941, the Jewish community of Cernăuți was forced into a ghetto under harsh and inhumane conditions. Despite the opportunity to hide outside the ghetto with her husband’s family, Anna refused, unwilling to leave her parents and sisters behind and holding onto the slim hope of reconnecting with Itzik. On 15 November 1941, Anna and her family were deported to Transnistria, where starvation, cold, and disease were constant threats. During a march through snow to the village of Lozove, Anna and her mother both fell gravely ill during a severe typhus outbreak. In the early months of 1942, Anna died in her younger sister’s arms on 3 March at the age of twenty-nine. Her mother passed two weeks later, and both were buried in a mass grave, leaving Itzik devastated by the loss.

Anna Gelles’ story is a profound testament to love, loyalty, and the human cost of persecution. She remained with her family to the very end, choosing togetherness over potential safety, a decision that reflects courage, devotion, and the tragic realities faced by countless families during the Holocaust. Remembering Anna preserves her humanity, her choices, and her life, ensuring that the memory of her resilience and love endures despite the cruelty that claimed her. May her memory forever be a blessing.

12/27/2025

During December 1938 to September 1939 from Europe to Britain

Between December 1938 and September 1939, the Kindertransport rescued nearly 10,000 Jewish children from N**i-occupied Europe, offering a lifeline to those whose families faced persecution in Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Poland. The children traveled alone or in small groups, carrying only a few belongings, often separated from their parents in the most heartbreaking of circumstances. One image stands out: a little girl clutching her doll as she boarded the train, her wide eyes reflecting fear, uncertainty, and the weight of leaving home. Tearful farewells from her parents underscored the profound sacrifices families were forced to make, as hope and survival demanded separation and courage.

The journeys were fraught with anxiety, yet they also carried the possibility of life and continuity. Rescuers—ordinary individuals who organized transport, welcomed children into homes, and provided care—played a vital role in safeguarding both physical safety and emotional stability. The Kindertransport preserved the futures of thousands of young lives that might otherwise have been extinguished by violence, oppression, and systematic persecution. For the children, survival meant not only escaping immediate danger, but also adapting to new languages, customs, and environments, often while holding onto the memory of family left behind.

Remembering the Kindertransport honors both the children who endured its challenges and the countless rescuers whose bravery and compassion ensured their survival. It stands as a testament to the power of human courage, selflessness, and moral responsibility, showing that even in the darkest times, acts of organized kindness can preserve life, hope, and humanity. The story of the little girl with the doll, and thousands like her, reminds us that saving a child is saving a future.

12/27/2025

During 1939–1945 in N**i Germany

Between 1939 and 1945, the N**is carried out one of their earliest programs of systematic mu*der, known as Aktion T4, targeting the most defenseless members of society under the guise of “euthanasia.” The victims included children with disabilities, adults with mental illness, people with physical impairments, chronically ill patients, disabled war veterans, and those labeled as burdens by the regime. Initially conducted quietly, patients were starved, lethally injected, or left to die in hospital beds while families received polite, deceptive letters explaining their deaths as natural causes. As the program escalated, poison gas was introduced, and victims were taken to former hospitals or care homes under the pretense of receiving treatment, only to be sealed into rooms and suffocated. These methods claimed the lives of an estimated 200,000 people and became the chilling blueprint for the extermination camps that followed.

Aktion T4 illustrates how bureaucratic systems, medical authority, and state ideology can combine to facilitate mass mu*der. Doctors, administrators, and staff executed the killings with clinical precision, transferring both knowledge and methods to the East, directly informing the machinery of genocide used in Auschwitz, Sobibór, and other extermination camps. The T4 program demonstrates a terrifying truth: once a state decides that some lives matter less than others, there is no moral bottom, and ordinary institutions can be transformed into instruments of death. Victims had no armies, no way to resist, and their only crime was existing in bodies the regime deemed imperfect.

Today, memorials stand on the grounds of hospitals and care homes where the T4 program was carried out, and historians continue to recover the names and stories of those lost. Remembering Aktion T4 is both an act of honoring the victims and a warning for the present: when language of “burden,” “purity,” or “unworthy lives” is used, history shows exactly where it can lead. Preserving this memory ensures that the lessons of T4 remain alive, guiding conscience, policy, and moral vigilance.

12/27/2025

During 1945 at Dachau, Germany

In 1945, at Dachau concentration camp, an American soldier witnessed a harrowing scene: former prisoners preparing to execute a notorious camp guard with a shovel. This man had inflicted years of terror on women and children, leaving a trail of fear and suffering. Along the wall behind him lay the bodies of other guards some shot by U.S. troops during the liberation, others beaten by survivors who sought retribution for the brutality they had endured. The scene was a stark illustration of the collapse of N**i power and the raw, uncontained fury of those who had survived unimaginable oppression.

Dachau, located in southern Germany, was the first N**i concentration camp, established in 1933 to imprison political opponents including communists, social liberals, and others considered enemies of the state. Over its twelve years of operation, the camp expanded to more than one hundred sub-camps and held approximately 200,000 prisoners. At least 50,000 of those incarcerated perished from starvation, disease, forced labor, medical experiments, and ex*****ons. When U.S. forces liberated Dachau in April 1945, they discovered 30,000 survivors, 10,000 of whom were gravely ill, a testament to both the horrors of the camp and the resilience of those who survived.

The aftermath of Dachau’s liberation reflects the complexity of justice, vengeance, and survival. It serves as a haunting reminder of the immense human cost of tyranny, the suffering endured by thousands, and the enduring strength of those who lived through it. Remembering the events at Dachau preserves the memory of the victims, honors the courage of the survivors, and reinforces the responsibility to bear witness to history so that such atrocities are never repeated. May their memory forever be a blessing.

12/26/2025

During 1945 at Mauthausen, Austria

The first night after liberation at Mauthausen was the most difficult for survivors, particularly for children who had learned to fear the dark as a sign of punishment, violence, or disappearance. Years of brutality had trained them to associate silence and shadows with terror, and even after the camp gates were opened, freedom felt fragile and unreal. One boy sat near a barrack wall, clutching a piece of bread given to him by an American soldier earlier in the day. Hunger urged him to eat it all, yet the memory of scarcity and the lessons of survival made him hide a portion under his shirt, a small act of caution that had once meant life or death.

Around him, soldiers moved quietly, distributing blankets and rations, speaking gently to survivors whose expressions reflected disbelief, exhaustion, and grief. Some wept openly, releasing years of fear, while others simply stared, trying to process that the nightmare had finally ended. Liberation did not arrive with fanfare or joy—it came as a quiet, almost surreal moment, a delicate awakening after prolonged suffering. The boy gradually understood that the silence surrounding him was no longer threatening; it was a signal that a new reality had begun, one in which he could begin to reclaim his life, safety, and sense of normalcy.

That night marked not only the first step toward physical freedom but also the beginning of a longer journey toward trust, memory, and healing. Survivors of Mauthausen faced the painful process of rebuilding their identities, reestablishing relationships, and confronting trauma while holding onto the faint hope that life could still offer security and dignity. Remembering that first night honors their resilience, their courage to endure, and the fragile, transformative moments that made survival possible. May their memory forever be a blessing.

12/26/2025

On 30 November 1943 in Tehran, Iran

On 30 November 1943, a historic photograph captured the “Big Three” Allied leaders, U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin, and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, at the British Legation in Tehran, Iran. The gathering coincided with Churchill’s sixty-ninth birthday and marked the first major conference of World War II between the three leaders, codenamed Operation Eureka, known to history as the Tehran Conference. Amid the formal dinner, birthday cake, and cordial expressions, the photograph conveys a sense of celebration, yet it also conceals the complex and often tense political dynamics that underpinned the meeting.

The conference was of immense strategic significance. Roosevelt, Stalin, and Churchill discussed and coordinated key military operations, most notably the Western Allies’ commitment to open a second front against N**i Germany, which would eventually culminate in the D-Day invasion, Operation Overlord. Beyond immediate wartime strategies, the discussions also reflected differing visions for the postwar world, with subtle but profound disagreements between the Soviet Union and the Western powers regarding territorial influence, political systems, and the balance of power. Despite these undercurrents, the leaders presented unity to the world, projecting resolve and cooperation against a common enemy.

The Tehran Conference stands as a defining moment in modern history, illustrating how diplomacy, strategy, and personal relationships among world leaders can shape the course of global events. The photograph of the “Big Three” serves as both a historical record and a reminder of the layers of complexity behind pivotal decisions that determined the outcome of World War II. Remembering this event honors the coordination, negotiation, and foresight that contributed to the eventual defeat of N**i Germany while acknowledging the tensions that would shape the postwar world.

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