Today’s is a heartbreaking letter written by Helene in Istanbul to her cousin Hilda in San Francisco, written almost exactly six years after the letter we saw yesterday. After the U.S. entered WWII, there were no more letters. Here we have a window into Helene and Vitali’s life in Vienna from late 1941 to October 1943. Already Helene has learned that people did not want to hear about her hardships in Ravensbrück, so she is left alone with her thoughts and her nightmares.
I have included a transcription of the letter for easier reading.
Istanbul, February 1 1946
My dearest Hilda!
When in the fall 1939 I received the first letter from you, I was so happy to be in touch with you and it was the constant topic of the conversation between Vitali and me. We two both were so glad to know that what seems to us worth to living for, our children, were in your care. Things were going on well till Oct. 15. 43. On this day our misfortune began. Events became bad, worse, worst. On this day I was separated from Vitali, but I hope not for ever, the only thought of it harassed and distracted me. Since that day till March 44 I had no idea where he was and what had happened to him. After four months the first time I was allowed to send a letter to a friend of Vitali. Luckily he could write earlier and so our friend was able to give me good news, saying that Vitali was in good health and in Buchenwald-Weimar. Of course, I had been very glad to know the address of my husband, although I knew what to think about “good state of health.” I was using the same assurance in all my letters, but this doesn’t matter, because Vitali and I really were in a good condition of health until we were put in prison. Soon I lost all my mirth and my good-looks that I had preserved so long in spite of war knowing all our family in safety. Never Vitali looked younger than in the last years. He was deeply engaged in his studies and his reputation was growing day by day and people in their thankfulness provided us with all things we needed, more than that they provided us with things we needed not. Daily we had visitors bringing gifts - most of them valuable: pictures, books, carpets, china - to be short all the hearts-content of a housewife. Not a single day in Vienna we felt hungry, to the contrary we were able to help friends and we named it our “Winterhilfe” (winter help). Till June 42 we could keep our lodging and fate held its hand over us in finding a relatively good apartment with bathroom, bright and pleasant. Although it was not permitted Jews to have a telephone, we could keep it, for the Telephon-Centrale considered us foreigners of distinction. There was not a single day without an interurban call for thanksgiving to Vitali for his valuable advice to people who not always were Jews. Transfer of telephone apparatus from one lodging to another was severely prohibited. Our telephone was installed before the van with our furniture from the Seidlgasse to Haasgasse arrived. Vitali who the transport of our things superintended and were sitting among the furniture movers was greatest surprised to find our telephone (the same apparatus we had). By law, all vacant telephones were to be given to the disposition of SS. From the 15th of Oct 43 all turns badly. Every hour we were in jeopardy. We were in the hands of the SS taskmasters, female and male, and it seems as if they strove to excel each other in cruelty. Through all these hardships I escaped at hairbreadth, wishing and hoping that Vitali is liberated too. Let us not remember the troubles part. Experience has taught me that the world is tired of hearing stories about our sufferings in the camps which were enough to make all corpses turn in their graves.
What galled me most is that I couldn’t remember your address and when I got Harry’s wire I have been happy twice. At first it was the first message I received directly by himself, and second I know his address is yours which I had lost and found again and I hope it will happen that I find Vitali again.
It seems to me proper to tell you something about one of the oldest and most beautiful towns in the world, but having not often the possibility to view the town, I will keep my impressions of this place if I am sitting with you for a 5-o’clock tea. Contented? But I can assure you, never I had dreamed to enter a nunnery for staying there and I can say I am a specialist in mad and perverse dreams (Vitali can confirm my statement, having gathered many thousands of them). Now I am hoping I can get a passage in some ship bound for America and to be able to shake off the Turkish dust from my sandals (and the sandals too would Vitali say!). The entrance through the Dardanelles was just grand but I prefer the driving out.
….I am sure you will have much trouble to decipher my letter, but there would be the same care had I written it in my once good German. I am sure you will laugh if I confess to you that I dedicate my whole free-time to the bettering of my English and, after staying here such a long time among badly German speaking people, to the diminishing of my German. Shall that suffice?
I remain loving you all
Yours truly
Helen