My Story: The Madde Caroline – Albert Story
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Samantha A.
January 29,2007
Humanities: English IV
Holocaust Story:
“My story: The Madde Caroline – Albert story”
As I sit here, in this massive classroom, I glance at a couple of posters of Nazi soldiers and German families sitting outside of ghettos, I notice a lady tall in stature approach me. As she smiles, she says, “Good morning Mrs. Caroline – Albert. The students will be in, in just a moment.”
I give her my most genuine smile and thank her for inviting me to speak to her high school American History class, as we both flinch a little from the sound of the class bell. I sit up straight in my chair as I watch many students enter. A group of teenage girls enter giggling and smiling. Looking at them made me think back to my teenage years. I begin to reminisce about my thirteenth birthday when my mother, my father, my twin sister Lulu, and I gathered around the dinner table enjoying each others company; only a few weeks before “The cleaning” started. “The cleaning”, thats what the Nazis called the genocide of my people. My mind came back to present date as the tardy bell rang and the students started to settle down.
“Good morning class”, Mrs. Andrea said, ” I have a special treat for you today!” I started to feel a little awkward as the majority of the class started to stare at me. Being that this was my first time speaking about my horrible past, I really didnt know what to expect.
“Students, today we have a guest speaker who survived the Holocaust. Her name is
Mrs. Madde Caroline – Albert. Please help me welcome her.” As the students clap I start to feel a little at ease. I look around the class just admiring the eager youth that sit before me, waiting, just waiting for me to tell my story. I rise from my seat.
“Good morning”, as your teacher said my name is Madde Caroline – Albert. Born as Madde Caroline to the parent of Agneth and Faramond Caroline on March 15, 1926. I also have a twin sister named Lulu. Out of those family members Ive named I am the only one who made it out of the Holocaust alive.” As that last sentence exited my mouth those words still lingered in the air, which made my eyes start to water a little. Mrs. Andrea handed me a box of Kleenex; I thanked her.
Trying to regroup I saw a young girl, who looked to be about 15 or 16 years old, raise her hand. Mrs. Andrea motioned for her to stand and speak. “Mrs. Madde, may I call you that?” I nodded. “Okay, well Mrs. Madde, weve been talking about the Holocaust for quite a while now in class and Ive come to interpret the outcomes very well. But may I ask, in your opinion, how is it that your people allowed one man to control your every move, or your every breath. How could you all let a man just like any other play “God”?”
“You know what child, thats a very good question that every survivor of the Holocaust has asked themselves one time or another”, I chuckled, “during that time everyone was depressed and struggling, and we needed someone to turn to. It just so happens to be Adolph Hitler. He made promises and came through on many. He seemed like a good leader, but boy were we wrong.” Unease by this question and the mentioning of Hitlers name I ask if there any more questions.
“Mrs. Madde”, a young boy rises, “did you actually live in a death camp?” I smiled and nodded with a tear rolling down the side of my cheek. “If its not a problem can you tell us about your first days there?”, the young sir continued. I took a deep breath and sighed. I guess upon my agreeing to come and speak I never thought they would ask so many personal questions. In many ways I was happy that they were so interested in my life, but in many more ways I wish they would cease their questioning. I guess I was taking to long because Mrs. Andrea came up to me and asked if I need a break. I really wanted to take her up on that offer, but this was something I needed to do more so for myself than the students.
“No, Im fine.”, I said trying very hard to not break down in front of the students. As I took a sip of water, from a cup the teacher had given me, I parted my lips to speak yet again.
“No, its no problem young man. First I must correct you. I stayed in a concentration camp not a death camp, thats where people were taken to be killed. I will never forget, not even after Im long gone, the day my family and I were taken away. A couple of Gestapo officers had come knocking on the door. My father answered. They told him that we needed to come with them immediately, for the country had met its quota and we were on the list to be shipped to another country. Lulu and myself were excited to move to another country, but at the time we couldnt understand why mother and father were so scared to leave. To us it didnt seem that bad, but our parents knew that there was something strange about the request. My mother asked the officers if we could grab a few things, they quickly denied her request and told us to leave now. At that point I looked at Lulu and we started to quickly understand what was happening. They brought us out to this bus with many of our friends on it. As we looked around at the adults we saw a look of great concern and fear across their faces. On the childrens faces, a look of curiosity. As we rode in silence for about 3 hours, stopping and picking up more people, we gradually learned that Nazis were doing a resettlement by not telling anyone where our destination was. Once we stopped for good everyone grew tense and nervous, even the children. A kapo entered the bus he was a prisoner like the rest of us, but he was given limited power over us. He told us to line up according to age and gender. My father tried very hard to keep our family together despite what the kapo had said. No one noticed my family so close together until we were outside fully loaded on the ramp. Once a kapo saw what my father was trying to do he quickly came up and forcefully made my parents leave with him. That was the last time Lulu or I saw our parents. Being that Lulu and I were twins we were allowed to stay together. Our next stop was the sauna. There we were made to strip down to our undergarments, deloused, our bodies tattooed and given uniforms. The next process is “selection”