Budapest, Hungary
Dear Mother and Father Mendel,
This is your daughter-in-law, Sarah Rivkah, writing this letter to you. Avraham asked me to keep writing to you the way he used to do so that after the war you will know what has become of us.
I am sorry to tell you that something terrible has happened. Avraham has been taken away. We were celebrating Shabbat two nights ago and Aunt Hannah had just said the blessing over the candles when a troop of Hungarian policemen burst into our apartment building. They went door to door to every household and gathered up every man they could find. No one had a chance to escape or hide. They took Avraham and Uncle Baruch and all but the very weakest men from our Jewish neighborhood for their slave labor force.
Of course we pleaded with them not to take our men. How will we survive? Some of the wives even offered the police a bribe if they would allow their husbands to stay. The police took the bribes – and the husbands, as well. They assured us that the men will be allowed to rejoin their families after Hungary is victorious in the war, but it seems more and more that the war will never end.
Avraham and Uncle Baruch barely had time to gather their coats and a few belongings and kiss us good-bye before they were marched away. Avi gave me instructions to write this letter to you so you would know what happened. His last words were “Good-bye, Sarah. I love you. May Hashem protect you and Fredeleh.”
We hear such terrible stories of what these forced labor camps are like and so it is hard not to worry. The men who are assigned to work outdoors, repairing roads or digging in the mines, suffer from the cold. Many of them lack warm coats and proper shoes, not to mention enough food to eat. Most of those basic supplies are being sent to the soldiers fighting on the front lines. Some men will end up working in factories in Germany, and we are told that the Allies have begun to bomb those factories. I despair of ever seeing Avraham again.
We are left with only women now in our apartment in Budapest – Aunt Hannah and her sister, two of her cousins, my mother, Fredeleh, and me. We often go hungry because it is so hard to get enough food to eat, and we often huddle beneath blankets in front of the fireplace when that is the only heat we have. It breaks my heart to hear Fredeleh crying because she is hungry or cold, but at least we are still safe. When I think of what poor Avraham must be suffering in a forced labor camp, I know that I should not complain.
It has been a long time since we received a letter from anyone in our family back home in the village, so we have no idea how they are doing. Before the police came, I asked Avraham if we should try to go back to the countryside and stay with them. Maybe we would be safer there, maybe we would have more food to eat. But even as they were taking Avi away, he told me that it is better for –Fredeleh and me to remain here in the city.
Avi has shown me the Christian orphanage where we can hide Fredeleh, and also the packet of papers that I must leave with her. But now that my husband is gone, I cannot bear to be separated from my daughter, as well. She is all that I have left. Avi says Hashem will show me when it is time to hide her with the Christians. He told me to trust Hashem, but I confess that I sometimes find that very difficult to do, especially after all the suffering I have seen during this war, all the unanswered prayers. Avi’s faith is much stronger than mine, and now that we are separated, I don’t know how I will be able to stay strong. He told me that it is fine to yell and plead and cry out to Hashem whenever I need to. He said I can talk to Him about everything that I fear. Avi also said I should recite from the book of Tehillim whenever I am afraid, and so that is what I try to do. I think that the authors must have suffered as we do, because the words they wrote are so close to my own thoughts:
“I cried out to Hashem for help; I cried out to Hashem to hear me . . . Has His unfailing love vanished forever? Has His promise failed for all time? . . .
Then I thought . . . I will remember the deeds of Hashem; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago . . .”
I hope that you are praying for us, Mother and Father Mendel. May Hashem bring us all together one day in joy.
Love,
your daughter-in-law, Sarah Rivkah,
and granddaughter, Fredeleh