Object numberM2003/021:130
DescriptionHand written letter in black ink, two pages with envelope, dated 9.3.1946 from Charlotte Ostertag in Germany to Max Loewenstein in Galata, Istanbul, about her Death March, liberation, and her current situation. The envelope, addressed to Mahir Lutufmen, bears the British censorship stamp, and indicates that the letter was opened by the censor even though it was written in March 1946. Charlotte's address is in Hannover at this time. This letter, number 19, forms part of the correspondence between Charlotte and Max before they were re-united and married. See inscriptions/marks for translation.
Excerpt: "When I read the 'Sch’mah' (Shema or Sh'ma) and when I come to that part about the pharaoh and the downfall of the enemies in the Red Sea, then I realise: we experienced the same, and although thousands of us died, the victory was ours. This always lifts me up, and I knuckle down and say, how often do we understand what the Maker’s plans are. Today I know, why Mum had to die so suddenly and so young: not to experience this horror, not to know how Dad died. One day, I will hopefully understand, why Dad had to die in such a dreadful way."
The style of writing in which one uses traditional rabbinic literary insertions is called a "Shibbutz" (an insertion).;Part of Lutufmen collection that documents the entire life of Charlotte Lutufmen from before the war in Germany, through survival of the Holocaust, return to Germany, marriage of long-time fiancee Maw Lutufmen (nee Lowenstein) who has escaped the Holocaust working in Turkey during the war, and migration to Australia. This document is significant in the context of repatriation and treatment of Holocaust survivors immediately after WW2 in Germany.
Part of a collection of 168 letters, postcards, documents, photographs and restitution claims belonging to Charlotte Lutufmen (nee Ostertag), born in Hannover, Germany on 3 April 1908 to Alfred and Gertrud Ostertag (nee Callomon). Charlotte was engaged to Max Loewenstein before the war. He moved to Turkey, changed his name to Mahir Lutufmen, converted to Islam, and obtained Turkish citizenship while working for a Dutch tobacco company. Charlotte was unable to obtain a permit to leave Germany and marry her fiancé. In December 1941, age 33, she was deported to Riga Ghetto. In September 1943 she was taken to do forced labour. Then in August 1944, she was deported to Kaiserwald. One month later, she was deported to Stutthof concentration camp and then to Sofienwalde from October 1944 to February 1945. Charlotte lost all her toes to frostbite during the death march back to Germany. After the war, she and Max were reunited. They married in Suelbeck, Germany, in 1947. Charlotte was 39 and Max was 45 years old. She moved to Turkey with him. A few years later they immigrated to Australia where she became an Australian citizen in 1955. Despite her impaired mobility that worsened as she aged, she made something of her life. When she retired in her late 60s she went to TAFE to get the matriculation she was deprived of in Germany and then went on to Macquarie University in her 70s, where she graduated with a BA in her early 80s – the oldest graduate at the time.
Excerpt: "When I read the 'Sch’mah' (Shema or Sh'ma) and when I come to that part about the pharaoh and the downfall of the enemies in the Red Sea, then I realise: we experienced the same, and although thousands of us died, the victory was ours. This always lifts me up, and I knuckle down and say, how often do we understand what the Maker’s plans are. Today I know, why Mum had to die so suddenly and so young: not to experience this horror, not to know how Dad died. One day, I will hopefully understand, why Dad had to die in such a dreadful way."
The style of writing in which one uses traditional rabbinic literary insertions is called a "Shibbutz" (an insertion).;Part of Lutufmen collection that documents the entire life of Charlotte Lutufmen from before the war in Germany, through survival of the Holocaust, return to Germany, marriage of long-time fiancee Maw Lutufmen (nee Lowenstein) who has escaped the Holocaust working in Turkey during the war, and migration to Australia. This document is significant in the context of repatriation and treatment of Holocaust survivors immediately after WW2 in Germany.
Part of a collection of 168 letters, postcards, documents, photographs and restitution claims belonging to Charlotte Lutufmen (nee Ostertag), born in Hannover, Germany on 3 April 1908 to Alfred and Gertrud Ostertag (nee Callomon). Charlotte was engaged to Max Loewenstein before the war. He moved to Turkey, changed his name to Mahir Lutufmen, converted to Islam, and obtained Turkish citizenship while working for a Dutch tobacco company. Charlotte was unable to obtain a permit to leave Germany and marry her fiancé. In December 1941, age 33, she was deported to Riga Ghetto. In September 1943 she was taken to do forced labour. Then in August 1944, she was deported to Kaiserwald. One month later, she was deported to Stutthof concentration camp and then to Sofienwalde from October 1944 to February 1945. Charlotte lost all her toes to frostbite during the death march back to Germany. After the war, she and Max were reunited. They married in Suelbeck, Germany, in 1947. Charlotte was 39 and Max was 45 years old. She moved to Turkey with him. A few years later they immigrated to Australia where she became an Australian citizen in 1955. Despite her impaired mobility that worsened as she aged, she made something of her life. When she retired in her late 60s she went to TAFE to get the matriculation she was deprived of in Germany and then went on to Macquarie University in her 70s, where she graduated with a BA in her early 80s – the oldest graduate at the time.
Production placeHannover, Germany
Production date 1946-03-09
Subjectpost World War II, liberation, rations, treatment of survivors, death marches, tracing loved ones
Object nameletters
Materialpaper
Dimensions
- letter width: 290.00 mm
letter height: 215.00 mm
envelope width: 151.00 mm
envelope height: 89.00 mm
Language
- German No.19
9.III.46
My dear, dear Maxel!
Exactly one year ago, we started our walk to Danzig (which is a 200km away by foot) at 6 o’clock in the afternoon – walking during the day was forbidden – without any food, already exhausted. We knew no one would be able to bear this. We trudged hours and hours in partly deep snow, were caught by a blizzard and the Commandant lost our way, finally – after we slowly dozed off during a stormy rest on a pasture – we were rudely woken up and they told us to go back a long distance until we reach the main road, some people passed out, can’t walk any further I walked like a machine, link arms with Hannelore, I am half-asleep but somehow my feet find their way. When we reached the main road, ---- tableau! No guards, no Commandant, no supervisor are seen. I start laughing; I realise: we will be free soon. Around us, everything is covered in snow, a fir tree forest; we walk faster to catch up with the other women. As we reach the group, nobody seems to have missed us – approximately 300 female creatures. At the crack of dawn we arrive at the small village Bleinax(?), we are put up in a gigantic barn, and everybody lies more above, than next to each other. By chance, the Commandant walks by, I calmly ask him about the food. Yes, he replies, today at 4.30pm we will get some soup. Something hot, I think, something to drink, my stomach cannot handle solid food anymore. It adapted to the small portions. Suddenly, Hannelore calls me and the “darling”: there will be some free space in one corner, where horses and Russian prisoner’s of war are staying. The Russians leave. Now, get up, get up, and I’m lying next to the horses and only want to find some rest. An ear-battering noise hit us like a lightning stroke – air attack or close bombardment, that is the question. Everybody jumps up, wants to seek shelter in the cellar. I should get up: no, says Lotte, either we make it or not, I remain lying. 20 minutes later, tanks drive through our little village – everyone is yelling ‘the Russians are here’ – suddenly all my strength of the last years drops down like an iron ring, I remain lying, but I don’t shed any tears, feel no relief. I am will-less, want to sleep – sleep. 3-4 weeks later, tears break out, rivers of tears, as if the pain should be washed away with all these tears. I never knew that crying could be such a relief. And then, parts of the old Lotte came back to life, little by little with she became who she had been before, but only for one person’s sake: you, my beloved boy!
This morning, I received a telegram: Gerda from Duisburg, the “darling”, congratulated to my first liberation anniversary. Lovely, isn’t she? Yes, our comradeship was ideal, well known in every camp we stayed. Our Gretel, the charming Viennese woman, didn’t survive, such a precious human and all the other nice women and girls. Unforgotten also our boys, how much did they suffer, how upright did they accept their fate; men were tortured even worse than women! When I read the "Sch’mah" and when I come to that part about the pharaoh and the downfall of the enemies in the Red Sea, then I realise: we experienced the same, and although thousands of us died, the victory was ours. This always lifts me up, and I knuckle down and say, how often do we understand what the Maker’s plans are. Today I know, why Mum had to die so suddenly and so young: not to experience this horror, not to know how Dad died. One day, I will hopefully understand, why Dad had to die in such a dreadful way. Can you believe, you need to fight to believe. I think, you understand this.
Now, we’d like to be silent:
Thinking of and commemorating those who won’t come back. Also Lilli and Erich, also Trude.
[…]
Credit lineSydney Jewish Museum Collection, Donated by Annette Brett