Object numberM2012/043:007
DescriptionThis letter was written by 'Olly' (Olga Rosenberger) to her maternal Aunt Irene, Uncle Charles and children in Tel Aviv, from Bratislava, 14 September 1945. It is the first letter Olga writes to her only surviving family, a few days after returning home from the camps. Irene and her family managed to get to Palestine before the war.
Olga starts with “You can imagine how painful it is for me to write this letter.” The trauma experienced by Olga is evident throughout. She gives news about others who have returned but it is very few. In a chilling detail she reports that “Jancsi (Eugene) Nachmias was thrown out from the third floor by the Nazis.”
Olga writes that she contracted typhus and lost 25 kg but is slowly recovering. She states, "I’m very affected by the loss of my dearest mama, papa and Judith."
She asks Irene to come to Bratislava to help her; she was attempting to regain some of her family's valuables and possessions. However, Irene was unable to travel because she was pregnant.
Olga writes that she is staying with Aunt Freda, a distant cousin of her mothers who had returned from Terezin. She is taking good care of Olga. The Rosenbergers, her father’s family and closest living relatives there, do not help her.
Olga Horak (nee Rosenberger) was born in August 1926 in Bratislava, Czechoslovakia to Hugo and Piroschka Rosenberger. She was 17 when first deported to Sered, then Auschwitz- Birkenau, Kurzbach, Gross Rosen and Bergen-Belsen, where she was liberated. She immigrated to Australia in 1949. Olga received an OAM in 2014 for service to her community.
Olga witnessed the Nazi Regime turn Czechoslovakia into a 'puppet republic'. The government agreed to laws that restricted the lives of Jews. They weren't allowed to go to school, be out after dark, go to the movies or sit on a park bench.
In 1942, Olga's sister Judith was taken in a roundup of 16-year-old Jewish boys and girls to Auschwitz. She never saw her sister again. Out of fear, her parents made plans to escape; they illegally crossed the border into Hungary, but Budapest wasn't easy because they didn't have papers or a home. When bombings began in 1944, Olga and her parents couldn't take refuge in the shelters without being caught. They returned to Bratislava, crossing illegally over the border again.
Back home, Olga's family had false papers. But a cousin was found out and these documents were no longer secure. The family went into hiding with the help of a family friend, but the same friend denounced them two weeks later. The family was taken to a collection camp in Sered before being put in cattle cars to Auschwitz. During the selection process, her father, grandmother, aunts and cousins were taken away and murdered. Olga and her mother were stripped, shaven, registered, and sent to Germany into a camp where they had to carry logs and dig trenches. One morning, the women were evacuated on a Death March, walking through the snow until reaching Gross Rosen. After three days, they marched again until they arrived in Dresden, eventually ending up in Bergen-Belsen. On 15 April 1945, they were liberated by British and Canadian troops. Inmates were registered as survivors, but just as her mother received her card, she collapsed and died. A day that was supposed to be celebratory turned out to be one of the saddest of Olga's life.
Olga was taken to a German hospital where she was left to die. A Catholic Padre from the British Army came to give her last rites. Instead she asked for a Rabbi who arranged for her to be returned back to the sick bay at the camp. She stayed there until late August and was then transported to a hospital in Pilsen, Czechoslovakia, weighing 29 kilos. She was placed next to a Catholic woman named Bozena. When Olga was discharged, Bozena took her home with her. Soon, Olga found distant relatives in Bratislava who survived and she lived with them for two years before she met her husband, John Horak, a survivor who had trained as a textile engineer in Brno.
They were determined to leave Czechoslovakia. Eventually they got a tourist visa for Switzerland and then landing permits for Australia. They arrived on the TSS Cyrenia on 16 September 1949 where they established a business manufacturing blouses, Hibodress, within two weeks after arriving.
Olga starts with “You can imagine how painful it is for me to write this letter.” The trauma experienced by Olga is evident throughout. She gives news about others who have returned but it is very few. In a chilling detail she reports that “Jancsi (Eugene) Nachmias was thrown out from the third floor by the Nazis.”
Olga writes that she contracted typhus and lost 25 kg but is slowly recovering. She states, "I’m very affected by the loss of my dearest mama, papa and Judith."
She asks Irene to come to Bratislava to help her; she was attempting to regain some of her family's valuables and possessions. However, Irene was unable to travel because she was pregnant.
Olga writes that she is staying with Aunt Freda, a distant cousin of her mothers who had returned from Terezin. She is taking good care of Olga. The Rosenbergers, her father’s family and closest living relatives there, do not help her.
Olga Horak (nee Rosenberger) was born in August 1926 in Bratislava, Czechoslovakia to Hugo and Piroschka Rosenberger. She was 17 when first deported to Sered, then Auschwitz- Birkenau, Kurzbach, Gross Rosen and Bergen-Belsen, where she was liberated. She immigrated to Australia in 1949. Olga received an OAM in 2014 for service to her community.
Olga witnessed the Nazi Regime turn Czechoslovakia into a 'puppet republic'. The government agreed to laws that restricted the lives of Jews. They weren't allowed to go to school, be out after dark, go to the movies or sit on a park bench.
In 1942, Olga's sister Judith was taken in a roundup of 16-year-old Jewish boys and girls to Auschwitz. She never saw her sister again. Out of fear, her parents made plans to escape; they illegally crossed the border into Hungary, but Budapest wasn't easy because they didn't have papers or a home. When bombings began in 1944, Olga and her parents couldn't take refuge in the shelters without being caught. They returned to Bratislava, crossing illegally over the border again.
Back home, Olga's family had false papers. But a cousin was found out and these documents were no longer secure. The family went into hiding with the help of a family friend, but the same friend denounced them two weeks later. The family was taken to a collection camp in Sered before being put in cattle cars to Auschwitz. During the selection process, her father, grandmother, aunts and cousins were taken away and murdered. Olga and her mother were stripped, shaven, registered, and sent to Germany into a camp where they had to carry logs and dig trenches. One morning, the women were evacuated on a Death March, walking through the snow until reaching Gross Rosen. After three days, they marched again until they arrived in Dresden, eventually ending up in Bergen-Belsen. On 15 April 1945, they were liberated by British and Canadian troops. Inmates were registered as survivors, but just as her mother received her card, she collapsed and died. A day that was supposed to be celebratory turned out to be one of the saddest of Olga's life.
Olga was taken to a German hospital where she was left to die. A Catholic Padre from the British Army came to give her last rites. Instead she asked for a Rabbi who arranged for her to be returned back to the sick bay at the camp. She stayed there until late August and was then transported to a hospital in Pilsen, Czechoslovakia, weighing 29 kilos. She was placed next to a Catholic woman named Bozena. When Olga was discharged, Bozena took her home with her. Soon, Olga found distant relatives in Bratislava who survived and she lived with them for two years before she met her husband, John Horak, a survivor who had trained as a textile engineer in Brno.
They were determined to leave Czechoslovakia. Eventually they got a tourist visa for Switzerland and then landing permits for Australia. They arrived on the TSS Cyrenia on 16 September 1949 where they established a business manufacturing blouses, Hibodress, within two weeks after arriving.
Production placeBratislava, Slovakia
Production date 1945-09-14
Subjectsurvivors, loved ones' contact, repatriation
Object nameletters
Materialpaper
Dimensions
- length: 300.00 mm
width: 210.00 mm
Language
- German My dear Aunt Irene, Uncle Charles and children,
You surely will be surprised to get news from me after such a long time. You can imagine how painful it is for me to write this letter. It is a hard decision to let you know about all. Unfortunately from the entire family only Tommy and I has returned so far. There is absolutely no news about anyone else. I was together with my dearest mother until the very last moment. Unfortunately, she had typhus when we were liberated by the British. You can’t imagine how happy we were to prepare ourselves to return home but she did not make it and died. Shortly after I was also stricken with typhus and was in a camp sick bay for four months. I myself am surprised how I endured all this. I have lost 25 kg. I was declared able for transport and repatriated four days ago. The family does not look after me. Two weeks ago Uncle William passed away. Stern and the Nachmias family have not returned either. My cousin Jancsi (Eugene) Nachmias was thrown out from the third floor window by the Nazis. I’m very affected by the loss of my dearest mama, papa and Judith. I do not want to give you more heartache because I know how worried you were. I’m living now with Aunt Freda, the Bardos family and I feel good with them. Indeed such people are hard to be found. My nearest relatives didn’t do anything for me. As soon as I feel a bit stronger I will travel to Sala together with Erica Friedlieb. She got married a year ago. Her closest family has also not returned home. My dearest Aunt Irene, it would be good if you could come here as soon as the possibility arises. There are so many things in need of attention, and I am so very alone. I’m trying to collect a few things which were left in safekeeping. I went to collect a few things yesterday which were in good order. A lot is denied but I don’t really care. When life is gone it can’t be replaced. I could write a lot, even books but it would be useless. [* earlier undated translation Olga writes: "I could write novels, but now it is meaningless"] I hope we could soon meet soon and then I will tell you in person. How are you, the children and your friends? A lot you have been spared. You are very clever to have left. [*earlier translation: "I think about your clever decision, that you left in time"] I hope to get from you informative and long letters soon. I send you kisses.
Fondly yours
Olly
Because Olly has written to you and informed you of everything there is not much to write.
Sending kisses fondly
Tommy
Credit lineSydney Jewish Museum Collection, Donated by Mrs Olga Horak