I couldn't look at them. My eyes filled with tears

Emmanuel Fisher
Wednesday 03 June 1998 23:02 BST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Emmanuel Fisher's Belsen diary, 21 April 1945

TODAY our CCS began to receive some hundreds of these patients - all women. We had cleared a number of houses (temporary German military barracks) and prepared beds in every available space.

The patients were first brought to a delousing centre, where they were bathed and deloused by German nurses under the supervision of staff. Then they came to us, born on stretchers by Hungarian soldiers we had conscripted as "unskilled labour", and were literally bundled into bed, for most of them were, or at least appeared to be, just nondescript bundles wrapped in three blankets. I helped to carry some of them in. They weighed three to five stone - less than my little brother aged nine.

Acting as interpreter, I had to talk to some of them. One Jewish woman, aged about 45, as far as I could guess by her conversation (it was otherwise difficult), said, as soon as she was put in bed, "Please, I want to go to America. How long I have waited for this moment. They shot my husband and two sons in front of me." Another said "Must I die? I am only 17". Another spoke to me in English. She was quite insane.

I was giving each a warm drink - it took one woman a full minute to bring her arm out of her blanket to grip the cup. I simply could not look at these human wrecks for more than a few seconds. I found my eyes filling with tears, and had to turn away from my comrades.

These women were not easily distinguishable - the same formula applied to them all from the neck downwards - just human skeletons.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in