The Boy Who Followed His Father into Auschwitz: A True Story Retold for Young Readers

Introduction

THE STORY THAT YOU’RE ABOUT to read in this book is true. I feel I have to say that more than once because sometimes you might wonder if it’s an invented tale. So many incredible things happen to the people in it that you’d be forgiven for thinking that none of it could be real.

I knew one of the people who lived through it. Kurt Kleinmann was eight years old at the time when the story begins. When they were kids, Kurt and his brother, Fritz, saw things that would make your hair stand on end and your skin crawl. Kurt’s mother had to send him halfway around the world, all on his own, so that he would be safe. Fritz was older and wasn’t so lucky. He was sent to a concentration camp.

People in Kurt’s family—including Fritz and their father—wrote about the things that happened to them in diaries and books. Other people who lived through the same times also wrote about what went on. And there are official records too. I’ve studied them all and can promise you that this story is true, even if you think it sometimes seems too incredible to be. I often wish it wasn’t true, because it contains so many horrible things that should never be allowed to happen. But it also has bravery in it, and love, and the goodness of people.

It took place during the Holocaust, which happened in Germany and Europe between the years 1933 and 1945. It began with Adolf Hitler becoming the chancellor (prime minister) of Germany. Hitler was leader of the Nazi Party. The Nazis had started off just after World War I, which ended in 1918. Germany and its ally Austria had lost the war, leaving Germany in a terrible mess, with awful poverty and unemployment. Hitler and his Nazis blamed Jewish people for all of it—the defeat and what came after. The Jewish people became a scapegoat for all of Germany’s problems. The Nazis were fanatical racists, and they disliked Jews especially.

Mistrust and hatred of Jews is called antisemitism, and it has been around for hundreds of years. Adolf Hitler and his Nazi followers took antisemitism to a whole new level. In Hitler’s mind, Jews were the cause of everything that was wrong in Germany, including losing the war. He believed that Jewish people had enormous influence in world politics and business, and that they used their power for evil purposes. This was completely false as well as being horrible and unfair—Jewish Germans and Austrians had fought just as bravely as anyone in the war, and Germany’s defeat and the problems that followed were no more their fault than anyone else’s. But that made no difference. It was simple to blame Jews, so that’s what the Nazis did.

By 1933, so many Germans supported the Nazis and shared their ideas that Hitler managed to get into power. He took over everything and abolished democracy. Right away the Nazis started bullying Jews, taking away their jobs and businesses and excluding their children from school, and trying to make them leave Germany. The Nazis put people they didn’t like in prison camps called Konzentrationslagern (German for concentration camps). At first it was just political opponents, but eventually they began sending all Jews to the camps.

Hitler invaded several other countries—including Germany’s former ally Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Poland—and in 1939, World War II began. The war made it impossible for Jews to leave Europe to go anywhere. So the Nazis decided that in order to get rid of Jewish people once and for all, they must kill them. This monstrous act was called the Holocaust—an ancient word that means total burning. The Nazis themselves didn’t call it that—they chose to name it the Final Solution to the Jewish Question. Nowadays, when we talk of the Holocaust, we usually mean the whole Nazi persecution of Jews, from 1933 to the Final Solution.

The Holocaust only stopped when the Allies—Britain, the United States, Russia, and lots of other free countries—won the war against Nazi Germany. By that time, six million Jews had been murdered, along with millions of other people who were hated and feared by the Nazis, including Roma travelers, Poles, and Russians.

My friend Kurt lived through some of that before he escaped. His brother, Fritz, lived through all of it. They were children when it began, and it changed them forever. Their story is told in the pages you’re about to read. It begins in 1938, the year when Hitler decided to invade Austria, where Fritz and Kurt lived.

THIS IS A TRUE STORY. It really happened to real people in the real world.

It was a very long time ago. Your grandmothers and grandfathers most likely hadn’t even been born yet, and their mothers and fathers were still children. Maybe the same age as you are now. The year was 1938. The world was a scary place in those days, full of dangers and threats. Wars, angry people everywhere, lots of things changing in ways nobody could predict. Parents worried about how they could keep their children safe in such a world.

The story I’m going to tell is about a family who had more reason to worry than most families did. Their last name was Kleinmann. The parents were Gustav and his wife, Tini, and they had four children. Two girls and two boys—Edith and Herta, Fritz and Kurt. They all lived together in Vienna, a beautiful old city in the country of Austria.

Chapter 1

Say Yes!

HEAD IT!

Fritz leapt into the air, stretching for the soccer ball his friend Leo had kicked. It flew over his head, hit a lamppost, and rolled into the road. He ran to fetch it as a cart pulled by a huge shaggy horse came thundering along.

Get out of the way! the driver yelled, and Fritz leapt back.

There was a clatter of hooves and iron wheels, then it had passed by. The horse had trodden on the ball and squashed it flat. It wasn’t a real soccer ball, just a bundle of rags rolled up and tied tightly together. Fritz and his friends couldn’t afford a real leather ball. He squeezed and rolled it until it was round again, then kicked it back to Leo.

Fritz Kleinmann and Leo Meth lived around the corner from each other. Fritz had lots of friends—a great big group of them—but Leo was one he would remember forever.

They were playing in the open space of the Karmeliter market, across the street from Fritz’s apartment. It was after school, and the stalls had closed down for the day. The farmers had packed up their unsold produce and clopped off along the street on their carts.

Fritz and the other kids ran among the empty stalls, kicking the ball back and forth. Only Mrs. Capek, the fruit seller, was still there. She never packed up until it got dark. In summer she gave the kids corncobs. Most of the boys and girls around here were poor and would take all the free food they could get. They sometimes got bits of sausage from the butcher, stale bread rolls from the baker, and best of all—whipped cream cakes and pink wafers from the confectioner on Tabor Street. The cakes in Vienna were the best in the world.

Leo kicked the ball high again. Two other friends went for it, but this time Fritz stopped it with his head, and as the ball dropped to his feet, he started dribbling it along the cobbled square. He was about to give it a mighty kick and send it right over Mrs. Capek’s stall when he spotted a policeman heading their way. They could get into trouble if he caught them playing soccer. Ball games weren’t allowed in the market, even though it was the only open space near their homes.

The stern-looking policeman glanced in the boys’ direction. Quick as a flash, Fritz tapped the ball under the stall, and Mrs. Capek dropped a box over it. She put her finger to her lips. Shh. The policeman walked by, staring suspiciously at the boys, who all looked as innocent as they knew how. Then he was gone.

As Fritz was retrieving the ball and thanking Mrs. Capek, they heard the piercing sound of horns hooting in the distance. Ta-raa! Ta-raa! The fire engine was going out on a call!

Fritz and Leo had the same thought at the same time. They started running toward the sound before their friends even realized what was happening. They raced to the end of the line of stalls and turned onto Leopold Lane.

Fritz! Wait for me! Fritz!

Looking back, Fritz saw his little brother, Kurt, come running through the market, waving his arms. He stood no chance of catching up—Fritz and his friends were fourteen, and Kurt was just eight years old. He had a group of friends his own age, and they often tagged along with the older boys for protection.

Fritz waited, itching with impatience. By the time Kurt caught up, Leo and the others were almost out of sight.

Mom says you’re to come home, said Kurt. It’s dinner.

Fritz wasn’t ready yet. He wanted to go and see the fire engine. He stood at the edge of the road, trying to make up his mind whether to cross and follow his friends or turn back with Kurt. The road was busy with motor trucks and the heavy carts of the coal sellers and breweries.

He noticed their neighbor, Mr. Loewy, trying to cross from the other side. He’d been a soldier in World War I and had lost his eyesight. He stood at the curb, listening to the thunder of traffic and tapping his walking stick on the ground.

Fritz quickly dodged across and took Mr. Loewy’s hand. It’s Fritz, he said. I’ll help you.

Gustav’s boy? said the old man. How’s your father?

He’s fine, thank you, Mr. Loewy. Here’s a gap! Hurry now.

Fritz guided him across, and Mr. Loewy thanked him and went on his way, stick tap-tapping on the paving stones.

When Fritz came back, Kurt was staring at the sidewalk. What’s all that stuff? he said, pointing.

Fritz looked and saw someone had written words all over the ground—on the sidewalk, the road, even on the walls—in white paint. The same slogans over and over again.

SAY YES!

YES FOR AUSTRIA!

YES FOR FREEDOM!

Fritz knew what it meant—it was part of the reason Mom had been so worried lately about them being outdoors when it was getting dark. The slogans were for the big vote that was happening in a few days.

It’s to do with Hitler, said Fritz. We’re showing him who’s boss.

Hitler. Kurt knew that name. Although he didn’t really understand who Hitler was, Kurt knew he was dangerous. A chill went through him.

Fritz understood that of all the dangers in the world, Adolf Hitler was the worst. Austria was located next door to Germany, which was ruled by a political party known as the Nazi Party. Adolf Hitler was their leader. The Nazis were driven by anger and a determination to control everything and everyone. Hitler and his junior leaders dressed like soldiers; they loved war and hated everyone who was not like them. That meant foreigners, people of color, traveler folk, gay people, anyone who had different beliefs about how society should work, anyone the Nazis thought was not a true German. Because the Nazis were in charge of the government in Germany, they got to decide what being not a true German meant, and it was basically anyone the Nazis didn’t like. It didn’t make any sense, but the Nazis believed in it firmly.

Most of all, the Nazis hated Jewish people. Jews have been in the world for thousands of years. Their beliefs about God are different in many ways from Christian beliefs, and they have their own traditions and special holy days. But in every other way they’re just like anybody else. Many people distrust anyone who is different from them, and the Nazis were especially suspicious of difference. They believed that anyone who was not a true German was a danger to the whole of German society. And when it came to Jewish people, the Nazis believed—without any justification at all—that they were the cause of virtually everything that was wrong with the world.

Adolf Hitler wasn’t satisfied with ruling Germany. He wanted to rule Austria too. Austrians speak German and the two countries have a lot in common. Also Hitler had been born there and thought the country was his. So he’d demanded that it be given to Germany. But Austria’s leader, Mr. Schuschnigg, wouldn’t give it up. There was going to be a big vote next Sunday to prove that Austrian people wanted to stay free. That’s what the slogans on the sidewalk were about—Yes for Austria! Yes for freedom! Hitler was extremely angry about the whole thing. So angry that he might even send his armies to conquer Austria.

There were hundreds of Jewish families in the neighborhoods around the Karmeliter market. Fritz and Kurt and their family were among them. For Jewish people, the idea of the Nazis coming here was terrifying. What was even more scary was that some people in Vienna liked the Nazis, and wanted Hitler to come.

Fritz and Kurt turned to head home.

Hey, Fritz! It was Leo and another friend, Hans. Leo was carrying a sweet pastry filled with whipped cream. Both boys had it smeared around their mouths. Anker’s bakery was giving away cakes! said Leo. I saved this one for you. We lost the fire engine, though.

The pastry was a little stale and a bit squashed, but still delicious. Fritz broke it across the middle and shared it with Kurt as the four of them walked home.

Fritz asked, Do you think Hitler will come?

To Vienna? said Leo. Dunno. Leo was Jewish too. A lot of their friends were.

I think he will, said Hans. That’s what he’s like.

Hans, who was part Jewish, knew what he was talking about. His family had moved to Vienna from Germany a few years ago after his father got in trouble for speaking against the Nazis. Hans’s father was a barber, and all the men in the neighborhood who sat in his chair heard about the terrible things he’d seen happening to Jews in Berlin.

Yes, Hitler will come here, said Hans again, licking cream off his fingers.

Not today, though! said Leo, giving Fritz a cheerful nudge.

Leo was right. Today had been a good day. Fritz took Kurt’s hand, which was sticky with powdered sugar. They crossed Island Street to the apartment building where they lived. Hans and Leo ran off through the Karmeliter market toward their own homes.

"Will Hitler come?" asked Kurt anxiously. To him, Fritz was a hero, older and wiser. Kurt would trust his brother over anyone.

Fritz didn’t answer straight away. In truth, he just didn’t know. He didn’t like to think about it. Maybe, he said. Maybe not. He ruffled Kurt’s hair, getting a smear of cream in it. Like Leo said, it won’t happen today! Now let’s get cleaned up a bit. Mom’ll be mad if she knows we’ve had cakes before dinner. Race you up the stairs!

Chapter 2

Shabbos

AS FRITZ WAS COMING OUT of school the next afternoon, something peculiar happened.

He was a student at the trade school, where boys went to learn skills like plumbing and carpentry (girls didn’t get to do things like that in those days). Fritz was learning to be an upholsterer, which was all about making the soft coverings for chairs and sofas. His father was an upholsterer, and Fritz wanted to be just like him.

Today was Friday, and Fritz’s head was full of plans for the weekend. As he came out of the doors, a blizzard of fluttering white was falling from the sky, whirling in the street amid the noisy traffic and settling in the trees. Fritz quickly realized it wasn’t snow; it was paper!

He looked up and saw a plane flying over, dropping hundreds of leaflets, which were flitting and scattering across the roads and rooftops.

Picking one up, Fritz found the same message as the slogans painted all over the sidewalks near his home: PEOPLE OF AUSTRIA! it read, and then went on to talk about freedom and not letting Germany boss Austria around. It ended: Vote YES for Austria! and was signed Schuschnigg, the leader.

Only two days to go until the grown-ups would all go and vote. Most people in Vienna supported Mr. Schuschnigg, but some were Nazi supporters who wanted Hitler to take over and make Austria part of Germany.

With a roar of engines, a long convoy of army trucks, filled with soldiers, went thundering by. Fritz guessed they were heading for the border to guard it against the Germans. He felt a little shiver of fear. The idea of Hitler coming to Austria was starting to seem a little bit more real.

It was a long walk home through the city center and across the Danube Canal. When Fritz reached the Karmeliter market, the stalls were getting ready to close. There wouldn’t be any soccer today. Fritz had other plans this evening.

His mom came out of the market with bulging shopping bags. She spotted him and called out, Fritz, help me with these.

Taking the heaviest bag, Fritz could smell flour, fresh bread, and cabbage. Mom looked worried. Her mouth was set tight, and there were frown lines around her dark, pretty eyes. She often looked like that these days. She worried about everything, and Fritz worried about her.

The market and Island Street were littered with the People of Austria leaflets. As Fritz and Mom waited to cross the street, a convoy of trucks came along. They were different from the army trucks that had passed the school. These were filled with boys and girls of the Austrian Youth. They were singing the national anthem, some of them shouting out Say yes! and Vote yes for Austria! and tossing out more leaflets.

People cheered the parade, waving their hats, joining in the singing and shouting Hooray for Austria!

Mom smiled, and the frown lines faded. But Fritz noticed that some people weren’t cheering. A small group of older boys and men standing on the corner scowled angrily and muttered to each other. Nazis, Fritz thought as he crossed the street. The Austrian Nazi Party was banned by law, but it had lots of secret members.

Fritz and his mom arrived home, and he ran up the two flights of stairs to the apartment, Mom trailing behind. Slow down, she called. When Fritz went inside, he found Kurt already home (his elementary school was only a couple of streets away), sitting at the piano with their big sister Edith. She was teaching him to play a happy, chirpy little tune called Cuckoo.

It was a tiny apartment, with two rooms—a kitchen and a bedroom. The kitchen was their living room, and they shared the bedroom. They had three beds and a sofa for the six of them. There were Mom and Papa, whose names were Tini and Gustav. Little Kurt slept in Mom’s bed, and Fritz shared with Papa. Then there were their sisters. Edith, who was eighteen, slept in her own small bed, and Herta, who was fifteen, slept on the sofa. They all shared a bathroom with the families in the other apartments in the building. It was very crowded, and just as well that they were friendly with the neighbors.

Mom caught up with Fritz, and they set the bulging shopping bags on the battered old kitchen table. Now run down and tell your papa dinner will be in an hour. Fritz ran to the door, and she called after him, And remind him it’s Shabbos!

Okay!

Shabbos (also called Shabbat) is the Jewish Sabbath, a day of holiness. Jews who are strict about their traditions won’t do certain activities or any work on Shabbos, or even anything that’s like work, such as driving a car or turning on lights. Fritz’s family weren’t strict. For them, it was simply a time to be together and to eat a traditional Shabbos dinner.

Papa had his workshop on the ground floor of the apartment building, with a sign by the door:

GUSTAV KLEINMANN, MASTER UPHOLSTERER

Modern Furniture—All Repair Work Accepted

When Fritz went in, he saw Papa was hard at work on the covers for an armchair.

The chair stood ready on the floor, all bare wood and horsehair padding and springs. Papa was preparing it while his assistant, Mitzi Steindl, sewed the covering. The sewing machine whirred, stitching the thick feather-pattern material. Papa couldn’t really afford an assistant, but Mitzi’s husband didn’t have a job, so Papa gave her work to help her pay their rent. That was the kind of man Gustav Kleinmann was—always ready to help out a friend or neighbor.

Hi, Fritz, said Mitzi with a smile. Good day at school?

Hi, Mrs. Steindl. Yes, thanks.

You’ll be taking over this shop soon! Mitzi pressed the foot switch and the sewing machine went VVVRRRRRRRR.

Papa, Mom says dinner’s in an hour, said Fritz. And she says—

I know, I know. It’s Shabbos, said Papa. Come on, Fritz lad, help me with this. Show me what they’ve been teaching you at that school.

Mitzi finished stitching, and together Fritz and Papa fitted the cover to the chair. Fritz watched his father closely as he worked, admiring his skill.

Papa was a quiet man. He never yelled at the kids, and always had a smile for everyone, and he didn’t seem to worry much. He had fought against Russia in World War I, before Fritz was born. He didn’t seem like a soldier at all, but he had the medals to prove it. The younger men all admired him, and Fritz was proud to be his son.

Fritz held the fabric in place while Papa hammered in the special nails to fix it. He worked quickly, the little hammer darting with a tap-a-tap-tap.

By the time they’d gotten the fabric done, said good night to Mitzi, and returned upstairs to the apartment, the kitchen was busy with dinner making. Kurt was standing on a chair at the table, helping Mom cook. Edith was reading and Herta was sewing the hem of a dress. Music was playing softly on the radio.

Kurt loved Shabbos evening. He enjoyed helping Mom with her cooking. Sometimes it would be a delicious Wiener schnitzel. Mom would tenderize the meat pieces until they were soft as velvet, then Kurt would dip them in egg, then flour, then bread crumbs, and Mom would fry them. Tonight it was chicken noodle soup. Kurt’s job was to roll the noodle dough until it was thin as a pancake, then Mom sliced it into ribbons and put it in the frying pan.

Papa took off his boots and settled into his armchair, unfolding the Vienna Daily News and disappearing behind it. He muttered about the lack of real news in its pages. He’d heard rumors of fighting on the German-Austrian border, and of Nazi protests in some towns in Austria. People were saying that if the Nazis rose up here in Vienna, the police would side with them. There was nothing about any of that in the paper.

When dinner was ready, the family gathered around the table. It was a happy occasion. Kurt would remember these dinners always. But he ate quickly, because the other reason he loved Shabbos came after dinner, when he went to sing in the City Temple choir.

Don’t gobble your soup! Mom said. You’ll get a stomachache.

Sorry, he said, and tried to eat slower.

"It’s okay, Kurty, we