The Labyrinth of Dangerous Hours: A Memoir of the Second World War
Lilka Croydon-Trzcinska
Language: English
Pages: 195
ISBN: B01JXR3GHY
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Contributor note: Forward by Norman Davies
------------------------
Lilka Trzcinska was fourteen years old when the Nazis invaded Poland in 1939. The daughter of an architect, Lilka was a high school student at the time. When schools were closed by the occupier, she, along with her siblings, continued their education in secret classes, and joined the Polish Home Army- the secret resistance force.
Lilka and her family were arrested by the Gestapo in 1943 and sent to the political prison Pawiak, then to Auschwitz. There, Lilka's mother died and her younger sister was sent off to another camp. The rest of the family was put to work in the camp building offices. After being transported to a number of other camps (in one instance by a way of a three-day march), the three sisters were reunited in 1945, and shortly thereafter liberated by the British. Lilka later went to Italy to continue her education, moving to Canada in 1948.
The Labyrinth of Dangerous Hours is the memoir of a survivor. Lilka Trzcinska-Croydon narrates her adolescence and that of her sisters and brother in a way that binds poetry and history together seamlessly. It describes the strength of the family ties and solidarity that help them emerge from their horrific ordeal with their dignity intact.
As many as 150,000 Polish political prisoners were taken during the war, half of whom died in the camps. This memoir is a testament to their struggle.
way. But the four of us were together and Father and Tytus were on the same train. I don't recall how many of us were in this cattle car, but it was crowded, sitting room only on the filthy floor covered with bits of straw. In the corner, a stinky bucket. Some women were crying, some were praying out loud, and still others were speculating on our fate. I would get up, once in a while, to look at the world through the cracks between the wooden boards of the car. As we were passing some fields,
back to the camp, after working in Rajsko's vegetable patch, where we had spent a wet and cold day, up to our elbows in mud, trying to weed some cabbages. Suddenly, we heard Zosia's loud and pitiful crying. Mother asked her if she had hurt herself or whether she was cold. Zosia said, still sobbing loudly, that it was nothing in particular. She was suddenly overwhelmed by our terrible fate, and she was crying in frustration and anger 'at those terrible Germans who are treating us so badly.' Her
and other profound expressions of his love I felt strengthened and imbued with a quiet hope that maybe, maybe ... I realized that I was also for him that important other who had helped him through these difficult times. When he was facing his own death, during the selection procedure, maybe it was me and my love that helped him through those difficult moments between life and death. I held onto the letter as long as I could, as it was a tangible reminder of the powerful emotional tie Designing
The beast seemed indifferent and she let us be. Her calf was on her other side. Soon we fell into the sleep of babies, full of life-giving milk, shared with us by these large, mute, innocent companions of our fate. The next morning, refreshed by deep sleep, we got up to the sounds of guards shouting. We emerged from the barn and scanned the countryside. The skies were grey, and the white cover of snow on the fields around us made me wonder how many more hours, how many more kilometres, we were
wearing a white band on their arm - a symbol of surrender. Many prisoners were disappearing into the hospital, as the typhus epidemic was raging in the camp. Marina and I were happy that we'd already had typhus, but we worried about Zosia, who could catch it at any time. The Germans were short of help in the block, and I was told to serve as a helper. My job was to sweep the block and keep it neat - and to achieve this I would have to yell at the malingerers. I knew that I wouldn't be able to do