After the play, the children put together what they called a ranice ranice-a "blowout" banquet, although it was certainly a far cry from the feast customarily held on the holiday. There were no hamentashen-the traditional triangular Purim pastries filled with poppy seeds or prune b.u.t.ter. All they could bring to the table were a few slices of bread that had been saved for the occasion and a bit of margarine that was spread on the bread, which was then toasted on the hot stove until the margarine melted. Over this they sprinkled a pinch of sugar or paprika. Sometimes Ela could add something to such feasts-a tomato, a carrot, or a piece of red bell pepper that had been secretly taken, at considerable risk, by her mother, who worked in the fields. These colorful little extras were not much more than decorations, however. To "organize" or "clean up" fruits or vegetables while working in the fields was considered theft by the SS. A "thief" could be severely punished, so great care had to be taken, and only tiny pieces of vegetables would end up on the girls' bread. "But just to see it!" Helga recalls. "I still remember how impressed I was by it. Even though everyone got just one or two little pieces. But for me it was a feast for the eyes-it was done with such love!"

This, too, was primarily the work of the imaginative Eva Weiss. She was constantly coming up with variations on the ranice ranice. Sometimes sugar and margarine were combined in a pan and set on the stove to make "candy," gooey little roasted bonbons that were pa.s.sed around as "sweet nothings." Or a potato was sliced, sprinkled with paprika, and roasted. Sometimes flour and yeast were formed into a dough that was filled with a piece of onion or a little mustard. Or a "cake" would be magically created from painstakingly saved bits of buns, with an icing that looked like chocolate but was actually ersatz coffee powder. These buns-simple yeast pastries baked in the shape of rolls-were sometimes so doughy that, despite their rather bland taste, at least one could chew on them for quite a while.

A ranice ranice was always a great event for the girls; that Purim was no exception. As they usually did on such occasions, the girls joined hands and shouted their cheer made up of nonsense syllables: was always a great event for the girls; that Purim was no exception. As they usually did on such occasions, the girls joined hands and shouted their cheer made up of nonsense syllables: "Aba cucka funde muka funde kave kave cuka, ab cuk, funde muk-funde kave kave cuk." "Aba cucka funde muka funde kave kave cuka, ab cuk, funde muk-funde kave kave cuk." Then they dug in. "We each had two slices of bread with curds and half a slice with mincemeat," Helga recalls. "After that came something sweet with coffee cream and sweetened sour milk. After the Then they dug in. "We each had two slices of bread with curds and half a slice with mincemeat," Helga recalls. "After that came something sweet with coffee cream and sweetened sour milk. After the ranice ranice we exchanged presents. I got a little purse, a brooch, and a heart on a stickpin." we exchanged presents. I got a little purse, a brooch, and a heart on a stickpin."

Tuesday, March 23, 1943Put everything in order! We were finished by eleven. At three we went to the theater. The play was about Ahasver [sic], not the way it's taught in Jewish history, but rather as a comedy, because Purim is a happy, not a sad feast. Everyone laughed. But not me. I don't know why?!... taught in Jewish history, but rather as a comedy, because Purim is a happy, not a sad feast. Everyone laughed. But not me. I don't know why?!...I've become more serious here somehow. Yesterday Mimi gave me a necklace with a pendant as a belated Purim present. Lea was doing better, she hadn't had a fever for six days, but she's worse again. She's got a new infection, this time in the left lung. ...When I was still at home I never paid any attention to nature. But I do here in Theresienstadt. Our windows look to the west, and we cannot see the sun rise. But at six o'clock I always go to the toilet in the hall, which has windows facing east. What beautiful mornings! I've been watching now for several days: budding trees, blue sky, and a red, rising sun. I completely forgot that I've been here now for two months.In her diary, Helga described the layout of Theresienstadt:The town consists of eleven barracks. Only men are housed in the Sudeten Barracks, only women in the Hamburg Barracks. The Hohenelbe Barracks is a hospital. Instead of police we have the Ghetto Guard, which is quartered in what was once the German House on the other side of the barricades. You see Aryan people moving about there, too. The streets leading to it are closed to us by barricades. The street leading from the brewery to the Sudeten Barracks is marked with a Q; the one from the Hannover to the Aussig Barracks with an L. Papa lives at L 231 and I live at L 410. There's a health authority here, whose head is a young physician, Dr. Munk. There is supposed to be an infirmary in every building with over four hundred people, but only a very few have one. We have two infirmaries and an outpatient clinic. Children are well looked after here. We go once a month to be measured and weighed. For fresh air we go to the ramparts, which is not open to adults. It's open three days a week. There are public showers, and also a few stores where if you have a special pa.s.s you can buy things with ghetto money. There are two shoe stores, two for women's clothes, two for men's clothes, one children's store, one for luggage, one for fancy goods, two for linens, a drugstore, a gla.s.s shop, and a general store. You're given permission to buy a certain amount of linens, clothes, and shoes each year. You can get herbal tea and ground pepper, paprika and caraway at the general store. Barracks is a hospital. Instead of police we have the Ghetto Guard, which is quartered in what was once the German House on the other side of the barricades. You see Aryan people moving about there, too. The streets leading to it are closed to us by barricades. The street leading from the brewery to the Sudeten Barracks is marked with a Q; the one from the Hannover to the Aussig Barracks with an L. Papa lives at L 231 and I live at L 410. There's a health authority here, whose head is a young physician, Dr. Munk. There is supposed to be an infirmary in every building with over four hundred people, but only a very few have one. We have two infirmaries and an outpatient clinic. Children are well looked after here. We go once a month to be measured and weighed. For fresh air we go to the ramparts, which is not open to adults. It's open three days a week. There are public showers, and also a few stores where if you have a special pa.s.s you can buy things with ghetto money. There are two shoe stores, two for women's clothes, two for men's clothes, one children's store, one for luggage, one for fancy goods, two for linens, a drugstore, a gla.s.s shop, and a general store. You're given permission to buy a certain amount of linens, clothes, and shoes each year. You can get herbal tea and ground pepper, paprika and caraway at the general store.*

The layout of Theresienstadt, from Vera Nath's alb.u.m Almost without realizing it, Helga became caught up in the daily life of Room 28. She no longer felt like a stranger. Her shyness had gone, giving way to feelings of friendship and solidarity. Helga became increasingly aware that none of the girls had freely chosen to live in Room 28. Deep in their hearts all of them hoped for the day when they would once again be free. But Helga sometimes felt that some of her roommates had become more accustomed to this difficult situation than others, possibly because they realized that there was no alternative but to transform this forced community into some sort of congenial home until the war's end. Pavla Seiner, Lenka Lindt, Eva Landa, Handa Pollak, and Eva Winkler were among those girls. They tried hard to make a true community out of Room 28. Flaka did, too.

Helga admired the devoted way Flaka looked after the other girls and tried to console them when things got bad. She seemed to manage her daily ch.o.r.es with a light touch. In the morning, as the girls were making their beds, Flaka could often be heard calling to Ela, who shared a bed with her: "Elinez, melinez, Rolinez, Malinez, Roliz"-it was one of her nonsense rhymes that always got the girls giggling.

Flaka, Lenka, Ela, Zajiek, Maria, Handa, and Fika-this was the group of girls to which Helga was becoming increasingly attracted with each pa.s.sing day. Vivacious Ela, Flaka with her lively imagination, and beautiful, dark-eyed Maria-Helga liked them all. Tella encouraged her wards' musical talent and was delighted when these three, her best singers, formed a trio. Sometimes they rehea.r.s.ed in L 410's cellar, where an old harmonium stood on rickety legs.

By this time the cellar in L 410 had become an all-purpose social hall. Sometimes it was used for little stage productions, like the one put on by Walter Freund with his puppet theater. Sometimes there were art exhibitions, lectures, or discussions. Once or twice it was used for a Pa.s.sover seder. But mostly it was a rehearsal s.p.a.ce, where the girls worked on their plays and Tella rehea.r.s.ed her girls' choir.

The choir, which was made up of sopranos, second sopranos, altos, and soloists, had a fine sound, and it was Tella's pride and joy. The repertoire ranged from Czech and German folk songs to cla.s.sical music and Hebrew melodies. Girls who didn't measure up to Tella's musical standards weren't allowed to partic.i.p.ate, much to the disappointment of some. One of them, Eva Landa, would sometimes just sit there and listen to the beautiful music that carried out into the street, where pa.s.sersby would stop for a moment to enjoy it.

"The best part," Ela recalls, "was when the room had turned dark and we would sing these wonderful Hebrew songs. Even when we didn't understand every word of what we were singing, our soloists, our choir, they just sounded so lovely! We really believed we were very good singers."

In the spring of 1943 Kamilla Rosenbaum, a dancer and ch.o.r.eographer from Prague, began rehearsals in the bas.e.m.e.nt of L 410 with the younger children for Brouci (Firefly) Brouci (Firefly), a dance poem based on the children's book by Pastor Jan Karafiats. A collaboration with other committed artists, it soon became an ambitious theater project. Vlasta Schonova, a young actress who had studied directing in Prague, set to work adapting the story for the stage; the artist Friedl d.i.c.ker-Brandeis designed colorful, imaginative costumes together with the children; Adolf Aussenberg and Franta Pick created the set; and Karel Svenk, a cabaret artist from Prague, arranged the music based on Czech folk songs.

Eva Weiss, an enthusiastic dancer, a.s.sisted Kamilla and helped the children learn Slavic and Czech dances. She also had a role in the production. "I still recall the first song exactly. I leaped onto the stage and we danced to a wonderful medley."

A special attraction in the cellar were the puppet plays put on by Walter Freund, a lawyer from Moravia and the chief elder at the Girls' Home. In Theresienstadt he had thrown himself into his great pa.s.sion, puppet theater, devoting every free minute to it. His handmade marionettes were masterly works of art that enhanced the children's enjoyment of his productions. Among his best-known plays was A Girl Travels to the Promised Land A Girl Travels to the Promised Land, for which the renowned former designer made the sets and Friedl d.i.c.ker-Brandeis created the costumes. But other plays also remained in the girls' memories, such as A Camel Went Through the Eye of a Needle A Camel Went Through the Eye of a Needle by Frantiek Langer and by Frantiek Langer and The Enchanted Violin The Enchanted Violin.

Gideon Klein was a fascinating and strikingly handsome young man. He often accompanied Brundibar Brundibar rehearsals on the piano. "He was a friend of Tella's," Ela Stein recalls, "and once he even composed a song for our choir, which we then rehea.r.s.ed with Tella. It went, 'Kushiba, Kushiba-a black man comes from Africa.'" rehearsals on the piano. "He was a friend of Tella's," Ela Stein recalls, "and once he even composed a song for our choir, which we then rehea.r.s.ed with Tella. It went, 'Kushiba, Kushiba-a black man comes from Africa.'"

In these sorts of productions the old harmonium usually played a lead role. Although it was out of tune and several of its keys were always sticking, it was one of the most prized instruments in the Girls' Home. Sometimes it was even brought up to the top floor, to Room 28, as we learn from an essay Handa Pollak wrote in October 1943: Before the premiere of The Bartered Bride of The Bartered Bride, Tella, along with a few of the girls, brought the harmonium up to our room and played the opera for us. She explained everything, so that we would know the story and could concentrate on the music. The next day we went to the gym at L 417, which was full when we arrived. I found a spot close to the piano. I'd heard The Bartered Bride The Bartered Bride three times in Prague, but it was never as beautiful as it was there. What Rafael Schachter, the conductor, was able to accomplish was a real miracle. Back at the Home, the talk revolved around the food, the "sluices," pa.s.ses for getting in and out, and work in the fields. I felt like someone who is caught up in dreams of beautiful things and is suddenly torn out of her dreams and wakes up-and everything is as gray and ordinary as ever. I just kept thinking about three times in Prague, but it was never as beautiful as it was there. What Rafael Schachter, the conductor, was able to accomplish was a real miracle. Back at the Home, the talk revolved around the food, the "sluices," pa.s.ses for getting in and out, and work in the fields. I felt like someone who is caught up in dreams of beautiful things and is suddenly torn out of her dreams and wakes up-and everything is as gray and ordinary as ever. I just kept thinking about The Bartered Bride The Bartered Bride, and even as I dozed off I could hear "Our True Love."

Sometimes, toward evening, the Girls' Home became unusually quiet as lovely voices came from the old vaulted cellar. Everyone knew that Rafael Schachter, the celebrated and multifaceted musician-conductor, pianist, composer, and great inspiration to Czech musical life-was rehearsing with his choir and preparing for a new performance.

Schachter's legendary Theresienstadt productions-Bedich Smetana's The Bartered Bride The Bartered Bride and and The Kiss The Kiss, Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro The Marriage of Figaro and and The Magic Flute- The Magic Flute-all had their genesis in the cellar of L 410. "After work I often slipped down to the cellar," Eva Weiss recalls. "I would squeeze into a corner and stay very quiet, and so I was allowed to listen. There stood the old rickety harmonium that Tella often played. And it was there that I heard Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro The Marriage of Figaro for the first time, and for the first time, and The Bartered Bride The Bartered Bride, too. And of course the Requiem Requiem! I heard the Requiem Requiem so often that even today I can still sing most of it in Latin in my mind." so often that even today I can still sing most of it in Latin in my mind."

Verdi's Requiem- Requiem-a funeral ma.s.s about dying, redemption, consolation, and resurrection-performed in Theresienstadt by Jewish prisoners in death's waiting room! It was one of the ghetto's most stirring and unforgettable concerts. As the music critic Kurt Singer wrote at the time-despite his own objections to the choice of this work-it was "the greatest artistic accomplishment born and presented thus far in Theresienstadt, an achievement that also demanded the most meticulous preparation ... a triumphant success for Rafael Schachter and his choir... a masterpiece."12 And although it was meant for adults, it impressed a great many children as well. And although it was meant for adults, it impressed a great many children as well.

"I heard only the rehearsals. I don't think that I ever attended a performance," Helga says. "And yet-it made such a deep impression on me that years later in England, when I was asked what I wanted to see on my twenty-first birthday, I said Verdi's Requiem." Requiem."

Magically drawn by the music, many of the girls would slip down to gather outside the cellar door. If it wasn't Rafael Schachter or Gideon Klein sitting at the old harmonium, then it was Tella, who accompanied the rehearsals, with Handa sitting beside her.13 "I was the one who turned pages of the score. Because of that I was allowed to be present at rehearsals," Handa says. "Those rehearsals-they left a very, very strong impression. Even today I can still hear the voices of the chorus: "I was the one who turned pages of the score. Because of that I was allowed to be present at rehearsals," Handa says. "Those rehearsals-they left a very, very strong impression. Even today I can still hear the voices of the chorus: 'Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla, teste David c.u.m Sibylla ... Lacrymosa dies illa, qua resurget ex favilla judicandus h.o.m.o reus... Agnus Dei, qui tollis pecatta mundi, dona eis requiem.' 'Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla, teste David c.u.m Sibylla ... Lacrymosa dies illa, qua resurget ex favilla judicandus h.o.m.o reus... Agnus Dei, qui tollis pecatta mundi, dona eis requiem.' Or the final prayer: Or the final prayer: 'Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna, in die illa tremenda, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra.' 'Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna, in die illa tremenda, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra.' ('Free me, O Lord, from eternal death on that dreadful day when heaven and earth shall be moved.') For me, that work-and music in general in Theresienstadt-was an extraordinary experience. It was as if angels were singing in h.e.l.l." ('Free me, O Lord, from eternal death on that dreadful day when heaven and earth shall be moved.') For me, that work-and music in general in Theresienstadt-was an extraordinary experience. It was as if angels were singing in h.e.l.l."

Flaka also occasionally tiptoed down to the cellar to be closer to these musical events. Music was-and still is-the elixir of her life. Once she even had the chance to audition for the role of Bastienne, alongside Pit'a Muhlstein, who was to play Bastien, and his sister Maria, who had the role of Kolas the magician. "But it wasn't easy for us," Flaka recalls. "It was hard to live up to Rafael Schachter's expectations. He set the highest standards. We rehea.r.s.ed the Mozart opera for maybe two weeks. Then he decided to present it in concert form with adult singers."

Rafael Schachter (d. 1945) But this decision did not spell the end of Flaka's musical career. She continued to sing in the girls' choir. She especially loved singing in the trio, which had taken on an unusual a.s.signment. Flaka, Ela, and Maria would occasionally go to the quarters where the elderly people lived, to serenade them but also to offer them practical help. The girls did not do this for fun; it was hard work, a task given to them by an organization called Yad Tomechet ("Helping Hand" in Hebrew). Yad Tomechet was a youth organization founded in Theresienstadt in the late summer of 1942 by leading members of the Hechalutz movement and the Youth Welfare Office. They had agreed that something had to be done to try to alleviate the misery of the elderly inmates of Theresienstadt, however hopeless this seemed to be.

Beginning in the summer of 1942, elderly men and women arrived in Theresienstadt by the thousands, primarily from Germany and Austria. Many of them presented some piece of paper with the name of what they believed to be a hotel or a boardinghouse, claiming that they had reservations there. Some of the Jews from Germany had even signed a so-called Heimeinkaufsvertrag Heimeinkaufsvertrag ("home purchase agreement"), for which they had been induced to hand over their remaining a.s.sets. The Germans had a.s.sured them that in return they were going to be given fine homes "in the spa town of Theresienstadt," where they would spend their later years in peace. And now these people, some from once well-to-do families, found themselves locked up in a sealed ghetto. They were crammed into military barracks, often in wretched attics or cellars, amid dirt, noise, and foul odors, with nothing to sleep on but straw-filled mattresses or just the bare floor. Many of them could not get to the toilets and washrooms, because these were too far from where they slept and were impossible to reach without a.s.sistance. They never had enough water or food, and what food they could get was practically inedible. The elderly quickly lost hope and the will to live. The number of suicides rose rapidly. ("home purchase agreement"), for which they had been induced to hand over their remaining a.s.sets. The Germans had a.s.sured them that in return they were going to be given fine homes "in the spa town of Theresienstadt," where they would spend their later years in peace. And now these people, some from once well-to-do families, found themselves locked up in a sealed ghetto. They were crammed into military barracks, often in wretched attics or cellars, amid dirt, noise, and foul odors, with nothing to sleep on but straw-filled mattresses or just the bare floor. Many of them could not get to the toilets and washrooms, because these were too far from where they slept and were impossible to reach without a.s.sistance. They never had enough water or food, and what food they could get was practically inedible. The elderly quickly lost hope and the will to live. The number of suicides rose rapidly.

What could be done for these people? Perhaps the youngsters could be encouraged to help them. And so, at the suggestion of Hebrew teacher Ben-Zion Weiss, Yad Tomechet was founded. Over time, a large number of boys and girls joined in and helped to care for the elderly. The young people brought them their meager meals from the kitchen, accompanied them to the toilet, bathed them, cleaned their dismal sleeping quarters, and helped them pack when their names came up for transport to the East.

The girls in Room 28 also tried to think of ways to help. At first they set up a schedule of greeting new arrivals and helping the elderly with their heavy baggage. But that didn't work, because the new arrivals, thinking they were coming to a spa, were so horrified at their surrounding that they were initially incapable of comprehending their situation. Some did not trust the girls, especially those who did not speak German. Thinking that the girls were trying to steal their baggage, they brusquely waved aside those who sought to help them.

So the girls looked for other ways to be useful. Soon they were going straight to the quarters of the elderly. "If someone had a birthday, for example," recalls Flaka, "we just went over, wished the person a happy birthday, and helped out a little-beating mattresses, cleaning up for them. And then those of us in the trio would sing a little something. We had practiced a lot of songs with Tella just for that purpose. And sometimes we sang our own words to the tune of Schumann's Traumerei." Traumerei."

"Once we even sang a Dutch song especially for people from Holland," Ela recalls. "It was called 'Wade blanke.' To this day I don't know what it means, but the melody still runs through my head."

Sometimes the girls gave the elderly little gifts, usually handkerchiefs that the Youth Welfare Office had provided. The old people would then rummage helplessly through their paltry possessions, hoping to find something for the children. But there were no cookies, no chocolates, no bonbons. They had nothing to offer, and the children knew it, and at such moments they would quickly take their leave.

One of Flaka's outstanding qualities is her desire to help people. She may have inherited this from her mother, for whom the education of her children in the spirit of enlightened humanism was paramount. Elisabeth Flach even wrote a book t.i.tled The Most Important Question in Life The Most Important Question in Life. No less than Toma G. Masaryk, the revered president of Czechoslovakia, had a copy in his library, for which he had sent a thank-you letter to Elisabeth Flach. For many years this letter was among her most treasured possessions.

Her mother's influence only partly explains Flaka's compa.s.sionate nature. She had also been sensitized to suffering by the bitter experiences shared by this whole generation of Jewish children during the years leading up to their deportation. Some may have hoped that life in the Theresienstadt ghetto in the company of others in the same circ.u.mstances would be an improvement over the nightmare they had just left. They were sadly mistaken. But the miserable conditions in Theresienstadt did help forge a sense of community and solidarity-even for an eleven-year-old girl. When Flaka was finally released from a long stay in the hospital, where she had wound up shortly after her arrival, she hurried off to see her father and brother in the Hohenelbe Barracks. And she was determined not to arrive empty-handed. "I was so happy I could bring them a gift, a piece of bread that I saved especially for them."

A Yad Tomechet membership card That was what happiness looked like in Theresienstadt. Unhappiness bore a different face. In February 1942 Flaka's grandmother Ottilie died. The elderly had the poorest chance of survival. They suffered the torments of starvation or died of disease. Thousands of elderly people perished in Theresienstadt.

Thursday, March 25, 1943I'm getting along with the other girls now. We're holding meetings without the presence of counselors. We're trying to set up a connection with the "Niners," the boys of Home 9 at L 417. We'd like to see some changes in our Home. Things are very bad at the moment, not very friendly. We're working on a kind of uniform-white shirts with a badge, blue pleated skirts and blue or black Pullman caps. We go to the ramparts every day now, where we play dodgeball and have other compet.i.tions. We return home single-file, singing, one behind the other, the little ones in front.-Lea's health is unchanged. It's very serious. When I came to the Girls' Home I weighed 113 lbs. Now I weigh 101 lbs. Papa has lost over 15 lbs compet.i.tions. We return home single-file, singing, one behind the other, the little ones in front.-Lea's health is unchanged. It's very serious. When I came to the Girls' Home I weighed 113 lbs. Now I weigh 101 lbs. Papa has lost over 15 lbs.Monday, March 29, 1943Nothing out of the ordinary has happened over the last few days. The weather is very bad. We play the game of City, Country, River and sing. We have a new English teacher. She's very likeable. I have already managed to get a white shirt for our uniform.Tuesday, March 30, 1943It is the first day that the children's kitchen is open again. It was closed for about a month because of typhoid. The food is much better. For lunch today, there was potato soup with bread and noodles, and supper was a bun with half an ounce of margarine and black coffee. It was good, but too little of it. Papa had lentil soup and potatoes, and soup again in the evening. Am I ever stupid!!! I just keep on writing about the food.A little while ago we celebrated Maria Muhlstein's birthday. Her mother cooks porridge for sick children and gives the children in the Homes extra food when they need it.Now I'll describe the birthday party. For Theresienstadt it was very nice. Maria received a lot of presents, colored pencils from me. Frau Muhlstein had baked an oatmeal cake with coffee icing and marmalade filling. We drank cocoa with it. Imagine that-cocoa for forty people!Wednesday, March 31, 1943It's been four years since Mama left for England, and four and a half years since I saw her last. It will probably be a long time before we see each other again. For now we have only one hope that each day brings us closer to the end of the war.Besides pneumonia, Lea has now developed pleurisy. She gets drained every day. The doctors have given up hope. I believe and hope in G.o.d, who cannot let such a little innocent creature die.

The counselors in the Girls' Home had set themselves an almost impossible task. How does one go about easing the unhappiness that each girl bore within her? How should one react to their fears, answer their questions? How could one help them live a semblance of a normal life together-a community of twenty-five to thirty girls crammed into an area that should accommodate no more than one-third their number?

Very few of the girls managed to come to terms with such conditions. On top of their personal suffering, the girls had plenty of reason to be upset by the problems they faced every day-bad air, not enough room, not enough food, too much noise. The smallest thing could set a girl off-someone in an upper bunk putting a foot on her bed as she climbed down, for example. And the constant disorder, wherever one looked! But was it even possible to keep order with so many children in such close quarters? Tella, at any rate, demanded it. And at times there were severe punishments if the rules were broken.

"One day Tella discovered a comb full of hair, a pair of dirty panties, and a toothbrush in Lenka's food bowl," Judith recalls. "She was so angry that she punished the whole room. Our punishment was that we weren't allowed to leave the Home that evening and could not visit anyone, not even our parents."

Such measures were not very effective. Nothing was going to hold Judith back from seeing her mother and father. She simply would not accept the idea of Tella punishing everyone just because Lenka wasn't tidy. Lenka was even less inclined to be impressed by such punishment. She was an extremely intelligent girl with a stubborn, rebellious streak. She was determined to form her own opinions and to see things from all angles. As a result, she often stood firm when asked to toe the line regarding matters she considered outmoded and obsolete, such as Tella's implacable pa.s.sion for order. Lenka was by far the least tidy girl in Room 28. And yet Lenka was truly treasured by them all, even by Tella. "She was very clever and mature for her age and had a lively imagination-what a personality, one of a kind," her comrades said about her. "We admired her, and we all liked her. She radiated energy."

Lenka was not the only girl who had trouble with their strict counselor. Even today Marianne Deutsch has nightmares when she thinks of Tella. Marianne came from a prosperous family in Olomouc, in northern Moravia. For the first ten years of her life, her world had been a pleasant and agreeable one. "I had everything I needed," she would say later. Above all, she had "Memme," Emma Fischer, her governess, whom she adored, and who stayed with the family until their deportation in June 1942. "Memme would have preferred to convert to Judaism and accompany us to Theresienstadt. She cursed Hitler something awful and almost got herself arrested because of it." Saying goodbye to Memme was very hard on Marianne. "It was worse than being separated from my parents. When I had to leave her, I shed the first truly bitter tears of my life."

Marianne missed her governess. Despite her joy over every package that arrived from Memme-and Memme sent as many as she possibly could-each one rekindled Marianne's agonizing longing to see her. It was especially at such moments that Marianne railed against her fate. She simply wasn't able to adjust to the community of Room 28, and Tella's iron hand just exacerbated the problem.

"If there had been no Tella, I'm sure I would have liked it better," Marianne comments. "The other counselors were very nice. What wonderful evenings we had when they spent the night in our room. But Tella spoiled every minute for me. Either you take me as I am, or just leave me alone." Tella evidently did the latter.

Things were different with Handa-even though she was a match for Lenka when it came to the matter of messiness. Her little portion of the shelving along one wall, the only place where a girl could put a few personal items, was usually such a mess that even Handa's neighbor, Eva Landa, fussed about it. But to no avail. Orderliness was not Handa's strong suit, and in her eyes Tella, at least in this matter, was more or less crazed. "Our clothes had to be hung up neatly behind the curtain, and our shoes had to stand in dress ranks like soldiers. We had a place for shoes under the window, but it was always one big jumble. And every evening our slippers had to stand in pairs under our own bunks."

And then one day it happened. A single, forlorn slipper was found under a bunk. The slipper was old and terribly tattered, and its partner was simply nowhere to be found, no matter how hard the girls searched and how thoroughly Tella interrogated them all. It remained lost-much to Tella's annoyance.

For Handa and her friend Fika, however, it became a great inspiration. They wrote a little play, Trikena Trikena, in which the main character was a single, tattered slipper: One day a single slipper showed up beneath a bunk-Trikena. And all the other shoes, the good shoes, made fun of Trikena because she was so alone and so shabby that no one could wear her anymore. Finally Trikena died-weary, old, and abandoned.Suddenly everyone felt sorry for her, and all the other shoes sorely regretted having treated Trikena so deplorably. They wondered: What can we do to bring her back to life? It was so mean of us to make fun of her, to humiliate her. They heaved many sighs of woe-and sounded like the chorus from an ancient Greek tragedy.

The girls laughed heartily at this little cabaret, which Handa and Fika performed for them with slipper puppets, and which can be read today in Handa's little notebook. Handa had been given this notebook by Pit'a Muhlstein on November 4, 1942, for her eleventh birthday, and she called it Vechno (Miscellany) Vechno (Miscellany). In it she jotted down all sorts of things: cla.s.sroom notes, mathematical formulas, poems, sketches for stories and plays, drawings, doodles.

Performances of dramas such as Trikena Trikena, or of a comedy about two old maids, Amalka and Posinka Amalka and Posinka, which Flaka and Lenka wrote and presented, were the sort of creations that even someone as strict as Tella appreciated. What better way could her girls be diverted, for a little while at least, from the gravity and misery of their imprisonment?

Counselors had to walk a fine line between strictness and sympathy, punishment and indulgence. Some counselors, such as Tella, were strict enforcers of the rules. Others-among them Eva Weiss, Laura imko, Lilly Gross, Rita Bohm, and Eva Eckstein-relied upon compa.s.sion and creativity. But they were all united in one goal. As Rosa Englander, the director of the Girls' Home, put it, they wanted "to create a foundation of harmony and balance for each child. This foundation is the source of the energy that enables a child to meet the demands of the outside world, a world that is tough and volatile and will continue to be so for our Jewish children."14 Eva Weiss contributed to the achievement of this goal in her own special way. She loved aphorisms and adages, and she used them to create art with a pedagogical bent. If she heard a clever saying or came across a wise adage, she would jot it down on a piece of paper, quickly paint a picture to accompany it, and then hang it on the wall. Eva's pictures already adorned the walls of Room 104 in the Hamburg Barracks, and now they enhanced Room 28 as well.

One read: Quidquid agis, prudenter agas et respice finem Quidquid agis, prudenter agas et respice finem ("Whatever you do, do it cautiously and with an eye to the end"), while another cautioned: ("Whatever you do, do it cautiously and with an eye to the end"), while another cautioned: O si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses! O si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses! ("Had you kept silent, you would have remained a philosopher!"). Rudyard Kipling was also represented: "If you've been knocked down a hundred times and get up a hundred times and keep on fighting, then 'Hero of Life' will be inscribed on your coat of arms." ("Had you kept silent, you would have remained a philosopher!"). Rudyard Kipling was also represented: "If you've been knocked down a hundred times and get up a hundred times and keep on fighting, then 'Hero of Life' will be inscribed on your coat of arms."

In the beginning, they were all-purpose adages. Then Eva came up with the idea of having each girl select a saying of her own. Soon little mottos with accompanying pictures were hanging from all the bunks. Eva Landa's image had a laughing face and beside it the words: "No matter what, be cheerful, always be cheerful." Flaka and Zajiek joined forces-they painted a little house and beside it wrote the unusual phrase Vlajici taka Vlajici taka ("Flying purse"). It was an anagram of their names- an innovation that was characteristic of Flaka, who had a fondness for whimsical amus.e.m.e.nts. Ela Stein's page was decorated with a painter's palette and Helga's with a lighthouse. Helga's saying was "Always be prepared." ("Flying purse"). It was an anagram of their names- an innovation that was characteristic of Flaka, who had a fondness for whimsical amus.e.m.e.nts. Ela Stein's page was decorated with a painter's palette and Helga's with a lighthouse. Helga's saying was "Always be prepared."

"The lighthouse," Helga wrote in her diary, "could be hope, so the girls say. But I picture us here as being caught up in a storm, the raging sea all around us-war."

Eva's breezy, cordial ways were an ideal counterbalance to the strict discipline that was so important to Tella. Because they worked so well in tandem, they were able to live up to the standards that Gonda Redlich, the head of Theresienstadt's Youth Welfare Office, set for his colleagues. "More than ever, what is needed here are real love and enthusiasm, which are far more important and more difficult to instill under such hard living conditions than they would be in normal life. More than ever, it is crucial not to let a counselor's creative spark be extinguished by a stultifying set of regulations. Even in those instances where counselors find it necessary to employ discipline, they must always present the best model for both children and adults, and be in a position to win the children's trust."15 Friday, April 2, 1943This is a day full of joy. The Germans are suffering one loss after another. This afternoon I moved to a different bunk, beside Ela Stein. I'm so happy, because I had an unpleasant neighbor who would constantly scold me if I moved just an inch or two onto her s.p.a.ce. Ela's uncle and mother come from Kyjov, and her uncle's bed is next to Papa's I'm so happy, because I had an unpleasant neighbor who would constantly scold me if I moved just an inch or two onto her s.p.a.ce. Ela's uncle and mother come from Kyjov, and her uncle's bed is next to Papa's.Yesterday we had for the first time a meeting in our blue and white outfits. Because things in our room are sometimes so terrible, we've decided to start afresh, as if we had only just arrived. We're going to have a parliament, so to speak. Our counselors are the ministers, then come the members of parliament, in two cla.s.ses. The second cla.s.s is like a lower house, and the first cla.s.s is like an upper house, which is called Ma'agal. The girls who are obliging and friendly and hardworking are in Ma'agal-and so can serve as examples to the others. The rest are ordinary people. Whoever has fifteen points or is voted in is part of the second cla.s.s. We vote once a month. Whoever is voted in twice advances to the first cla.s.s. Ma'agal makes its decisions in consultation with the counselors. Our motto is: Vi mi-vim ti. Vi a vim, bud' jak bud'. Nezradi-nezradim. Vi mi-vim ti. Vi a vim, bud' jak bud'. Nezradi-nezradim. ["You believe me-I believe you. You know what I know. Come what may happen, you won't betray me, and I won't betray you."] ["You believe me-I believe you. You know what I know. Come what may happen, you won't betray me, and I won't betray you."]

The idea for Ma'agal was one of those inspirations that catch on right from the start and develop an unexpected dynamic of their own, almost as though Ma'agal had set free a latent potential within the girls and given them a structure and direction. The atmosphere in Room 28 changed from one day to the next-as if a bud had burst into blossom overnight.

Ma'agal is Hebrew for "circle" and, in a more metaphorical sense, for "perfection." The girls wanted to strive for perfection. They resolved to be helpful and considerate at all times. Ma'agal became the symbol for this spirit of cooperation, and a great many hopes were bound up in its founding. The counselors saw it as a golden opportunity to improve both the discipline and the atmosphere in Room 28. Some of the girls might have seen in it a means of enhancing both their room and their own standing, and others were convinced that Ma'agal would reinforce an awareness of community and solidarity among all the girls-just as had happened in Boys' Room 1, about which they were learning some surprising things. is Hebrew for "circle" and, in a more metaphorical sense, for "perfection." The girls wanted to strive for perfection. They resolved to be helpful and considerate at all times. Ma'agal became the symbol for this spirit of cooperation, and a great many hopes were bound up in its founding. The counselors saw it as a golden opportunity to improve both the discipline and the atmosphere in Room 28. Some of the girls might have seen in it a means of enhancing both their room and their own standing, and others were convinced that Ma'agal would reinforce an awareness of community and solidarity among all the girls-just as had happened in Boys' Room 1, about which they were learning some surprising things.

The boys in Room 1, in Boys' Home L 417, had come up with an extraordinary idea. They had proclaimed their room the "Republic of Shkid" and conferred upon themselves the status of an autonomous democracy. They also published a newspaper that they read aloud among themselves every Friday evening, providing information and sometimes amus.e.m.e.nt to those involved. The newspaper was called Vedem (We Lead) Vedem (We Lead).16 The Ma'agal emblem on the flag created by the girls in Room 28 Room 1, headed by Walter Eisinger, contained some exceptionally talented boys, especially Petr Ginz, the editor of Vedem Vedem. More than half a century later, on created by the girls in Room 28 created by the girls in Room 28 January 16, 2003, the Israeli astronaut Ilan Ramon would take Petr Ginz's drawing January 16, 2003, the Israeli astronaut Ilan Ramon would take Petr Ginz's drawing Moon Landscape Moon Landscape with him on his flight aboard the American s.p.a.ce shuttle with him on his flight aboard the American s.p.a.ce shuttle Columbia Columbia. "I feel," Ramon said at the time, "that my journey fulfills the dream of Petr Ginz fifty-eight years ago. A dream that is ultimate proof of the greatness of the soul of a boy imprisoned within the ghetto walls, the walls of which could not surrender his spirit." Ilan Ramon did not return from his flight into s.p.a.ce-he died on February 1, 2003, along with the six other astronauts on board Columbia Columbia when it exploded as it approached Earth on its flight back home. when it exploded as it approached Earth on its flight back home.

Another resident of Room 1 was Pit'a Muhlstein, Maria Muhlstein's brother and a good friend of Handa Pollak. It was from him that the girls would hear about the latest achievements of the writers and journalists who contributed to Vedem Vedem. They spoke in particular about Hanu Hachenburg's talents as a lyric poet-he was Vedem's Vedem's most admired writer. His poems are among the most moving doc.u.ments left behind by the children of the ghetto. most admired writer. His poems are among the most moving doc.u.ments left behind by the children of the ghetto.

Moon Landscape, by Petr Ginz (19281944), pencil on paper. According to Petr's sister, Eva Ginz, the picture was drawn in Prague before his deportation in October 1942. Numerous other doc.u.ments from within the pages of by Petr Ginz (19281944), pencil on paper. According to Petr's sister, Eva Ginz, the picture was drawn in Prague before his deportation in October 1942. Numerous other doc.u.ments from within the pages of Vedem Vedem are evidence of the range of Petr's talent, which matured within the walls of Theresienstadt. They also doc.u.ment his unbending spirit. Ilan Ramon quite rightly called Petr Ginz "a symbol of the talent lost in the Holocaust." are evidence of the range of Petr's talent, which matured within the walls of Theresienstadt. They also doc.u.ment his unbending spirit. Ilan Ramon quite rightly called Petr Ginz "a symbol of the talent lost in the Holocaust."

MY LAND.

I bear my land within my heart For me and me alone!

It's spun from threads of beauty, The only dream I've known.I can caress you now, that's all, And feel you as my guide.

My land is not upon this earth, It is within and yet so wide.My land is set among the stars, It is the bird named s.p.a.ce.

I long for it and weep sometimes And feel it everyplace.And yet one day I'll fly away, Freed from my body's chains, And soar toward freedom where I'll see My land of endless plains.For now it's still a little land And found in dreams alone.

It holds me soft in its embrace, Here in this awful zone.One day I shall go to my land And be forever free, For in that s.p.a.ce my longing found There is no "I," no agony.Hanu Hachenburg (19291944) Similar talents were displayed by the boys in Room 9. These boys, among them Honza Gelbkopf and Kurt Drechsler, were the same age as the girls in Room 28. Sometimes the boys and girls did gymnastics and played games together on the ramparts. It was there that friendships developed, sometimes accompanied by the first stirrings of romantic feelings. What could be more natural than the desire to ensure a certain regularity to these meetings, especially since the girls' artistic ambitions were just as powerful as the boys'?

"We shall give it a try," said one of the boys' counselors, the beautiful Licka Mautner, during a visit to Room 28 on the evening of March 26, 1943. She agreed that the boys and girls could meet daily on the ramparts for gymnastics, games, and contests, and that they could visit each other's rooms on occasion. For some of the girls it was a dream come true. Others did not take to the idea and were in fact skeptical. Helga noted in her diary: "Licka was just telling us about how wonderful it is in Room 9, how they've formed a club, are writing a newspaper, and what a fine community they've formed-and right away the girls started arguing. Licka left at a quarter to eight. I'm sure she was thinking: These girls can only ruin her lads." These girls can only ruin her lads."

This much was clear-things had to change in Room 28. No more arguments, no groups of girls taking sides against other groups of girls. What could encourage this effort better than the Ma'agal? The transformation triggered by this idea was already apparent after just one week. The first formal meeting took place on April l. All the girls wore their new blue and white outfits. The letters VVBN were embroidered on each blouse. This was the acronym for the Ma'agal's motto: "Vi mi- venm ti. Vi a vim, bud' jak bud'. Nezradi-nezradim." "Vi mi- venm ti. Vi a vim, bud' jak bud'. Nezradi-nezradim."

From this point on, these words were the motto of the girls of Room 28. And the girls created a symbol to go with it: a dark blue linen flag bearing the emblem of Ma'agal-a white circle around two clasped hands. On April 1, this flag was displayed in their room for the first time. And the first two members were elected to the Ma'agal, the "circle of perfection"-Pavla Seiner and Eva Landa.

"Pavla Seiner was the first girl who went to great lengths to turn our Home into a good home," Handa recalls. "She always tried to include girls who weren't at the center of our community-such as Zajiek, Olilie, and Marta Kende. Even when we played dodgeball-Pavla was very athletic-she looked out for those girls because she didn't want them to feel like outsiders."

Eva Landa was also given special recognition for her exemplary behavior. She was tidy and diligent, and she paid attention to the counselors' instructions-in part because Eva sincerely liked living in the Girls' Home. For her, life in a "collective"-a word that Eva heard for the first time in Theresienstadt-had a dash of adventure about it. At the very least, she preferred it to being under the influence of parents who were beleaguered by their own worries. In this regard she was an exception to the other girls. Eva was optimistic about her fate; at times she even felt as if she had ended up "in the Girl Scouts."

Eva must have felt this way on the evening that she and Pavla were inducted into the Ma'agal. As a solemn conclusion to their meeting, the girls sang for the first time the anthem of Room 28, which they had written themselves and set to the melody of a Czech folk song-"Ach pada, pada rosika" ("The Dew Is Falling").

We want to be united, To stand together, to like each other.

We have come here, but our hope, A hope that shall come true, Is to return home again.We shall do battle with evil And forge the path to the good.

We shall drive every evil away And won't go home until we have.

And then we shall sing:Ma'agal must triumph And bring us on the path to good.

We clasp each other's hands And sing This anthem of our home.

A few months later, in October 1943, Lenka Lindt alluded to this event in her essay written to answer the question "What has made the deepest impression on you since you have been living in the Girls' Home?": I never want to leave our Home, not for anything in the world. We have many things in our Home that I cannot write about, because that might betray our Home. We have many celebrations with little banquets. Everyone likes being here. Our Home impresses me very much. Our Home is my life. I don't know what I'll do when I return home and have to live alone with my mother in an apartment. Brrrr-... I shall go to some sort of Home even when I have returned home. And I shall think about our Twenty-Eight Home and of the girls who lived there.The Ma'agal anthem. The musical notation was done by Flaka.When you read this, Frau Professor, you will say, "Lindt, you were supposed to write about what has impressed you the most about the Girls' Home, and you are writing nonsense like this ..."And so I shall tell you that my most impressive experience was when we wore our uniforms-and nothing more should interest you! Please don't hold my being so fresh against me.17 At moments like these, the room came under the spell of the magic word nadje nadje ("hope"). When darkness had fallen and the girls were lying in their bunks, this word would brighten their conversations, like a star shining in a nighttime sky. At first, those sharing a bed would whisper to each other, then those sharing a bunk, and finally-all it took was one word to ignite it-voices were coming from every corner, and what had begun as a murmur evolved into a lively conversation. ("hope"). When darkness had fallen and the girls were lying in their bunks, this word would brighten their conversations, like a star shining in a nighttime sky. At first, those sharing a bed would whisper to each other, then those sharing a bunk, and finally-all it took was one word to ignite it-voices were coming from every corner, and what had begun as a murmur evolved into a lively conversation.

When I go back home ... When the war is over ..." That was how many of their sentences began, circling in ever-varying patterns around the magical concept of hope like variations on a musical leitmotif. "When the Germans are defeated, when we are free again ..." Helga would join her mother in England. Eva Winkler would visit her old hometown of Miroslav Judith Schwarzbart would return to her parents' house with its large garden in Brno-Jundrov Mari anne Deutsch would go back to Olomouc and her governess, Memme. Eva Landa, Lenka Lindt, and Pavla Seiner imagined returning to their beloved Prague; Ruth Schachter and Eva h.e.l.ler would see their parents again in Eretz Yisrael, the Promised Land. Each had her fantasies, her dreams, her longings. "Yes, yes, yes," they sometimes heard Flaka and Helga chant. It sounded like a battle cry: "Yes, yes, yes, Konzervato" Konzervato" ("We'll attend the conservatory!"), and it would continue until the counselor urged them for the last time to be quiet. Their thoughts would circle around what they had experienced and heard until they finally drifted off to sleep. ("We'll attend the conservatory!"), and it would continue until the counselor urged them for the last time to be quiet. Their thoughts would circle around what they had experienced and heard until they finally drifted off to sleep.

Lenka Lindt and her mother A new phase of Helga's life in Room 28 began with the formation of Ma'agal and her move to a bunk next to Ela Stein. Helga liked this girl with dark eyes and black hair. There was something fascinating about Ela, who was so different from Helga. Ela was vivacious, enterprising, talkative, and always surrounded by friends. And she was quick to join in whenever there was singing, painting, or dancing-or when the conversation turned to boys.

Helga and Ela sat next to each other more often now, in cla.s.s and during their free time, when they had to stay indoors because it was raining. Sometimes they would join the others for a game or prepare their lessons.

"Tella has just announced our grades," she wrote on April 11, 1943. "I've got the best grades of anyone. If that's true, and I'm only just starting to believe it, then I've undergone a fundamental change. I'm not the same person I was in Kyjov. Cleanliness: very good. Tidiness: very good. Conduct: good. Interest in learning: very good."

Daily lessons were a fundamental part of life in Room 28. Officially they were called "activity time," because while the SS had forbidden formal cla.s.sroom instruction, they permitted "activities" such as singing, painting, handicrafts, dancing, sports, and games. In the eyes of the n.a.z.is, these pursuits were harmless. But an education in history, literature, and languages was dangerous. "It is enough if they can count up to 100," an official in Rosenberg's ministry had said, summarizing Hitler's views on the differences between the Master Race and what he deemed the inferior races. "Every educated person is a future enemy. Religion we leave to them as a means of diversion. As for food, they won't get any more than is absolutely necessary. We are the masters. We come first."18 This kind of thinking lay behind the n.a.z.is' determination to restrict education in every country they occupied. The Jewish leaders in Theresienstadt had to find ways to circ.u.mvent this control if they were to ensure that the children received a proper education. Their guiding principle was that no effort be spared in imparting the knowledge and experience of the adults to the children. One of their primary goals was to transmit Jewish culture and tradition; their method was to disguise the teaching as playing. The leading figures in of Theresienstadt-Jakob Edelstein, Otto Zucker, Leo Jannowitz, Gonda Redlich, Fredy Hirsch, Milos Salus, and Viktor Ullmann, to name just a few-were all united in this cause: to protect and preserve intellectual freedom.

The unique situation in Theresienstadt gave rise to a sophisticated system of child welfare and education. w.i.l.l.y Groag, a Zionist youth leader who became head of the Girls' Home in late autumn 1943, described it as follows: "The majority of the teachers were members of Zionist and, in some cases, Communist organizations. But because we did not want to shortchange the children's development and their specific talents and interests in any way, we brought people who were independent of these a.s.sociations into the pedagogical program as well, so new arrivals in the ghetto who appeared qualified to teach or supervise the children were asked by administrators to submit their resumes to the Youth Welfare Office. On the basis of their professional qualifications and pedagogical experience, they were a.s.signed either to the administration of the Youth Welfare Department or to one of the children's Homes as counselors or teachers-sometimes as both. It was in this way that the Youth Welfare Office was able to enlist not only devoted Zionists and Communists, but also extraordinary people from all walks of life-teachers, professors, scientists, and artists."19 To some extent, the children of Theresienstadt had the opportunity to learn more than children of the same age in Prague or Brno. For one thing, the artists and professors teaching the children in Theresienstadt would rarely be found in ordinary schools in normal times. Moreover, outside Theresienstadt, Czech schools suffered under n.a.z.i rule, their curricula distorted by n.a.z.i ideology. Although the children of Theresienstadt had to learn in secret, their education included subjects that were forbidden by the Germans.

"Our room was divided into three groups-A, B, and C-on the basis of our knowledge and interests," Handa Pollak recalls, as she explains the educational system. "We had cla.s.ses every morning. But it was a bit strange, because so many transports were arriving and departing. And the same was true of our teachers-they came and went. For example, if an English teacher arrived, we were taught English. But it wasn't long before he had to leave on a transport. Then another teacher came to replace him, but maybe what he knew wasn't English but mathematics. And so we were taught mathematics. That's how we learned. We could never keep to a fixed curriculum. Everything was uncertain. And pupils came and went as well."

Magda and Edith Weiss taught Latin and Czech; Kurt Haek (whom the girls nicknamed Kartaek, Czech for "little brush") taught modern Hebrew. For a brief time the girls had an English teacher who introduced herself as Mrs. Idis and whom the girls called Missisipidis. They called another Hebrew teacher Shemihl Springer, because the first words he had spoken to the girls by way of introduction were "Sh'mee "Sh'mee Springer," which is Hebrew for "My name is Springer." Springer," which is Hebrew for "My name is Springer."

Cla.s.sroom notes and doodles from Vechno, Vechno, Handa Pollak's notebook Handa Pollak's notebook For a while the girls were taught mathematics, which was not exactly Handa's favorite subject, as is evident from her notebook. Alongside the mathematical formulas and calculations are all sorts of doodles-of people, landscapes, animals. She was much fonder of Czech literature, German, drawing, history, and geography.

Three subjects are linked in the girls' memories with unforgettable individuals: drawing with Friedl d.i.c.ker-Brandeis, and geography and history with Zdenka Brumlikova.

"I loved Professor Brumlikova most of all," Handa recalls. "I remember the way she told us stories from Greek and Roman mythology. We sat there spellbound, following every word of her account. She was wonderful! She had such a grand way of telling things. For example, the life of Prometheus. How he wanted to bring the gift of fire to humankind, holy fire from divine Olympus, how he secretly stole it. But the G.o.ds noticed, of course, and meted out an awful punishment. They bound him to a rock with strong chains and sent savage birds to eat his liver. But each time his liver would grow back after the birds had eaten it, and the birds kept returning. I still remember her telling us about that."

The girls hung on her every word. Frau Brumlikova was small and slender, with freckles and short salt-and-pepper hair. She kept the memory of a free Czechoslovakia alive for them, recounting the old legends of Bohemia and Moravia and drawing a map of their Czech homeland- its prewar borders; its mountain ranges, rivers, and cities; each landscape with its distinctive characteristics. The hours with Frau Brumlikova simply flew by.

Although there were such lighthearted moments, everyone was constantly aware of the lurking danger. "We were always afraid because we knew that all of it was forbidden-and punishable. One girl would stand watch outside the door." Under no circ.u.mstances were the girls to be caught at their lessons by the SS. This would have had serious consequences, especially for the adults involved, who might be taken to the Little Fortress. which was the name for the Gestapo prison outside the ghetto walls. The mere mention of it filled everyone at Theresienstadt with fear and trembling.

The children knew just what to do if the SS showed up unexpectedly. "When we got the sign that the Germans were approaching our Home, we quickly gathered up all the papers and pencils and hid them under our blankets or in the attic." When the alarm did sound, those standing watch would warn: "The Germans are coming!" or "SS inspection!" The girls would quickly hide the evidence of their intellectual activity- notebooks, test papers, books-and return to the activities that were allowed. In Room 28 that was usually singing. So it was that while SS officers were on the ground floor questioning the leaders of the Girls' Home and peering into one or another of the rooms, girls' voices were coming from upstairs, at first softly, then gradually swelling, singing a favorite round to fight off their fear. "Bejvavalo, bejvavalo, bejvavalo dobe..." "Bejvavalo, bejvavalo, bejvavalo dobe..." ("Life was once, was once, was once good, when we were young and the world was like a flower-life was once, was once, was once good ..."). ("Life was once, was once, was once good, when we were young and the world was like a flower-life was once, was once, was once good ...").

On only one occasion did the SS come really close. They were searching for an illegal radio receiver, first in the Boys' Home, then in the Girls'. They combed through everything. They even crept into the sewer down in the courtyard of the Girls' Home. Then they tromped up the stone staircase in their black boots, the deserted stairwell echoing with the sound. On the top floor, in Room 28, the girls sat on their bunks, terrified by what might happen next. They heard voices, footsteps, doors banging. "The door was flung open, we saw the brief glow of a flashlight, and then the door quickly closed. They didn't enter the room."

Tuesday, April 6, 1943The daily routine in our day in our Home is unvarying, but the days still pa.s.s quickly. It's hard to imagine that I've been here three months now.Gunther, the top SS man, is coming tomorrow. No children are allowed on the streets tomorrow. Papa doesn't know about this yet, but I'm going to die of hunger in the evening. He got word that he's received a package, and I won't be able to pick it up for him today. Papa can't really carry anything.Wednesday, April 7, 1943I was missing my father a little, but I got over my longing to see him, since the other girls can't visit their parents either. I know that Papa will surely come here to me. It's not as though I was bored. This morning we sang and a counselor read to us from Papa will surely come here to me. It's not as though I was bored. This morning we sang and a counselor read to us from Microbe Hunters Microbe Hunters. After our noonday meal I washed up and then read a fantastic book: Gold Rush Gold Rush by F. Lloyd-Owen. I liked it a lot. It is about a 12-year-old boy who ran away from home and traveled west by F. Lloyd-Owen. I liked it a lot. It is about a 12-year-old boy who ran away from home and traveled west.Sat.u.r.day, April 10, 1943The barracks are all under lockdown. No one is allowed on the street without special permission, and children don't get special permission. This can last for days, or even months. I thought I wouldn't see Papa for a long time. But he came twice, and Mimi came and brought me something to eat. I feel like a bird trapped in a cage with other birds. We're not even allowed outside the building. Not even allowed to see our parents. And all because two people, a brother and sister, escaped.A new girl has joined us, Emma Taub. They call her Muka-little fly. She arrived yesterday from Prague, from an orphanage where she stayed for two weeks. She is from Tel in southern Moravia. She's a very