Fela, who was born in 1918, was the eldest daughter of Abram Jicchak and Chawa Szeps, a loc, was educated in a home environment which blended tradition and progressivism.

My father served in the Russian Army in his youth and had even achieved officer rank. However, this did not impede him from being an Alexander Hassid. My mother, Chawa, worked in WIZO, and was known as a modern woman, and among other things she was occupied with mutual aid. Our father was engaged in trade and traveled daily to Katowice.

As I was a few years younger than Fela, I will skip over her youth. I only remember her graduation day from her day school, when the parents were called to the school principal and to the instructor in order to personally receive the matriculation certificate. She was praised as being the best student in her class. And those who recall the atmosphere [which existed then] in Polish schools can appreciate this.

This was the time of Hitler's rise to power in Germany, and a character of anti-Semitism pervaded the Polish street. While a few of the [Jewish] youth remained in Dąbrowa for high school, most went to nearby Będzin and Sosnowiec to further their education. Fela too, continued her education at a trade school in Sosnowiec, but this didn't satisfy her, and she sought various courses and electives for advanced study.

During this time, Fela joined the service of “Gordonia”. She soon became very active in the organization.

During the late 1930s, she was chosen to head the Dąbrowa branch and handled the correspondence with the main leadership [office] in Warsaw. I remember some of the visits of the leadership to our house, in particular Jehoszua Rabinowicz and Eliezer Geler of blessed memory.

In 1938 Fela went on a Haschara to Tomaszów Mazowiecki and there successfully obtained workplaces for her friends with Boleslaw Szeps, a local farmer who we later found out was related to my father.

With the outbreak of World War II, Fela returned home with the intention of packing her things in preparation for Aliyah to Palestine, but fate decreed otherwise. After the German occupation of our town, all youth organizations, (at least on the face of it), were ended; however Fela was involved with those that went underground. This expressed itself in meetings that took place in private homes, where Torah was taught to help lift the sagging morale among the Jews.

In 1941, Fela and my sister Bat-Szewa were caught and sent to a work camp in Germany, where they were not separated until the day of her death. There, according to my sister's diary, she and Bat-Szewa continued clandestine cultural activities under miserable conditions in the concentration camp.


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One of the more appalling things mentioned in Fela's diary was the letter she wrote to her younger brother, where she lauded his bravery and was saddened that he remained an orphan alone at home, though he remained an inspiration to his sisters groaning in the concentration camps.

[However] one thing was unknown to my sister Fela: that our brother grew up [literally] overnight and that he was proud to shoulder any kind of help to his sisters.

Fela Szeps was blessed with literary talent. In her diary she described her experience in a women's concentration camp

One should not view this letter as that of a particular sister to a particular brother, but rather a symbol for the thousands of sisters who left behind younger brothers in cities across Poland, orphans and pitiful things all of them; they fought for their existence and that of their families trapped in the concentration camps.

To those who knew and worked with her, she was a spiritual giant even as she physically succumbed to the yokes of hunger and disease. She gave up her soul on the 9^th of May, 1945, after the liberation of Volyně (Wolin) in Czechoslovakia. A small wooden plaque was placed on her grave by our sister Bat-Szewa. It bore an inscription from Fela's diary:

Dzień wolności był dla ciebie gorzkim odlotem.

Here I quote:

Letter to my dear brother. I am writing today because I miss you [so much]. I write even though I'm sure the letter will never reach you. I wanted to write in language in which I could speak freely. Mosze, everything that you send us become a factor in our destruction. Is this beyond your power? Can you not endeavor to have more control of what you send? Remember Mosze dear, you must try to survive everything and stay alive. Write to us and tell us what's possible for you [to do] in the near future, because that's the only thing that brings us joy in these desperate days of miserable tomorrows and an unknown future. We are really proud of your behavior and your work since the expulsion of our parents.

We just received your postcard. What a treasure it is for us! We never stop thinking of you even for a minute and at night sleep doesn't come to us. When I eat I think to myself whether you have enough food and whether our parents have what to eat. I am cold, and I think you too must suffer from the cold. Is it too difficult for you? Our dear parents probably never foresaw how well you care for us, and that you are so brave after what's happened to us.

Mosze, at times I wanted to commit suicide! I understand why you went to the camps and I wanted at any price to prevent this, as I wanted a male to remain at home and I didn't want you to long for freedom as I do.

Keep well, my brother, and accomplish [the moto]: “Be strong and be brave!”

Your faithful sister

Fela

I was born in Dąbrowa-Górnicza in 1924. My father had a tobacco shop. At the outbreak of the war, I had already studied for 16 months in the Fürstenberg Gymnasium [high school] in Będzin. Before the start of the war I was advised to go home to Dąbrowa. My sister Fela studied at Warsaw University.

The ghetto was first established in 1941. At home meanwhile nothing had changed. We were frightened and uncertain about what was to come. Until January 1941 I was at home with my parents and siblings. We already had to wear the armband with the Magen David [Star of David].

In the year 1942 the Jewish leadership [i.e. Judenrat] ordered all Jewish and “industrious” girls to register. After the registration we were allowed to go home. Later the Gestapo [came and] loaded us on to autos and for the last time in this world we saw the pale face of our father.

We were taken to Sosnowiec and a “Durchgangslager” [transit camp]. After about 10 days in this transit camp, me, my sister Fela and several other girls of about the same age were sent to the Grünberg/Schlesien camp in Silesia. We were the first transport to arrive there. We were a few hundred Jewish girls from Sosnowiec, Chrzanów and Będzin. Later women came from Hungary and Romania.

In the camp there was a weavers department. However my sister and I were assigned to work in the sewing department. The boss of the sewing department was a monstrous sadist who afflicted everyone. Thus my sister and I requested to be transferred to the weavers section. There we worked in 12-hour shifts. The weavers' work had to be production-quality and we were stable under the supervision of the overseer and foreman. We worked there until we were evacuated from that camp.

Fela Szeps a gentle soul, recorded in her diary the torture of women in the concentration camp

During the time we were in the camp, a few of us girls met early Sunday mornings and, under the leadership of my sister Fela, held discussions about various cultural themes. It also occurred that on our [so-called] “free” day we were ordered to an Appell (roll-call). At one such call we were ordered to have our hair cut. For insufficient work, we were punished with extra hours, so that our work day went from 12 to 16 hours. In general, on Sundays girls from our town of Dąbrowa got together. It's worthwhile to note that among our group existed a real spirit of comradeship and solidarity.


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Because my sister Fela was previously a student of psychology at Warsaw University, she was [suited to] begin a cultural life in the camp. On holidays, especially at Purim or Chanukkah, she would arrange special programs and spoke about the traditions associated with these holidays. She tried to arrange with the camp authorities permission to organize small skits which reflected the culture of such holidays.

From time to time, a Gestapo woman would come along with a doctor, who performed “selections.” The girls were made to strip in front of him and he'd indicate with a finger whether she should continue working at our camp. Those who failed this inspection were removed and sent to an extermination camp.

At the camp were also French laborers with whom we were in contact. They provided us with political news.

Attempts to organize an underground operation in the camp were frustrated because of the camp senior [Jewish] prisoner, Ewa Messer. Her brutality stuck in our memories. She would beat us with a truncheon.

In February 1945, before the death march began, my sister became sick. We hid in a bread sack all the notes my sister wrote in the camp. During our time in the camp we made sure all her writing materials were well hidden, as we knew the value of such items [for the future]. We were sent on the March, some of the girls sick with a fever of 39 degrees. Every day the snow-covered roads became littered with corpses. My sister was in a very bad way. I had to support and pull her along, so that she would not be shot. We marched in the direction of Czechoslovakia and Bavaria. During the march my sister pleaded with me to leave her and continue alone. Frozen, starving and thoroughly exhausted, we managed to drag ourselves along. At night we were packed like herrings in barns or sheds. In the morning those who didn't survive were left behind. Our transport, with its skeletons in rags, caused the local residents in the area to close their windows and to run from us as if from an epidemic. Many of the unfortunate were [simply] shot along our way.

Mass grave

During the night of 2-3 May, the Germans abandoned us near a forest in Volary (Wallern) in Czechoslovakia. In the morning we noticed that the guards were gone. Me and another person – the only ones who could still continue – left on the first American tank which approached.

The Americans brought us to the local hospital. My sister was in a really bad way, and three days later, on the 9^th of May, 1945, she died. She was buried in Volary. On her tombstone, I requested her epitaph be taken from her diary:

“The day of our liberation should just not be a day of bitter sleep.”

But I added:

“The day of liberation, my dear sister, was for you a day of bitter sleep.”

I remained in Volary for 6 weeks. The chaplaincy of the U.S. 5^th Army Division arranged for us to be sent to Salzburg.


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Salzburg already had a D.P. camp, and there we found a list which said my brother was [alive and] in Bergen-Belsen. He came [over] to me and together we went to live in kibbutz Gersfeld, where we remained for half a year.

We arrived in Israel in 1946. I got married in Ashkelon. My husband is originally from Galicia, he served in the Israeli Army. We have a son and a daughter. My brother also married and lives in Haifa.

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