hey jew girl jew girl i have lived a thousand years

A Volksdeutsche from Hungary! An ethnic German from Hungary a volunteer in the SS army. “Hey, Grandma, can you still work?” To my astonishment, he speaks Hungarian. Suddenly, his stick reaches into the middle of our row. His scrutinizing stare pierces my awareness. We march on, stoically dragging our feet in a desperate effort at speed, not even glancing in his direction. God, let him pass us! Let him drive on! God, save us! But I can feel his gaze. My heart pounds so loud I am certain he can hear it. The tall, heavyset SS officer in gray uniform approaches our row. And you will feel better,” I hiss between my teeth. When the selection officer appears on his motorcycle alongside our rows on the road to camp, and asks straggling women whether they could work, Mommy whispers to me, “I cannot work. Like a puppet on a string, she starts to move her legs involuntarily and keep pace.

“Stop that! Do not say that! You can walk. In my alarm, I grab her arm and shake her violently. She just insists that she is unable to march, and pleads with me to leave her behind. She is indifferent to the implication of this. She wants to stay in the wagon with those unable to walk. As we stagger into marching formation on the Auschwitz platform, she seems unable to grasp the mechanics of survival. The train ride from Krakow has drained her of energy. Mommy has barely enough stamina to straggle along. The motorcycle stirs up dust as it roars past us.

Hey jew girl jew girl i have lived a thousand years