The Danube, a beautiful name, my imagination conjures up romantic scenes with beguiling women in silk evening gowns, in love with handsome paramours sipping champagne, the waters reflecting the moonlight shimmering and gracefully swaying in the night. An exotic river.
My brother and I stood on the banks of this great river, reflecting what it had seen seventy two years ago, surely the river decried the great violation forced on its waters, waters that were meant to reflect beauty, carry cargo for sustenance, or embrace moments shared by lovers on its banks.
By the time the deportees left the small port of Lom, it was March 21, 1943. They had been en route for about 18 treacherous days as they began the long trip to Vienna on the Danube river.
We had been unable to find any information about the journey from Lom to Vienna except that they sailed on four barges. Other than the names of the barges, we know nothing more.
We tried for many weeks to find a way to sail part of the way on some type of sea vessel but were unsuccessful. Other than cruise ships, no other passenger boats operate on the Danube. We settled for second class train travel, a departure from our mission to travel in the same mode of transportation as our family did, but we didn’t detour from the spirit of the journey. We were not tourists and we did not choose to spend any time doing what we might have done as tourists. We talked about our family, tried to pin point historical information, researched further and remained “in character”.
Once in Vienna, where our family was herded back onto trains, we too took a train to Poland, again second class although it resembled the lowest class possible. Once in Poland however, we were unable to travel by train to the location of the Treblinka death camp as no trains operate that route these days. We rented a car in Warsaw and drove to Treblinka.
a soul's calling 1943 
We arrived in Auschwitz’s run down, dilapidated train station at 5:15 am. Exausted after 2 sleepless nights, an unintentional preparation for our very real introduction to the doom and despair of the concentration camp, part of our pilgrimage .
Laden down with heavy backpacks we headed to the camp by foot. Due to the early hour, we found it deserted.
I walked around the perimeter of the camp contemplating the thought of such a nightmare. I saw the guard towers, the two solid iron barricades topped with spiked points and layers of barbed wire fencing surrounding the compound. I could see the rooftops of the sterile brick walled buildings inside. On the outside, people were going about their business as usual, paying no attention. Where was their conscience? How could they allow this to happen? How could they live with themselves?
By 8:00 am, the tourist buses began to arrive, interfering with the quiet and somberness of the area. We were among the first to enter into the camp. With the help of a printed guide, we explored the compound on our own. It had been restored. Empty buildings with photographs of the horrors of Auschwitz and the attempt of the third reich to fulfill their plan of annihilation. Photographs of men, women and children who lay victim to this fascist regime. The gas chamber and crematorium- all too real.
Within the compound’s main gate, an inscription in German- ” Work brings freedom” . This was the gate into which the the exhausted, starved and wasting Jewish laborers had to pass each night after their backbreaking, torturous hours of slave labor. In their minds hoping upon hope that this nightmare would soon end. For the majority, it did end, but it ended with their death through torture or gas.
Auschwitz, the site of 1.5 million victims of the holocaust. Their crime: They were Jewish!!!
Makinia to Treblinka
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