Late last year, a 14-minute documentary commissioned by The Jewish Foundation for the Righteous, was produced about Jewish prisoners of war in a German prison camp whose lives were spared through the heroism of a non-Jewish fellow POW. This was a story that waited more than seventy years to be told.
Roll over the picture or clink below for a link to the documentary:
I was one of those prisoners. In the documentary, I am joined by three other survivors..
Below is the way my autobiography begins setting the scene. Immediately after that you will find the link to the documentary.
December 28, 1944. Bad Orb, Germany:
It was late afternoon when they finally let us out of the boxcar that had been our prison for seven days with no food or water. The air was freezing cold, the sky was gray and the snow stood in waist-high drifts. There were German soldiers everywhere; posted in watchtowers, barbed wire all around. As I waited in a long line, two things became clear— I was a long way from Brooklyn and there was no getting out of here. Alongside the tracks the Germans had set up some desks where clerks signed us in. I was hungry and exhausted. We all were. The line moved slowly as the clerks took our information and processed it carefully. Goddamn German efficiency. Finally, I got to the front of the line and was facing another convergence. Instead of a German, I was looking at an American who had preceded us into this camp and had been designated by the Germans to assist in the checking in process. “Division?” The Germans already knew that they were going to be attacking the 28th Division when they kicked off the onslaught that became known as the Battle of the Bulge. Anyway, the red keystone patch on the shoulder of my combat jacket gave it away. “Company E, 110th Regiment, 28th Division.” “Father’s Name?” “I’m only supposed to give name, rank, and serial number.” “Listen, kid, if you don’t answer these questions they’re going to make you stand in the snow until you do.” After what we’d just been through, I just wanted to get into a warm place, anywhere, and lie down. And get some food. So the idea of standing in the snow for a few hours definitely did not appeal. I figured they’re not going to win the war if I tell them my father’s name. “Julius Fox.” “Occupation?” “Textile converter.” “Religion?”