I Survived 6 Million Nazi Death Camps

Julian Carmen-Berger
Daily Stormer
November 6, 2014

I’m just now getting around to telling the story of how I escaped 6 million Nazi Death Camps, 70 years after the fall of the Nazi party. It all started when I was a little boy. I had so much fun growing up with my fellow Jews. Going to Bar Mitzvahs, crying in front of walls, listening to Rabbis preach from the Talmud. It was just a great time. But also horrible. It was 1943, and I was living in Poland. Hitler had invaded four years previously, and we knew since 1933 that he wanted to get rid of us Jews, but we stuck around anyways, because, Poland. Sure, we could have gotten a free ride to Israel, courtesy of the evil dictator Hitler, but my family was like, “What? I’d rather be lamp-shaded.” So we defied logic and common sense and stuck around anyways.

Which was sort of odd when my family started to become interested in posters talking about working for the Nazis. I was like, “Gee, this guy wants to kill us but you all want to work for him?” But I was a little boy who hadn’t been circumcised yet so I didn’t get a voice. Anywho, the Nazis started to pass out these fliers telling us to board some train to find work out East. Now we all knew that “deportation to the East” was a code for lampshading, but a Jew just can’t resist manual labor. So we packed up our gold teeth and waited with thousands of other Jews at the train station. I was able to take just one journal. Who knew that lone journal would eventually get me a spot on the Oprah Winfrey Show and a free car?

The train arrived, and we all piled in like cattle. Willingly, of course, since we loved manual labor, but still, it was rough. Thousands died of starvation. Thousands more died of disease on the journey that lasted days and days. A couple of times when we stopped I was like, “Shouldn’t we just get off and run into the woods?” But no one agreed with me. We just couldn’t resist the lure of honest, hard work…for the Nazis.

The train finally arrived at the concentration camp. I remember seeing the sign, “Work is Freedom.” Those crafty Nazis were playing on our Jewish stereotypes. After we arrived, I was split up from my family. Still, no reason to suspect anything sinister. We then went into a building, all 40,000 of us, to get haircuts. When I asked a guard why we needed a haircut, the guard said in an exaggerated German accent, “To make mattresses for German women.” After the haircut, we were told to undress. Still, no reason to suspect foul play. Then we had to walk down a long tunnel into a chamber. Suddenly the guard pulled me aside and said, “Wait, you’re too young, we need you for hard manual labor,” and he pulled me out of line. It was a good thing, since everyone else in line was gassed, and then turned into bars of soap. (A friend of mine witnessed what happened in the gas chamber, it was horrible: thousands of Jews pounding on a door with a glass panel that locked from the inside, while a German casually stood outside. The Germans were immune to the Zyklon-B which was seeping out of the wooden door frame. Then afterwards they had to open the door inward against the pile of dead Jews. They moved all the bodies while the thousands of other Jews waited patiently for their turn to go into the chamber. It was terrible, such a long wait.)

So there I was, just a young boy, doing the manual labor for the Nazi war effort that the adults were not allowed to do. Our days were spent packing ammunition, sunbathing near the swimming pool, going to theater and mailing letters at the post office. It was terrible. Eventually the word got out about the gassing operation, but still my fellow prisoners didn’t seem to mind. I was like, “you weren’t nervous when they shoved us 40,000 into a train? You weren’t nervous when they told us to get naked and walk outside, naked, down some tunnel? You weren’t nervous when they told us to take a “shower,” and even used the finger quoting around the word ‘shower’? And you’re still not nervous now that we know the “shower” is really a killing chamber?” But I was young, no one listened to me. Eventually a brave man decided to make a plan to escape. His idea was to take a ladder we found lying around, and pretend like it was a shelf. We all carried the ladder outside the camp, and whenever a guard asked us what we were doing, we pretended like we were putting stuff in the ladder, like a shelf. “Himmler told us to do it.” That was our line. It usually worked well. But, we were caught. The punishment for the brave man was to climb a tree, and then the Nazis cut the tree down while he was still up in it. He died immediately. Later that night, under the light of a new lamp, I decided to write in my journal. I got the idea from my inmate Anne Frank, she was sweet and let me borrow her ballpoint pen. She had a bunch of them, plus different kinds of colored pencils. Kind of odd but that was life back then.

The next day we tried the ladder/shelf trick again and it worked. Many of us escaped. I tried to get Anne to come with us, but she was like, “No, I have stuff to do here, some writing to finish up.” We had freedom, it was incredible. We were going to warn the other Jews about the dangers we faced, but something came up and we never really got around to it. It was a rough time because it was the forties and everything, before the iPhone, I mean we did have access to a post office inside the camp, but who would listen to us? Either way, our freedom was brief.

A couple of weeks later, we received another poster advertising ‘work’ out East. I was living with some other family at the time, and so they wouldn’t listen to me when I was like, “Hey fools, it’s a death camp.” They were like, “But, it’s manual labor…” So we boarded the train, again. Many died, again. We got the haircut, again. I was split up with my adopted family and told to keep an eye on the chimneys in case I see them. I thought that was sort of an odd thing to say, but the Nazi guard was drunk and drinking blood while dancing on the bodies of dead Jews, so things were just weird all around. Anyways, because I was young, I had the difficult job of carrying the dead bodies to the pits. Digging the mass graves, and filling in the dirt over the bodies, which was odd because I thought the dead were going up the chimneys. Make up your mind, Nazi guards! The adults were all sick and dying, but because I was a child I had a stronger constitution and could handle more work. I thought it was strange the prisoners actually had enough time to get sick and starve considering they were being gassed immediately as they came off the trains, but I didn’t have much time to ponder that during all the digging. Each night, I was taken into Dr. Mengele’s chambers and forced to undergo experiments, mostly involving shrunken heads. In the mornings, I was allowed to shower with coarse soap. Man was there a lot of those bars of soap laying around. The guards kept handing them out like we needed more or something.

Then one day, Himmler told me, “Hey, the Allies are coming, you need to dig up all these mass graves and bury them somewhere else.” I was devastated. It took me so long to dig all these graves to begin with, now I had to unbury them. So with a broken shovel, during winter when the ground was frozen, the other children and I began to dig up all the graves. A lot of the bodies were ash so we just had to use our hands to carry the ash to a different spot, 20 miles away. A couple of times I said to the other children, “Hey, we’re 20 miles away, let’s just run,” but they were like “No, let’s not.” I spent all day and night digging those holes. What was really sad was knowing that no one would ever find the mass graves, because I was told to cover my tracks, and make it look like nothing was buried there. So I had to calculate the added distance I needed to dig, given the mass of the bodies being buried, and then with the extra dirt, I had to sprinkle it around the woods so that no one would be able to see any mounds of dirt. It was tough, especially when the Allies bombed the supply lines, and the food, water, and basic sanitation ran out. Everyone was starving and dying, so I had more bodies to bury, but I was young, so disease and starvation didn’t affect me as much as a full grown adult. Plus I had all that soap. I was becoming more weak, and ill, but I still had to dig and carry and bury all those bodies. I lost track, but I think I must have buried something like 6 million bodies, exactly.

Eventually The Allies came to rescue us after destroying our supply lines, which they blamed on the Nazis, and I was rescued and sent to America. I was busy so I decided not to share my story with anyone. It felt like the right thing to do. I kept the journal I wrote in during the off hours when I wasn’t digging and burying 6 million bodies day and night. I didn’t feel it necessary to show anyone my prison tattoos because I didn’t want the added exposure. But now, almost 70 years later, I feel like I’m finally safe enough to share my story, plus I could really use that free car. I believe it was all part of G-d’s plan, to convince us to get on those trains even though we knew how much the Nazis hated us, and not revolt after the haircut, and the undressing, and finding out our fellow Jews were being gassed, and after being told to bury our fellow Jews, and then unbury them, and then bury them miles away, and then when the whole camp was starving, even the guards, we still decided not to escape, even though we did escape that one time with the ladder/shelf tactic. But it was all part of G-d’s plan, to teach us about something. And as I turn out my lamp, and finish this story, I will leave you with a valid warning: Jews love manual labor. It’s just in our blood.