Quote 4
We had already been in Auschwitz for eight days. It was after roll call. We stood waiting for the bell announcing its end. Suddenly I noticed someone passing between the rows. I heard him ask:
"Who among you is Wiesel from Sighet?"
The person looking for us was a small fellow with spectacles in a wizened face. My father answered:
"That’s me. Wiesel from Sighet."
The fellow’s eyes narrowed. He took a long look at my father.
"You don’t know me? … You don’t recognize me. I’m your relative, Stein. Already forgotten? Stein. Stein from Antwerp. Reizel’s husband. Your wife was Reizel’s aunt … She often wrote to us… and such letters!"
My father had not recognized him. He must have barely known him, always being up to his neck in communal affairs and not knowledgeable in family matters. He was always elsewhere, lost in thought. (Once, a cousin came to see us in Sighet. She had stayed at our house and eaten at our table for two weeks before my father noticed her presence for the first time.) No, he did not remember Stein. I recognized him right away. I had known Reizel, his wife, before she had left for Belgium. (3.147-3.153)
Family members seek out other family members in Auschwitz – even if they didn’t know them very well. The familial connection is important for staying emotionally alive.
Unfortunately, Franek knew how to handle this; he knew my weak spot. My father had never served in the military and could not march in step. But here, whenever we moved from one place to another, it was in step. That presented Franek with the opportunity to torment him and, on a daily basis, to thrash him savagely. Left, right: he punched him. Left, right: he slapped him.
I decided to give my father lessons in marching in step, in keeping time. We began practicing in front of our block. I would command: "Left, right!" and my father would try.
The inmates made fun of us: "Look at the little officer, teaching the old man to march … Hey, little general, how many rations of bread does the old man give you for this?"
But my father did not make sufficient progress, and the blows continued to rain on him.
"So! You still don’t know how to march in step, you old good-for-nothing?"
This went on for two weeks. It was untenable. We had to give in. That day, Franek burst into savage laughter […]. (4.94-99)
In the world of the concentration camp, attachment to family can be a liability. Because Eliezer continues to care for his father, Eliezer is in a weak bargaining position against bullies like Franek. In this particular situation, Eliezer has to sacrifice his gold tooth to protect his father.
Quote 6
He [Rabbi Eliahu] had lost his son in the commotion. He had searched for him among the dying, to no avail. Then he had dug through the snow to find his body. In vain.
For three years, they had stayed close to one another. Side by side, they had endured the suffering, the blows; they had waited for their ration of bread and they had prayed. Three years, from camp to camp, from selection to selection. And now—when the end seemed near—fate had separated them.
When he came near me, Rabbi Eliahu whispered, "It happened on the road. We lost sight of one another during the journey. I fell behind a little, at the rear of the column. I didn’t have the strength to run anymore. And my son didn’t notice. That’s all I know. Where has he disappeared? Where can I find him? Perhaps you’ve seen him somewhere?" (6.57-59)
When Rabbi Eliahu loses his son after the long and tiring march (or rather run), rather than taking the break for much needed rest, the Rabbi spends his energy desperately looking for his son. For the Rabbi, his son is more important than his own physical wellbeing.