Journey into a New Life

In the summer, it was marvelous for me to sleep in the open air. In the evening, I often sat a long time next to the red campfire. I heard the horses chewing the fresh grass; now and again, one would neigh or kick. I observed the wagon wheels, the spokes, the long wagon tongue, the fresh grass, juicy and dark green. When a village lay in the distance, I counted the lights. One after the other would go out, and I imagined the people going to sleep there. The stars shone, and when a shooting star fell from the sky, I made a wish. When the moon shone onto the big, dark forest, you could even see the tree roots and your own shadow as an eternal companion. I fell asleep with the fragrance of fresh hay.

After Bergen-Belsen nothing was more beautiful for us. We could be free again, without fear. For us, that was a gift from God. Without him we wouldn”t have been able to experience all of this ever again.

After we had to vacate the apartment where we spent our first winter after our return from the concentration camp, we spent the following winter in a small cattle-weighing station in Preßbaum near Vienna. Because I was just fourteen years old, I was still in my mother”s care. At that time she had a partner, and we three lived in a very small room that was quite cramped for us. I looked forward to spring, because I knew that our traveling would finally get underway. Before that happened, however, I got another little sister. I was the first one who was allowed to take her into my arms. She was called Moni, and I was happy to have such a sweet sister.

In April 1947, we left our winter residence. We didn”t have a specific goal. We merely drove off and made the best of it. From then on, the country roads, the meadows and forests were our home.

The men always knew where the next cattle market was where they could sell or trade their horses. In the years after the war there weren”t any tractors yet, and the people in the country were happy when they could trade or buy a good, strong workhorse.