Diary of Klara Samuels

In the spring of 1943, Nazi authorities began to use the Bergen-Belsen camp to hold specific groups of Jewish prisoners who were not being deported to killing centers.¹ As the course of World War II turned increasingly against Germany, Nazi officials hoped they might exchange some of these prisoners for German nationals being held abroad.²

Klara Samuels (née Salamon) was fifteen years old when she was deported to Bergen-Belsen from the Warsaw ghetto. Klara and her parents had survived in hiding since 1942, but they were captured by German forces after the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.³ Because the Salamon family had managed to obtain visas for travel to Palestine, they were among the 2,300–2,500 Polish-Jewish prisoners sent to the “special camp” (“Sonderlager”) at Bergen-Belsen as so-called “exchange prisoners.”

The Salamons and other prisoners of the “special camp” initially lived in relatively better conditions than the other Jewish prisoners. They still received very little food, but these prisoners did not have to work and were able to hold on to some of the belongings they brought with them.⁴ Several prisoners used their own materials to create drawings and other artworks.⁵ Others—like Klara—were able to record secret diaries.

Klara wrote her diary on scraps of toilet paper during her time in Bergen-Belsen. She eventually sewed the pages into a small booklet, a segment of which is featured here. Although she wrote most entries in Polish, several passages are in Russian, English, and French. The diary does not describe much about the terrible circumstances and the uncertainties facing her family. It relates aspects of her friendships with other young prisoners and records her time spent studying various languages. Above all, the diary conveys her desire and heartache over a young man in the camp who did not return her feelings: “How long can you suffer for…Can you suffer forever? I would like to get seriously ill. To not think. Or for something to happen that will take my thoughts away from you […]” Decades after the war, Samuels wrote that her Bergen-Belsen diary contained what she termed “cosmic crap,” and “[her] romantic and sensual longings, imaginings and suffering."⁶

Klara's mother Rosza died about six months after the family’s arrival in the camp, but Klara and her father Moses Salamon were liberated from Bergen-Belsen in April of 1945. Only 283 "exchange prisoners" in Bergen-Belsen were ever released in exchange for German nationals. By the middle of 1944, the Nazi SS had deported most of the Polish Jewish prisoners originally sent to the “special camp” of Bergen-Belsen to Auschwitz, where they were murdered.⁷

The camp at Bergen-Belsen opened in 1940 and was originally used to incarcerate Allied prisoners of war. For more on the origins of the Bergen-Belsen camp, see The USHMM Encyclopedia of Camps and Ghettos, 1933–1945, Vol I: Early Camps, Youth Camps, and Concentration Camps and Subcamps under the SS-Business Administration Main Office, edited by Geoffrey P. Megargee (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009), 278–281. See also the items in Experiencing History, Leather Bouquet of Flowers Made in Bergen-Belsen and Photograph of Romani Women at Bergen-Belsen.

To learn more about the Nazi regime's attempts to use Jewish prisoners in Bergen-Belsen as leverage in negotations with the Allies, see Rainer Schulze, "Keeping Very Clear of Any 'Kuh-Handel': The British Foreign Office and the Rescue of Jews from Bergen-Belsen," Holocaust and Genocide Studies 19, no. 2 (September 1, 2005): 226–51.

Samuels and her family were among the 2,300–2,500 Jews lured out of hiding in Warsaw by German authorities in a scheme that became known as "the Polski Affair." In May 1943, German officials in Warsaw gave assurances that those Jews who obtained foreign passports or exit visas would be permitted to emigrate from Nazi-occupied Europe. After reporting to the Hotel Polski, this group was soon deported to Bergen-Belsen and the internment camp of Vittel in France. By mid-1944, the SS had sent all but roughly 350 of these Jewish prisoners to Auschwitz, where they were murdered.

See the related oral history interview with Klara Samuels.

For more on art and artworks created in camps, see the related items in Experiencing History, Wooden Pen Made in a French Internment Camp and Erszébet Frank, "The Welders."

In summing up the contents of the diary, she added, "I wish I could quote some pearls of wisdom from my journal, or at least some descriptive details about life in the camp. But the truth is I was so preoccupied with my complicated feelings that my diary could have been written anywhere." See Klara Samuels, God Does Play Dice: The Autobiography of a Holocaust Survivor (Philadelphia: BainBridge Books, 1999), 170–171.

See The USHMM Encyclopedia of Camps and Ghettos, 1933–1945, Vol I: Early Camps, Youth Camps, and Concentration Camps and Subcamps under the SS-Business Administration Main Office, edited by Geoffrey P. Megargee (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009), 278.

Polish: "Dieta." The author's meaning is unclear.

The author occasionally used English phrases in quotation marks; they are included in this translation in italics.

Probably a reference to Rhett Butler, a fictional character played by American actor Clark Gable in the 1939 film, Gone with the Wind.

A quote from the 1939 film, Gone with the Wind.

It is unclear if these lyrics were written by Klara or are quoted from another song.

Written in French, "L'éclat de tes yeux."

It is unclear if these lyrics were written by Klara or are quoted from another song.

An approximation of the French for "Good night, my dear."

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To write

I’ll try to write small letters

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Now this is madness... I press your head towards mine... Our bodies clench together... You bite into my lips with all your strength… We are a fight and a unity… I wish it would last forever… From lips to lips, from lips that are one, flows with a kiss and I love… I love madly… Then the lips break apart… We look into each other’s eyes. You have such strange eyelashes. And in your eyes... I can’t describe their expressions. This wild desire. There’s nothing in the world but us and inside us nothing but lust… Then our lips… Then…

Why do you torment me and haunt me even in my dreams [?] I woke up in a hot sweat. I experienced this dream again and again, in different variations. I would give my life for it to be true. Why do you say that I convince myself that I love you [?] After all, I like you, I love you, I desire you with all the strength of my undischarged senses, I dream about you every day. I dream even more boldly at night. And for you I’m ready to sacrifice everything. So if this isn’t love, then what is love? Tell… Look at me. You look… But you don’t see. Look at me and understand that I too… “have a temper.” But this dream… was a warning that I couldn’t allow myself, that I had to get my act together. Otherwise… I’ll go crazy… Oh! For God’s sake… Give me a break! Don’t torment me because I can’t do it anymore! Goodbye!

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I’ll accept French lessons. There may be a move in a few days… You will come back to me one day… I’m sure of it… I don’t know how long it will last… I wish I could push you away because I was disappointed in you… And if I get stuck in the gears of the machine then… My head hurts… My head hurts so badly… I wouldn’t like to read or study… but… I have to. [Fragment in French]

He was an hour late. I didn’t reproach him, I dismissed him. After an hour, diet!¹ He left. He was gone for an hour again. Then he came! Maybe we’ll do a lesson at half past seven or seven. Oh! I have Spanish class at this time. Reserve! As much reserve and coldness as possible: this is my motto!!!

October 31 You may be late for three days. I will not tell you anything. Because it shouldn’t be done with a temper. This shouldn’t have anything to do with yesterday. And then, both a warning and an interruption in reading.

It seems to me that nothing will happen for a long time now. Until she comes to me. I don’t know if you sensed my reserve yesterday. But it’s nothing! You'll know it in a few days. With a creak, I moved onto this new track. But now I have entered a new path and I am going, or rather I am wading further.

No dear!² We’re just going to read because I feel like doing it. I won’t tell you anything. You will never again see the sad look in my eyes, you will never hear a sentimental note in my voice, and I will not give you a glimpse of… my soul through any crack. Yes dear, I got an impermeable and unbreakable shell. Anyway, I’m not under any illusion that you care. I don’t even know if you feel not well in my company. I know that Nina feels stupid every time she passes by my bunk bed on her way to the bathroom. But it’s difficult. There’s no way around it. I have to imprint Rhett’s³ maxim on my brain. I will look for it in a moment. I was never one to pick up broken fragments and glue them together, and tell myself the mended whole was as good as a new, what is broken is broken – and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.⁴

How wise these words are and how much personal experience and life maturity is required to say them. Not to mention how much willpower it takes to put

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these words in practice. Because the temptation is so great and one always hopes to try and succeed, that maybe it will be good again. And then it always, always turns out to be wrong. That something was left unsaid, that the grudge remained. And the grudges recover so easily and they need the most greedy and the cheapest feeding. I feel like I’ll come back to this issue soon. It is valid for the foreseeable future.

I was looking through these notes today. I am terrified of my limitations. After all, I only think about it and look at everything through the prism of my feelings. Besides, the word “feeling” is too small here and too one-sided. This is, after all, a spiritual state. I have to promise myself one thing in advance. I will make a friendship pact with whomever of them but only on exclusive terms. Since the three of us cannot exist as a monomial, we had to break down into prime factors: into two and a single. For a long time until... infinity into the future, this is the only possible combination (apart from three individual people, of course). I will never try a triad again. Unless our bachelor stops having food supplements and becomes a hungry man. I bid you farewell for today. Yes! Dear.

All because of: bathing and tiredness. Sweat [sic] dreams my darling. Yours forever.

November 1 I was washing! Now I’m tired and when I passed by you, you smiled and you asked: ready [?] It’s terrible how I experienced your every smile. Now you don’t come. That’s nothing. I realize that it would be not easier but simpler if I had nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t have any problems and maybe I could calm my heart down. How beautiful you look today. Like someone who loves very much. Maybe you love her, or maybe you have memories of the other one. And it’s strange that now I am not wondering whether you love her. And it doesn’t bother me at all. Of course, every time I walk by her bunk bed and you’re standing there, my heart beats faster. Jealousy. But whether you love her or like her… [Sentence in French] In this case [Sentence in French] I am so full of thoughts that I have not yet expressed, that I have not yet admitted to myself. And I’m so tired… And my head hurts again. This is happening more and more often now. I’ll try to get some sleep. You won’t come so soon anyway. Unless something pops into your head. You’re used to being late and me reacting meekly. But that’s nothing... yet today and tomorrow. But if you’re late the day after tomorrow, woe to you! You will be surprised by my violent reaction, which will be explosive. It will be just a few sharp, decisive words. You will not disrespect me or play with my feelings as you wish. Oh no!

Evening. Why did I find this melody... I shouldn’t think like that, because I have no basis. And yet… it is stronger than me.

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You will come back to me someday⁵
Maybe in a few years
And great happiness with you
Will come back to me again
You will come back to me someday
Although you left without words
And great happiness with you
Will come back to me again

You will tell me
That you missed me
And you will kiss me
Whispering to me: I love you
And when you come back to me
May will smile again
Insincere caresses will come back
Turning the earth into a paradise

Nevertheless, I know I should answer like Rhett… Thank you, no, I'll not risk my heart a hard time. I have to get this into my head because I realize that nothing good will come of it. Nevertheless, I’m not that determined… It’s hard in general… I wonder what they argued about… In fact, I shouldn’t even be curious… Because what difference does it make? It’s the same thing. I am the last resort for these two.

[Fragment in Russian and German]

So many melodies of these songs… Each one is a bit up-to-date, each one means something. It’s a bit of… but not that… My love becomes a melody. It is a song that one gets stuck with, from which you can’t let go although you don’t know the lyrics. And I’m looking for these lyrics. With enthusiasm. Who knows them. But everyone knows only a few lines… And they don’t fit all together, they don’t make a whole. It’s just that I’m tired. I am increasingly discouraged… “I would like to rest in your arms.”

Where have I heard this? But this is true. When I wander around into the endless night or lie here in a “cozy” barrack, I am so alone like never before, there is one thought in my brain and one desire in my heart. Stop by! Hold me in your arms. I would follow you anywhere without fear… To the end of the world… And into the dark night… The night calls me like this every evening. I know… I know… Two red lanterns burn there with even, daily light. Two points that limited my life. But red is for you. Love, red, and blood for you!!! And for me, onyx at best… And at worst, black mourning without onyx. I don’t need anything anymore when everything is lost. So why do I need symbols… I would prefer symbolically… end… Break up – One moment of sharp pain. Then complete stupor. And then small pins that one stands, and then from time to time an explosion…

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How long can you suffer for… Can you suffer forever? I would like to get seriously ill. To not think. Or for something to happen that will take my thoughts away from you… After all… I know that with time everything fades and loses its importance. So… But it has to take a long time… How terrible is the prospect of empty days (because even this waiting will end), days that cannot be filled with anything. And a brain filled with one thought, and a heart… but let’s not talk about the heart. And then there are the evenings… mindless memorizing of words and a dull, dull pain. You are there… You are not with me. There is no… And there will be no… Whoever of you two approaches me, I should reject them. Because I know that sooner or later you will do it […] again behind my back. So why? To torment myself and suffer in vain again…

November 3 And there’s a change again… And the three of us are together again. I hope everything goes well now. And yesterday… It’s so good that this idea occurred to me. If it weren’t for that, it couldn’t be good. You wanted to […], right!? But I’ve already pushed you against the wall, nevertheless I’m proud to say that you passed the exam! And it was a difficult test. You passed and whatever you think, feel, and consider, you know that you have to be consistent with what you said, and knowing you, I know that you will be consistent. I need to stop thinking about it like that. This time it’s my last internal call… Either get out… or […] How good that you are wise!…

Yesterday the game was at a high level again. But I was drunk with madness. I asked this question in a champagne mood. You turned pale and then turned purple. And you damn well wanted to fib again. But no... You have not only deception in your blood, but also fraud. Yes dear!…

November 7 I have to be consistent. Consistent for yes and for no. I haven’t written for four days. And it’s only because I lock myself so tightly from the inside... So it’s no use today, dear. Although we’ll both be bored! I have to be consistent… for yes and for no. I can’t write… It’s too loud around me… birthday, celebration… And it’s too loud in my heart… There are 100 hammers pounding in it… I would like to rest in your arms… And yet to push you away firmly.

November 8 And I’m writing again… Maybe you will come to me today… What is a feeling that is love and the most far-reaching fondness. I remember with disbelief the initial indifference, then antipathy, and then disgust, the simple physical disgust felt here towards every man. Is it me? Impossible. Towards you? You’re not hideous after all. On the contrary, you are so pleasant. And sometimes you have such nice, pretty, and kind twinkles in your eyes. When I see them, I feel the sun in my soul, the warm, radiant, spring sun… Even though it is gray and raining all around, even though there is a storm raging around, even though there is war and a struggle for everything, for life, happiness, prosperity, for every little thing. It’s so strange that I don’t care about anything in life, neither hunger, nor war, nor camp.

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Only the gleam in your eyes, only that your shoes are soaked. I love you! I could say that word as easily as it now flowed from pen to paper.

When I say something witty or clever, you have that mischievous, rascally gleam in your eyes, like a little boy. For these sparkles I could give you...

God! I no longer understand… Have you changed so much for the better, or have I reached the point where I have become uncritical. Girl, come to your senses! But why? I’m fine at the moment! The weather is blooming in my soul. How close I am to happiness… a pair of socks to mend... Just to do something. To know that I am helpful to him. And now…

I am so endlessly happy… The glint in your eye!...⁶ It doesn’t matter that you’re standing by that bunk bed… Because tomorrow I’ll bring you a pill, I’ll write you a letter to J... And you can always count on me for all kinds of help, in any situation, for boundless devotion, and that... I will come to every call.

Love forgives anything⁷
Your tears will turn into laughter
Love explains so beautifully
Harm, departure, and sin

Even if you cursed it forever
That it is cruel and evil
Love forgives anything
Because love, my dear, is me
And even if you don’t love me, I will love you stubbornly. So you will be happy…

No, it’s not true, I wouldn’t give everything. I wouldn’t give you happiness at the price of my disappearance into darkness and desperate loneliness… But as long as I can see you, everything, for you… everything. And now, bonnuit cherie,⁸ I hear a voice from far away: Bonnuit mademoiselle. These hyper-impressions are everywhere!…

Source (Credit)	US Holocaust Memorial Museum
Accession Number	2007.23
Date Created	1943 to 1945
Page(s)	3–9
Author / Creator	Klara Samuels
Language(s)	French German Polish Russian
Location	Bergen-Belsen, Germany Warsaw, Poland
Document Type	Diary

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