As a holocaust survivor, Polish immigrant, mother and medical doctor, Sabina S. Zimering, M.D., has many stories to share. But some of her memories have been hard to share, particularly those relating to the holocaust and her time as a child. Zimering’s family always encouraged her to write a book about her experiences but she always found an excuse to avoid the assignment. She ran out of excuses upon retirement. “It was hard for me to write,” Zimering said. “What held me back was the fear of reliving it.” When retired, Zimering enrolled in a creative writing course. The first day of class, one of her classmates read a piece she had written and cried. Zimering realized it was okay to be emotional over writings. Zimering gained the courage to write her memoirs in a book entitled Hiding in the Open. A difficult story to tell Zimering, her younger sister and brother, Helka and Natek grew up in Poland. The siblings’ childhood is filled with the experience of World War I. “On Sept. 1, 1939, I was coming home from the farmers’ market with my mother when the loud sirens came on,” Zimering said. “My mother and I were crossing the street when a large noise came from above. It was an explosion, there were bombs coming down.” At 16, Zimering was excited that the bombs were dropping. She had practiced the siren drill many times and began to think the task was boring. She was enthusiastic to see the action. However, she was frightened when German soldiers filled her hometown a few days later. The soldiers brought strict rules with them. Under the Nazi rule, Zimering and her family had to wear white armbands with a blue Star of David. They had to abide by the 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. curfew. Her family was forced to move to the ghetto. “I didn’t want to move,” Zimering recalled. “I didn’t want to leave my friends and I couldn’t go to school as a Jew.” Things became worse for the family. Food was rationed, and they often went hungry. Zimering’s father was taken away by the police, and later returned, with no explanation. Rumors circulated that the Germans found more efficient ways to kill the Jews. “I was 19,” Zimering said. “I didn’t want to die. I nagged my mother to do something.” The family formed a plan that could only work with the use of their Catholic friends’ identifications. The friends agreed to help and gave one ID to Zimering, another to her mother and a third to her sister. The three were told that they needed to find photos to use with their new identities. “I remember my parents’ look of total disbelief [when we were given the IDs].” “October 18, 1942, I was up reading when I heard a loud noise on the door. The neighbors came in and said they (the Nazis) were here. People came rushing out. They were shouting, crying and praying. We were told that the Germans were at the train station.” Zimering’s family decided to split up. Her father stayed with his legal job at the lumberyard. Her mother and little brother traveled together. She and her sister fended for themselves. It was a dangerous venture as anyone caught helping a Jew would be shot. “My mother was caught and recognized even with her false ID,” Zimering said. “It was very hard for my sister and I.” An attic of comfort The sisters eventually found out that they could stay in the attic of their schoolteacher’s home. The girls had to be very quiet so their teacher’s husband would not hear them. He didn’t want anything to do with helping out Jewish people and risking his own life. “The ceiling was so low we couldn’t even stand up, but it felt wonderful,” Zimering said. The sisters stayed in the home until a houseguest detected their presence. This guest threatened the teacher and she asked her hiding students to leave. The sisters quickly got a message to their father and asked what they should do next. “My father was at a forced labor camp … he sent us a message and said ‘use your false ID’s and go and work in Germany.’” Zimering said. She noted that her father knew the situation well. He knew that the Germans were losing their war and needed all of the help that they could get. Undercover in the enemy’s territory Zimering and her sister entered Germany as Catholic Poles vowing to help out the German soldiers. Here, the pair lived in barracks and worked in a factory. The cover hid the girls for three-four months. “Some of the women began to suspect that we were Jews. We needed to leave,” Zimering said. “I looked at a map and realized if we could reach Switzerland we would be out of Hitler’s rage.” Late at night, the sisters went to the local train station. They were about to board the train as armed policemen came in and shouted, “ID!” The police located three French POWs and the two young sisters. No foreigners were permitted to leave the country. “We spent a frightening day in jail,” Zimering said. “The police wanted to know why we were running away.” Thankfully, Zimering had taken four years of German. She politely explained to the officer that they were not running, they were going home to see their mother. She made up a story about how her mother stopped writing and they were going home to check on her. The guards didn’t believe her. “Mr. Ohlman from the factory came in and said that we were good workers. He said we didn’t know the laws of Germany. He asked them to ‘please let us go.’” The sisters were released. They walked to the next town and bought new tickets. This time, they didn’t have enough to get to Switzerland so they ended in Ramburg, near Munich. The pair found jobs as meter maids in a large hotel. The guests at the hotel were high-ranking German officials. “We didn’t have much money. We didn’t have guts to try to escape, so we stayed here for two years.” April 27, 1945, the American army conquered Ramburg. The sisters were free. “The soldiers threw candy and cigarettes, and shouted ‘Hitler Kaput.’ I wanted to shout back at them ‘You young boys, you saved the world.’ But I didn’t, I just sat and hugged my sister.” Zimering returned to Poland to find that only seven of her 55 relatives survived the war. She, her brother and sister were the only members remaining of her immediate family. Though her mother was captured early and perished in the war, her father died only two days before liberation on a death march. Zimering shared her experiences at the College of St. Benedict Thursday, Nov. 13. Her book can be purchased at local stores and was published by the St. Cloud North Star Press.
