The story of the relationship between Abe Chapnick, Robbie Waisman and Leon Bass is one of tragedy and hope, reunion and activism. The paths of the three first intersected on April 11, 1945, at the Buchenwald concentration camp near Wiemar, Germany.
Holocaust survivor Robbie Waisman speaks about being imprisoned at Buchenwald concentration camp, during the 29th annual colloquium “65 Years of Bearing Witness: Our Commitment to Human Rights” held at Brookdale Community College on May 12. More photos at gmnews.com. PHOTOS BY JEFF GRANIT staff “I am here today with my friend, Abe, who I shared a bunk with in Buchenwald; that in itself is a story, and then there is my hero, my liberator, my angel from heaven, Dr. Leon Bass,” Robbie Waisman began as he related his memories to hundreds of middle and high school students at Robert J. Collins Arena at Brookdale Community College, Lincroft.
Waisman, Chapnick and Bass were the keynote speakers at the 29th Colloquium sponsored by the Holocaust, Genocide and Human Rights Education Center at Brookdale Community College, Lincroft, on May 12.
Bass, who was a sergeant in the segregated 183rd Engineer Combat Battalion, assisted in the liberation of Buchenwald and was one of the first Americans to witness the horrors of the Nazi concentration camps.
“I will never, ever forget the day, that spring day in April, when I walked through the gates and I saw in front of me what I called the ‘walking dead.’ I saw human beings, human beings that had been beaten, that had been starved, that had been tortured,” Bass recalled.
Chapnick and Waisman were two of those emaciated prisoners.
“When we [Waisman and Bass] first met, we could not understand one another; we spoke in different languages, which was just as well, because I didn’t have the words to tell him of my appreciation. But since then, we have made up for lost time,” Waisman said.
Leon Bass speaks about his experiences as a U.S. Army soldier serving in a segregated unit during World War II. “When they [Allied soldiers] asked me my name, I blurted out ‘117098’; that was my number … and I responded with that number. We were dehumanized, our names were taken away from us,” Waisman said.
Waisman’s story began in his hometown of Skarszysko, Poland, before he was taken to Buchenwald. His family worked hard to insulate him from the hatred of Jews and protect him from danger, often sending him to rural farms to hide. Waisman recalled the death of his sister-inlaw, Golda, the wife of his brother Chaim. Golda could have gone to work in a munitions factory, but that would have meant giving up her son, Nathan. She refused, Waisman said, and so Golda and her son were executed in the gas chambers.
Robbie Waisman (l-r), Leon Bass and Abe Chapnick share a light moment prior to speaking about their shared experiences at the 29th annual colloquium on the Holocaust held at Brookdale Community College last month. JEFF GRANIT staff “I often wonder what Nathan would have become,” Waisman said, soberly adding, “Multiply this by 1.5 million Jewish children who met the same fate.”
Giving up a Jewish child would yield a sack of sugar or flour.
“That was how much a Jewish child was worth,” he said.
As a child, Waisman struggled to comprehend the horror and injustice occurring around him, particularly after the murder of Chaim.
“What was my brother’s crime? Why would they kill him? He was born Jewish, and if you were born Jewish during that time, you were simply condemned to die.”
Soon, the Nazis also murdered Waisman’s father. Waisman would regularly wave to his father as he was going to work and when Waisman was returning to the barracks. One day, Waisman no longer saw his father.
“No one was able to inform me what happened to my dad,” he said.
“I wonder now, how did my dad die? Did he run up to the electric wire as I saw so many people do? That was a quick way to end it; you shook a little bit and then you fell down and died. Or did he not work fast enough, anotherway of inviting a bullet; or maybe he just died of a broken heart.
“He who believed in humanity, he who used to tell us Germany was at the forefront of civilization, used to mention Bach, Beethoven, all these people that made great contributions. How disappointing it must have been for him.”
Waisman, too, was eventually arrested, placed in a packed boxcar and sent to Buchenwald.
“I looked at these prisoners, they were skin and bones and they looked like they had come from another planet. I remember thinking that this is the end; I will never come out of this alive. Abe was with me.”
Bass, an ocean away, struggled with the Jim Crow laws and the racism of the American South.
“I did what so many young men were doing at the time [1943], I volunteered for the United States Army; it was that decision that brought me face to face with institutional racism,” he said.
“My parents protected me and insulated me at home when I was growing up during those formative years, but when I went into the Army, I was on my own, baby, and it was rough.”
Bass encountered racism from the moment he went to enlist in the Army.
“When we got to the door, the sergeant standing there took one look at me and said, ‘Go this way’; he looked at my friend and he told him to go this way,” Bass said, pointing in another direction.
This racism continued through his training in states like Texas and Arkansas, where Bass was denied a drink from a water fountain, a spot in a restaurant, and a seat on a bus, where he stood for 100 miles even though there were available seats.
“They were saying I wasn’t good enough to have a seat on the bus and there I stood, dressed in the uniform of my country. I had taken an oath to defend and protect all of them, but they were saying I wasn’t good enough. What an angering experience to have when you were 18 years of age and you had volunteered to serve your country.”
This anger and feeling of injustice continued during Bass’ time overseas.
One day, after participating in the Battle of the Bulge, Bass witnessed a truck piled high with the bodies of American soldiers.
“I said to myself, ‘Leon, what are you doing in this place? You’re going to die that way,’ ” Bass recalled.
Bass continued to struggle between a desire to serve his country and the potent anger his country’s bigotry instilled in him.
“What was I fighting for? I struggled with that. I felt as though my country was using me, abusing me, putting me out in harm’s way to fight and maybe die to preserve all those wonderful things that Americans enjoyed, and yet at the same time the country was saying to me, ‘Leon, you’re not good enough to enjoy what you’re fighting for,’ ” he said.
But as he said, “On that day in April, 1945, I was to have the shock of my life.” That was the day Bass arrived at Buchenwald.
“On that day, I realize now that I was not the same anymore, something had happened to me … I knew that I had seen the face of evil.
“I realized for the first time, that I had something to fight for. Prior to that moment, I was just trying to stay alive until I got back home, but now I could see more clearly … I knew it was important for me to serve in the United States Army.”
Bass continues to serve his country as an educator and speaker. After the war, he became a high school teacher and principal and earned a doctorate in education. May 12 was his third speaking engagement at Brookdale.
“My commitment is to share with young people and give them a knowledge of history that they may not get elsewhere.
“Robbie and Abe remind me that the horrors have to be dealt with. Children have to know what it was like and then adjust that to their own concerns because they live in a world that’s shaky,” he said.
Just as Bass and his comrades helped to liberate Chapnick and Waisman, Bass acknowledged that he also owed a debt of gratitude to those who fought for his civil rights in America.
“People made sacrifices, people died for me. I don’t even know them, but they died for me, with the sit-ins, the people that were beaten and killed, just so I could be free and I could be here today,” he said.
Bass’ activism and speaking career got both Chapnick and Waisman involved.
“In 1981, there wasn’t much spoken about the Holocaust, except in the house,” Chapnick, a 53-year resident of Howell, said.
Then, a synagogue in Lakewood organized an exposition on the Holocaust with which Chapnick got involved. Bass was a speaker at the exposition.
Waiting until the end of Bass’ lecture, Chapnick rose and publicly thanked him and all the soldiers who fought to liberate him, something he had never been able to do. He began telling his story shortly after that.
“I wasn’t that good of a speaker, but eventually, as you keep doing it …, you get good, you become efficient,” he said. “You try to get certain feelings into it. It’s not just speaking the words, it’s more about feeling.”
Since joining the Holocaust, Genocide and Human Rights Education Center at Brookdale, Chapnick says there has been no lack of speaking engagements.
“There isn’t any money in it, but the satisfaction is tremendous,” he said.
Waisman, a resident of Vancouver, Canada, was also reluctant to publicly share his experiences.
“I was very active in the community, but nobody knew that I was a Holocaust survivor. I did not share my experiences with anyone. That was something I put aside and went on with life,” he said.
Waisman began to change his mind after he heard about a high school teacher near Edmonton who was teaching his students that the Holocaust was a hoax.
“I remembered that I had made a promise in the camp that if I survived, I would tell the world what I witnessed,” he said
Coincidentally, around the same time, Waisman saw Bass’ picture in a magazine article about one of his speaking engagements.
Waisman showed a professor he knew at the University of British Columbia the picture of Bass.
“I said, ‘That’s my liberator!’ because the picture was of Bass as a 20-year old soldier.”
The professor wanted Waisman to start speaking, but Waisman was still afraid it would be too difficult. In order to convince him, the professor agreed to locate Bass if Waisman would speak to students. Waisman eagerly agreed.
“As they say, the rest is history and it has been very gratifying since I started,” he said.
Bass added that he remembered Waisman’s tears the first time Waisman introduced him at an engagement.
“The greatest fear of all of us survivors is, particularly now with the resurgence of anti-Semitism, that the Holocaust will be forgotten,” Waisman said.
“The Holocaust gives us all an opportunity to reflect on the responsibility we all have as individuals, as well as societies and government.”
Waisman continues working and speaking through the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre and also works to spread awareness of the genocide in Darfur.
“As I share these memories with you,” Waisman said to the hushed auditorium, “it is not to sadden you; on the contrary, it is to empower you. It is not to weaken you, but to strengthen you.
“When you encounter bullying, for instance, have the courage to say, ‘This is not right.’ ”
Bass stressed the importance of educating future generations about the Holocaust.
“The survivors and the eyewitnesses, we’ll be gone, so who carries on?” Bass worried.
More information on the Holocaust, Genocide and Human Rights Education Center can be found at www.holocaustbcc. org.