Four Perfect Pebbles

“If she could find four pebbles of almost exactly the same size and shape, it meant that her family could remain whole.”

The four pebbles that Marion collects at Bergen-Belsen serve as an enduring symbol of Hope and Resilience in the Face of Adversity. Despite being in an unimaginably difficult situation, Marion holds onto the idea that she and her family might just survive if only she believes they will. This is an example of magical thinking, a psychological coping mechanism that allows survivors to maintain a sense of control in uncontrollable circumstances

“Why, the Blumenthals debated around their family dinner table, had this frightening development taken place? One didn’t have to look for an answer.”

The rhetorical question in this quote highlights the systematic nature of prejudice. Surviving in a World of Prejudice may seem almost random upon first glance, but upon closer examination, it is clear that extreme prejudice does not develop over night; rather, it is the slow breaking down and conditioning of one people toward hatred of another, often during a time of instability or vulnerability.

“Was there enough time left in which to escape Hitler’s grasp and move on to a new life in America?”

This question is already answered in the opening pages of the memoir, as Marion and her family are seen living in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in 1945. This use of dramatic irony makes the Blumenthals’ hope more devastating, as the reader already knows that their planned escape will not come to fruition.

“Nazi marching songs and the sharp rhythm of hobnailed boots began to be heard in the streets of Hanover. These were followed by sounds of shouting, the crack of pistol shots, and what seemed to be the crashing of broken glass. Occasionally, too, the sky flickered with tongues of orange light from distant fires.”

The sensory imagery provided by Ruth’s descriptions of Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass) paint a clear picture of the fear, chaos, and endless unknowns that were suddenly injected into the minds of Jewish people across Germany that night. The sounds of boots, guns, screaming, and broken glass were forever etched in Ruth’s memory, as was the sight of the fires which destroyed various Jewish buildings such as businesses and Synagogues. This passage uses auditory, visual, and tactile imagery to depict the sheer violence and chaos that erupted during the Nazis’ coordinated attacks.

“Now, indeed, it was clear that not only would Jews who remained on German soil live as impoverished and despised outcasts, but their very survival from day to day would be in question. Nor did it appear that any other nation was going to interfere in Germany’s internal affairs, least of all in its treatment of Jews.”

Kristallnacht became the defining moment for the Blumenthals and many other Jews in Germany, who finally came to accept that they were no longer safe in Germany. The phrase “Nor did it appear that any other nation was going to interfere” underscores how global indifference contributed to the Holocaust.

“We hoped we would be safe, at least until the time came for us to sail to the United States. Yet in our hearts we sensed that this was going to be the start of an uneasy and worrisome life—and, yes, an uncertain future.”

The juxtaposition of hope and foreboding in this passage foreshadows the struggles to come. Leaving for Holland was in a sense a relief, but it also came with a sense of foreboding, because the idea of truly escaping to safety seemed further and further away from being possible. The moment also foreshadows the experiences of enduring the camps, the Death Train, and the following years in which the family lost Walter and rebuilt their lives from nothing.

“While the Blumenthals tried to make the best of their life in Holland, deeply threatening events were taking place elsewhere in Europe.”

Marion’s memoir constantly juxtaposes her own personal experience (and that of her mother Ruth) with the broader political events of the time. There is a direct relationship between the two, and by including both in her memoir, she ensures that the reader both understands the reasons for the Holocaust and surviving in a world of prejudice.

“Two more months in Holland, and we would be on our way!”

The Blumenthals held out hope that their time in Holland would be short and they would soon be on their way to the United States. The exclamation point in this sentence conveys their excitement, making the reality of their fate even more tragic. They did not receive their visa in time and were instead trapped in the Westerbork camp for four years before being moved to Bergen-Belsen. It is a haunting testament to the constant disappointments that the Blumenthals experienced.

“In May 1942, to help enforce the many anti-Jewish decrees, all Jews residing in Holland were ordered to sew the yellow star onto their outer garments.”

The Star of David was used as an identification symbol in Nazi Germany and other Nazi-occupied countries. It identified people as Jewish, which was done to ensure strict adherence to anti-Semitic laws and policies, and to ensure that other Germans would refrain from buying from or otherwise interacting with Jews. The symbol became an infamous example of surviving in a world of prejudice and the act of othering.

“What did we know of Auschwitz, in that summer of 1942? We knew, and we didn’t know. Some people, especially the younger ones, believed that being ‘resettled’ in the East meant they were going to be put to work in German war factories. That didn’t seem so bad to them. But there were rumors of much worse things. For most of us, I guess, the truth was that we didn’t want to know.”

This passage highlights the psychological tension between knowledge and denial. Because of the extreme fear of what could happen to them, many people either refused to believe what was happening in Auschwitz or would not allow themselves to be exposed to such information. The truth was terrifying and debilitating, and the Blumenthals were determined to hang onto what hope they had left of surviving the Holocaust. This illustrates how fear and self-preservation can lead people to ignore or suppress terrifying truths.

“The only way we managed to survive in those early months of 1944—cold, hungry, and completely degraded—was on hope.”

Hope functions as a survival mechanism throughout the memoir, allowing the Blumenthals to endure suffering. Arriving in Bergen-Belsen was another shock to the Blumenthals, who had been living in the Westerbork transit camp under better conditions than what the concentration camp in Germany offered. They arrived in winter, and along with enduring the cold, were chronically underfed and abused. Humanity and dignity were entirely stripped away from the people living in Nazi concentration camps.

“I knew better than to cry out. In our fourteen months in Bergen-Belsen the Nazis had tried to break us physically, spiritually, and emotionally. This forced us to learn self-discipline the hard way. Perhaps it was good that I had always been stubborn and strong-willed. Mama and I lost the soup that evening but not our lives.”

When Marion’s leg is burned by the soup, she manages to hold her tongue and remain silent in the presence of an inspecting SS officer. She looks back on this moment and can understand what she did not at the time; that she had been trained, for years, to ignore her own physical and emotional pain in order to survive.

“We were the evidence of their broken promises to the International Red Cross. Was that why they wanted to have us destroyed before the Allies arrived and learned the truth?”

The Nazis deceived the Red Cross of Germany by taking them to Theresienstadt, a ghetto camp which, due to its design, made it easier to hide the atrocities taking place there. The Red Cross were given false information, only taken to certain areas, and only allowed to talk to certain prisoners. Once the Nazis began to lose the war, they feared the consequences of these deceptions, and put the prisoners from Bergen-Belsen aboard a train in the hopes they would die along the way.

“As darkness fell, they were herded back into the cars. The doors were bolted, and they awaited the start of the journey to an unknown destination.”

Boarding the Death Train was particularly terrifying because the Blumenthals were sure they were going to Auschwitz, and if they were not, they had no idea where they were being taken. They were told nothing and treated as less than animals, and people constantly died along the train’s route through Berlin and beyond.

“Then one morning, very early, the doors were slid open. Men in uniforms sprang aboard, but they were not the SS.”

This moment of liberation is filled with dramatic irony, as the prisoners initially expect more torment but instead find freedom. On the day of liberation from the death train, April 23rd, 1945, the Blumenthals and everyone else still alive on board were set free by Russian troops who had taken over the area along the German-Polish border. The sight of soldiers who were not German was of immense relief to the passengers, even though the Russians looted them and could not offer much beyond advice about where to find food and shelter. It was the turning point of the Holocaust for Marion and her family.

“Although we had not been deeply observant Jews when we lived in Germany, we had never eaten pork. But even Jewish law recognizes that there may be a time of great need. For us, this was the first plentiful protein we had had in years, and our bodies craved this nourishment.”

Finding the ham in the farmhouse in Tröbitz was a memorable and significant experience because it was the first time in years that Marion and her family had eaten anything so nutritious. The fact that it was pork, a food that Jewish people typically do not consume, did not matter at the time because it was a gift nevertheless.

“In their crude way, though, the Russians tried to help us as best they could. They were extremely good to me, for each day they transported me to a nearby Russian Army field hospital, where they treated my leg.”

Marion’s nuanced view of the Russian soldiers reflects the complexity of post-liberation interactions. While the Russian troops were not ideal saviors, they still played a crucial role in helping survivors like Marion heal. Marion recalls how Russian troops took her to their hospital each day to help her leg heal. Doing so speaks to her overall appreciation for all those who are willing to do what is right. Marion credits the Russians with saving her leg from amputation and considers them to have been far more helpful than harmful in the days following the war.

“We had come so far, through flight, imprisonment, evacuation, the Nazis’ final attempt to destroy us, liberation at last, and now this—freedom and sorrow.”

The direct contrast between freedom and sorrow is particularly evident when Walter’s death comes two months following liberation. After years of enduring endless abuse and holding onto hope, he was taken by Typhus in the town of Tröbitz. Although the family is now free from Nazi oppression, they must rebuild without the man who saw them through everything. This passage highlights the reality that liberation did not erase suffering but instead introduced a new phase of loss and rebuilding.

“All told, at least six hundred people—one-quarter of the twenty-five hundred prisoners who had boarded the death train in Bergen-Belsen—had perished from disease or exhaustion.”

The staggering death toll reinforces the sheer brutality of the Holocaust and the randomness of survival. Even after enduring the concentration camps, thousands still perished from the long-term effects of starvation, disease, and exhaustion. The death tolls were at times disbelieved by those in other countries who were not there to witness these atrocities firsthand. The death train was no exception, as most if not all the passengers on board were already battling with the prospect of death long before they ever boarded.

“Marion’s memories of the return to Holland were more pleasant than Mama’s and more filled with hope.”

Marion and her mother Ruth have different memories and experiences, both because they are different people and because of their differences in age and circumstances. Ruth was the only adult left in the family, and had to find a way to earn a living and build a life without her husband by her side. Marion had lost her father as well, but she was still a child and was more focused on enjoying the luxuries of an ordinary life—luxuries she had never experienced before. This contrast illustrates the theme of Family as the Foundation for Survival, as different family members coped in different ways but remained each other’s support system.

“So many emotions seized me at once: joy and gratitude, bitterness for the cruelties we and so many others suffered, and deep sadness that Papa could not share this moment with us.”

Arriving in New York is another moment of “freedom and sorrow” for the Blumenthal family, who go with the knowledge that they have lost their father and that they will carry the memories of the Holocaust with them forever. Marion chose to turn these memories and her anger into an opportunity for humanity to learn and grow and demonstrates this by the way she continues to share her story. The layering of emotions in this passage reflects the memoir’s recurring discussion of “freedom and sorrow”—the idea that survival is never simple or purely joyful.

“From the moment we left the ship, I was in a state of bewilderment and awe.”

New York City is nothing like Europe, and everything about the place is new and exciting for Marion. She looks back on this time fondly, because it was the beginning of a better life. It was a time of healing, renewal, and looking forward while never forgetting the past. This passage conveys the stark contrast between past suffering and the potential for a new future, reinforcing the theme of hope and resilience in the face of adversity.

“I was not ready to say farewell to the childhood I had never had. I wanted sweets and games. I wanted to be as carefree as my nine-year-old classmates, who knew nothing of the deadly concentration camp in which I had spent the ninth and tenth years of my childhood.”

Marion was robbed of her childhood by the Holocaust years, as she was born into the Holocaust and grew up living through persecution and in various camps. This passage directly reflects the memoir’s discussion of stolen innocence, as Marion was forced to confront death and starvation instead of experiencing a carefree childhood. Her resistance to growing up symbolizes her attempt to reclaim what was lost, highlighting the emotional scars left by her experiences.