Irv Gerenstein (liberator)

Irv Gerenstein- An American Jewish Solider 50^th Signal Battalion Company B

There aren’t many of us left that can tell of their experiences of the atrocities they saw and witnessed that Nazi Germany inflicted upon the Jewish population in Europe during World War II. Over the years people have asked me what I had been through in the army and what I had seen during my service years and do I ever think about those years. And my answer is always the same. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about the horror of Nordhausen and the concentration camp that I had liberated.

My story begins on March 7, 1942. I was inducted into the army and sent to Camp Upton in upstate New York for two days and then to New Jersey for my basic training. From there I was sent to a camp in San Antonio Texas. Three months later I was sent to a camp in Louisiana and then to a camp in Mississippi and then to a staging area in Pennsylvania and finally to a camp in Massachusetts for a shipment to the European theater of operations. After zigzagging across the Atlantic Ocean for fourteen days, we arrived in Liverpool England and then were sent to Birmingham England. We were awaken every morning for 4:00 am and told to be ready for the invasion of France at anytime. On June 6, 1944, we were awoken by a huge noise overhead. We immediately knew that the invasion was on and we would be on our way. A week later, we were awoken even earlier and told to be ready to move out as soon as everyone was assembled. This was the real thing. We were told to put our barrack bags on one of the trucks and we moved out quickly. We took the truck to a ship to cross the English Channel to France. It took us a complete day and night to arrive in France due to enemy planes trying to stop our convoy.

Once we landed on shore we were told to load our rifles and to fire in any event. We were soon attacked by enemy aircraft. As we had learned in our maneuvers over and over again, we immediately hit the ditches that were on the side of the roads. As we saw the dirt road come alive with machine gun bullets, I jumped into a ditch with muddy water and ended up smelling! What was a couple of minutes, seemed liked an eternity in that dirty water. At last someone yelled they are gone and we were able to get out of the filth and we saw the planes fly off. Looking at each other we laughed at fright and nervous tension from the attack. We commandeered a passing truck and asked them take us to the staging area. My name was called at the staging area and they assigned me the 50^th Signal battalion, Company B.

We traveled through many cities. Eventually, we ended up in Nordhausen, the supposed wine capital of Europe. Upon entering the city we noticed the smell of grapes but also the distinctive odor of death. This was a smell you would never forget. We couldn’t determine where the smell was coming from, until we encountered a shocking sight. There in front of us were hundreds of dead as far as the eye could see. There were people laying there murdered, some with clothes on and some naked, all looking like skeletons being starved for some time. This we didn’t expect, it was just horrible. We notified General Collins and he surveyed the scene firsthand. He was very angry at what he observed. He ordered the army engineers to dig graves and then ordered the German population around the area to carry these unfortunates to the graves. All the Germans assembled said “I don’t know anything about this, I’m not guilty of this” but we didn’t believe them because the stench alone should have been enough to show that something was amiss. We liberated the city of Nordhausen.

We moved further on and liberated more cities. Eventually we were forced to retreat. My company rested in Belgium until orders came through for us to head back to Germany. We had to move forward until we reached the Rhine river and again were forced to have a temporary “rest.” Once again back in action, on April of 1945 we ended up in Mannheim Germany. We heard the news that President Roosevelt had died. We wondered what would happen next. The war did go on and the Germans were being pushed back more and more.

My battalion went to Leipzig. I and several others stayed behind and did an 8pm to 4am shift. At last our crew was relieved and we were off for 24 hours. I suggested we take a walk and see what the countryside looked like. We packed our bags with our famous k rations. As we came to the edge of the town, there was a group of trees and a road. As we walked slowly I noticed a compound with barbed wire and a deep silence. We became weary of the silence and played our rifles in our hands in case we encountered any German troops that resisted being captured. We had one clip of bullets in our rifles and we walked slowly but alert for any signs of danger. Looking to the left I saw a barbed wire fence with a razor type of wire on top. There were small groups of skeleton like people walking around and looking up and large towers overlooking the compound. I then realized that this was a concentration camp that we had read about in our newspaper “The Stars and Stripes”. These individuals with raggedly clothes were staring at us. As we approached the locked gate, I also noticed their dirty striped clothes with a Star of David. The gate has a lock and we shot it off. We then opened the gate and walked in slowly with our rifles. The crowd closest to the gate backed away from us. I approached a man who appeared to be the spokesperson- his name was Shmuel. I asked him questions in German and he was afraid to answer. He seemed frightened because we shot the lock off and had rifles and a uniform they didn’t recognized. I decided to speak to him in “Jewish” and in my best Jewish accent asked him a question and suddenly he answered in a hesitant voice. He said who are you, you speak such a good Jewish. I told the men with me put away your rifles, we are ok. I said I am a Jew, an American Jew, an American Jewish soldier and you are all free now. He looked at me with a puzzled look. I once again told him I am an American Jew, an American Jewish soldier and you are free now. The Americans are here. Suddenly he snapped out of his puzzlement and shouted to the others “The Americans are here” and at that point the complete compound came out and reached out to touch us, each trying to hold our hands. We waved to them and tried to be as pleasant as possible. I asked one of our guys to return to our base and to call our company commander and report what we had come upon and get the red cross and medical help and food for these unfortunate person. One of my squad to me said if I didn’t see this with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.

I told Shmuel we were getting help. He said come with me, I want to show you where we sleep. Nothing prepared us for the experience of the concentration camp. Arriving at his barracks, the stench became almost unbearable. Their sleeping quarters consisted of wooden planks with some straw for mattress. There was a woman who like dead and I doubted she would make it to the next day. The stench was killing me and I knew I would throw up. I said I needed to leave. He then asked me to come see something else. I followed him to a large building with a chimney and I immediately saw the famous ovens and knew this was the crematorium that we had heard about. There were charred bones and some ashes. I was ready to throw up in spite of seeing dead and wounded soldiers. I told him I had to get back to the others. We left and when we arrived I told the men we had to leave soon. I turned to the man and asked him what do you have to eat. He shook his head and showed me a blackened piece of bread. I turned to the men and said “ok guys, give me a k ration and break them open.” I started to distribute the contents- spam, meatballs, cheeses and thick Hershey chocolate bars. We distribute it as far as it lasted. It was getting late and I realized I couldn’t do anymore than I had done and with the help soon coming, we pulled ourselves together and started away from the crowd. The man asked me to do him a favor- he said I wrote to an uncle in America and said that my family is all together. I assured him I would mail the letter for him. It was addressed to a rabbi in Arizona and he thanked me. As we walked to the exit gate, I shook his hand and said perhaps we will meet one day in better time, but for now goodbye. He replied I hope for now, go in good health and god bless you all.

We returned to our unit and the man assured me that he was sending help. I asked him to get the letter to Arizona. He assured me he would. I told him he was doing a big mitzvah. I tried to get back to the camp to tell him I had mailed the letter, but the lieutenant said no way because we would need to get vaccinated. We were sent to Leipzig. After a week a large package arrived for me. It was from the Rabbi in Arizona. On opening the box, it was the largest box of chocolates I had ever seen. The letter thanked me for liberating his family and all the other unfortunates at the camp and for taking the time for sending him the letter about his nephew. On May 8, the war in Europe was officially over.

I still think about Shmuel and wonder if he went back to his native country. I realized I never asked him and the others if they wanted to say Kaddish. I also never found out the name of the camp. I remember Shmuel showing the numbers on his arm. I can still picture him standing in front of me and the surprised and puzzled look on his face asking me who are you, you speak such a good Jewish. And I answer him in Jewish, I am a Jewish American soldier and you are now free. In conclusion, if this is history then I am part of that history and I proud that I served my country to accomplish this history.

Irv as described by his daughter Brina. **Irv Gerenstein married Miriam Fisher Gerenstein and had three daughters. He had seven grandchildren and four great grandchildren. He was tough but loving. He spoke seven languages and had a huge love of music. He played the harmonica, trumpet and guitar and growing up he played in various bands as a hobby. My dad had a career as a Jeweler. He loved to eat, write stories and loved his religion. He went to shul every Shabbat and was known to read a haftorah for multiple occasions, any chance he was given...a special birthday, anniversary or just because he had to fill in.

In his golden years, he began to share and tell his liberation story to Hebrew schools, communities ect. He has been honored twice by the NJ Holocaust commission and his story is in the archives of the holocaust museum in NYC and Washington DC.

Right before my dad passed away he was due to be the keynote speaker for a Yom Hashoah program in his very own community. It was attended by over 750 people and dignitaries. My dad, knowing that he would not make it, pointed to me and asked me to speak. After getting up from sitting shiva, I honored my father and have many times since...to tell his story.