“They put us again in the train- it took a week to go from Dora to Bergen-Belsen- and we had to sit on the wooden floor, packed like herring, rows and rows next to each other. They gave us one loaf of bread, period. And that had to last- but we didn’t know for how long it had to last. People were dying in the train left and right. Next to me was a Jewish doctor from Vienna and he was dying and it was real dark on the train. He kept on making noises. We were maybe the 4th row from the front and there were German soldiers with guns sitting in front of us. One of them said, ‘Quiet, quiet!’ But he wasn’t quiet because now I think he was unconscious. With his rifle the German started to beat us. He beat me horrible. As a matter of fact I couldn’t speak for a whole week. Nothing came out of me. Nothing would come out. After he beat me the German shot the guy and he was dead. The body, of course, stayed there all along. As a matter of fact I sat on him because it was more comfortable to sit on him than on the floor. I still have the aftereffects of that beating. And when I get tense I cannot talk.
Years later I became president of my hospital’s medical staff and chief of obstetrics at St. Margaret’s Hospital. I remember one day there were arguments back and forth among executive committee members. The discussion became heated. And I started to talk and nothing came out, not a word. I tried for maybe 10 minutes. And I never told them why. Sometimes now words come out, not exactly the right way. It’s only when I’m tense. I still have nightmares constantly. My wife wakes me up when I make noises during the night.
After the war I became a real workaholic- I constantly worked day and night, day and night, day and night. Then when I was 44 I had a heart attack but I had delivered 92 babies that month. 92 deliveries! All our effort is to make sure the mothers and babies are well and healthy. The Germans killed millions of children like nothing- you tell me is there a God?”