"… We had to march on until we arrived at a small camp called Allach.
There we fell totally exhausted into a hut, on top of the bodies of prisoners, who
had come earlier. In the morning we saw through gaps in the walls that the guards
had left the watchtowers – the SS-men had fled. There were shots very near to us.
My friend H. Kafka and I feared the panic in the hut should it be hit and decided
to find cover outside. The only deeper place was the latrine, so we submerged ourselves
there up to our necks – shells were flying over our heads in all directions. Evidently
we were in the midst of the frontline – from one side the Germans were shooting,
from the other (as we learned later) the Americans. After a time the shooting abated
and then we saw an olive-colored tank approaching along the forest. Since the German
tanks were gray we knew that these were our liberators. To describe my thoughts
and feelings at this moment is impossible. 'I am free, I have survived, the Nazis
are gone …' was mixed with the memory of all those who did not live to see liberation.
It was May 1, 1945. After the first US army front units came a medical one, composed
almost entirely of black soldiers. We were disinfected, showered, examined by physicians
and given new clean clothes (from SS stores). For a few days I was in an American
field hospital, until I recovered some strength."
