In 2025 it will be eighty years since the end of World War II. A special anniversary to celebrate the Allies’ victory.
Being a research centre, we feel it is important to share the narratives of Belgium and Mechelen. Veerle Vanden Daelen, curator and coordinator of Collections and Research at Kazerne Dossin, outlined what the ‘liberation’ meant for Kazerne Dossin and for persecuted Jews, Sinti and Roma.
During the night of 3rd to 4th of September 1944, the occupying forces and collaborating guards of the Dossin barracks left their posts in Mechelen, leaving at least 549 Jewish and 3 non-Jewish prisoners unguarded at the barracks. What happened to them? And what about the many deportees and others who lived in hiding? Was shelter provided for them? What and who did they find upon returning home? What was it like those first days and months after the liberation? The liberation was far from the end of the nightmare for Jews, Sinti and Roma. It was the beginning of months and years of uncertainty about the fate of loved ones, the feeling of no longer belonging anywhere and a total lack of care and understanding for unspeakable physical and psychological suffering. And yet at the same time we see the resurgence of Jewish life, despite or perhaps because of what had happened.
It would have been around midnight when the occupying forces opened the gate at the Dossin barracks and left in convoy. Initially, the Jews and three non-Jewish prisoners who were left behind were overjoyed, but this was short-lived. Because what would happen now? There was little or no coordinated support for the Jews who had been left behind at the Dossin barracks. Some went into the city or tried to return home under their own steam, others quickly returned to the barracks, where Jewish representatives from Brussels arrived to provide them with some money for their return journey or to arrange transport for them. Those who had survived the war in hiding in Belgium also wanted to return home. However, in most cases the return home turned out to be a bitter disappointment: survivors could not find family or friends and frequently did not have a home to return to. Jewish homes had been looted as part of the Möbelaktion (Furniture Campaign), during which any usable furniture was collected to furnish the homes of German victims of Allied bombings. Neighbours, who had been given items for safekeeping, suddenly claimed never to have received anything. And since most of the Jewish population in Belgium rented their homes, they had been re-rented due to their prolonged absence. Complete strangers were living in their homes, … there was simply no “home” to return to. The only possessions they had were the clothes on their backs and the few possessions they might have had with them.
Many were destitute. Initial support was provided by those who were part of the Jewish resistance during the war: The Committee for the Defence of Jews (Comité de Défense des Juifs) changed its name to the Committee for the Defence of Jewish Assets and organized the initial emergency relief. They took care of Jewish orphanages and elders, organized shelters with sleeping quarters and a soup kitchen, distributed clothing, managed the registration of survivors, conducted searches for missing persons, provided legal assistance, and much more. Jewish social aid was centralized in Brussels where it became operational on 11 October 1944 under the name Aide aux Israélites Victimes de la Guerre/Aid to Israelite Victims of War (AIVG/HISO). Regional departments were active in other parts of the country, such as Antwerp. With financial and logistical support, mainly from abroad and from international Jewish organizations, in particular from the Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC or Joint), this organization sought to address the greatest and most urgent needs.
During these first weeks and months following the liberation in September 1944, mainly Jews who had survived the war in Belgium (usually in hiding) and Jews originating from Belgium and returning to the country with the Allied armies were involved. They were all desperate for news of their loved ones. The Allied armed forces in particular had to confront and deal with information about the persecution of Jews during the occupation.
For Antwerp born David Isboutsky, who had fled via Spain, Portugal and Cuba, then enlisted in the army and helped liberate Belgium with the Allied troops, it was an emotional reunion with his parents. They managed to survive in a home for the elderly outside Antwerp.
Few, however, were this lucky. Upon ringing the doorbell of his parents’ home in Antwerp, Herbert Stellman did not find his parents but learned that they had been deported and that all the furniture had been taken away. “A Belgian Soldier comes home – He can’t find his Jewish parents” headlined the Volksgazet newspaper on 7 September 1944.
Léon Gronowski, who survived the war in Brussels, wrote in his diary on the day Brussels was liberated, 3 September 1944: “The country has been liberated; people are running onto the streets – delirious with joy; they are crying, laughing, singing; everyone hugs, it is a genuine celebration; … I don’t feel liberated just yet; I am unhappy and downcast, … my loved ones are still in the camp. … I wander the streets, don’t know where to go, my heart bleeds; the liberation is not meant for me. (translated from Yiddish)”. Gronowski’s wife, Chana Kaplan and his daughter Ita had been deported from the Dossin barracks. His young son Simon had escaped the XXth convoy. News about Chana and Ita was still months away as Auschwitz-Birkenau was not liberated until 27 January 1945. The camps to which Auschwitz prisoners were moved, including during the so-called Death Marches, would be liberated even later. The first repatriates did not arrive in Belgium until late March, early April 1945. And even then, a large-scale return failed to materialize: barely five out of every hundred people deported from the Dossin barracks survived the camps. The condition and accounts of the few survivors brought to light the harsh reality of the genocide. A reality that only then began to sink in. Until then, hopes had remained high. For the Gronowskis there was no news about Chana and Ita. Léon Gronowski died in despair at their home in Etterbeek on 9 July 1945. Fourteen year old Simon now had to carry on alone.
The return was also a traumatic experience for camp survivors. Physically and psychologically broken, a survivor of 12 camps and the death marches, Chil Elberg returned to Brussels on 22 May 1945. Upon returning home, he could not find any family members. Their name had disappeared from the doorbell. Later that year, his sister returned from Switzerland where she survived the war. Chil later testified that his joy at their reunion was indescribable; at last he no longer felt so alone in the world. Many others, such as Emiel Vos, returned alone. By this time Emiel already knew that upon arrival at Auschwitz-Birkenau, his wife and their three small sons did not stand a chance and were immediately gassed. He could not find it in himself to return to the home where they happily lived together. He stated: “When I returned I went to look at my home first. Well, someone was living there. If I had wanted to, I could have had these people evicted. I had a right to go back to the house the Germans had dragged me away from. But I was alone, what was I supposed to do there? I could not face living in the house that I had lived in with my wife and children. Definitely not. And that’s when I decided to visit my neighbours. They had looked after some of my things and still had my eldest son’s little bicycle.” The bicycle of six year old Andries Vos, Emiel’s voice cracks when he talks about his murdered family.
In addition to a complete lack of psychological support for the unspeakable traumas that continued to torment them at night, recognition as a political prisoner and any form of reparations were also almost completely lacking. This was true not only for Jewish victims, but also for the surviving Sinti and Roma. Stevo Caroli, a Roma survivor, received no response despite having submitted an application: no recognition, no financial support, … nothing.
Community events represented a light in the darkness for some survivors: gatherings and activities at the shelter, Jewish associations that were starting up again and religious festivals and traditions that could be openly celebrated again after years of persecution… For many who were left behind alone, the community felt like family, a place that could fill the void and instilled the courage to carry on.
Links to further reading:
Veerle Vanden Daelen, ’75 years ago: a light in the darkness, the revival of Jewish life in Antwerp’, https://www.vrt.be/vrtnws/nl/2020/06/01/75-jaar-geleden-het-joodse-leven-herneemt/
Veerle Vanden Daelen, ‘Life Must Go On. The Jews in Antwerp after the Liberation, 1944-1945.’, Contributions to Contemporary History – nos. 13-14 – 2004, https://www.journalbelgianhistory.be/nl/journal/bijdragen-tot-eigentijdse-geschiedenis-nr-13-14-2004/leven-moet-doorgaan-joden-antwerpen-na
Dossier: The Liberation, Testimonies – Between History and Remembrance (Témoigner – Entre Histoire et Mémoire), no. 139, with articles about 80 years of liberation, the liberation of the Dossin barracks and Breendonk and Jewish life in Antwerp and Liège immediately after the liberation.
Picture: The first British tanks are lavishly welcomed in Antwerp on Sept. 4, 1944 (source Kazerne Dossin, Fonds Kenis).
