Ruth Meissner II: The Early Years in Israel

Ruth and her sister boarded a ship for Israel and arrived around two weeks later. Despite their elation at finally being out of Europe, only one problem persisted: they did not know where to go next.

(....) indicate my questions.

And she [Ruth's sister] went to a kibbutz, because at that time she had no choice. Her husband went to the army. She was with one two-and-a-half-year child. The son was born two days after she arrived. So our cousin from the kibbutz came to the hospital and asked her, “Where will you go?” She said, “I have no idea.” You know, when you think about it today, Israel was very young. This was nothing here. Nobody had anything here. So he told her, “Come with your children to the kibbutz and you’ll see, when your husband comes out from the army”—he had to serve for a few months—“then you will decide what to do.” They stayed in the kibbutz, had another two children. But I never went to the kibbutz. I went to the army from the ship, directly to the hospital, because I was a nurse already. I had no idea for Hebrew. Of course I didn’t know Hebrew. But very few really knew it. Many were immigrants who didn’t know Hebrew.

I remember a very nice incident. I came to a military hospital. It was a big room with thirty-six young soldiers. One spoke French, one Arabic, all the languages, and English, but very few of them spoke Hebrew. This was the new immigrants. It’s OK. They were soldiers. Then one night the head nurse told me, “You have to stay for the night shift.” “I can’t be alone. I don’t understand them. How will I talk to them? They don’t understand me. I don’t understand them.” At that time I knew Czech and German, and it wasn’t enough. “You will manage. That’s what you have to do.” I was sitting there saying, “What am I going to do?” Then I had a brilliant idea. The whole hospital was laughing at me. I took on a tray everything what they need—an injection, a pill, a bottle. Then I went and some would call me and I would say, “Show me what you wants.” (laughs) That’s how we managed. And they were laughing, but it was the only way. But very fast I learned Hebrew, of course. I had to. I had no choice. In two or three months I was speaking Hebrew without a problem.

So I was in the army. After I left the army, I could go wherever I want. I had nothing anywhere. No money, no home, no place to live. I decided I have to see where I am going to go to work where I can also live, have a room. In a hospital, the nurses can stay. I decided I’m not going to Jerusalem. I knew the country already, because always when I had a few days off, I just looked around. I knew the country very well. I’m not going to Jerusalem. There are too many Arabs and too many Orthodox Jews. I don’t like Jerusalem. Tel Aviv? I don’t like Tel Aviv. So the only place to stay was in Haifa.

And another thing: Perla and Ruchi were in Haifa. Perla, she left the army earlier, because she’s older. So after a few months—her sister left at the same time as I, because we are the same age. So I decided I’m going to Haifa, and here I found the hospital where I could live and I started to work. I started to earn money. I started to just buy clothes and to do something. Because I really had no one who could give me something. But I managed. I managed quite well.

So I worked and made friends. I was very happy. I didn’t stay long in the hospital. I was only two years, and then I got a very nice job in a children’s home. I was a nurse there. I was responsible for everything for the children from broken homes.

We opened this place and this place and there I worked until Erich came.

(Before we move on to that—)

(laughs) It’s more or less everything.

(Did people here ask you about the war?)

Ja. That’s what happened, that I met a very young nice Israeli soldier, all soldiers then, very nice boy. We managed Hebrew. He was Israeli, of course, but I knew enough, too. He asked me, “Where are you from?” And then I told him, and he looked at me. He was shocked. He told me, “I cannot understand. How could you let yourself—how could you go and do what they told you? How could you?” I looked at him and I said, “You are asking the questions that I cannot answer. You don’t understand. It was too close. It was only a few years.” And I really didn’t understand many things, because I just didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to realize what really happened. I just put it away. I just left Europe, and for me it was a closed chapter. I didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to talk about it. We talked between us when we were together with friends, but never really about things that happened. It was passé. It was with me, I’ll never forget it, but it was past.

Then I looked at him and I told him, “One thing I can tell you for sure. If you want to see me again, we will never, never talk about what happened there. If you ask more questions, it was nice we met, and I’ll never see you again.” Then I realized what I told you, that they were judging us. “How can it be that you are here? You had to do something bad. How can it be that you lived and all the others died?” It was just the feeling that you did something wrong.

Of course we didn’t, but they gave me the feeling—and not only me, all of the survivors who came to Israel....

Transcript by Sandy Adler, Adler Enterprises LLC