Clarifying
fates

Mrs. Przybyla, how has your work changed over the past years?

Our work has become faster and more direct. Today I can oversee an inquiry from beginning to end. As a result, the relationships to the inquirers are much more personal. We used to have four or five of us working on one case. Digital technology simplifies our work tremendously, also the digitization of other archives. Today it’s very easy for me to find out whether someone is already being searched for in a different online archive.

What qualifications does your work require?

Command of the language and familiarity with the respective country are extremely important. I work almost exclusively on inquiries from Poland. The people there greatly appreciate it when a “countrywoman” communicates and empathizes with them in their own language. Poland was hit especially hard by Nazi persecution. There’s a persecution story in almost every family. So empathy plays a big role—and that’s something that takes time.

Was your own family affected by persecution?

My grandfather perished in a concentration camp, so I never knew him. My family attached a lot of importance to honoring this part of our history. And to learning about it. Nearly all of my relatives are hobby historians. A lot of knowledge about World War II and a strong interest in the history of Nazi persecution: those are also important prerequisites for my work here.

Have you learned a lot about that history here at the Arolsen Archives?

Yes, especially when I started out. I immigrated to Germany from Poland at the age of 27 as the wife of a so-called late ethnic German repatriate. However much we talked about it in the family, my school education was based on the attitude that all Germans were perpetrators. And only the Germans. The fact that, two weeks after the Nazi invasion, Poland was invaded again, now by Russia, was never mentioned in our history classes. Here in Germany, and especially at the Arolsen Archives, I’ve gotten to know many German opponents to, and victims of, the Nazis. That enables me to look at my country’s history from two perspectives. I also always try to convey that to people in Poland.

So part of your work is also to teach about history?

More and more. In the 1990s, when I started out here, it didn’t play much of a role. Back then, we had a lot of inquiries from survivors who needed proof of their imprisonment or deportation, for example. Naturally, we didn’t have to explain to them what a concentration camp was, how things were organized in the camps, what the inmate category “professional criminal” on a document means, etc. At worst, they knew all about these things from personal experience. Today, most of the inquiries come from the children, grandchildren, sometimes even the great-grandchildren.

What’s a typical inquiry from these younger generations?

Now the concern is with clarifying fates and researching one’s own family history: “In my family they say there was an uncle who was deported and never returned. I’d like to find out what happened to him.” A lot of Polish families these days are very interested in genealogy. Sometimes people want to learn more about grandpas and grandmas who they knew, but who never talked about what they had experienced. These grandchildren need a lot of additional information about the Nazi persecution system. They want in-depth explanations of the documents and information—preferably in Polish.

How do you go about searching?

My first stop is our Central Name Index, to find out whether we even have information about the person. That may lead me to further documents. There I can often find information such as the last place of residence or the names of the parents or siblings. Then, for example, I can look for family members with the help of the Red Cross. These days, my main task is to search for the relatives of former concentration camp inmates in cases where we still have personal belongings, such as watches or jewelry, in our archive. There are hundreds of Poles we still have to find so we can return these items to them.

Are there cases that have made a particularly strong impression on you, that you’ll always remember?

Many. For example the sad but beautiful story of a little boy. He was born in Austria in 1945. The Nazis put him on a transport to Poland with hundreds of other children. He was rescued en route by a Polish family. He grew up with them, but it was only after his Polish parents died that his oldest sister told him the story. Then he inquired with us. At around the same time, we had an inquiry from a couple from Belarus who had emigrated to Australia after the war. They had been forced laborers in Austria and had a son there. The Nazis took the boy away from them and two weeks later told them he had died. Those were his parents! We were able to reconstruct that with the aid of our documents. At the age of sixty, the son was reunited with his mother and met his siblings in Australia. Sadly, his father had already passed away.

Isn’t your work also often depressing?

I always say: it’s not work, it’s a mission. Our work has to do with one of the darkest hours in human history. It’s often ugly, it’s about many terrible and sad fates. But the inquiries we get are from people who want to know everything. They want clarification and they need support. The personal relationships that often come about, the trust people have, the gratitude—all those things make my work easy. There are stories I can’t stop thinking about—in those cases I even continue the research in my free time!