"Hitler Didn’t Win" — How Quiet Dignity, Fierce Determination, and Enduring Miracles Built a Victory Wall of Life

"That's a beautiful face, must belong to a Moskowitz!" chimed a friendly member, successfully guiding a young girl name Miriam who got lost on her way home. "Baba," as we called her, used to say that although she and her nine siblings had to share just a couple of beds, they were lucky to have moved before the Nazis turned Lodz into a suffocating ghetto. They were content in their little apartment, with their own pots and their own walls, a simple comfort that so many would soon be robbed of. Her father made stockings, which he sold in the lively Jewish marketplaces, where the air once buzzed with hope and the sounds of life.

But in an instant, their world was shattered.

The Nazis would come knocking on doors, seizing young men and women for forced labor, tearing families apart. One day, they came for Baba’s younger brother, Adin. He asked if he could say goodbye to his mother, and somehow, his request was granted. But the price was unbearable— their mother became inconsolable, hysterical with grief, as she all but knew the fate that awaited her son. After witnessing the devastation it caused, Baba made a silent decision. When the Nazis eventually came for her, she did not say goodbye. She spared her mother the heartbreak again. It was the last time they ever saw each other. 

Baba was deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, a place stripped of food, warmth, and any trace of humanity — only brutal, senseless suffering. Toward the end of the war, as the Nazis realized their regime was slipping away, they forced the remaining prisoners onto grueling, endless death marches through the frozen forests. Baba and her Lager shvester, her "camp sister," Ruth, found themselves somewhere in the middle of the pack, just out of sight of the guards. When the path bent around a hill, Ruth knew that this was their chance. She grabbed Baba, pulled her off the line, and together they rolled down the hill. Crouching behind the bushes, they held their breath and watched as the end of the line and the rear SS guards passed by without noticing.

Desperate for shelter, they ran into a nearby barn and found themselves face-to-face with a Russian soldier. He threatened to turn them in, but Baba, thinking quickly, pleaded with him and claimed that her brother had also been a Russian soldier. Incredibly, he relented. He allowed them to stay hidden in the barn, clinging to survival for several more days, until American soldiers finally arrived and brought them to a displaced persons camp. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the camp, "Zaide" too was battling in Auschwitz.

But even before the war, Zaida's very existence had been a miracle. He was born after his mother suffered twelve miscarriages, as a tiny, fragile baby with a dangerous RH factor — a rare and deadly blood complication at the time. His parents named him Chaim, Hebrew for "life", because from the very start, the fact that he was alive was nothing short of miraculous.

Words can hardly capture the horrors Zaide endured in Auschwitz. Like Baba, he spoke of those years only much later in life, and even then, not in much detail. He had arrived with a wife and a baby boy, but almost immediately watched them taken and shot before his eyes. The pain of that moment never left him. For the rest of his life, he would wake up screaming in the middle of the night, reliving moments too painful to forget.

In the camps, the Nazis would evaluate the physical health and profession of each prisoner, sending them right to work, and left to be murdered. As Zaide had no practical profession for the camp, he knew his chances of being sent left were high. His brother-in-law who was standing next to him quickly whispered to him to tell the Nazis he was a carpenter, as his brother-in-law was a carpenter himself. He was sent to the right. With the help of his brother-in-law, he quickly learned the trade, all while battling infection, hunger, and the relentless cruelty of the camp. Still, he endured, driven by a force of will so strong that even the guards could not break him.

"If any did survive, they would be so broken and unable to rebuild." That was the Nazis goal for the Jews who did survive, as described by one of Baba's daughters. "The family you came from or how much money you had did not matter. What stood above all, was that the nation had to be rebuilt." There, in the DP camps in Germany, is where Baba met Zaide. They got married, building a new life on top of all they had lost, and had their first daughter as well. Six out of Baba's nine siblings survived, and all of them remarried soon after the Holocaust. 

After months in the DP camp, an opportunity emerged. In 1949, they were sponsored to come to America by Zaide's aunt who had moved there before the war. They did not move with riches, handouts, or much of a security net, but rather with hard work and faith. Zaide went through the classic ordeal of getting fired from factory jobs because he refused to work on Shabbat, and eventually opened up his own cap shop, where he would work six days a week, enough to support his wife and four children. Zaide's aunt eventually sponsored Baba's siblings to come over as well. 

At home, Baba would always light Shabbat candles, keep a Kosher home, and would embody optimism and faith. Zaide often stayed up late into the night, with his lamp and magnifying glass, pouring over the words of the Torah and Gemara, the holy texts which had outlived any king, dictator, or enemy of our nation. "When I'm learning from his Seforim (books) and reading his notes, it feels as if he is right there behind me," shared his only son. 

"That's probably why we grew up so happy," reflected his eldest daughter. Baba and Zaide did not speak much of their experiences while their kids grew up, but rather taught chose to teach through example, teaching them to be ethical, kind, and strong. "Baba used to say, 'If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing'" her daughter recounted. Baba was righteous, moral, and would always go out of her way to help. "'Der mentsh trakht un Got lakht,' 'Man plans and God laughs,' Zaide would chuckle all the time," a taste of wisdom behind the experiences he carried. He was strong willed, sharp-minded, and physically resilient. He loved Israel, and his children speculate that had it been feasible, he would have moved there and joined the IDF. 

They never bought a house. They never owned a car. But their wealth was greater than gold. Eighteen grandchildren. Almost fifty great-grandchildren — each one a living testament that Hitler did not win. Baba would sometimes raise her fist and say it: "Hitler didn’t win." Behind her, she had a “Victory Wall” filled with photographs of her grandchildren beaming back at her. Proof that even in the face of unimaginable darkness, life had triumphed.

The boy who had been named Chaim, life, and girl who had been named Miram, the one who sustained the Jews in the desert through The Well of Miriam, stood victorious. Together, they were surrounded by a bright future, filled with laughter and purpose, with children and grandchildren who would never know the inside of a cattle car or the chill of a death camp, carrying their values for generations to come. 

Life had triumphed. 

While I was just a child, I was fortunate to meet Baba, as were several of her great-grandchildren. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to meet Zaide. Yet, as his first great-grandson, I was honored to receive his name, Chaim, embodying the life that was miraculous from beginning to end, leaving a legacy among the Jewish people that will last forever. 

Baba and me, years after her survival

Baba and Zaide’s story is not just about survival. It's about rebuilding, choosing faith over sorrow, and righteousness over evil. Their resilience may have been quiet and humble, but it was no less enduring. And in every grandchild, every great-grandchild, and every generation that follows, that victory lives on.