28.12.12
Regina Franks: A ‘Holocaust survivor’ Who Survived Everything
I got to this stuff via Ken Watts’ “the daily mull” where he kept praising another self-styled ‘survivor’ named Irena Sendler. Well, I googled for more information and found a real beauty of a site called British Association of Social Workers.
From there on, I browsed some of their articles in the hunt for more ludicrous Holocaust testimony and wouldn’t you know it, right away I get to this Jewess by the name of Regina Franks! This gal apparently survived it all!
Let’s see some of the things this woman [miraculously] survived and experienced during the war, shall we:
- was useful because she knew three or four languages and was sent to a prison in Frankfurt because the Germans needed interpreters.
- tried to escape, but failed
- jailed as a ‘terrorist suspect’ (but wasn’t executed)
- moved to Auschwitz; the mother of all ‘Death Factories’
- was informed by guards that she would be ashes in two weeks (but wasn’t)
- was welcomed by bodies strung up at the gates of the women’s camp
- was desperate not to die silent, so she kept screaming at SS guards – but wasn’t shot
- put to work on a railway that would later lead ‘straight to the gas chambers’
- was inoculated against both typhus and tyhoid as a child, so those things wasn’t a concern for her
- contracted malaria, but avoided the ‘Death Laboratories’ because she was shielded by a Russian labour commando for whom she was working as an interpreter.
- became a runner delivering messages across the camp and thus learned which blocks were ‘marked for death’
- worked in the kitchen of Auschwitz
- survived Auschwitz after having spent several months there
- left Auschwitz together with the ‘monstrous SS killers’
- survived a ‘Death March’ with the SS to Mauthausen
- then she went on a journey to Bergen-Belsen
- survived the whole war, married a British GI, produced two rascals.
The text from which I gleaned these bits from says:
It seems incredible that she survived
You don’t say?
References:
One Comment
Regina Franks came into my Primary school in Coventry once a week in the 1960s and taught us intricate needlework. My mother still has the tablecloth that I decorated with a colourful border.
Having read Anne Franks diary as a child, I initially thought that she might have been related but, of course, Franks was her husband’s name. I never knew what her maiden name had been.
I remember her showing me the number tattooed on her arm. She always wore long-sleeved garments, even in summer.