Lina Jackson: Full Testimony Transcript

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Roma and Sinti survivor testimony is among the rarest in the historical record. Decades of exclusion from Holocaust remembrance, combined with a culture that has often carried its history within families rather than in public archives, mean that few complete accounts in English like this one exist. Lina Jackson’s testimony — recorded in 1997, when she was 67 — is a full record of a Romani child’s survival through four Nazi camps, in her own words.

Roma Holocaust Survivor | USC Shoah Foundation Interview
Recorded December 8, 1997 | Wheeler, Texas

Summary

Lina Jackson (born Rue Steinbach, nicknamed “Huma” — bumblebee) was a Sinti-Roma Holocaust survivor who endured four concentration camps as a child. Born December 10, 1929, in Papenrode, Germany, she grew up in Berlin in a close family. Her father Adolf and two oldest brothers were taken to Buchenwald.

Her mother died of liver cirrhosis when Lina was seven. Around 1939, at age nine or ten, Lina, her grandparents, her sister Amanda, her brother Kurt, and her young niece Micka were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau in cattle cars. Lina was tattooed with the number Z574 — the Z standing for “Zigeuner” (Gypsy).

At Auschwitz, her grandparents died, her brother Kurt died of malaria, and her niece Micka — a blonde, blue-eyed little girl — was burned alive in the crematorium. Lina watched. She begged to go with her. They told her she could still work. Her sister Amanda took beatings to protect her, tore strips from her own dress to make Lina a belt and wrap her blistered feet.

After approximately two years at Auschwitz, Lina was transferred to Wolkenburg (a forced labor camp making airplane parts), then Ravensbrück, and finally Dachau. During a transport, Amanda escaped from the train and was hidden by a German woman. Lina was alone.

On the death march, she survived on sour leaves and one handful of raw oatmeal per day. At Dachau, she was liberated by American soldiers. A Black American soldier pulled her from under a bunk where she was hiding, gave her a chocolate bar, sat her on his lap, and cried.

After liberation, Lina hitchhiked across Germany for weeks searching for her father. She found him. She married Richard Jackson, an American soldier she met at a carnival who followed her around all day paying for her ride tickets.

They sailed to America on the SS Washington with three children and a fourth on the way. She raised eight children, had fourteen grandchildren and five great-grandchildren, and babysit every child in Wheeler, Texas. When asked what kept her going in the camps, she said: a whole loaf of bread filled with butter and jelly, and her father’s words — “Just say, please, dear Jesus, help me, and guide me to my family.”

In This Testimony

• Childhood in Berlin — Identity, School, and the Day She Was Found Out
• Deportation to Auschwitz — The Cattle Cars, Arrival, and Tattoo Z574
• Life and Death in the Camps — Auschwitz, Wolkenburg, Ravensbrück, Dachau
• Liberation — The American Soldier, the Chocolate Bar, and the Search for Family
• Life After — Richard, America, Eight Children, and the Photographs

Childhood in Berlin

Interviewer: Would you give me your name, please?

Lina Jackson: Lina Jackson.

INT: And what was your name at birth?

LJ: Rue Steinbach.

INT: Did you have any other names or nicknames that anybody called you?

LJ: Yes. They used to call me Huma.

INT: And what does that mean?

LJ: Bumble bee. [Laughs]

INT: And your birth date?

LJ: December the 29th, 1929. No. December the 10th, 1929.

INT: And your age today?

LJ: Today is 67.

INT: Where were you born?

LJ: I was born in Papenrode, Germany.

INT: Did you grow up there?

LJ: No. I grew up in Berlin. I was just a little baby when we moved.

INT: Tell me about your neighborhood, what it was like, where you grew up.

LJ: Big houses and stores. And we lived right in the middle of all that. On the outskirts. Apartment houses too.

INT: And how many lived in your house?

LJ: Well, there was my mother, and I, and my brother, and my little niece, and my sister, and me.

INT: Where was the rest of your family?

LJ: In the concentration camp.

INT: Do you know what year they went?

LJ: No. I was a little girl when they came and said, let’s get out of here. Get out. When my father and my brothers went to the concentration camp, we went to Berlin. They put my father and my two oldest brothers in the concentration camp in Magdeburg.

INT: Was your family very close knit before that?

LJ: We’ve always been a close family.

INT: What did your family do together for fun?

LJ: I don’t know. There wasn’t too much we could do, you know, in the big town like that. Go to the movies together, or sing together at night, pray, things like that.

INT: What languages do you speak?

LJ: I speak a little Gypsy, American, and English.

INT: And what side of the family was Gypsy?

LJ: My father’s side.

INT: And Hitler came to power in 1933. What did you know about that?

LJ: Yes. We knew that things were changing, but all we knew was that we couldn’t go in a store without saying heil Hitler, you know? And things were changing, very much. We had to stand in line for hours to get bread or butter with a little card.

INT: Did you have to carry any other kind of ID card?

LJ: Not me. My mother did. White, I think. Little. Beige.

INT: Like, I know the Jews had a Star of David. Did the Gypsies have to have anything on that card?

LJ: No. We had nothing.

INT: Were you able to go to school?

LJ: Yeah. I went to school in Berlin. Not very much. I think just five years altogether.

INT: What were they telling you?

LJ: Making jokes, you know? Well, in German, there is a thing they say. [Sings in German.] They always said the Gypsy was stealing, you know? But we never stole anything in our life. My mother would have really let me have it if I would have.

INT: Did they ever hurt you, any of the school kids?

LJ: Well, when they changed my name from Rue to Lina, that’s when they hurt me. My mama changed it because the kids where we live said Rue is mean. Isn’t that silly? So they changed my name from Rue to Lina, and I’m happy.

INT: Were there Jews in your school?

LJ: Yeah. They all wore a star. And the kids made fun of them too. They always said, you stinking Jews. And I don’t know why because the Jews were cleaner than they was.

INT: How did they know you were Gypsy?

LJ: They didn’t. I opened up my big mouth one day. I told one of my best friends that I was part Gypsy. She kept saying, you got such a beautiful black hair. And I said, well, that’s because I’m a Gypsy. [Laughs] Part Gypsy.

INT: And then what happened?

LJ: Then all heck broke loose. [Laughs] They followed me home, throwing stones at me, all kinds of stuff. So my mother said the heck with it.

INT: And what was she able to do?

LJ: I cried. That’s the only thing I could do. You know, what can you do? Little children. I was seven, eight.

INT: Did you ever hear Hitler speak over the radio?

LJ: Yes, and we cursed him out every time he did.

INT: Did you ever see him in person?

LJ: In person? Just one time in the concentration camp. When he came in, they cleaned up the place. They cleaned it all up. And they said if he ask you if you get enough food, you better say yes. Because if you don’t, you’re going to be dead. Before that, I thought he was a rotten creep. But after that, I thought, why? Why would they say this if he is that bad, you know? He was a friendly man. That’s all I can say. Did he speak to me? No. I was hiding, hiding behind my sister. [Laughs]

INT: Tell me your father’s name.

LJ: Adolf. Adolf Steinbach.

INT: And your mother’s name?

LJ: Aditlight Steinbach.

INT: And how many brothers and sisters did you have?

LJ: I think we was seven of us. There was Garech, Kurt, and Walter. And then there was Heidwich, and Rose Marie, and Amanda, and me. I’m sorry. It takes a lot out of me, you know, trying to think, to say this all.

INT: Were you identified at all with the Gypsy community? Did you go to gatherings with the Gypsies?

LJ: No. We just sticked at home, you know? There was no leader. There was none. Really, I never thought anything about Gypsies or anything. We lived like normal people. I thought Gypsies were living in wagons and horses. I saw it once on TV. But I never thought anything, you know?

INT: And what was your religious identity?

LJ: Evangelisch. Protestant.

INT: Do you remember the day your father was taken?

LJ: Yes. It was horrible. They came in late at night, and they said take your clothes, and let’s go. Just what you’ve got on. Put your clothes on, and let’s go. And we all would cry. And then they said, be quiet or we’ll take you too.

INT: Did you think your dad would come back?

LJ: I thought they going to kill him. That’s what I thought. And they took him to Buchenwald.

INT: How did your mother support your family?

LJ: I don’t know, to tell you the truth. Maybe welfare. My mom had liver cirrhosis, and she was pretty sick. One operation after another. They made holes in her stomach, and the water just run out. We were watching it. And then she just died. Liver cirrhosis. When I was around seven.

INT: Who took care of you after that?

LJ: We stayed with my mother’s sister. We went to Magdeburg. My grandmother came and got us. We lived there for around two years. And then the SS came.

Deportation to Auschwitz

INT: Tell about the day that you were taken. What time of day was it?

LJ: It was early, early in the morning, maybe 2:00, 3:00. And they came in. And they didn’t just knocked on the door and came in. They slammed the door open. They said get your clothes on and let’s go. My grandmother said, can we pack a suitcase? No. Just what you got on. So that’s what we did.

I was happy. I thought something exciting happened, you know? What did I know? [Laughs] I was nine or ten. It wasn’t winter yet.

INT: And where did they take you?

LJ: They took us to the train station. And they put us into the — it wasn’t a train station, where you sit, you know? It was just like where you put the cows, and horses. And that’s where they put us. There was a lot of people in there. And everybody asked, where are we going? Shut up.

We went in the train a little bit, and then they stopped. And then we went a little bit, and then they stopped. They give us something to eat sometimes, and sometimes they don’t. A small piece of bread. Water. I was glad for that. I thank God for everything I got. That’s all I got to know. I thank them for everything, and maybe that’s why I’m here.

INT: How many days do you think you were on the train?

LJ: Maybe 10 days. They had to go to the bathroom in there and everything. The little kids screaming for hunger. I don’t know how people can do that, you know? Really. How can they do that to little children? Little children got deadly sick.

INT: Who all was with you?

LJ: I was with my little brother, my grandma and grandpa, and my little niece, and my sister. There was people with stars too, on the cattle car.

INT: Did they ever tell you where you were going?

LJ: Yes. They said you’re going to the concentration camp, Auschwitz.

INT: And when the door opened?

LJ: There we was, right in the middle of it. It scared me half to death, I tell you. The train went right into the concentration camp. They said, get out. Some of us couldn’t even walk, stand up, because sitting there for so long, so many people in there. He said, stand in a line, five by five. Families. We stayed close with my grandma and grandpa.

And then they took us to the barracks. Oh my. I never thought that I could ever, ever go through this. Great big barracks. Great big bunk beds, three high. We went in the bottom, and that was a bad thing. [Laughs] Because everybody wet the bed. It went right through us. We had two blankets for five people, one for the bottom, and one to cover up. That’s it.

INT: Did they shave your head?

LJ: Yes. The next day they came, and they gave us the number.

INT: What is your number, please?

LJ: 574.

INT: And what’s the letter in front of that?

LJ: Z.

INT: And what does that stand for?

LJ: Gypsy. They said, you don’t go by your name no more. You go by your number. If we call you, we call you 574. And that’s what we did. We listen to the number.

After they gave us the number — I passed out. It hurt, you know? They took us to a great big barracks with showers. They made you take all your clothes off. Naked. Men, women, children, together. And then they put the heat on so high that you almost passed out. And then they put the ice cold water on. And then we was freezing. [Laughs] After that, they gave us one of those big, old striped dresses.

INT: When they came that night, did they let you take anything with you?

LJ: No. Just what we had on. But I had the earrings my mother gave me and told me to hold on to. They were like little butterflies. Pretty. I stuck them in my mouth. I don’t know what make me think if they were in my mouth, they ain’t gonna — but he said, open up your mouth. Boy, did I get a whipping for that. He had one of those whips. They hit you on the back and the face. All over.

I thought to myself, oh, Mom, I wish you wouldn’t have told me to save this. But I tried to keep them for her. They were supposed to go all the way down in the family. And you know what they did after they put me through pure heck? He threw them on the floor and stepped on them. It was mean.

So we got one of those long dresses. Too big. And big old shoes, wooden. Wood on the bottom, leather on top. No socks. So my sister, she took her teeth and tore the dress a little bit on the bottom and made me a belt. And for her too. At least we kept warm.

INT: Which sister was that?

LJ: Amanda. She always helped me. Oh, she got more beatings for me. She went once — she found a little sweater and gave it to me. They asked me where did you got this? I wouldn’t squeal on my sister. I said, I found it. Finally she said, I did it. I gave it to her. Oh, my lord. She got it. That poor little thing.

Life and Death in the Camps

INT: Did you have to do any work there?

LJ: Yes. They took us out in the morning, early, early, no food, no drink, no nothing. They counted us. Then they marched us over to the other concentration camp. We cut out pieces of sod and carried it over and put it in front of the SS quarters. So they have it nice, you know. We had to clean all their stuff for the SS. They lived like the kings. Nice blankets and nice things I wish I had.

INT: How long had you been in Auschwitz?

LJ: Maybe two, two and a half years.

INT: What happened to your grandparents?

LJ: They died in Auschwitz. They couldn’t take it no more.

INT: And Kurt?

LJ: Kurt, he died in Auschwitz. He had malaria.

INT: What happened to Amanda’s baby?

LJ: She got burned alive.

INT: How did you know about that?

LJ: Because I was right there. She was screaming, asking me to take her. And I told them, please. Take me too. Don’t let her die by herself. They said, no. You can work yourself to death. You don’t need to die yet. It wasn’t easy.

INT: Who took her?

LJ: I called him the devil. That’s what I called him. They took that little girl, and they stuck her in the oven. Beautiful, little, blonde-headed girl. Pretty blue eyes. Oh, well. They are paying for it now, or already paid for it.

INT: How were you taken to Wolkenburg?

LJ: They said the Russians are coming. We have to leave the camp. Don’t ask no questions. They took us in that feed wagon again. Lots and lots of people. Some of them was sick. They had typhoid.

Wolkenburg was a little town, like Wheeler. It had a big factory. We had to make things for the airplanes. Screws, and pipes. We sit on a chair around a great big iron plate and had to push your foot and it made a hole. I found out, as little as I was, the littler I ask, the littler I got beaten. So I just shut up and did what they ask of me.

Christmas came up. I ask some old lady that worked there, not a prisoner, if she had any old rags I can use. She said yeah. And I made a doll. I made a doll for a little girl for Christmas. The SS woman asked where did I get it, and I said I made it. She said, can you make me one? So I ended up making about 30 of them for all the SS people. Wool for hair. Like a Raggedy Ann doll. And then she said, wouldn’t you like to have one, Lina? I said, yes. And she said, well, make yourself one. So I had my little doll. I carried it around, all over.

The old lady asked if she could make a goose and bring it for my family and me for Christmas. The SS woman said it wouldn’t be fair because then all the other ones want some too. She was one of the good ones. I told her, she’s right. I wouldn’t want to sit there and eat goose while the other ones are looking at me. I couldn’t do it. But she did sneak me a big bag of cookies.

INT: What was the food like at Wolkenburg?

LJ: Very bad. But at least we ate, you know? Roll calls every morning, every night.

INT: Anything else you remember about that camp?

LJ: They killed a poor old Czech woman. She must have smoked. The SS woman threw the cigarette butt away. She picked it up. The SS woman saw it and didn’t say a thing. Let her smoke it. Then the next day at lunchtime, she said, number so and so, stand up. Did you pick up that cigarette? She was scared. She said no. She finally admitted it. They had all of us kill her. Every one of us had to beat her with the fists or kick her until she was dead. Or the tin cups, hit her.

INT: What did you think about that?

LJ: I thought I wish I were dead. That’s what I wished. That poor old woman. I think she was better off than what we were.

The German soldiers picked themselves the girls to sleep with them, if they wanted to or not. Just come in, looked, you. I’m glad I were little.

INT: Did it happen to anybody you knew?

LJ: To my sister one time. That’s it. They had their choice.

INT: Tell about the death march.

LJ: We went from Wolkenburg to Ravensbrück, still on the trains. They stopped the train when the bombs were too bad. And my sister kept saying, come on. Come on. I said, no. I’m scared. She said, come on. I said, no. You go on, but don’t come back either because they’re going to kill you.

So she ran off. And thank God she did not come back and they didn’t find her. Because there was two sisters, and the one sister had to dig a grave for the other one and put her in there and cover her up. If I would’ve done that to my sister, I don’t know. I don’t think I could do it. And nobody could help her. She had to do it all by herself. Poor little thing. They caught her. But they didn’t get my sister. I was praying and praying.

INT: So you were by yourself then. No more family.

LJ: No more family. Just God and me.

INT: Did you make any other friends?

LJ: Oh, yeah. That was a big family then. We tried to help each other. The only thing we ate was these little sour leaves. They gave us no water. And one hand of raw oatmeal a day. That’s it. That’s all we ever got at night.

INT: How long was the walk?

LJ: We walked from early, early in the morning until almost dark. Around 10 days. On my feet I had blisters this big. My sister cut a little bit more of her dress off, and mine, and wrapped it around my feet and tied them on there. That was before she ran off.

There was an SS man who was nice. When he got his food, I was the smallest one around there. He always came and said, here. Don’t show the other ones. So I shared it with my sister. A piece of bread or whatever he could hide in his pocket. He was pretty nice.

Hungry, I don’t think I ever got over that. When the Americans finally came in and gave us all the food we wanted, I couldn’t eat it. The other ones, they just gobbled it down, and they got the yellow jaundice and sick. Some of them died, because they ate the grease. The only thing I could eat is an apple or an orange.

On the death march, when people couldn’t walk no more, they just said, sit down. Sit down for a minute. And then they shot them, right there, in front of us. So any of us was scared to sit down anymore. No matter how sick you was.

INT: Were you ever sick in the camps?

LJ: Oh, yeah. I had typhoid, and I had malaria, and spotted fever.

INT: Did you ever get any medical help?

LJ: They take us to the hospital, they called. It was pure murder. It wasn’t no hospital. It was just a barrack. They’d say, go lie down. Go to sleep and rest. That’s it. You got no medicine. That’s why I say, some of that stuff we see on TV, it’s not like that. It’s a big old fake, some of it. They have hair, and scarves — none of that. None of it. But we made it.

INT: Were you ever guarded by dogs?

LJ: Yeah. Those dogs, with those big old teeth scared you half to death. I saw one woman got the whole back of her leg pulled out. Just bit her until pulled the whole thing out.

INT: What kept you going, Mrs. Jackson?

LJ: What kept me going is a whole loaf of bread, and take all the soft part out, and fill it up with butter and jelly, eat it, and then be dead. That’s what kept me going. And you know, when I could have it, I didn’t eat it. And my family, to see my family.

INT: What was the worst part for you?

LJ: The worst part for me was when I remembered my father’s saying to me — he said, Lina, anytime you are away from home, anytime, and you can’t find yourself around any of us, just say, please, dear Jesus, help me, and guide me to my family. And he did.

INT: That was the best part or the worst part?

LJ: That was the worst part. The best part is when I found him. I imagined I’d find him. [Laughs]

Liberation

LJ: When we got to Dachau, the Germans were still there, two days. They asked us to hide them. I just turned my back to them, for what they did to us. I said, I wouldn’t help you, for what you did.

When we were on the death march, the Americans flew down with the airplanes real low and threw us care packages. But guess who ate it all? The SS did. They took the packages. They said it’s poison, not to touch it. Then we saw them eat it. So the next time the Americans flew low, we said, no, no, no. A lot of people got shot over that.

And then the Americans came in. Oh my God, that was really comical. The Germans had to leave their motorcycles, and there was a poor old prisoner in that big old long dress we had on. No hair. He sat on that motorcycle, and the Americans couldn’t find the camp. He went out there and got them. That poor old man risked his life.

I was in the barracks, hiding. Because they told us the Americans come in, they take us by the feet and hit us with the head against the wall, so we are dead. So I was hiding underneath the bed. And a colored man just walked in. He took me by the feet and pulled me out. [Laughs]

And he said, what are you doing? He spoke a little German. What are you doing, hiding? I said, are you going to kill me? And he said, no, I would never kill you. I have a little girl just like you. And he took out a chocolate bar and gave it to me. And he sat me on his lap, and he cried. He said he wished he could take me home. I said, no, I have to go with my daddy.

INT: After the Americans came, did you get any medical treatment?

LJ: Yes. I had pneumonia bad. They gave me some shots. Then I was well again and took off, like a little bumblebee.

INT: What kind of shape were you in?

LJ: There was nothing left of me except bones, skin, and arteries, and that was it. I don’t know how I made it.

Then when we saw each other, my sisters and my father — oh, it was wonderful. When I saw my father for the first time, I didn’t know what to do, cry, scream, or what? It had been a long time. But I remembered him just that way. And he cried, and he cried.

INT: How did you find your family?

LJ: Before we even went to the camps, my father said, if anything ever happens that we are separated, go to my brother’s. And then we find each other.

INT: How did you get there?

LJ: Hitchhike. Nobody touched me. I was just a little, skinny-looking kid. When I showed them this number, they helped me. A week it took. But I found other people that wanted to go that way. We all stuck together. The farmers told us we could stay in their house and sleep. They fed us. We could take a bath. All you had to do was say, I was in the concentration camp, and they treated us like a queen.

When I got to my uncle’s, my father just left. That happened to me twice. He just left a few days ago. So I stayed two months. Then I snuck away. Got to Hanover. My aunt said, he just left a few days ago.

I was in the subway, sleeping. And a lady comes up to me and says, are you any relation to Aditlight? And I said, yes. That’s my aunt. And I started crying. She said, well, honey, she lives right here.

So I went out and didn’t know they had curfew. The MP took me to my aunt’s. A great big house, bombed, all bombed. I stood there and I said, Tante Aditlight, real loud. And I saw a little light go on, all the way in the back. There was a couple rooms still standing, and they were living there.

My father, she said, you are staying here, and you ain’t going nowhere till your dad comes and gets you. So I stayed until my dad came. And he finally came. Oh, boy. That was a happy day. I couldn’t get enough being around him.

Life After

LJ: Amanda ran away from the train. She found out that if she goes back, I’d have to be the one who buries her. She wanted to come back to be with me, but she said that would have really killed me. Some old German woman took her in. Put her in the basement. Made her a nice bed. Brought the food down. They helped her.

INT: Is Amanda still living?

LJ: Yes. In Germany somewhere. I lost her address. My son Patrick is trying to find out where they all live.

I have still a brother and two sisters left out of seven. Heidwich lives in Hanover. Garech is in Nuremberg. And Amanda.

I stayed with my sister. I wanted a job, and she said no way. I couldn’t go to school because I just went two years. I was embarrassed, 16, 17. She hired somebody to teach me. That man went on my nerves. He kept starting with A, B, C. I said, I know that. Well, forget it. Go home. So what I learned now I learned from my children, the English, the everything. They teach me.

I took care of my sister’s children while she went to work. I cleaned the house. I cooked. She said she rather has me than somebody else.

INT: Did you start to date?

LJ: I never dated. I was scared. I was afraid. Every time somebody said, hey, pretty girl, I were hiding. I didn’t date anybody until I met my husband.

INT: Where did you meet him?

LJ: At the carnival. He said, where do you live? I said, none of your business. [Laughs] He followed me all the way. Every time I tried to pay for my tickets, he already paid for them. I got mad. I said, I got my own money.

All that day long he followed me around, smiling. I said, stop that, will you? He said, uh uh. And he told his friend Johnny, I’m going to marry this girl. Johnny bet him $50 he wouldn’t because I’m too young. He had to pay him the $50. [Laughs]

INT: Was your husband from Germany?

LJ: No, Richard is American. He was in the army. Richard were the only one. We got married in Germany. Oh boy, we had a wedding and a half. Richard rented the whole guesthouse. My old landlady ate all the fruit out of the punch bowl and didn’t know it was full of whiskey. She couldn’t stand anymore. [Laughs]

My father didn’t want me to marry Richard. He was afraid if I go to the United States he never sees me again. He were right. We went back one time.

We went to Bremerhaven and went on the ship. The SS Washington. I never forget it. [Laughs] I was sick like a dog. 10 days. I had Bill, Jim, Rose, and pregnant with Pat. Bill and Jim are twins — half an hour between them.

When I came to the United States, I thought maybe the streets are painted with gold. And it was just like Germany. [Laughs] We landed in New York. Then Canada — Halifax, Nova Scotia. Richard’s family. Then Indiana. Then Colorado Springs. I loved it. It remind me so much of Germany, the mountains. Then Richard went to Korea, and I was alone with the children.

I couldn’t speak very good English. I called my husband stupid for two years and I didn’t know what it meant. He wouldn’t tell me. Finally a girlfriend said, do you know what you called him? Oh, I could have killed him. He said, well, anybody with their right mind would know you didn’t know.

We had Patrick in Indiana. Tommy and Katie and Nancy in Colorado Springs. Four sons and four daughters. Richard became a lab technician. We went to Rangely, Colorado. Then Coldwater, Kansas. Then Wheeler, Texas. We were here ever since. Everybody loved Richard at the hospital. They called me — is Richard working today? Well, I go and get my blood taken. [Laughs]

I babysit every child in this town, I swear. One way or another I took care of them. Yesterday at the Christmas drawing, a girl came up to me — hi sweetie, how you doing? I couldn’t believe it. She were this little. Now she’s taller than me. Beautiful blonde girl.

Tommy’s dead. He was in the Army and then got out. He was working with his friend, moving big objects off a truck. He told him, wait, I’ll help you. Tommy ran over, pushed him out of the way, and he got killed. Five years ago. Richard died three years ago. Cancer.

All my children are married. I have 14 grandchildren, five great-grandchildren, and seven children now.

INT: Did any of the kids or grandchildren ever ask about your experiences?

LJ: Yeah. I don’t tell them like I do to you. I just tell them it was no good. Bad. My grandchildren asked about the number. I tell them I got this in the concentration camp. Why? Because they said we wasn’t full-blood German. But we were born and raised there from great, great, great parents. They wanted full-blooded German — blonde, blue eyes, and look what they got now.

INT: Do you think what happened affected the way you raised your children?

LJ: Yeah. I’m very protective. Very, very. I gotta go without it and let them have it. My children are important.

INT: Do you have any long-term effects?

LJ: Sometimes I think about it, and it makes me sad. Wonder what my little brother would have been like. But it’s usually times like this I think, how come I went through all of this? It didn’t help nobody. Nobody.

I got open heart surgery. My legs are swollen. I can’t walk on them anymore, barely. A lot of doctors told me it had something to do with being in the concentration camp, being so undernourished.

INT: Do your neighbors and friends in Wheeler know about your experiences?

LJ: I don’t say nothing to nobody. If they ask me, I tell them.

INT: When they ask why you were in the concentration camp, what do you answer?

LJ: Because I wasn’t full-blood German.

INT: Do you ever have dreams or nightmares?

LJ: Yeah, very bad.

INT: What would you say to those who say the Holocaust didn’t happen?

LJ: I don’t wish anything bad to them, and I don’t wish it on nobody. But I think they should think twice before they say it. And if they ever go there, I hope they have God on their side. I really do.

INT: Is there any message you want to leave for your children or grandchildren or for the rest of the world?

LJ: All I have to say is I am so happy, and I thank God, because I’ve got my wonderful children and grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and daughter-in-laws and son-in-laws, and my husband’s family. I’m very happy for all of them. And I hope nobody have to go through this again, not ever. And as long as you’ve got God on your side, nothing can happen to you. Nothing.

The Photographs

At the end of her interview, Lina shares family photographs:

Karl (Kurt) — Her little brother. Died in the concentration camp. Around five years old. They called him “Captain” because he always wanted to be one.

Kurt — Her oldest brother. Did not survive the camps.

Walter — Another brother. Did not survive.

The wedding picture — Lina and Richard Jackson.

Adolf Steinbach — Her father, with a fishing rod. Taken in Germany.

On the SS Washington — Lina with curlers in her hair, holding baby Rosemarie, with William and Jimmy. On the ship from Germany to New York.

The ship’s menu — From the SS Washington.

Richard Jackson — In Vietnam. He passed away from cancer.

Patrick — The youngest living son, with his wife Nancy and son Michael.

Katie — Lives right next door. “I love her very much.”

Nancy — With husband Russell, granddaughter Rachel, grandson Greg.

Rosemarie — Oldest daughter. With son Bill, daughter Krystal, son Ritchie.

Jim — One of the twins. With wife Bonnie, son Jeremy, daughter Mimi.

Tom — In the Army. “He passed away since then. My youngest.”

Kayla — Katie’s daughter. “The most beautiful child, I think.” [Laughs]

Krystal — Rosemarie’s daughter.

Jacob and Matthew — Great-grandchildren. Krystal’s children.

About This Transcript

This transcript is from the full two-hour interview with Lina Jackson conducted by Toni Katsh Binstock for the USC Shoah Foundation on December 8, 1997, in Wheeler, Texas. The original video is available on YouTube. Transcript prepared by Remember.org for educational accessibility.

The interview uses the word “Gypsy,” which reflects the language Lina herself used. For current terminology and context, see our Roma and Sinti Holocaust Resources page.

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Remember.org — A People’s History of the Holocaust. Founded April 25, 1995.