Denver Catholic

13 DENVER CATHOLIC | NOVEMBER 10-23, 2018 Approaching the camp, Witold remem- bers his father telling him this is where they would die. "I said, 'What did we do?' Witold recalled, fi ghting back tears. "He said, 'Jesus didn't do anything, but they killed him, too.'" Right away, Witold smelled burning fl esh and saw smoke coming out of the crematorium on the other side of camp. Adolf Eichmann, one of the major organizers of the Holocaust, separated the Engel family. At nine years old, Witold was sent with his father and the rest of the men. "I was petrifi ed," he said. 'I WAS LIKE A ZOMBIE' During his time in Auschwitz, Witold and a few other prisoners were tasked with pulling carts of corpses across camp to the crematorium. He recalled having to take the clothes o¢ the men so that they were completely naked. This was so new prisoners could wear the clothes, despite their fi lthy, bloody conditions. "After a while, I was afraid, but later I got immune," said Witold. "It didn't bother me anymore. I was like a zombie. I couldn't even think." Witold described his fi gure as "skin and bones, because sometimes they didn't feed us for a week or we didn't get water for a week." In desperation, Witold ate snow or drank from puddles of dirty rain water. A fellow prisoner told him he would be sick drinking the water, but he never was. To him, "it tasted delicious." Witold felt like God was with him during those moments where he so easily could've fallen ill or died from the living conditions. He believes God's presence was undoubtedly there the fi rst time he was sent to take a shower — an event that often ended in prisoners being poi- soned by gas rather than rinsed with water. "I was praying inside," said Witold. "I said, 'Oh my Lord, what are we doing here?' We went, and God was with us because they put water [instead of gas]. Every time. A year passed by, [and] I was still alive." LIBERATION DAY In 1944, Germany was losing the war, and when the Nazis took a few thou- sand people out of Auschwitz and onto another train, Witold discovered for the fi rst time the status of his mother and siblings. "They called my name fi rst, my father's name second," he said. "Then, I heard my mother's name, my sister's name, my brother's name. I cried. I said, 'They're alive!'" During the journey that would even- tually take them to Dachau, the Engels' train was attacked by Russian soldiers, who killed both Nazis and prisoners in the process. Still, Witold and his family survived and made it to the new camp. The sights and smells of Dachau are still fresh in the deacon's mind. "There was a horrible smell," he said. "Right in the middle of the yard, they had all the skeletons left. They didn't burn them all." The Engels endured the horrible conditions of camp for a few more months, until fi nally, in April 1945, Witold watched as American tanks arrived at Dachau. "By accident, they saw the camp," he said. T h e A m e r i c a n s c a u t i o u s l y approached the prisoners and brought them water and co¢ ee. "A lot of people took a sip of water or co¢ ee and they were dropping like fl ies," said Witold. "They were under- nourished, and they couldn't take any- thing fresh." One o• cer approached Witold and his family. He was from Chicago but his parents were from Poland, so he spoke some Polish. "He lifted me up, and I was crying," said Witold. "We had lice, we were dirty. I told him, 'No, don't pick me up.' He said to me, 'You are my countryman,'" Witold recalled, holding back tears. "Then he said, 'You are free. Ger- mans cannot touch you anymore.' He lifted me up, he didn't care [that I was dirty]. He cried, too. He said to me, 'What are you doing in here?'" Witold explained their situation and showed the soldier his family. The sol- dier looked at them and said, "You're free." 'GOD HAS SOMETHING ELSE FOR YOU' After their liberation, the Engels lived in Ingol- stadt and welcomed two more children — a boy and a girl — into the world. T h e f a m i l y decided to move to America, but a few s i t u a t i o n s a l m o s t prevented that jour- ney from h a p p e n - ing, one of which was an illness Witold expe- rienced just a week before the family was set to embark. The day before they were to leave, that illness mysteriously went away. "I had miracles in the concentration camp, and another miracle there," said Witold. "Miracle after miracle." In 1951, when Witold was 18, he and his family immigrated to the United States and settled in New York. At 23, Witold talked to the local priest about the call he felt to the priest- hood. After all he had been through, he wanted to give his life back to God. But he was told he was too old and didn't speak enough English. After facing that disappointment, Witold proudly served in the United States Army for six years. He eventually ended up moving to California, where he met his wife, Carmen, through a coupon for singles form they both fi lled out. After two months of dating, the couple got mar- ried. They celebrated their 50th anni- versary earlier this year. Although Witold had faced rejec- tion when he sought the priesthood, he later realized God was bringing him to Carmen. But God's work wasn't fi nished yet. Witold su¢ ered another traumatic event during his marriage when he was hit by a car. After the accident, Carmen was told he wouldn't survive, and if he did, he'd never walk again. Little did the doctors know, Witold was a fi ghter. He made a complete recovery and learned to walk again. During his time in the hospital, a priest told him, "God loves you so much, he saved your life." "I said, 'Many times he's saved my life,'" said Witold. The priest looked into Witold's eyes and told him something he'll never forget. "I can see in your eyes God has some- thing else for you, something good for you," he said. "That's why God saved your life." 'I WANT TO SERVE GOD' God's timing is never in vain. When Witold was in his 50s, he felt called again to give up his life to God — this time, as a deacon. He spent nearly a decade applying to the diaconate in California, and after patiently waiting, was fi nally accepted at 60 years old to begin the life he longed for. He was on his way to the diaconate. "I had a calling, I know," said Witold. "I said, 'God is there. God saved my life. I want to serve God.'" Looking back at his life, Witold believes God spared him time after time so he could serve as a deacon and make an impact on the lives of the poor, the sick and the imprisoned. Witold was ordained a deacon in 1999, and his ministry in California included serving at two prisons, which he and Carmen visited almost every week. After telling some of the prisoners parts of his story, they were moved to tears. Two men came to God because of the visits. They were so changed, they were even granted early release from prison. Witold was surprised to see one of the men walking free after his release. Just decades earlier, Witold was in the arms of a soldier, crying with him as the man saved his life. Now, Witold was doing the same with this prisoner, but this time, he was the liberator — not of his life, but of his soul. Witold and Carmen moved to Col- orado in 2005 to be closer to their daughter, Jennifer, her husband, Tim, and their son, Dylan. The deacon served at St. Frances Cabrini Catholic Church in Littleton and Assisted Living and Memory Care at Morningstar until he retired around nine years ago. Witold is now 85 years old. "I can tell you [my story]," he said, "but you can't even imagine. You can read books, see movies about the Holo- caust, but it's not the same. It's not the same, what I experienced." Over 80 years after being sent to his fi rst concentration camp, Witold continues to pray constantly and put his complete trust in God — who, he believes, saved his life over and over again. Witold explained their situation and showed the soldier his family. The sol- dier looked at them and said, "You're 'GOD HAS SOMETHING ELSE FOR YOU' After their liberation, the Engels lived in Ingol- stadt and welcomed two more children — a boy and a girl — into the world. T h e f a m i l y decided to move to America, but a few s i t u a t i o n s a l m o s t prevented "I said, 'Many times he's saved my life,'" said Witold. I can tell you [my story], but you can't even imag- ine. You can read books, see movies about the Holocaust, but it's not the same. It's not the same, what I expe- rienced." DEACON WITOLD ENGEL "

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