Many little children, frightened orphans, were wandering around the Ghetto. Their parents went downtown to work, and one day they just didn’t return. One evening my brother Aaron didn’t come back. He helped move his girlfriend’s family, stayed downtown after curfew and was shot dead. Every ten days Mom went to pick up our share of bread. There was so little bread. Grandma died on Easter Eve. From old age and malnutrition - she secretly gave her ration to our little Tolik, who spent the whole day in her bed.
In late August 1942, it was announced that all children under the age of ten would be rescued from the Ghetto. Trucks drove in, and the sick, the elderly, everyone who could not work - children as well - were to be put into them. Dad quickly pulled Tolik aside and hid him in the attic above our room. He put the boy on the mattress and strictly said that he could lie, stand or sit on the mattress, but never get off it.
At night, Mom and Dad brought him a bit of bread, some water, and took out the piss bucket. This way, almost motionless, my little brother stayed for a whole month, after which he was allowed to climb down: Dad got fake documents with the entry that Tolik is already ten years old and can work with me in the factory, which meant another food card.
In August 1944, the Ghetto was liquidated. This means that the remaining living people were taken to Auschwitz-Birkenau, a still operating concentration camp.
TO DEATH.
