I was lying in my bed early one morning, because I couldn't sleep well. All of the sudden, I hear cars and trucks rolling into the ghetto, and then I hear men shouting orders to pack up all our things and get out into the streets. I thought to myself, "Finally, after three years of living in that ghetto, we get to go back home." Two hours later, everyone in the ghetto is standing out in the freezing cold, holding on to as many suitcases as they can. The soldiers came through calling roll. After hours of standing, they finally loaded everyone into big trucks. There were so many people in each truck that there was no room to sit down. .
After what seemed like days of riding down bumpy roads, the truck stopped. A Nazi soldier opened the truck, and we were met by a line of soldiers with guns. They told us where we were, Birkenau concentration camp. Next, they told us to get out of the trucks and get into a line in front of a table. We waited in that line for at least an hour. When we got to the table, a man tattooed a number on our fore arms, this was to be our new name. After we got through the line, the soldiers began to separate the men from the women. We struggled to keep our mother with us, but there was nothing we could do, she was taken away. My dad, brothers, and I were all in tears. We did not know what fate our mother was to have; all we could do is watch her walk away. If only I had known that was the last time I would ever see her. .
They took us to another sorting area, to separate the children from the men. I was nineteen years old, but I knew if I told them my real age, my two younger brothers would be left by themselves. Luckily, I did not look nineteen. I lied about my age, and got to be with my brothers. But, my father was left by himself. As we separated, my father and I made eye contact and, without saying any words, we both said good bye to the other. I tried to see where my father went, but there were too many people and I lost him in the crowd.