I was in a fenced in area. There was nothing but orangish-brown dirt everywhere with a few buildings spread out. There were thousands of people already there. Most of them were dressed in dirty blue and white striped clothes with wooden brown shoes. I couldn’t tell who was who. Everyone looked the same. They all had shaved heads, and were extremely thin. There were people lying down. I looked a bit closer and realized they weren’t moving. They were dead.
I looked up at my mother and cried out, “Mother, what are they doing to these people? Are we going to be like them?”
She never answered me though. She just grabbed my hand and stared forward.
We walked up in groups of fifty people. Most of the people in our group I recognized from our neighborhood. We stopped by one of the buildings and lined up. The stench was horrific. It smelled like rotting flesh and feces.
One of the soldiers walked up and started to speak to us, “Welcome to Auschwitz. To most of you this is your new home!” him and a few other soldiers began to laugh. He continued, “You will be sorted into buildings. I need women to my right, and men to my left. All children twelve and under will be going to a special building, to get washed up. You will follow me. Any children thirteen to seventeen you will go with General Volkens.” He stopped and pointed to a younger looking soldier to his right. “You are going to a different part of the camp. We are in no need of children over here.”
My heart dropped. I just turned thirteen. I looked back at my mother who was crying, looking at the ground. I tried running to her. Weaving through people, but one of the soldiers grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards. I screamed as my shoulder jerked back. She looked up at me and saw what happened and walked towards me, then stopped.
I started screaming, “Mom, don’t let them take me! Please, I don’t want to go!”
“Dalia, no” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t.”
She watched me as I was being taken away. I turned to my brother and father, crying out for help, but they didn’t do anything either. They just watched as I was being forced to walk. I gave up, realizing they weren’t going to do anything to help me.
General Volkens brought us to our camp and told us what we were doing. First, we started with our I.D. numbers. We walked in a line towards an area with wooden chairs and tables. We each sat down and gave them our arms and they began writing numbers on our arms. It was extremely painful and I constantly begged him to stop, but the more I begged the slower and harder he did it. After I was done I went to go get my head shaved. All of my long, straight brown hair was cut off. I cried harder each time I saw a piece fall to the ground. Then I walked to the warehouse where I got my job. I was a Kanada Kommando. A group of people who sorted all the belongings of the other prisoners. My bed, which I shared with four other people, was in a separate room inside that warehouse. I worked for hours on end every day. Rarely getting a break. It continued like this for twelve years but in those years I met the love of my life, Mathew. After we were let out we got married and had three children but I never saw my family again. The last thing I remember of my family is them crying and unable to help me, and that is something I will never forget or forgive the Nazis for.