Page 32 A truck drew close and unloaded its hold: small children. Babies! Yes, I did see this, with my own eyes, children thrown into the flames.
Page 64 and 65 Then came the march past the victims. The two men were no longer alive. Their tongues were hanging out, swollen and bluish. But the third rope was still moving: the child, too light, was still breathing… And so he remained for more than half an hour, lingering be- tween life and death, writhing before our eyes. And we were forced to look at him at close range. He was still alive when I passed him. His tongue was still red, his eyes not yet extinguished.
Mrs. Schächter had lost her mind. On the first day of the journey, she had already begun to moan. She kept asking why she had been separated from her family. Later, her sobs and screams became hysterical.
I pinched myself: Was I still alive? Was I awake? How was it possible that men, women, and children were being burned and that the world kept silent? No. All this could not be real. A night-mare perhaps
"Not cry? We're on the threshold of death. Soon, we shall beinside...Do you understand? Inside. How could I not cry?"
There was no floor. A roof and four walls. Our feet sank into the mud. Again, the waiting. I fell asleep standing up. I dreamed of a bed, of my mother's hand on my face. I woke: I was standing, myfeet in the mud. Some people collapsed, sliding into the mud.