Today we had to move to another barrack. Everyone packed their meagre belongings together, and slowly the barrack in which we had lived for ten months emptied. It was very unsettling. The barrack had become our home, our bed so familiar. We had slept, eaten and talked, sitting close together as a family unit. Now there was this uncertainty again, that feeling we had experienced so many times at home in Amsterdam when the SS had gone from door to door to bring people out of their houses. We heard the knocks on other doors and were relieved when the sound of heavy boots passed our home without stopping. Here in Belsen it was no different. Uprooting people en masse was a cunning and sadistic technique that created panic in our hearts and had a great psychological impact.
Mum, Dad, Jacky and Max had gone to investigate the new barrack and to find us a bed. I was left behind to guard the suitcases and our blankets, which were already rolled up in a bundle. While I was sitting on top of our bed, I surveyed the now near-empty barrack. Here and there some discarded or forgotten possessions were lying around. They won’t be there for long, I thought, someone will have a use for them. A bit further down the aisles an elderly couple was getting ready to leave, the man telling the woman to hurry up otherwise they would not find a bed. The woman was crying and her movements were slow and difficult.
‘Come on!’ the man urged her. ‘Here, let me carry this case, and maybe that will be easier.’
With sad eyes I watched them leave the barrack. She will not live much longer, I thought. What a shame, she was such a pretty old lady. When we arrived about ten months ago, she always had such a friendly smile, and now she was skinny and old and worn out from being systematically deprived of sustaining food.
Mum and Dad arrived back after about two hours.
‘For goodness sake! What took you so long?’ I asked.
‘Be quiet! I have a surprise for you,’ Mum said.
Mum and Dad climbed up. Mum opened a bundle wrapped in some old cloth.
‘Here, you may eat it all,’ she said, as she handed me one of the large potatoes cooked in its skin and still boiling hot.
‘How did you do this?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ Dad answered, ‘it was really your mother’s idea to take advantage of the chaos in our camp at the moment, so we went to the hospital with the potatoes, and, as everyone was moving around with bundles and suitcases, no one noticed anything.’
While the potatoes were being cooked in the hospital, they had gone to find beds in the new barrack. They had also found two mattresses, and they had to find some planks for underneath as well. Max and Jacky had stayed behind to guard the beds. Mum and Dad had returned to the hospital to collect the potatoes. While Mum and Dad were telling me the story, I had peeled away the skin of half the potato and broken a piece away. I started to eat it slowly as it was still piping hot. Mum and Dad also ate their potatoes with some salt which Mum had retrieved from our suitcase. No further words were said as the three of us ate on top of our bed in the now-deserted barrack. But what was that? I looked up at Mum in surprise. I had only finished half the potato when I could not eat another bite. I was full! My stomach could not handle any more food. I could have sworn I could have eaten a whole cow, I was so hungry when I started.
‘I cannot eat any more,’ I told Mum.
‘Go slowly,’ Mum urged, ‘your stomach has shrunk. Better keep the rest for breakfast.’ She opened the old cloth which still held two potatoes for Max and Jacky.
‘There,’ Mum said, ‘put it back in here, it will keep till tomorrow.’ I put my half a potato with the other two, after which Mum carefully wrapped them and put them in the suitcase.
‘Well,’ she enquired, ‘was it good?’
Was it good? Of course it had been good. For the first time in many months my stomach was full and I was not hungry. Mum and Dad finished their potatoes soon after.
‘We better be going, it’s getting late,’ Dad said.
We climbed down from our bed for the last time. Dad took the two suitcases and Mum and I each carried a bundle of blankets.
It was dark when we left the barrack. The weather was mild for the time of the year. There were still a few people shuffling around but most were already in their barracks. We crossed the Appelplatz. When we arrived in our new barrack it was not as bad as I had imagined. Some people were burning a candle, which they must have brought from home a long time ago. It gave them a dim light and it helped us find our beds. Max and Jacky were glad to see us as they had been a bit scared in the new surroundings. Mum gave them each a potato before we made up our bed as well as possible under the circumstances. The sight of the potato soon stopped any complaints from the boys about making them wait so long. But even before Max could finish his potato Dad told him they had to leave in time for the curfew. We kissed each other goodnight and Dad left with Max.
Mum had managed to get a top bunk again with Jacky on the bed below us. Jacky had to share a bed with another woman as there was a shortage. In the lower bed slept two sisters. Soon we were told that all the lights had to be out. The barrack was in total darkness. Mum had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but I could not sleep. I was staring into the darkness and listening to the sounds of so many people resting in an exhausted sleep in this creepy place. I turned on my side and looked through the window next to our bed. I could see the deserted Appelplatz dimly lit from the big light on the gate, the barracks throwing their shadow on the ground. I do not even know where the toilets are, I thought. Better not think about it, I told myself, otherwise I will have to go. I leant over the side of the bunk and as my eyes had become accustomed to the dark, I could see Jacky sleeping peacefully on the bed below. I must have dozed, as I woke up when Mum gently untangled herself from the blanket to go to work. We all had gone to sleep fully dressed. Being in an unfamiliar place we felt safer with our clothes on.
‘Mum,’ I whispered, ‘where are the toilets?’
Mum told me how to get there, gave me a kiss and was off to work. It was still dark outside and looking out the window, I could see about forty women standing in formation on the dimly lit Appelplatz with the SS counting heads before they marched out of the gate.
Max came early in the morning and told us to give him our beakers so he could get some of that brown sloppy coffee for Jacky and myself. It did not take him long to return. He handed the beakers up to me, having difficulty not spilling the coffee, as our bed was much higher than in the previous barrack. Max quickly climbed on top and snuggled under the blanket with us. Jacky had come up from the bed below earlier. The closeness of our bodies radiated heat and kept us warm. It was lovely to feel warm. Jacky and I were sipping the warm drink while we observed our surroundings. In the light of the morning we did not see many familiar faces from the previous barrack. To our surprise we noticed that men were also sleeping in the barrack. How that had come about we did not know, and frankly we did not care much. Women were not prudish anymore, and dressed and undressed and washed themselves, sometimes naked, in front of strangers. Who cared! Who would want to look at those skinny women. The only thought which drove everybody on was food to stay alive. The three of us stayed in the barrack all day. We only left it for three hours to stand on rollcall. Before we went to the Appelplatz we had covered the suitcase containing our precious sugar with a blanket, making sure that our bed was made according to SS standards.
The hours went by slowly, as we waited for our parents’ return. In the morning I ate the rest of my potato after giving Max and Jacky a small piece from it. They had eaten theirs last night but somehow I could not eat alone. We did not feel at home yet in this new barrack, as we did not know many of the people. It housed twice as many people as the previous one. Max got us our soup at lunchtime and, as usual, we saved a bowlful for Dad. He was ever so hungry when he came home from work. When it was time, the boys went to meet him near the gate. Dad would always ask if Mum was back, as for the past few months the hours she had to work were longer and longer. There were only two kitchens in the camp to cater for the tremendous influx of people in Belsen. Mum got home about an hour later than Dad. It had been a long, long day for her. Max and Dad had gone to meet her, and when they entered the barrack I was so very happy to see her again. They all climbed onto our bed. It was more difficult now as it was one bed higher and there was not much room to sit. Most of the other people also sat on their bunks, and when you climbed up or down you would unintentionally step on the person below.
After Mum and Dad had rested a bit they decided to go to the hospital to have some more potatoes cooked. When they returned they told us that the potatoes would be ready for us to pick up the next night. When Max had collected the soup at lunchtime, he had also collected our bread rations, so a thin slice of dark dry bread was our meagre meal that night, supplemented by a few pieces of carrot Mum had smuggled in her boots. Mum was very tired so Dad and Max left early. This way we could all have an early night.
The next day was the same routine. We soon found out that there was no washhouse near the barrack, only a tap outside. Jacky and I went there in the morning to wash our faces and hands, while Max guarded the bed. Rollcall took two hours. We were glad to be inside again after it was over. At lunchtime, we were given bread rations for three days. This brought another worry; where to hide it so it did not get stolen. The only place we had was in the suitcase, and that is where I put it. After lunch Max and Jacky left the barrack in search of food. They took a bowl with them. The boys both had a special spoon and table knife. It had a silver coloured handle and the cutting blade was made of sweeping steel. They used it to scrape out the empty food containers before they were collected. Sometimes Max came back with half a bowl of soup but there were times when the food he scraped off the side of the food containers was contaminated with worms and mould. When Max was not sure of the risk involved, or if it looked as if rust particles were in the food, he always asked me for my opinion. I told him not to eat it because it was dangerous. He looked so disappointed. At times he worked so hard to acquire only a thin layer of food on the bottom of his bowl. He would reluctantly throw it away. With the boys gone, I was obliged to stay on our bed to watch over our suitcases.
One of the sisters on the lower bunk started a conversation with me. Her sister was not feeling well and was lying in bed. They told me that their respective husbands had been picked up in a raid in Amsterdam two years ago and they did not know what had happened to them. The sisters had been living together after that had happened, and now they were here together.
The boys returned after about an hour. They had not had much success and I told them to eat what they had in the bowl. Mum came home early that day and after giving us some pieces of carrot, she said she would go to the hospital to collect our last potatoes. Max and Jacky went with her. Soon after they left, Dad arrived, looking worried.
‘Where is everybody? No one was at the gate to meet me!’ he said.
I explained that Mum and the boys had gone to pick up the potatoes.
His face cleared.
‘Yes!’ he said, ‘I don’t think I will eat this now. This water (indicating the soup, if you could call it that,) will fill me up and then I won’t be able to eat the potato. You know what? I will exchange it for something. I know a man who has some razor blades. I will see him straightaway. Hand me the bowl, Hetty.’
Dad climbed down again. When he reached the floor, I handed him the bowl with the cold soup. I had used my headscarf to cover it. Dad left with the bowl and I settled down to watch and wait again. About half an hour later Dad returned with two razor blades and soon after, Mum and the boys arrived. Mum and Max were carrying our precious potatoes. When everybody had climbed up, Mum opened the wrapping and we counted eight potatoes. Mum told Dad that she had to give another two potatoes to the cook. Soon we were all eating our precious meal. I had immediately cut my potato into halves as I knew that a whole potato was too much for me. It was wonderful to be able to eat so much that you were not hungry anymore. After we were finished, Mum gave Dad another potato to eat in the morning before he went to work, and the rest she put in the suitcase.
We sat together for a while, Dad telling us about a workmate who had been caught that night. He had dropped a stolen shoe as he was walking through the gate. We felt very sorry for this man as it was quite nippy outside, so the hours standing at the gate would not be easy for him. After about an hour, we all felt very drowsy—the result of having a full stomach.
Dad decided to call it a day and, after kissing us goodnight, he left with Max, but not before Mum told Max that it was her free day tomorrow and he had to come here before it was time for rollcall, so he could share in our special breakfast. We were a united family unit and received strength from each other in these horrendous circumstances.
The next morning I woke up at seven o’clock. I had had a long deep sleep. Mum was watching me and gave me a big smile and a good morning kiss.
‘Have you been awake a long time, Mum?’ I asked.
‘About an hour. Would you like your breakfast?’
‘No, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’ll keep it for later. Where is Jacky?’
‘He has gone with Max to look for food. They won’t be long as we have to go to rollcall.’
‘Well, I’m ready,’ I said. ‘I’m dressed.’ We were still sleeping in our clothes.
‘Comb your hair a bit and you’ll look fine,’ Mum said.
I started to look for a comb in the suitcase. It was about half-past seven when we were told that there would not be a rollcall today. That was good news, but usually when there was no rollcall, they had something more sinister in store for us. Mum decided to investigate what we could expect.
‘Mum, I have been in the barrack for two days guarding the suitcase. Could Max and Jacky stay for a while to guard it? I would like to get some fresh air,’ I said.
‘Of course!’ Mum said. ‘When the boys get back you may tell them that I said so. I am going now. I won’t be long.’
She climbed down and soon, through the window, I saw her crossing the Appelplatz towards our old barrack. When Max and Jacky returned to the barrack I told them that Mum wanted them to stay in and guard the suitcase, to which they both immediately agreed. So I climbed down from our bed and headed outside, where there were some groups of women standing around talking to each other. I did not take much notice of them and turned the corner of the barrack, when I saw Mum coming towards me. She appeared nervous and shaky.
‘What’s the matter, Mum?’ I asked when she was close enough.
‘Something terrible is going to happen!’ she said.
‘What?’
For a moment Mum could not answer. I could see she was very upset.
‘What is it?’ I urged her.
‘They say that the diamond group is going on a penalty transport today,’ Mum said.
For a moment I was stunned. Then the realisation settled in that our names had been added to the group about six months ago.
‘Oh, no! But perhaps they will exclude us and maybe there is no truth in the rumour.’
‘No,’ Mum said, ‘it’s true. There!’ She pointed to the gate. ‘The guards are bringing the men back from the work details. It’s true all right.’
I panicked. I took hold of Mum’s arm.
‘What are we going to do?’
Mum put her arms around me.
‘Hush. Stay calm, then you can think more clearly. Somehow we will manage. We aren’t going, but Dad is. They are only sending the men away.’
By now, the whole camp was in commotion, the news having spread like a wildfire. Max came outside and saw my distressed face, and by now Mum could not hold back tears. He ran to Mum and buried his face in her chest with his arms tightly around her.
‘What are we going to do?’ he cried.
Mum stroked his hair while trying to compose herself.
‘Look, there’s Dad,’ I said, who was marching in with about ten other men brought back from the shoe detail. As if in a dream, I watched the small group of men downing their hats, faces turned right, in salute to the SS guard at the gate as they entered the camp. Dad spotted us at once and hurried toward us. No words were needed as Dad’s eyes met Mum’s. The misery their eyes mirrored was unbearable. Dad’s arms went around Mum. They stood very still, embracing each other without a word, the pain of the impending separation written on their faces. When at long last Dad released Mum, he kissed Max and me and said to Max, ‘Come with me to our barrack to pick up our suitcase and bedding. From now on you will sleep with Mum, as you cannot stay on your own up there after I am gone. Let’s go! They have given us an hour.’
Max and Dad left, and Mum and I entered the barrack to wait for them to return. Mum told Jacky the bad news while I could not sit still. I opened the suitcase to pull out three rations of bread to give Dad to take with him. I found a reasonably clean handkerchief in which I rolled the bread. So this is why they gave us a three-day bread ration, I thought. How cunning they are. They had it all arranged, the filthy swines.
It did not take long for Dad to return with Max. Dad carried his suitcase and Max carried a blanket and a sheet, whose colour could not be established anymore as it had not been washed for weeks. As usual, everything took place on top of our bed. There Dad opened the suitcase and took out a singlet, a shirt, underpants, two pairs of socks and his razor, with the two razor blades he had received only yesterday in exchange for the soup.
‘Jacky,’ Dad said, ‘give me your little carrying bag. I can carry it better than a near-empty suitcase.’ Jacky emptied his bag and handed it to Dad. Dad also put the three rations of bread into the bag. Mum wanted to give him a jar of sugar, but Dad steadfastly refused.
‘It’s for my children. I won’t take it!’ he said.
No matter how Mum pleaded, he would not change his mind. The time when Dad had to go grew nearer. One by one he embraced the three of us and told us to be good and to look after Mum. We all scrambled down to the floor to escort Dad to the gate. As we were leaving the barrack, lots of women and men came up to Dad and wished him well.
Outside, I noticed how grey the sky was. Everything looked grey. One hundred and sixty-four men with their families had gathered near the gate and our family joined them. A hush settled over the Appelplatz. Most people had done their crying in private, I thought. At the moment of departure it appeared that an inner strength within this group gathered near the gate had come to the surface. Although everyone was anguished with the knowledge that they may never see their loved ones again, with only a few exceptions, they made an effort to look cheerful in order to give each other the courage to face the uncertain future.
We were standing close together in these final moments when the SS guard called the names of the men who had to come forward. Just outside the gate, they lined up five abreast. The first few names had been called in alphabetical order. When they came to the gate, they were told to leave their luggage behind. When we saw that, Dad opened his little bag, took out the bread rations and put them into the pocket of his coat. He then took out his razor and the two blades, which he had previously rolled in a piece of paper, and put them into the other pocket of his coat. He handed Mum the carrying bag and said, ‘I will eat the bread, and if they do not take away the razor and blades, then I can exchange for food.’ By now, half the group had gone through the gate and part of the group had marched off. Once the men had left, their wives and children cried bitterly. They did not have to pretend anymore.
Dad turned to Mum and said, ‘Darling, take good care of yourself and the children, but most of all, stay alive. I will see you again soon. I am sure that the war will soon be over. I will find you.’
Mum could not speak; her eyes were burning with tears. Jacky and Max were crying. Dad kissed Mum and held her close, then Dad kissed the boys and told them to be good for Mum. At last he turned to me, and his warm brown eyes looked into mine.
‘Hetty,’ he said, ‘you are the oldest. Look after your mother for me, and the boys.’
I nodded. I could not speak and he kissed me goodbye. Then his name was called. There was nothing we could do. He had to leave us now. A final kiss for Mum and he walked away from us towards the gate where his name was ticked off against the list by the SS officer. We saw Dad going through the gate to join the other men already standing there. Uncle Max was among them. Dad had been one of the last to go.
Every wife and child tried to get a last glimpse of their dear one and we vied for a position along the fence. The order was shouted and the men started to move. The men looked as grey as the weather except for their eyes.
‘Goodbye! Goodbye!’ We called and waved to all the men who were forced to leave us, until they disappeared into the distance.
Slowly the Appelplatz emptied. Women and children collected the luggage left behind by their respective husbands and fathers. We had nothing to collect. Silently, we walked towards our barrack. No one spoke. Each of us was busy with their own thoughts. In my imagination, I followed Dad on the road to the station where they would board the train, but to where? An immeasurable distance without horizon appeared in my mind. I could not see anything. It was void. Dad, where are you? My heart was calling out to him, but no answer came back. In despair I returned to the barrack, yet no tears would come. After climbing onto our bed, I dared to look at Mum for the first time. In her eyes I could see the pain from Dad’s departure. What could I say? I felt her pain, but I knew I had to say something.
‘Mum,’ I said, ‘Dad will be all right.’
‘You think so?’ Mum answered. Like a frightened child, she was asking for reassurance.
‘I am sure of it,’ I told her. ‘You must not let it get you down. We will see him again soon. He said so and I know it! You know he is always optimistic. He is a survivor.’ From somewhere the words came to me, and I was glad that Mum took comfort from my words. Strangely, my own words also comforted me.
Mum lifted her head and saw the two boys who had sat silently while I had talked to her. She embraced them both as one and said, ‘We have to do it together now Dad is gone.’
The boys nodded their heads.
‘Well,’ Mum said, ‘we’d better make arrangements so Max can share our bed tonight.’ Mum opened the second suitcase and emptied it of the few belongings. She told Max to put the empty suitcase under the bunk on the floor. Nobody would steal the suitcase as we had nowhere to go. Mum put everything in the other suitcase and then moved it into an upright position on the end of our bed so that Max could sleep on our foot end. Somehow, we would manage.
Later that day, we shared the last potatoes and ate some of our bread ration. At times, Mum stared in front of her and we knew where her mind had wandered. We all felt desolate and depressed, and I am sure we all were glad that it was time to go to sleep. We each found new positions as Max was sharing the bed now. Max slept at once. Mum lay awake for some time, but then I could hear her steady breathing and I knew she was asleep. I lay awake for many hours thinking of Dad and I prayed to God to look after my father.
After Mum left for work in the morning, Max lay next to me. We slept until half-past six and woke up because Jacky had told us that the coffee had arrived. As usual Max got the coffee. He took a bowl as this was easier to carry than three mugs. We drank the warm brown water to get warm.
‘Where do you think Dad is now?’
I don’t know,’ I answered.
Silence fell between us. I took out a bread ration from the suitcase; it was brown and dry. I cut off three very thin slices of about 0.25 centimetres of the daily ration of about six centimetres by three centimetres. This had to last us until the soup arrived. Just as we prepared to go to rollcall we were told that there would be no rollcall this morning, so the three of us remained sitting on top of our bed.
It was 5 December 1944, St Nicholas’ Day, the day that all children in Holland are spoiled with sweets and presents.
It was about nine o’clock when Mum walked into the barrack.
‘What’s the matter, Mum? Why have you come back from work?’ I asked.
‘We are going on a transport!’ Mum said.
‘What? Where are we going?’ I was shocked, and a feeling of impending catastrophe took hold of me. The eyes of the boys reflected their shock.
‘We must pack our things now. We have to be ready at eleven o’clock,’ Mum said.
Mum’s quiet words subdued the panic. How strong she is, I thought. She knows she must stay calm for our sakes.
‘God will look after us, believe me!’ Mum said, looking at me.
I was not so sure. How could God allow people to know such suffering as we had experienced?
Mum told Max to get the suitcase off the floor and to hand it up to her. I helped her to fold up the blankets and sheets. It didn’t take long to fold two blankets and sheets into one suitcase, and the third blanket easily fitted into the other, with the meagre remains of our clothing. She carefully placed our jars of sugar and the salt in between the folds of the blankets. It had taken us no more than twenty minutes to be ready. She sent Max and Jacky away to wash their hands and faces, and told them to use the toilets as well. When Max and Jacky returned, Mum and I left to do the same. We returned about ten minutes later. By now it was nearly ten o’clock and we had one more hour to wait before going to the gate. We sat on our bed. We did not say much. Now and then someone would come up to us and wish us well. The woman from the lower bunk told us that after we were gone, she and her sister would take our bed.
‘Of course,’ Mum said.
We were torn between hope and despair. Perhaps we were going to a better camp. Where were we going? I did not want to think about the possibility that we could be sent to a worse place.
It was now half-past ten.
‘We’d better go outside, then we can see what is happening,’ Mum said.
Mum and I climbed down, and the boys handed the suitcases to us. While the boys climbed down, the woman from the lower bed climbed up to claim possession of our bed before anyone else could. Mum and I carried the suitcases as we walked towards the exit. Max and Jacky followed. We did not go to the gate immediately, but stayed near the barrack. We could observe from this position what was taking place on the Appelplatz and the gates. Lots of women with their luggage and their children had already assembled on the Appelplatz with their friends or family, who had come to say a final farewell.
At ten minutes to eleven, Albela came to the gate and we could see Mr Weiss as well. Three SS officers arrived five minutes later, alighting from the truck parked on the road outside the gate. We could see one of the SS speaking with Albela, who nodded his head, and he gave the list which the SS had handed him to one of his lieutenants. Mr Weiss was present to translate, as not many women could understand German. More and more well-wishers had filled the Appelplatz, so our view of the gate was obscured. We noticed that some of the women had moved towards the gate. We could not see the children as adults blocked our view. Suddenly we could hear a commotion and struggling at the gate. A woman started to scream hysterically, ‘My baby, my baby, I want my baby!’ Another woman cried, ‘No! ‘No!’ We could hear the SS yell, ‘Move on! Move on!’
‘My God, we have to leave the children behind. They are not allowing them to come with us,’ Mum said.
I was numb with horror and could not bring out one word.
‘Quick Hetty, get back into the barrack with the suitcase, we have no time to lose!’ Mum commanded.
I walked into the barrack with Mum following me. The barrack was deserted as everybody was watching at the gate. Just inside the door, Mum told me to open the suitcase as she opened the other one. In a few quick movements, she separated one blanket and her clothing into one of the suitcases. She also took one jar which was half full of sugar and put it in her case.
‘Now Hetty, I want you and the boys to eat a spoonful of sugar now and then, but be very careful with it, because you can exchange it for bread or something you need. Promise me you will do this,’ she said.
‘Yes, Mum,’ I said, and I could feel the tremendous responsibility which now rested on my shoulders.
‘Hetty, look after the boys for me,’ Mum said again. ‘Especially take care of Jacky, he’s been sickly the past few years.’
‘Yes, Mum,’ I promised. We both knew that our last minutes of being together were quickly ticking away.
‘Oh,’ Mum said, ‘I nearly forgot. Here is the steel nit comb.’ She pulled it out of the pocket of her coat. ‘Keep your hair clean, and the boys’ too.’
I nodded and put the comb in my pocket. During all these months in the camp, Mum had kept our hair free of lice. Mum took me in her arms and kissed me again and again. I clung to her as I knew she had to go soon. No tears had come to either of us. Our eyes were dry but our hearts were bleeding.
‘Come,’ Mum said, ‘I must say goodbye to the boys.’
We picked up our suitcases and went outside and found the boys, where Mum had told them to stay put.
Mum embraced the boys, who were crying bitterly.
‘Hush, you both must be big men now and listen to Hetty. She will look after you now. You must stay together and come back to Amsterdam to the Pomstra family after the war is over. Now don’t forget, my darlings,’ Mum said, kissing them again and again.
‘Are you going to bring Mum to the gate?’ she said, as she slowly straightened up.
She picked up her suitcase and with the boys clinging to her coat, we slowly walked to the gate. When we were about five metres from the gate, Mr Weiss gently removed the boys from Mum’s coat. Mum turned to give me a last kiss, bending down to the boys to do the same. The boys were now clinging to me, crying out their sorrow. I could not hold back my own tears anymore as I watched Mum climbing onto the back of the truck with her suitcase, assisted by some of the other women. It was like a nightmare seeing Mum go in the same manner as Dad had gone the day before.
We ran towards the fence so as not to miss the last seconds of seeing our mother. When the truck started to move, Mum called out, ‘Be good my children, goodbye!’ We waved and called our goodbyes. Everybody was crying and our hearts were breaking.