Petr’s diary accurately describes his rich life almost until the moment of his transport to Theresienstadt. He lived for two more years in Theresienstadt, during which time, in spite of difficult conditions, he continued to draw and write. He edited the magazine Vedem38 and, as far as possible, lived life to the full. In two years, the naive, dreamy boy turned into a serious sixteen-year-old young man who was immensely interested in just about every scientific subject. In Theresienstadt one had the opportunity to meet acclaimed scientific experts and great artists, from many disciplines. Petr listened keenly to their lectures, which took place secretly, because any intellectual activity was strictly forbidden by the Germans.
Two years later, when I was also deported to Theresienstadt as a fourteen-year-old, I had the chance to see Petr briefly, hug him, and say good-bye to him, before he was deported with a transport to his death in Auschwitz. I wrote down the terrible moments of our last farewell in my Theresienstadt diary:
Petr is an awfully smart boy. In their house he is known as the smartest. When I arrived here, a girl asked me if Petr Ginz is my brother, and said he was the most intelligent boy in the “heim.” I was very happy and I was very proud of him.
16 September 1944
I haven’t written for a long time, I couldn’t find time to do it. Petr was ill, his fever was 39°. There is this epidemic in Theresienstadt now. Fevers, people feel no pains. I was very worried that he might have something, because Petr and I are here alone together and if something happened to him, I am responsible; how would I explain it to our parents?
27 September 1944
So Petr and Pavel are in the transport. They were summoned the day before yesterday. It was said they’d be leaving the next day, but meanwhile they are still here, because the train hasn’t come. They are living in the Hamburg barracks in the garret. … We are hoping the transport will stay here, they say there is a strike in the entire protectorate, so the train won’t even get here. When I found out that Petr is in it I felt ill. I ran to the toilets and cried my heart out there.
In front of Petr I try to calm myself; I don’t want to worry him. They are supposed to be taken somewhere near Dresden; I am terribly afraid there will be bombing there and the boys might get hurt. Mummy and Daddy, I miss you very much, especially now that my only support will be gone. Who knows if we’ll all find each other ever again? Oh, I wish the war would end already, it’s already a bit too much for us! What will our parents say at home when they find out that Petr is gone? They will probably know it soon now; Karel Müller wrote it home. Poor Daddy and Mummy!
The train is now here and both boys have boarded it. Petr has the number 2392 and Pavel 2626. They are together in one carriage. Petr is amazingly calm; Uncle Milos was admiring him. I kept hoping the train wont come, even though I knew the opposite was true. But what can one do?
In the morning Hanka (my cousin) and I went to see them by the slojzka.39 It was a terrible sight, I will not forget it till I die. A throng of women, children, and old people were pushing near the barracks to get a last glimpse of their son, husband, father, or brother. The men were leaning out the windows, pushing and shoving one on top of the other, to glance their dearest. All the barracks were surrounded by police so that no one could escape. Ghetto watchmen were standing near the building and chasing away people who got too close to it. Men were waving from the windows and saying fare well with their eyes to their relatives. Crying was heard from everywhere. We quickly ran and brought the boys two slices of bread, so they wont be hungry. I pushed my way through the crowd, crawled under the rope that separated it from the barracks, and handed Petr the bread through the window. I still had time to touch his hand through the bars and already the ghetto cop chased me away. Lucky it ended there. Now the boys are gone and all we have left of them are empty beds.
12 October 1944
It has been fourteen days now since the boys left, and we haven’t received any news from them. There were altogether seven transports, the list for the last one was being distributed yesterday, and I heard there will be more.
Today there was an alarm again, after a long time. I saw foreign airplanes. First there were droves of them and then we saw four, followed by German fighter planes. I am terribly afraid they will bomb where our boys are. Who knows if my little Petr and I will ever meet again? Dear boy! I hope not even God could allow this to happen.
28 October 1944
Oh, today is another sad day! Uncle Milos boarded a transport to the East a moment ago. He received the summons around midnight last night, saying he has to leave at two o’clock. I heard that Günther40 arrived here and was very angry at Rahm41 for leaving so many Jews here. It is exactly a month today since the boys left, and now Uncle. Hanka and I will stay here all alone, the last ones from our entire family.
2 November 1944
Yesterday I found Petr’s diary. When I read it, I couldn’t control myself and I had to cry. Dear poor darling.
In Israel, one day a year is dedicated to the memory of the Holocaust. On this day, called Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Day, the media deals with this subject, documentary films are shown containing horrifying witness accounts of Holocaust survivors from different countries. A great number of these accounts were recorded many years ago, immediately after the war, when the experiences were still fresh (even though I don’t believe that one can ever forget the horrors one lived through in concentration camps). Some testimonies were also used during the trial against Nazi war criminals in Nuremberg.
Israeli television broadcast a witness testimony that was extremely upsetting to me because it also had to do with the death of my brother, Petr. I heard details about how mass murder was carried out in gas chambers. I ask the readers to forgive me for returning to that terrible description. The witness in question worked in the gas chambers. His task was to wait for the people shoved into the gas chamber to suffocate; then he had to open the chamber and transport the heaps of corpses to the ovens, where they were to be burned. This man could barely speak for tears. He testified that the position of the corpses suggested what went on inside the hermetically sealed chamber, when it began to be filled with toxic gas. The stronger ones, led by an overpowering instinct for self-preservation, tried to get to the top, where there was still some air left, so that the weaker ones were trampled to death.
The picture of this horrific scene often haunts my thoughts, especially at night, even though I try to resist it. I see Petr in this terrifying situation and I find it hard to breathe myself. I ask myself: why him, and not me?