Chapter 70 Section 70

"Mrs. Jones, are you all right?" Mr. Wilkinson's concerned voice interrupted my thoughts, and a soothing hand fell on my shoulder. I looked to my side, Nicholas and Ilo, the children who came out of Auschwitz-Perkenau, their sad faces turned into sad and painful faces of the children in Class 9B. In tears, the lice-infested clothes belonging to the horrific cemetery disappeared, replaced by plain school skirts and trousers, and white shirts for boys and girls. I searched and scratched my stomach, but I didn't know what to say. In the decades since that day, I have never had the opportunity, or the desire, to tell my story to others, at first as a nightmare and then as a feeling that no one wants to hear it.

At this moment, I look at the students next to me who have tears in their eyes like me, these children who are used to the fictional plots of TV and movies, and who are numb and ignorant of the cruelty of real human nature, I feel a strong sense of guilt, because I Shredded their innocence and burdened them with a past that many thought was best forgotten. A child came up and handed me a square of tissues, which I gratefully accepted.I felt her hand take mine, and when I looked at her, I could almost see Raisa's face looking back at me. I wiped my eyes, and Raisa disappeared into this kind schoolgirl in front of me, holding my wrinkled fingers and comforting me.

She asked: "Where is your mother, Anka? Tell us, have you found her?" Mr. Wilkinson stepped forward: "This is the end of the question, Jennifer." He turned to me. "Mrs. Jones, you don't have to force yourself to go on. If you want to leave now, we totally understand." I motioned him with my hand to continue. "Thank you, but they have a right to know." I turned to face the class, wiped my eyes, and tried to control my voice. "If this is just a story, a fairy tale, then maybe I can give you a happy ending." I looked at them, all eyes were on me. "Unfortunately the Holocaust is not a fairy tale. There is no happy ending either."

I paused, and the complex emotions in my chest almost rushed out, but I finally restrained it. "No, Jennifer, I never saw my mother again. She was almost certainly taken to Auschwitz. She probably died there, too, although I'll never be able to confirm. In fact, The most painful thing is not knowing anything." I sensed that they wanted to know more. "Ilo's parents, Haim and Golda, were killed. We later learned that Golda died on the train to Auschwitz, before the train derailed and freed me and the children , she was already dead. Haim, on another train, probably the same as my mother, arrived in Auschwitz, looking forward to reuniting with his wife and daughter."

I continued with difficulty, "He is Jewish, has no special skills, and is in poor health. After arriving, he was sent directly to the shower room." "Where is Raisa's father, Maxim?" I tried to smile at Ben, admiring his thoughtfulness. "He was taken away during the long-distance transfer, because his jewelry processing skills are still useful. But his health is already in jeopardy, and it is very unlikely that he can survive to the end." I saw Ben hold back tears. "Maxim's daughter, my good friend Raisa, was buried by Soviet soldiers in a cemetery near Auschwitz, and became one of tens of thousands of unknown bones. But at least she got a The decency of the grave. Most of the millions of victims of the Holocaust were deprived of even that.”

There was silence in the classroom, and the children looked at me with dazed eyes, begging me to continue talking. "Of course, there are survivors, including me. Nikolai, Yilo and I are still alive, and we are living proof against those who claim that the Holocaust never happened. Although Nicholas Thanks to his young age, Rabai doesn't remember much." "Do you guys still see each other?" Ben asked. I smiled and said, "Ilo, until now, I still regard her as my own sister. She is an amazing child and has grown into an amazing woman. Even though she has experienced so much misfortune, she has not given up all The Germans equated with the Nazis and even married a German and now live in Berlin. We still keep in touch, but there are some things we never talk about. Those things are so painful...even when Now, after all this time and still..."

I began to cry again, and Mr. Wilkinson stepped forward and lifted me from the chair. "Mrs. Jones, I think you've told us quite a bit. Perhaps you need a cup of hot tea. Let me take you to the staff room." When he helped me walk in front of the children sitting there, he stared at me with gloomy and moist eyes, and stretched out his gentle palms to comfort me.I know that I will never be able to tell a story like today, and I will never be able to relive those terrible memories again. Maybe I shouldn't be here today either. But when I felt Ben's hand reach into mine, gripping my fingers tightly, I realized that even one child, walking out of this classroom, firmly believes that we call it a massacre. The kind of tragedy that should never happen again, then the innocent victims of the Nazis did not die in vain.