We were no more than animals, perhaps worse to the Nazi's. We were the ones who were to young to know what was going on, but in those camps, with the smell of those ovens, the smell of burnt flesh, the shootings, the assasniations, we grew up fast. We were sperated from our parents, many killed, experiemented on like lab mice.
I was but a girl of eight when I entered the camps, a little girl, but after a short time childhood slipped from me as I was forced to work miserable hours for little food, yet I was one of the lucky ones. I made it to V.E Day to tell my story. While other girls died in the Ovens of Aushwitchz, I was one of the lucky ones, but I do not know how lucky it can be when you are made to watch child after child die in such a horrible way. I can not begin to understand how I can call myself lucky when I suffered the constant pangs of hunger, but when the Americans came and liberated us, I felt the first glimpses of hope.
My brothers had died in Begen Belsen I knew that, but I held onto a small measure of hope that perhaps my parents, my cousins, somebody had made it out of those camps. I had no idea whether I would find them or not. We sifted through the names of survivors, in hopes of finding those familiar names, someone we knew, someone we loved.
Hitler had killed so many more, the monster had deserved to die a horrible death, but he took the cowards way out, suicide. He was not going to have to face the wrather of the Americans and the British as they liberated us on VE day.
They brought us food, but we could only eat a little, we could risk dying if we overate because our bellies were so swollen from the malnourishment, we suffered from Dysentery, Typhus and starvation. Yet we were alive, we had made it to freedom, but some would still not walk out of those camps alive, they would die in the process of liberation, to weak and to sick to hold on, at least those of us who would make it out, to find shelter in those who were not afraid to help could tell the stories of those who fought hard enough to see the day of liberation, then quietly died.
Children should not have to face death like this, but even the youngest of us were no longer children, Facing what was faced in Aushtwitz and Bergen Belsen, and hundreds of other camps, you are forced to grow up quick, childhood is not something you get to hold on to.