Hello, my name is Noga and I want to tell you the story of my grandfather. I hope it will show you how cruel and terrible the Holocaust really was.
My grandfather, Asher, was born in Hungary. In 1944, a year before World War II was finished, the Nazis conquered Hungary. Asher was sent to a work camp because he was young and strong, and the rest of the family was sent to an extermination camp. I can’t forget how he told me, with tears in his eyes, that his last memory of his mother is her whispering “run away from here.”
Well, my grandfather listened to her. After a month, all the workers went up to the train, and he jumped from the train (which was going to the extermination camp), and broke his leg. For twenty days Asher crawled with a broken leg, without food or water. Then he met some Jews that helped him. He also got fake documents and started to work and look for a way to run away to a place not conquered by the Nazis.
But he was caught again. A Nazi put him in a line in front of a lake with other Jews and started to shoot them! The men next to my grandfather pushed him to the lake and he stayed there until the shooting ended. Then he went out, and came to Israel as soon as he could.
I don’t know what about you, the readers, but I admire him. After all the suffering, my grandfather got married, learned in the university (not just any university, but Harvard university) and had a normal life. But I have to add, with a deep sorrow, that the scar will stay forever – the terrible experiences, his family and the other victims – they will all stay with him forever.
My grandfather’s backyard in 1935 and in 1987.
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