There was always something to be concerned about though. My postcards, addressed to my family were returned one after another, thus creating even more uncertainty. Also, the black clouds of the storm, forecast by the pessimists amongst us, were drawing closer and closer.
 

We were to be taken to a concentration camp in Germany or Poland. The information was scattered - some of it had all the Jews earmarked for the same concentration camp, some for different ones. I was more relieved than worried about this, hoping that I might be able to hear about my parents and brother after all.
 

Next page