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.