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Personal Narrative 
Hillersleben, May 9, 1945
 .
My dear one-and-only Ferike!

I am sorry that I have to write this letter in pencil, but I do not have pen and ink available for me. I ask God that I may give these lines to you very soon. I start my report with our deportation from home.

[Makó] June 15, 1944. The heat is oppressive. We are not allowed on the streets. The frightened Jews are guessing in despair why they are locked up in our overcrowded ghetto. At noon we already knew, but officially we only learned at six o'clock in the afternoon, that on the following day at four o'clock in the morning everybody has to be packed with two changes of underwear, dress/suit, linen and some food. Next day, on Friday, June 16, in the early morning hours, officials, both civilian and gendarmes came to get us.

We [women] had to carry our luggage to our Synagogue where they searched them. If anyone had more than the allowed, they threw out the unallowed pieces without mercy. They searched everybody at the entrance of the Synagogue and whatever valuables we had were confiscated, including wrist watches, money and wedding bands. When I had to give them my wedding band, that I got from you, I thought that if part my heart were cut out from me, it would not hurt more, as it was my last remaining memento. (Two of your "charming" colleagues from Makó were photographing the proceedings).

After this, we had to go to the area before the Ark of the Covenant, where a midwife gave a very extensive examination not only of us women, but also of little girls, ages 13-14. At the exit, trucks were waiting for us to take us to the cargo area of the railroad station. They put us in cattle wagons at nine o'clock in the morning, locked the doors and did not open them until eight o'clock in the evening when we arrived at Ujszeged [Hungary, 30 km to west of Makó]. I do not want to write you the details of this desperate day, you can imagine with what horrible feelings did we depart toward our questionable future.

At Ujszeged, even more wild gendarmes received us and directed our caravan to a soccer field amid beatings and shovings. Our new homes were [pup] tents on the playing field. We stayed here for three days, without water for a day-and-a-half, while being continuously threatened with killing every tenth person. On the third day we got a tremendous rain that washed us out from our tents. The fact that we all did not get pneumonia, I may only attribute to God's infinite mercy
 
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