Warning: This post contains sensitive content that is hard to watch/read.
In 1941, when Henry Oster was 12 years old, German soldiers came to his home in Cologne, Germany, and took him and his family away to the ghetto of Lodz. This is his story of surviving the Holocaust:
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« In the middle of the night, they kicked down the door — they were yelling and screaming. My mom and dad were at a loss. They grabbed me to protect me, especially from the German shepherds, which were pretty much at my level. »
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« I, of course, was scared and confused. I had no way of doing anything to escape. … We were greeted by people who had an emaciated, hollow look. They really moved like zombies. »
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« The Germans slammed the arm onto a table, and with a hypodermic needle, every little dot was injected until it became, in my case, the number B-7648. »