My name is Samuel Bernstein, I am 45 years old and I am in the Gundelsheim concentration camp. My son, Freidel and I were swept away a fortnight ago. We were leaving peacefully in our home. Our house; surrounded by luscious mountains, ravishing flowers, and bubbling brooks was were we had lived with my wife and daughter for 15 years. My job as a congressmen was very important but was not anywhere near as important as my family. All of this was working in a perfect harmony until that dark, dreary night about 2 weeks ago.

It was 1:32 am when we heard a rap at our door. It was hardly noticeable at first. I woke my wife just to make sure that I wasn’t just hearing things. She awoke looking startled. The knocking became quicker and louder. I had heard rumors about a week before about families disappearing in the middle of the night. At the time I didn’t believe it. People can’t physically just disappear but I had no other explanation. When those knocks started echoing throughout the house I knew what I happened to all of the other families. They had been taken.

We didn’t answer the door. We all stood there frozen, staring at the wooden door that was about to fall off of its hinges. My beautiful wife and I were standing there wrapped around one another with my daughter on my other arm and my son clinging onto my wife. Dust surrounded the door way as the door came crashing down and our house was flooded with 7 men dressed in matching uniforms with that dreadful symbol attached to their shirts. The swastika. Dread and fear rushed throughout my body as I held my wife and kids more tightly.

Before I knew it we were surrounded by the gun men with each of them pulling recklessly at my family. The river flowing down my daughters checks, the blood curling screams from my wife, and the attempts of fighting from my son were things that I wish I wouldn’t of ever had to of seen. The images are still burned into my head to this day. The men laughed as if they were hyenas on the hunt. My daughter and wife were shoved into the back of a massive vehicle. The last thing I saw was the tears running down their faces and then the rusted black doors swung shot. By that point my son and I had given up the fight. We were roughly led to the back of another black vehicle and shoved into the cold metal chamber.

After driving for many hours and making numerous stops the truck bounced onto a mud road and before I knew it the vehicle screeched to a stop that sent all of the men in the truck flying into the front wall. A few moments later the doors were opened and we were released into a barren landscape surrounded by numerous gun men and barbed wire fences that were 10 feet tall. The large group of us were led into a building to our right that was barely visible in the dusk. We were taken into a small room with very low ceilings. We were instructed to take off all of our clothes and put on the mud stricken, striped uniforms. Each uniform had a yellow Jewish star sewn on the front accompanied by blue and white stripes throughout the rest of the fabric. I finally understood why we were here.

Two weeks have passed since we have been here and conditions are getting worse and worse. We get fed every few days if we are lucky and a very small portion of water to accompany it. My son visibly thinned within the first week and I was starting to get worried about his health. All of his thoughts and energy were being put into some means of escape. He came up to me later that night and told me of his plan. I begged him not to, but he is very hard headed. He was then taken to his bunks and I feared that I would never see him again. I knew what happened when others had tried to escape. Let’s just say that they were lucky if they got shot. Sadness filled my soul.


The following morning I was roughly awaken at a very early hour. I saw the other mean getting forced out of the bunks as well. I felt helpless. I had no comprehension of what was going on but I knew for a fact that it was not anything good. We were all shoved with the barrels of their guns down the splintered ramp from our bunks and out into the main yard. My heart fell into my feet when I saw what stood in the center of the forming circle. My son stood there with his hands and feet tied together, a rather amused guard stood beside him. My son had a look of shame on his face that I had never seen before. He had given up, something that I had never in my entire life expected to see. The flames in his eyes had been blown out and his body hung solemnly.

The guard then spoke and everyone feel silent. In a large, frightful voice he said exactly what I was predicting him to say. “Less than an hour ago I saw this, thing, attempting to escape under the fence. So, for a punishment I will not kill him by myself. One of you, for whom I have already selected will be helping me in this little escapade.” His eyes locked on mine and adrenaline flowed through my veins. I was then shoved forward by three guards to the center of the circle. He then started speaking again, “Since I am feeling generous I will give this man an option. The first, your son will be hung. The fun part of this one is that you will have to pull out the chair from under him. The second option is that he will still be hung. Along with one other random person in this camp. This person will be chosen at random to be killed along with your son. So, now its your turn to pick. Which one will it be?”