My name is Binyamin. I am very weak, very tired. I do not know how long it has been since my last meal. I hope these words reach someone after I am gone, I hope the worlds finds out what happened here.
My wife, my two daughters and I were brought to this place, this “Belzec” eight days ago. We were cold and underfed, but we were together for the first five days. On the sixth day, they separated us, shouting to us in German that everything would be alright. I hugged my two girls, Adah and Chana and told them we would be together soon. I hugged my wife, Illa and told her there must be some mistake. What did they want with our family? What had we done?
I have not seen my wife or my girls since. I am growing weaker and unable to think clearly. Some of the guards talk about “showers” and “sterilizing” some of the prisoners. I now understand what is happening. When the people go to these “showers”, they do not return. There is a large incinerator here and the smoke is constant. I fear….I fear my family may have gone there. Oh merciful Jehovah, what have we done??? How can mankind hold such hatred?
My family is gone and I know I will die soon. More from my holding area are taken every hour and do not return. When I am gone, do not forget my family. Do not forget me. Do not forgot all those dreams and memories who met a cruel, senseless end here. Don’t let us simply become fading echoes.
In Loving Memory of Victims of the Holocaust and their Families