well as the neighbouring building. I waited until morning, when a Lithuanian officer and a soldier with a rifle went inside the house opposite ours, and then, less than half an hour later, a group of Jews I knew came out of there, carrying bundles and suitcases. Terrible was the moment when they approached the end of the street. Which way would they be going? To Ponary, or to the Jewish district. To death, or to life? They turned towards the Jewish district. I tookthe first breath in days that had stretched endlessly. It seemed to us that the ghetto was the salvation, that our lives would be safe there. Unfortunately, we were wrong. In the next hours, I could see through the window more and more friends from different streets, with children, carrying bundles and parcels. We waved and greeted each other. About one o’clock, a young Lithuanian came to us and accused us of sending a suitcase out of our house (some Jews gave their belongings to the Aryans). Using that as an excuse, he ordered us to leave the flat. Given that I was not at home, but with friends, I asked him to let me go home to get my things. The Lithuanian said no. I went as I was. In the streets were Germans and Aryan people, watching us. Some faces expressed compassion, while others – enjoyment. [3] They escorted us to the yard of a police station, where within two hours a larger group of people formed. From there, they led us to Straszuna Street and then let us go. In the meantime, rain began to pour, coming down in torrents. We started to seek shelterfrom the downpour in gateways and staircases. Only then did I realise that I had to stay there and that I did not have anything. Then, on some impulse, I rushed into the street in the hope that maybe I could save my things. The rain stopped. I saw a German officer, who was surrounded by Jewish women, talking one over the other, saying something to him, which – as I could seefrom his expression – he did not understand. I pushed my way through the crowd, and addressed him in German, requesting that he take me to my former home, so I could take my things from there. He agreed. This way, I saved my suitcase, but I had to leave the rest of my garments and underwear. Along the way, this officer, an Austrian by birth, told me that he had come to the ghetto to look for his former landlady, a Jewish woman. Happy, I went back. Until evening, we were trying to find somewhere to spend the night at least. We were able to get into one of the few unsealed rooms. The next day, as well as in the days that followed, there were throngs of people sitting on the stairs and in gateways. In the end, all the flats were unsealed. People rushed to take rooms; there was a cacophony of screams and shrieks. We slept with thirty
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