The planes were circling low, dropping bombs continuously. But the
bombs did not frighten me as much as the aircraft, as I had the impression
that they were about to fall on my back at any moment. I could not get rid
of that tormenting thought. The ground under our feet shook with each explosion.
We went up with the ground for a moment and then we fell. That was
the worst. Despite all that horror I still could understand what was happening
to me. Anyhow, it was not an ordinary, human fear. It was something totally
independent of me, a savage, frenzied, dumb fear. I could not calm down
and I had no idea what was happening to me. I bowed my head to the ground —
I would never have dared look up for anything in the world! — I was screaming,
weeping, shouting some random words at God, some jumbled fragments
of prayers. I was declaring, begging, and pleading. I was barely conscious and
I could not calm down even though my sisters and my brother spoke to me
most imploringly. Everybody had the impression that it had been going on
for several hours.
I felt that I could not take it any longer, when suddenly my father
announced in a decisive tone that we had to flee immediately. He advised
everybody to do the same, for if they kept lying there they would surely
get killed. Everybody was already ready. For they had lost their heads and
they were happy to be led. They were happy that they did not have to hesitate,
choose, decide, or take responsibility. They were happy that somebody
was thinking for them. I was happy too, even though I had been so
scared of that! I focused on the escape so as to get out of that hell. The only
thought that plagued me was that we would be completely alone on a route
we did not know. For I was certain that aside from our small group, nobody
[. . .]. [6] Therefore, I tried to discourage my father from that plan, but
when he scolded me severely, I gave in to fate and to the course of events.
My aunt with her husband and child somehow joined us, declaring their
willingness to flee.
At some point things quieted down and my father ran home to get the
sacks and food. The wait was horrible, tormenting. He finally came back,
laden. He threw a sack on his back and my mother took the other one. He then
gave us the parcels of food and the bottles of tea and we set out, walking in
a group across some gardens and courtyards. My mother and aunt were crying
because grandfather and grandmother remained behind; father was despairing
about uncle and [his] children. But by then we were no longer able to stop.
