By now, the Jewish ghetto entrance was in sight. The gate opened to allow a German car to pass, and I caught sight of another world, one whose inhabitants were forced to wear a white band bearing a blue Star of David. Three dark-haired, bearded men rode in a rickshaw pedaled by a fourth; a handful of disheveled children darted past a scrawny figure sprawled on the sidewalk. Dead or too sick to move, I wasn’t certain. Near the still form, someone huddled beneath a pile of rags. Based on the size of the hand reaching toward the crowd, I assumed it was a woman. Beyond the beggar, soldiers detained a man who looked like a rabbi, and they trimmed his long gray beard while he remained solemn and dignified through the degradation.

The gate closed, entrapping the Jews, while a sharp pang of sorrow pierced my heart. One ideology spread like a disease and spawned such wickedness. Prior to the war, I’d witnessed various instances of hatred or oppression, but none as vile and senseless as this.

* * *

Auschwitz, 29 May 1941

I narrowed my eyes against the rainfall as I followed the group of male prisoners through the gate. Along the uneven road, we passed redbrick buildings labeled with black signs and white letters. The soldiers ushered us into Block 26, where men in striped garments wielded clubs like those on the railway platform. Inside, I looked for my family, but the only prisoners were the men from my group, and some were already in various stages of undress, preparing to accept their new prison garb. My family’s group must have already passed through. As I surveyed the scene, a man a few meters from me peeled off his undershirt and shorts and stood there, naked.

For a moment, I was too startled to look away; when I did, I discovered everyone was undressing. Completely. Without putting anything else on.

Some men huddled together for warmth and support, others shivered alone. This place stripped human beings of clothing and possessions and left them cowering in nakedness. What sort of prison was this?

One of the men in stripes approached me. A white armband bearing the word KAPO in black capital letters encircled his bicep, but I had no idea what it meant. I expected him to be surprised to see a girl among the men instead of with the women and children, wherever they were, but he didn’t look surprised. There was no emotion in his eyes at all.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

I hugged my midsection while my fingers gripped my sweater as if they’d never loosen, just as in Pawiak. I hated undressing in front of my own sister, my flesh and blood, and the people in this room were strangers—men, so many men.

“Now.”

The order startled me into focus, and I took a hasty step back. “Wait, please, may I . . . may I have other clothing first?”