“To forgive Hitler, or his wspólnicy …” He held up a finger. “… people who helped him, has nothing to do with Hitler. Hitler is a dead man. Do you believe forgiving him will help him?”

I didn’t answer. Of course it wouldn’t.

“My friend,” Leszek continued, “we chain ourselves to what we do not forgive. So let me say again your question. Should a Holocaust survivor chain himself forever to Hitler and his crimes? Or should he forgive and be free?”

“That’s easier said than done,” I said.

“Yes, everything is easier said than done.”

I looked down at the table.

“But you did not answer my question. Should we forgive and be free?”

His question angered me. “Look, I appreciate all you’ve done for me. You’re a better man than I am. But when you know what it’s like to have everything taken away from you, then you can preach to me about forgiveness and moving on.”

He nodded slowly. “I am sorry to upset you. No, I have not had everything taken away from me.” He looked into my eyes with an expression of the deepest gravity. “… But only because I was not willing to give up my humanity.” He put his arm on the table, then slowly rolled up his left sleeve. At first I didn’t see what he meant to show me. His skin was sun-spotted and wrinkled, but then I saw the number tattooed in blue ink on his forearm. I looked up into his eyes.

“I was fourteen years old when German soldiers came for my family and we were put on a train to Sobibor.” He looked into my eyes. “You have perhaps heard of Sobibor?”

I shook my head, still a little stunned.

“No,” he said, “I think not. For much time no one knew of the Sobibor camps. Even some Holocaust survivors denied it was. But those of us who were there know the truth. A quarter million people died there. Only a few of us survived. I was one of them.”

“Where is Sobibor?” I asked.

“Sobibor is in eastern Poland. It was the second camp built by the SS. It was a death camp. They kept only a few of us alive to help kill.

“The SS was very clever how they ran the camp. They would calm the people by telling them that they were being sent to a work camp. They did this so we would not resist. They did much to make the people believe this trick. They had prisoners in blue outfits waiting at the train station to greet the passengers. When we came out of the trains we were met by smiling bag porters.

“My father believed their trick. He even gave a tip to one of the porters, asking him to have our bags taken to our room.