“Those who remained alive in camp three had one job, to kill and dispose of the dead. At first the Germans buried the bodies in big holes using tractors, but there were too many, so they began burning them. You could see the flames at night. Always burning. Like hell.

“Once, Himmler himself paid a visit to the camp. To celebrate his great coming, hundreds of young girls were killed in his honor.

“No one was safe. Even those helping the guards would be replaced every few weeks. It was frightful to be told to deliver food to camp three, because many times the deliverers would not come back.”

His words trailed off. He had again retreated within himself. My self-pity was swept away by the power of his story. After a few moments I asked, “How did you survive?”

“Hmm,” he said, nodding. “People think that the Jews just went like sheep to their graves—and no one resisted. That is not true. Many tried to escape. Many, many lost their lives because of it. The Germans had a rule. If one person escaped, then a dozen in the camp would be shot.

“It was horrible having death hanging over you at all times, but in one way, it was liberating. Once we knew for sure that it was only a matter of time before they would kill us, we had nothing to lose. We knew we all would die, so risk meant nothing.

“While we were planning our escape there came to Sobibor a Russian soldier with the name Pechersky. We called him Sasha. He planned the escape. Some of the men had axes from cutting trees, some made knives, and at the chosen hour one by one we killed the guards and took their guns. It went good until one of the guards was found. Then all was madness. The guards in the towers started shooting down with their machine guns. Our men fired back. It was every man for himself.

“There were forests just past the fence. We knew if we made it to the forest, it would be difficult for them to find us. There were seven hundred of us in the camp and maybe three hundred of us made it out of the camp. But the fields were planted with land mines and many did not make it to the trees. One land mine blew up near me and a man flew past me in the air.

“The Germans radioed for help and soldiers arrived with dogs to hunt us down. In the end, less than a hundred of us made it to freedom. And many of those were turned in or killed by Polish traitors in town.”

“Then it was a failure,” I said.