Choose a person from Remember the Holocaust and tell their story in first person POV (1-2 pages of narrative journal writing).
Person: Edith Heine-Levy
Dear Diary,
I have a heavy heart as I write to you today. My name is Edith Heine-Levy, and I am a survivor of the Holocaust. The memories of those dark times still haunt me, and I feel compelled to share my story with you.
It all started in 1940 when the Nazis invaded the Netherlands. I was just a young woman of 22, filled with hopes and dreams for the future. Little did I know that my life, along with the lives of millions, was about to be turned upside down.
They came with their propaganda, spreading their hateful ideology and painting a distorted image of who we were as Jews. Slowly but surely, they stripped away our rights, our dignity, and our humanity. We were segregated, forced to wear the yellow Star of David as a badge of shame.
By 1942, the Nazis began rounding up Jews from Amsterdam, our once vibrant and welcoming city. Fear gripped our community as families were torn apart, forced onto cattle cars with no idea of their destination. The world seemed to be collapsing around me, the hatred and cruelty becoming all-consuming.
In the early hours of July 15, 1942, they came for us. My family and I were wrenched from our home, separated from everything we knew. The journey to Westerbork, a transit camp, was filled with unimaginable horror. The stench of despair hung heavily in the air as we were crammed into filthy, overcrowded train carriages, stripped of our possessions.
Upon arrival, we were met with barbed wire fences and armed guards. The reality of our situation sank in as we were assigned a barrack, cold and cramped. Life within the camp was a constant struggle for survival, plagued by hunger, disease, and the relentless fear of deportation to an unknown fate.
I remember vividly the day we were transported again, this time to Auschwitz-Birkenau. It was as if we were stepping into hell itself. The sights, the sounds, the smell of burning flesh—it was sensory overload that no words can adequately describe. We were subjected to endless roll calls, forced labor, and the constant threat of death.
Through it all, I clung to the hope of liberation. I clung to the memories of my family, the love we shared, and the dreams we once had. But as the war raged on, hope grew dim, and despair settled deeply into my heart.
It wasn't until January 27, 1945, when the Soviet Army finally liberated Auschwitz, that I felt the spark of hope ignite once more. We emerged, frail and broken, but determined to rebuild our lives. It was a long and arduous journey, filled with physical and emotional scars that may never fully heal.
Now, as I pen down these words, I do so as a survivor. I bear witness to the atrocities committed during the Holocaust. The memories will forever be etched in my mind, but I refuse to let despair define me. I am resilient, unyielding in my determination to ensure that the world never forgets.
My story is just one among millions, but it is a story I must share. We must remember, Diary, we must remember.
With a heavy heart,
Edith Heine-Levy