Mira Radová

“There was a railway on the Main Street, due to distribution of goods to the shops. And that was where our deporting train stopped. There we were waiting certain time and people were bringing us water, or maybe secretly even something little more through the small window, as the door was locked. We couldn’t say they agreed with what was happening, to the contrary…”

“There was one lady from Košice – being a bit snobby back home – who was in charge of our barrack. She took care of me – gave me some compresses which she changed. And I guess that saved my life. I also got some pills, but threw them up right away. They were of no use anyway. But one day, the head of the camp appeared, an SS member – and he found out somebody was there. He came closer to me and asked me: ‘How old are you?’ I said: ‘Eighteen.’ I had to be that old. ‘Having such hands? You are not even thirteen!’ And he left. But on the next day I got a cup of milk, what repeated then every day. That horrible SS guy used to send me a cup of milk every day. Moreover, on the next day, some German official came and ordered to send me an extra blanket. I don’t know why they took such mercy on me.”