Elly: My True Story Of The Holocaust
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At just 15, her mother, and brother were taken from their Romanian town to the Auschwitz-II/Birkenau concentration camp. When they arrived at Auschwitz, a soldier waved Elly to the right; her mother and brother to the left. She never saw her family alive again. Thanks to a series of miracles, Elly survived the Holocaust. Today she is dedicated to keeping alive the stories of those who did not. Elly appeared on CBS's 60 Minutes for her involvement in bringing an important lawsuit against Volkswagen, whose German factory used her and other Jews as slave laborers.
COLLEGE In my youth, I had no chance for a higher education. When the opportunity finally came in America, I registered for college. My English wasn’t the best, and my pronunciation was a disaster. In my first year, I had to repeat English class. For those of us born in foreign lands, it takes tremendous effort to learn how to speak and write English. In English, you do not read every letter and sometimes you pronounce them in different ways. But I had learned; I was in college. Often I asked
REVOLTED ALLIED SOLDIERS ROLL IN WE GOT OUR FREEDOM AND RAN AWAY I DISCOVER A HEARTBREAKING TRUTH MY HUSBAND’S STORY COMING TO AMERICA OUR FIRST WORK IN THE UNITED STATES GOING TO COLLEGE POETRY THOSE WITH SORE THROATS DISAPPEARED Author's Note Afterword Photo Insert Copyright Foreword ELLY GROSS, MY MOTHER My mother had me soon after she returned from the concentration camp. She was fifteen when the Hungarians and Germans took her away. She came home after the terrible ordeal to
nation could be blamed for everyone’s difficult and harsh life? It must be a nation without a homeland, a group of people who have no country of their own. That nation would be an easy target, and the Depression could be blamed on these people. They had no country on Earth to call their own. By blaming Jews in the 1920s and 1930s, a fanatical German leader, Adolf Hitler, united his countrymen. The slogan “Kill the Jews” was music to the ears of the Nazis1 and their collaborators. In the storm
placed them across from her home’s entrance in a sort of box that had small openings. As always, cats and dogs ran around the small yard. Maybe one touched the opening to the box, so the chickens got out. The entrance to our apartment was on the other side of the building. I rarely used the back entrance. I did not even know that the lady had any chickens. One late afternoon, the tenant called me and said, “You played with my chickens as if they were balls.” Mommy came out and said, “Do not
five years old, and I am fifteen.” It happened as fast as lighting; there was no time to think. I was pushed to the right. My mother, holding my brother in her arms, remained on the left. As I ran to reach the others, I waved to them. They looked in my direction. I relive this moment all of my life. We had arrived at the Auschwitz-II/Birkenau concentration camp in Poland. During my life, as problems arise, it crosses my mind that I made a terrible mistake. I am tormented with remorse. Why did I