No one knew where we were going or how long it would take. There were old people and children, men and women. That our family was together provided some comfort. We left Terezin early in the morning while it was still dark. Toward nighttime, some people began to get sick and panic. Arguments could be heard as tension increased. Father had his black doctor’s case and during the night he administered injections to several sick people. It was late at night when we arrived. The doors of the cattle cars were opened from the outside. They had been sealed securely in Terezin before our departure. Uniformed German SS guards were issuing orders: “Quickly, out of the train. Line up in rows of five along the track!” We noticed men in black-and-white-striped uniforms that looked like pyjamas. These were the prisoners. They told us we were in Auschwitz. Soon we were herded into big trucks. The doors were shut and motors started. The little I could see outside provided a strange sight: long rows of electric lights, a completely flat landscape, high barbed-wire fences in perfectly straight lines and observation posts manned by soldiers who were moving floodlights. It seemed like another planet. The trucks stopped. In the dark, I noticed that we were all men. The women must have gone in other trucks. We were quickly pushed into a long barracks. Once inside, we were ordered to lineup in rows of five again. We were told to put all our belongings in one pile and to undress. That was the last I saw of the beautiful watch and pen I had received from my parents for my bar mitzvah. We stood naked for a long time, shivering. One of the German guards opened the doors wide, letting in cold air from outside. At this moment, a strange incident occurred. Two men, perhaps in their twenties, were tossed in through the door. They looked yellow and were so thin that their bones could be seen.