Tommy O Lustig

Children on Death Row Tommy O Lustig

I still have the nightmares. It is a dark, rainy night, fall of 1944. I am a child; a prisoner in Terezin Concentration Camp. It is nighttime in the children's home, and I wake up early in the morning. In the shadowy half-light I can make out the double bunkbeds crowding the old military barracks attic. I start to realize there is a commotion near the door. I peek up from beneath my rough, thin blanket to see a little group of children in the shadows near my bunk. They are just getting ready to leave and trying not to wake up the other children. I whisper: "Hey kids, where are you going? Wait for me, wait for me!" I start to push the covers aside and reach for my shoes next to the bunk. One of the children responds: "We are leaving on a transport to the East, to the place of no return." Another says quietly: "You will never see us again, but you must remember us." A third chimes in: "You must remember us. And tell all the people about us. No matter if they like us or not; no matter what they think, no matter what they want to hear." I am sad, confused as I ask: "Why do you have to go? Don't go.." They file out the door, and so I whisper-shout after them "Yes I will, I will remember, I promise." Then they are gone. Like the scores of children before them, so many my head spins. We were all so scared, every day: who is going to be next? It could have been any of us. I remember my dream like it was yesterday. We lived through so many unimaginable terrors which over time became commonplace to us. The terror that haunts me to this day is those early-morning disappearances, the realization, in the shadowy half-light and half-sleep, that some of my friends had moved to the top of the list on death row. How did children deserve such a horrible fate, a death sentence? We, the Jewish children, were prisoners in Terezin, a storage facility, a holding tank of all the prisoners being organized, counted, stored, lined up and efficiently marched to their death in extermination camps. The children - my friends - were murdered on arrival in the extermination camps. This book became a reality out of my promise to the the children of Terezin, to the many thousand of children who either perished in Terezin or passed through Terezin to perish at Auschwitz or another death camp. This book is my story, which is really all of our stories. It is the story of how I was imprisoned for three years and sentenced to death, but survived because my murderers were busy murdering other victims and ran out of time before they got to me. My story is dedicated to the memory of those who passed through Terezin and vanished over 70 years ago. May you help me - and the world- remember.