Surviving the Angel of Death: The True Story of a Mengele Twin in Auschwitz

At Auschwitz dying was so easy. Surviving was a full time job.

Every night I had nightmares. I dreamed of rats the size of cats, dead bodies, and needles stuck into me. After we found out that the Nazi's had made soup out of Jewish fat, I dreamed that soap bars spoke to me in the voices of my parents and sisters, asking me, "Why are you washing with us?

forgiveness is not so much for the perpetrator, but for the victim.

So I am saying to you, whoever is reading this book, to remember: never ever give up. You can survive and make your dreams come true.

Mrs. Goldenthal's twin boys, Alex and Erno, were our age, and I discovered that they had been selected at Auschwitz for Mengele's experiments like us. Mrs. Goldenthan had stayed with them, and I found out later that she had hidden a younger child, Margarita, underneath her long skirt. She had come into the camp with the child hidden in her dress and during her entire stay there, even in the Nazi barracks where she had kept Margarita under the mattress during inspections, she and the other women had helped conceal the child.

Until that moment I had stopped thinking about my family. Maybe it was due to the bread we ate each evening that supposedly contained not only sawdust but a powder called bromide that made us forget memories of home, a sedative of some kind. Whatever it was or was not, I could not feel sorry for myself, for Miriam, for anyone. I could not think of myself as a victim, or I knew I would perish. It was simple. For me, there was no room for any thought except survival.

Anger and hate are seeds that germinate war. Forgiveness is a seed for peace. It is the ultimate act of self-healing.

This place was confusing and noisy. People were yelling. There were screams. Confusion. Desperation. Barking. Orders. Crying, crying, crying. The crying of children for parents. The crying of parents for their babies. The crying of people confused and bewildered. The crying of people who saw with certainty that their nightmares had come true. All together the cries resounded with the ultimate and most unimaginable pain of human loss, emotional grief and suffering.

Because we were twins, we clung to each other. Because we were sisters, we depended on each other. Because we were family, we did not let go.

she or any other survivor would be doomed to a life of anger and suffering if they were required to wait for an apology that would never come.

Never ever give up on yourself or your dreams, for everything good in life is possible. Judge people on their actions and the content of their character. Forgive your worst enemy and forgive everyone who has hurt you—it will heal your soul and set you free.

I look at forgiveness as the summit of a very tall mountain. One side is dark, dreary, wet, and very difficult to climb. But those who struggle up and reach the summit can see the beauty of the other side of the mountain, which is covered by flowers, white doves, butterflies, and sunshine. Standing at the summit we can see both sides of the mountain. How many people would choose to go back down on the dreary side rather than stroll through the sunny flower-covered side?

Forgiveness is only for you. Forgiveness does not mean reconciliation with the victim; it could be dangerous to be in contact with the person who hurt you. In fact, I believe people have to feel safe to forgive. No one can forgive on the battlefield. That is why forgiveness is a personal decision and can only be done when a person is in the circumstances, a place of safety, and mindset to do so.

At Auschwitz dying was so easy. Surviving was a full-time job.

Over time, I could see that prisoners who had someone in the camp to care about— whether a relative, friend, or neighbor—were more likely to survive. The prisoners who had no one did not last.

I learned that I could not always trust adults to tell the truth, especially if the truth was bad.

One day, our math book contained this problem: “If you had five Jews, and you killed three Jews, how many Jews would be left?

Children are very sensitive to their surroundings, the atmosphere, though adults always think their children are unaware of things that they aren’t told.

But here the stink was over-powering. It was as if you walked through it, around in it. It was everywhere and inescapable. I did not find out right away what the smell really was.