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I agree with her quote, “When your life becomes about survival, you grow up instantly." I agree because you can't act childish when your life depends on it. All kids couldn't do childhood activities.

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The 2 I found most interesting were Martin Greenfield and Eva Slonim.  With Martin, I thought it was so amazing how he, in the moment, re-humanized.  He gained back everything the Natzis took.  I though Eva’s story was great also, and I thought it was especially crazy how she still wakes up at 4 am every morning

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It is crazy that people show there revenges in their own ways

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I agree with this because he has the right state of mind no killing or or wrongdoings just keeping the jewish beliefs and ideal alive with him and that is the correct response to this not to kill others cause then we don't have our beliefs and then what do we have?

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I think that she had a good life after the Shoah and she did something good. Her revenge was not bad. Story 4

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I was surprised that the people thought they were being to nice by giving the people a trail

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I was surprised that the people thought they were being to nice by giving the people a trail

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DAVID

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In this Eichmann trailer, it seems that he was responsible for killing all the Jews in the Holocaust. he just says he isn't responsible, but he IS lying. Honestly, I just think he was trying to protect his name and family, even if, in this case, it was wrong to do so. I wonder if he's the main character of this story, or if the people on his case are. It would be very interesting if they showed both sides of the story.

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i disagree with this because he mentions murder and what would happen if every jew had killed every one who wronged them? would we be the murders? would we be the ones who are wrong?

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Ed Mosberg's hands stay steady as he slips into the striped cotton jacket and matching cap - an outfit identical to one he was issued 75 years ago, as a prisoner of the Plaszów concentration camp in Poland.

Although it brings back unspeakable memories, the 92-year-old occasionally dons the uniform, "so people remember [the Holocaust] happened. When I wear the uniform, they know," Mosberg told The Post.

He still wears his original number plate - issued by camp guards as a way to dehumanize Jewish prisoners by taking away their names - every day. It's now strung on a gold bracelet to replace the wires that once covered his wrists during his four years of hell.

International Holocaust Remembrance Day, which commemorates the 1945 Soviet Red Army liberation of the Auschwitz death camp, is on Jan. 27. But the Morris Plains, NJ, resident explained that, "For me, every day is my Holocaust Day."

He is the sole survivor of his family, as Mosberg's parents and two sisters all died in the camps.

Born in Krakow, Poland, to an engineer father and a mother who helped run the family haberdashery, Mosberg was 13 when World War II began. In 1941, the family was forced into the Krakow ghetto, but not before Mosberg's father was rounded up with some other men and never seen again. In 1943, the ghetto was "liquidated"; his mother ended up in Auschwitz, where she was murdered. The kids went to Plaszów.

There, Mosberg worked in the office of notorious Nazi Amon Goeth, portrayed in the film "Schindler's List" by Ralph Fiennes. He recalls the machinations of the monster commander, like when a mother was holding her child. "They took the infant out of the mother's hand and smashed it against walls and it was killed instantly," Mosberg recalled.

He remembers when officers told prisoners with canes to abandon the aids, promising that whoever could cross the square would be free: "They were crawling on their hands and knees. When they got [to the other side] they were shot."

Moved to the Mauthausen camp in Austria in the summer of 1944, Mosberg was assigned to a quarry dubbed "the stairs of death."

"Everybody had one boulder [twice his weight] on his shoulder. You had to walk up, without stopping. If you couldn't make it, this was your death."

The day before liberation, SS officers told Mosberg and others at Mauthausen, "The Americans are coming and we want to save you." Scores of them were led to caves booby-trapped with dynamite - which failed to go off.

His sisters were not so lucky. That same day, the two were among some 7,000 women who were lined up on a Baltic beach and shot dead.

Mosberg was so beaten down that when he was free to go, "I didn't want to leave - I didn't know where to go," he said.

He entered a sanitorium in Italy for months, battling tuberculosis. But the 19-year-old vowed to go on with his life and reconnected with Cesia Storch, a girl from Krakow who was in a barracks with his sisters. With just a seventh-grade education and $10 in his pocket, he came to New York with his new bride in 1951, settling into Harlem with their 18-month-old daughter. (They went on to have two more daughters and six grandchildren.)

Mosberg worked three jobs a day, including sewing pocketbooks for 50 cents an hour, before carving out what would become a successful career in real estate development.

For the recent Holocaust documentary "Destination Unknown," he returned to the site of the Mauthausen camp, wearing his prisoner uniform and carrying a hard rubber whip just like the one the Nazis used to beat him. He bought the paraphernalia from collectors over the years, paying $50 for the hat and a couple hundred dollars for the jacket, to which he added his number.

Jonny Daniels, founder of the Holocaust foundation From the Depths, estimates that, of the 500,000 Jewish survivors of the Holocaust, only 100,000 are still alive today. Mosberg's wife, now 90, is bedridden and still has nightmares about her time in the camps. Mosberg, too, is stuck there.

"[Cesia] will tell you that I never left the concentration camp," he said.

He sees it as his life's mission to keep that memory alive.

"As long as I live I have to go and talk about this so the Holocaust will never be forgotten."

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Why this Holocaust survivor still wears his concentration camp uniform

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Ed Mosberg's hands stay steady as he slips into the striped cotton jacket and matching cap - an outfit identical to one he was issued 75 years ago, as a prisoner of the Plaszów concentration camp in Poland. Although it brings back unspeakable memories, the 92-year-old occasionally dons the uniform, "so people remember [the Holocaust] happened.

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Martin Greenfield, an 84-year-old Holocaust survivor, owns and operates Martin Greenfield Clothiers in Brooklyn, NY. This is his story of revenge:

Early one morning after roll call, a soldier placed me on a 12-prisoner team to perform repairs outside the camp in nearby Weimar.

The soldiers stopped us in front of a bombed-out mansion, home to the mayor of Weimar. The soldiers commanded us to sift the rubble, clear the debris, and begin repairs on the mansion.

I walked alone to the back of the estate to assess the damage. Dusty piles of broken bricks lay scattered across the yard. Seeing the cellar door ajar, I slowly opened it. A shaft of sunlight filled the dank cellar. On one side of the space sat a wooden cage wrapped in chicken wire. I walked closer and noticed two quivering rabbits inside the cage.

“They’re still alive!” I said to myself with surprise.

Inside the cage were the remains of the rabbits’ dinner. I unlatched the cage and pulled out a wilted leaf and carrot nub. The lettuce was browning and slimy, the carrot still moist from the rabbits’ gnawing. Excited, I wolfed down the lettuce and tried to crack the chunk of carrot in half with my teeth.

My luck was short-lived. “What are you doing?” a voice yelled.

I whipped my head around toward the door. A gorgeous, smartly dressed blond woman holding a baby stood silhouetted in the door frame. It was the mayor of Weimar’s wife.

“I . . . I found your rabbits!” I stammered with a cheerful nervousness. “They’re alive and safe!”

“Why are you stealing my rabbits’ food?” barked the woman. “Animals!” I stood silent and stared at the floor.

“I’m reporting this immediately!” she said, stomping away. My heart pounded in my emaciated chest. A few minutes later, an SS soldier ordered me to come out of the cellar. I knew what was coming, and the knowing made it all the worse.

“Down on the ground, you dog! Fast!” yelled the German. He gripped his baton and bludgeoned my back. I do not know whether the mayor’s wife watched the beating. Given her cruelty, why would she want to miss it? On the hike back to Buchenwald, I replayed the scene over and over in my mind.

How could a woman carrying her own child find a walking skeleton saving her pets and have him beaten for nibbling on rotten animal food? I thought.

In that moment, my numbness to death melted. In its place rose an alien blood lust, a hunger for vengeance unlike any I had ever known. The surge of adrenaline and rush of rage felt good inside my withered frame.

Then and there I made a vow to myself: If I survived Buchenwald, I would return and kill the mayor’s wife.

On April 11, 1945, 3:15 p.m., the Allies liberated Buchenwald.

I located two Jewish boys who were well enough to make the walk to Weimar. I told them what the woman did and what I was prepared to do about it. We could rummage machine guns from the mountain of German weapons seized by the inmates and Americans that lay in piles on the Appelplatz.

My heartbeat quickened the closer we got to the mayor’s house. Pent-up rage from all I had seen and experienced surged through me. Killing the mayor’s wife could not repay the Nazis for the terror they had inflicted on us. But it was a start.

We walked a few miles before turning down the street the mayor’s home was on. I pointed to a house several paces down the road: “I think that’s it.”

It took me a moment to make sure I had the right house.

“The car isn’t here. Looks like the house is empty,” I said. “The plan is we take our guns and go in through the side door. Then we hide and wait so I can kill the blond that had me beaten.”

The boys nodded.

We crept up to the side door. I slowly turned the knob. It was unlocked. I entered the house quietly, with my gun drawn. The boys fell in behind me and eased the door shut. We stepped softly to mute the sounds of our wooden clogs on the floor.

“Hello?” a voice around a corner said. “Hello?”

“You had me beaten because of the rabbits. I’m here to shoot you!” I said [to the mayor’s wife], sounding like an SS.

Just then the beautiful blond woman turned the corner and let out a screech. She had the baby in her arms again.

“Don’t shoot!” she screamed. “Don’t shoot!”

“Remember me?!” I yelled. “Do you?!”

Her blond tresses shook violently. She hid her face behind her upraised hand as if shielding herself from the sun.

“You had me beaten because of the rabbits. I’m here to shoot you!” I said, sounding like an SS.

“No! Please!” she quavered. “The baby, please!”

I aimed the machine gun at her chest. The baby wailed. My finger hovered above the trigger.

“Shoot her!” one of the boys said. “Shoot her!” The woman’s outstretched hand trembled in the air. My heart pounded against my chest like a hammer.

“Shoot her!” the other boy yelled. “That’s what we came here for! Do it!”

I froze. I couldn’t do it. I could not pull the trigger. That was the moment I became human again. All the old teachings came rushing back. I had been raised to believe that life was a precious gift from God, that women and children must be protected.

Had I pulled the trigger, I would have been like Mengele. He, too, had faced mothers holding babies — my mother holding my baby brother — and sentenced both to gruesome deaths. My moral upbringing would not allow me to become an honorary member of the SS.

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Read more here: https://www.biography.com/news/woman-in-gold-maria-altmann-biography

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Read more here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adolf_Eichmann