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This must all sound like a lot for a twelve-year-old to handle. But I had no choice. There was no one to discuss things with, no one to consult. Just days following the German take-over, David was called up for labour camp. So I couldn’t talk to David or my father. And I didn’t have the heart to ask Mother questions; she had enough on her mind already. Our gentile friends, whom we saw sporadically, couldn’t possibly understand the confusion and fear that I felt. All the speculations and rumours were gloomy, predicting that the Polish experience would soon be repeated in Hungary. And by then, we all knew how the Jewish community had been murdered there.

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