Atayal

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My dad, Jay Tu, survived the immigration process from Taiwan to the United States.

Hello, my name is Judith Rubinstein and I am an Auschwitz survivor. My parents, two brothers, and I lived in the ghetto in Hungary, my native land. The conditions in the ghetto were miserable for a very long time. Suddenly, all of us along with thousands of others were taken to the railway station. They jammed us into cattle cars and promised us that we were being taken to Germany to work in the factories for the war effort. The cattle cars were in horrible condition, and we were all broken in spirit, hungry, and dying of thirst. After a few days of traveling, we finally arrived to a place we have never heard of before: Auschwitz-Birkenau. We arrived at Auschwitz-Birkenau on May 20, 1944. When the doors of the cattle cars were unlocked and opened, the first thing we saw was Nazis in SS uniforms, holding guns. At the entrance of the camp was a sign that said: “Arbeit Macht Frei”. We saw men in striped suits running around and pulling people from the train and playing beautiful music to welcome us. On one side of the fence, there were some people waiting for the ones who were sick and feeble, promising them that they would be taken to the hospital right away. Before my family left the train, my father blessed me and told me to try to get into a working crew because that might save my life. Now as I think about it, I am positive that he knew more about the situation than he was letting on because he didn’t want to scare us. After a few minutes, my father and one of my brothers both disappeared. I never saw them again. I was standing with my mother and little brother when an SS officer, Dr. Mengele, started the “selection” among the women. I noticed that he was sending older women and mothers with children to one side, while the young and healthy looking girls and women were sent to the other side, filed five in a row. There were four tall, good-looking girls who were standing in front of us while we waited to be sorted. We knew them from the ghetto. They were holding hands with their three young nieces and one nephew whose parents were hiding in Budapest. At that moment, my mother pulled the four children to her side and pushed me toward the four young women. She told them that she would take care of the children if they took care of me. I started to protest, but within a minute, she disappeared with the four children. That was the last time I saw her. It must have been a maternal instinct that inspired my mother for what she did. She saved my life by separating me from herself and the children. I will never forget the pains of losing her so young and I am forever grateful for what she did.