I used to have aspirations and dreams. I wished to create my own private practice dedicated to diagnosing and treating patients with illnesses. I dreamt of possessing my own name badge which read,’Dr. Kaia Eshkol.’ I no longer had those dreams. They only existed when I was surrounded by my loving and caring family members and friends. I hadn’t contacted any of them in years. I wasn’t permitted. I wasn’t even aware of their location, however, I had my suspicions. After my appearance, I’m almost positive that my parents would have joined the resistance force, however, they wouldn’t have stood a chance for the Gestapo were ruthless. I doubted that any of them remained alive and worse still, I was to blame for their deaths. I made a mistake, one, single, foolish mistake that altered the rest of my life, as well as my families. Every day I witness unjust acts of racial discrimination against Jewish prisoners, including mass murder, starvation and the experimentation on human bodies. Living here, in this dreadful place is my punishment.

I was a member of a large German family. I had three brothers and two sisters. I grew up in a village in the Warthegau region of Poland. From a young age, I aspired to become a doctor. When I was of legal age, I attended college where I graduated with a degree in Medicine. When Hitler and the Nazi’s rose into power, I sympathized for the Jews. I wore a star on my arm and was eventually captured and deported to Auschwitz, a concentration/ extermination camp for Jewish people, homosexuals, Gypsies and other politicians/ journalists who did not support the Nazi's. This is my story.

We were forced into a line and then shoved into a cattle wagon. There were at least 100 to 150 of us crammed into this small space. I felt like an animal and to them, the German soldiers, I was considered as vermin. When people questioned what was happening, officers informed us that we were being relocated to a ‘better’ place where there were more jobs available. I knew that they were all lying. There was no ‘better’ place . I began to scream, ‘I’m not a Jew, I’m not a Jew’. It was useless. The German officers had already bolted shut the cabin doors. There was no room in the cabin to sit down. If you fell, you were trampled to death. Within one hour, an old woman had collapsed to the ground. She never rose.

The train came to a screeching halt. I heard voices, yelling. The doors to our cabin were unlocked and people stumbled out. There was a ramp which led onto a concrete path. I observed my surroundings. There were hundreds of us who were outnumbered by German guards. Jewish people displayed distressed and furious facial expressions. Women clutched their crying children and held onto their husbands. Officers signaled forward. We stumbled across the gravel pathway and continued walking until we reached the silver gates of Auschwitz. A sign read, “Arbeit Macht Frei.” (Work sets you free). It was as I walked through these silver gates and peered up at the looming sign that it occurred to me that I had been robbed of my freedom.

There were two lines, a left line and a right line. Old women and children stood in the left line. At the head of the crowd, a man stood with his arms outstretched, wearing a long, white laboratory, gesturing to the right or left with his hands. He stood there smiling. When families refused to divide, they would all be sent to the left line. Everything was calm and uniform.

It was my turn. A fellow captive murmured in my ear, “Lift your head. Act strong.”I approached the guards with uncertainty. The officer asked his first question, “What is your age?”

“Twenty-three.” I stated.

“Occupation?”

“I have graduated from a medical school.”

They ordered me to the right line. “No, I’m not a Jew. I have my papers.”

The guards stared at me with uncertainty. I withdrew a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket. I was relieved when the officer snatched the invaluable piece of paper and studied my birth certificate.

“My name is Kaia Eshkol. I live in a village in the Warthegau region of Poland. I’m a pure-blood German.” I stated.

“She is lying, to the right!” He ordered.

I sauntered to the right line. A hand snatched my wrist and held it in a vice grip. I turned in horror. The man wearing the long, white coat stared at me and spoke, “My name is Joseph Mengele. I am a doctor at Auschwitz. You claim you are a pure-blood German, 23 years of age and a qualified doctor?”.

“Yes.” I nodded my head reverently.

“Then you will be my student and I will educate you further, as you were educated at University. You will be my assistant Mrs. Eshkoll.” he stated. I stared, horrified at his large, brown eyes.

I am a liability. I have witnessed Auschwitz and the horrors located within the barb-wired electric fences. They do not want me to spread word of the mass murdering that occur. That is why they are keeping me here. I have been assigned a room and am well fed and treated. I am able to walk the grounds of Auschwitz, however, I remain a prisoner.