In 1944, when the Germans came in, my family along with all of the Jewish residents of our town, were pushed into the main synagogue which was a beautiful synagogue.  We were taken then to the ghetto in Szeged which was a nearby large city.  My father was taken away, we learned after the war that he had died in Auschwitz.  We were shipped off by cattle cars, maybe 100 people in the cattle car.  We couldn’t breathe, we could not breathe.  We were taken to do forced labor in the fields; the SS had guns always pointed at us.  I was always with my mother, my aunt Paula Fenechel, and my sister.  We were in several camps and finally taken to Theresienstadt. The Russian army liberated us.  

 

After the war, I returned back to Hungary but the Communists were now in control.  They took away everything from us that we still had left.  I had an uncle who survived, Nicholas Fenechel, who had a beautiful voice.  He was operatically trained.  He came to London and became a famous cantor. Later on, he was hired by Congregation Adat Shalom in Detroit.  We eventually were able to smuggle out of Hungary and came to Germany.  From there, we were able to come to Toronto, Canada and then onto Detroit where my uncle lived.  My sister and I were together; my aunt had remarried and lived in Montreal.  After learning of my father’s death at Auschwitz, my mother died of a broken heart.

 

A complete and unconditional belief in G-d's allowing us to survive. Little miracles, miracles after miracles after miracles.