Our turn came. My mother, my sons, and I stepped before the "selectors". Then I committed my second terrible error. The selector waved my mother and myself to the adult group. He classed my younger son Thomas with the children and the aged, which was to mean immediate extermination. He hesitated before Arvad, my older son.

My heart thumped violently. This officer, a large man who wore glasses, seemed to be trying to act fairly. Later I learned that he was Dr. Fritz Klein, the "Chief Selector".

"This boy must be more than twelve," he remarked to me.

"No," I protested.

The truth that Arvad was twelve, and I could have said so. He was big for his age, but I wanted to spare him from labors that might prove too arduous for him.

"Very well," Klein agreed amiably, "To the left!"

I had persuaded my mother that she should follow the children and take care of them. At her age she had the right to the treatment accorded to the elderly and there would be someone to look after Arvad and Thomas.

"My mother would like to remain with the children," I said.

"Very well," he again acquiesced, "You 'll all be in the same camp."

"And in several weeks you'll all be reunited," another officer added, with a smile.

"Next!"

(Olga Lengyel, Five Chimneys: The Story of Auschwitz, transl. Paul P. Weiss and Clifford Coch (New York:Ziff-Davis,1947),15ff, cit. in Van Pelt Report)