So, on one Thursday morning during May, my dad and I went to the base to take part in the remembrance service for Holocaust victims. We stood in a long line from the gate to the football field holding photos of Jewish victims. I was holding a picture of a 17-year-old boy who was shot at Auschwitz-Birkenau just 3 months before it was evacuated. It was a very sad and solemn time for all of us, pondering on how life was during those days. I felt good knowing the victims would rest peacefully as they knew they would be remembered for dying in innocent blood.
Alex.
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