In 1941 I was deported with my parents from Prague to the Lodz Ghetto in Poland. Within one year my parents died. I was 13 years old, alone to fend for myself. The three years that followed found me fighting for survival in a series of concentration camps, a labour camp and a Death March across snow covered Germany. Being hungry and weak, we struggled to put one foot in front of the other. What kept us going was the hope of a night's rest an sleep. We never knew where that would be, if at all.On the 15th of March, after a week in a coal waggon, without any food or drink we arrived at our destination BERGEN - BELSENwhere a month later we were liberated.