Auschwitz : the residence of death

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We trudge through the muddy ground, filled with fear and at the end of our strength. We reach our new graves, as we called our new homes. Before we had even caught our breath, some of us were already struck on the head with clubs. Blood flowed from the gaping wounds on our heads and faces. This is the first burial for the newcomers. Everyone is stunned, looking around at where they have been brought. We are soon informed that we are now experiencing a taste of camp life. Here, iron discipline reigns. We find ourselves in a death camp, a dead island. People do not come here to live but to find their death sooner or later. This is no place to live; it is the residence of death.