Everything was lost even before Operation Bernhard began. your family, your home, your hope for a bright future, your sanity. Now it's all just in the back of my mind, not even the photos left. What can I say, working in a labor camp has completely erased your sense of reality. now the only clear sensations were the pain in his back from the hard bed, the pain in his arms from the pickaxe, the pain in his stomach from hunger. It's a pain. and you were barely twenty.

already in December 1942, the operation began. They took pity on you and gave you the position of a printer. lower the press, raise the press, sleep on a soft bed, relax after work, sing songs, play cards. for the rest of the unfortunate people who came to Sachsenhausen, it was a great relief, although not complete, but nothing helped you anymore. the very foundation in you was broken, which could no longer be repaired. Your fellow sufferers treated you with favor and pity, as if you were the youngest, and especially the guy from the next bed. his name presumably was Adolf, but you didn't even remember. The names were erased, leaving only the last names and numbers.

He almost never let you get hurt, as if he realized that if he didn't take a step in your direction once more, something bad would happen to you. However, his fear was justified, but you did not understand him. perhaps it was because of something that broke inside you. However, he did not complain. He understood everything.

— Oh, what beautiful hair you have, — your friend said one morning, looking at your head, which finally began to grow into some kind of hair. he also got a hairstyle: his dark brown hair was smooth and almost reached the bridge of his nose. — you seem to be getting better. that's exactly what we've been telling you: hold on, and everything will be fine.