Finally, it was decided that I must be smuggled out to Zbarazh, where I was born, before the last board went up around the ghetto. We still had relatives there. My mother made arrangements with a non-Jewish person to smuggle me out. I asked my mother if I needed a coat and she said, "No, the war will be over soon." It was the spring of 1942. That was the last time I spoke to my mother. That was also the last time I saw my brother Artur. I had hoped that because of his blonde, Aryan looks, he would survive. But he died in Zytomir forced labour camp.