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The entire sky of Warsaw was red. Completely red! But the flames were so concentrated around the whole ghetto that it illuminated the whole city. The next week...the same week was Palm Sunday. I couldn't be anymore in the...in the ...with my parents in the hiding [place]. I walked out on that Palm Sunday and I went to Plasc Ksiazecie where there was a church, a very old church, and I felt that my safest place is the church. I went to that church and I attended the Mass and the priest spoke. Not a word was mentioned that across the street people are fighting, dying by the hundreds, and fire. I was just like a good Christian listening to the whole sermon. Then it is, uh, traditional in Poland that when the...after the services, the priest goes out in front of the church and he greets the parish...the people, probably is practiced here in every country the same way, but in Poland it is a traditional thing. And he greeted all the Poles and across the street was a carousel with a playground and the music was playing and the carousel was...the people took the children on the carousel, beautifully dressed. Sunday. Palm Sunday. And...uh...music was playing and I was standing in that group watching the other side of the block of that burning ghetto. From time to time we heard screaming, "Look. Look. People are jumping from the roofs." Others will make remarks, uh, "Jews are frying." That's just a free translation from Polish. But I never heard any sympathy voices. Maybe there were people who looked in a different way, but I never heard it.
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