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The order came, we are moving out because the, uh, Russians were
obviously coming closer. That was the winter of 1944-45. It was a
very very...the climate was very cold. We were driven on foot,
through the German countryside. It was cold. It was snow. My
brother could hardly walk. I supported him as much as I could. It
got so bad that he pleaded with me to let him go. "Don't," he says.
"Let me die. I...I cannot, I...I really cannot handle it anymore.
I...I want to die. Leave me here." But it was...it was clear that
the minute I let him go, he would be shot on the spot, because
anybody who couldn't keep up with the march was shot on the spot.
You would walk on the road, you could see corpses all over because
it was an actual death march. I just couldn't give in. I just
couldn't drop my brother. I carried him. I schlepped him. I kept
talking to him. I'd say, "We are not too far away from salvation.
You can't give up now. You can't give up now!" Anyway, somehow I
was able to schlep [carry] him to the next camp, which was a place called
Gottendorf in eastern Pomerania.
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