It was raining, the sun was shining, and it was stuffy warm, maybe because of the many pieces of clothing. At 8, we finally began dragging everything to the wagons. People’s jobs were written down. The luggage was lying in front of the same slope as when we had come here. We stood there in groups, 75 people per group. Once again, my father became principal of the wagon. My father had a beautiful, black-grey, not too long beard. Unfortunately, only up to the 1st of June 1944. On that Sunday morning, he had to shave it off. The groups were headcounted and divided into the wagons. I remembered that I had forgotten something in the barrack and ran back. Barrack 5 was empty, only the things left there and straw were lying around. Barrack 5 was our third home since we had had to leave our home apartment. When I walked back, the luggage was already being loaded in. One started with the first wagon and so on, until it was our turn, with wagon 11. We sweated and could hardly carry the luggage. When all the luggage was lying in front of the wagon, we waited for the order to load everything into it. It followed half an hour later. Beri and Rüvi stored the luggage of 75 people away into the wagon on their own. It’s impossible that we’ll all fit, said Beri, the wagon is already full of the luggage. The soldiers ordered us into the wagon. In the end, we all fit in, but the how