The Nazis broke into the home of Stanislavsky Lech, who was a Jew, dragged the entire family out at gunpoint, packed them into a crowded train, filled with the stench of death and despair, and sent them to Krakow.

Then, before his eyes, Lech saw his entire family being shot. Somehow, he managed to live from one day to the next, in a numb, unconscious state, like a zombie. Impatiently, he awaited his own death. But one day he realized that his own death was not an inevitable truth. In fact, he could do something about it: he could try to escape.

Once he had made his decision, he did not know how to carry it out. He only knew one simple thing: his decision was irrevocable, and somehow he had to find a way to act on it.

As the weeks turned into months, he questioned his fellow prisoners. “How can we escape?” he would ask. It became a nuisance, an irritation. “It’s useless,” they repeated. “Stop hurting yourself,” they begged. Some would openly abuse it; others would walk away in silence.

In turn, he rejected her answers, her silences, her domineering hopelessness. There has to be a way, she told herself, and I’ll find it. This is my revenge: by surviving I will prove that the Nazis are not invincible and that they are not in full control of our wills and that they cannot do whatever they want with us.

Every day a dialogue passed through his head. “Today I choose to escape from this nightmare. I will not remain a victim. I will not accept these conditions. I am a man, with rights and dignity, and I will seek, God help me, a way to let the whole world know what is happening here. I will escape. There is no doubt in my mind. How can I escape today, maybe right now? There is a weakness in his security.

They can’t watch us every minute. There is something I need to find, and I will find it today, something I have overlooked, something that will bring me freedom. There’s a weak link here, somewhere. I will find it.”

The urgency of his question pounded at his heart and mind at every waking moment, and followed him into his dreams.

Then one day, as sad as any other, he saw what had been in front of him all along. The Nazis allowed the corpses of naked men, women and children, shot because they were too weak to work in the labor camp, to pile up on the ground before a truck came and took them away. With typical efficiency, the truck would only come when there were enough bodies to fill it.

Hiding behind a bush, she stripped off all her clothes, then dove into the mound of corpses. He lay motionless, pretending to be dead, the foul smell of death around him.

Hello for a day. More corpses were thrown on top of her. He didn’t flinch. Finally, the truck arrived. Rough hands pushed his limp body into the truck.

Many more hours of horror passed in the van. Finally, his body was thrown into an open pit.

He waited until nightfall before going out.

The sweet smell of the night, the cool breeze, filled her lungs as she ran twenty-five miles to freedom.