Stephen Shooster ranks mulling around, surrounded by more guards. They were all immaculately dressed -- we were naked. As I got closer, I noticed one of the doctors wearing a monocle over his eye. They were assembled in teams working to hurry the large influx of people along. Just a few days before, this naked mass was camp Szebnie. Now, most of the people I saw before me would be condemned to die. Beyond the guards, I saw a large group of people forming on the right. “Step to the right,” said the doctor to the man a few people in front of me. Another man condemned. This evening, these few doctors would decide the fate of all of us. I took another step towards them. Soon, it would be my turn. I lost Moshe in the shuffle, Roman, too. At least I had the Lipczers. Joshua, the eldest stepped up to the doctor in front of his two brothers. He did whatever he was told. I was still clearing my head. “Links,” (left) was all I heard. His younger brother stepped up to the doctor. Another car was opened, a dog growled, people were asking each oth- er questions about what was happening, “Raus!” The guard pushed us along. “Links,” I heard again. The two Lipczer brothers were off to the left side, safe for now. At the time I could not tell the difference between people on the left or the right. The bulk of this mass of humanity was directed to the right. I was close to the front of the line now. The youngest Lipczer brother stepped forward, Usher. As I saw him, I stepped for- ward. A few years before I had stepped into his family’s clothing store. His father was fitting someone for a new outfit. Mr. Lipczer, with his measuring tape draped around his neck like a tallit, also wore a yamaka that rested on his head. Their family was Or- thodox. His assistant wrote the sizes as he called out the measurements. Like a slap in the face I came back to my senses and realized what was happening, Usher, standing in front of me, was turning around for the doctor. I was within ear- shot, as I heard the doctor of life and death ask, “What is your profession?” This was my only warning as to what to expect when it would be my turn. I could not hear Usher’s answer. I think he said, “Those are my brothers,” pointing left. Abruptly with- out discussion, the decision was a step to the right. The brothers were separated forever. The only solace I can give Usher is he never felt the sustained abuse of Auschwitz. I had already been through a few selections and what I thought to be the most im- portant thing was to show the bastards no fear. So, I shook the fear out of my body as I took another step forward. It was my turn. The elegant doctor with the monocle welcomed me tersely, “Show me your tongue.” I did as I was told. “Turn around,” again without hesitation, I turned. Looking me straight in the eye, he asked, “What is your
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