My father went to the east, and in the group (of former inmates) that returned to Minsk in 1941, there was one terrible man. I remember very well how a group of policemen came to our house at Engels str. This group was led by this person, who was in the same  prison with my father. Grandma hid my mother in the attic and the policemen lived in the house for several days. So this man appeared from time to time at our place on Engels str. and mom gave him everything we had left and some valuable things. He knew that my dad was a Jew and my life had to end in the ghetto. My mother had friends, but there were no Jews, however many of them had Jewish husbands.  These friends were taken to concentration camps, and the children died. So it was a miracle that I survived.