my father went to Vienna for an operation in 1938, immediately
thereafter Hitler's regime pushed through and removed all the
sick Jews from the hospitals, shooting them to death.
For 32 years I had an obsession
to find out what happened to my father, hoping that he died in
a hospital bed, rather than being shot to death.
After numerous leads over a period
of decades, his grave was located in a cemetery which the Germans
kept as a showcase for the Red Cross, in an ironic attempt to
convince the world of their humanity.
To this day, I still do not know
how my father came to be buried.