>> NARRATOR: Tonight on "Frontline"... >> It will not be long before there will be no first-hand survivors alive.

During the Holocaust... >> I saw the word Auschwitz... >> The doors opened... Terror hit us immediately.

>> NARRATOR: They were just children then... >> How many people have seen a gas chamber in action?

>> NARRATOR: Now, they are the last generation to have witnessed the horror first-hand.

>> I remember looking at the flames and thinking, "Which is my mother?"

>> I haven't been able to cry because I think crying would have no end.

The memory's strong for all my family.

>> That's the problem being a survivor, everything tends to remind you of something.

>> NARRATOR: Tonight, rare and intimate stories from "The Last Survivors."

>> We are the last ones.

You want to hear?

Here it is.

♪ ♪ >> NARRATOR: Most survivors of the Holocaust who are still alive today were just children when they were sent to concentration camps.

For decades, many were unable or unwilling to speak about their experiences.

This film tells some of their stories.

>> Sitting in the car coming here, it began to dawn on me that this would be a first for me.

And I wasn't quite sure just what I had let myself in for.

I did feel a little nervous, yes.

I'm here today to record some testimony of my experiences during the Holocaust.

Time is marching on and it will not be long before there will be no first-hand survivors alive.

And it is important to record this testimony as evidence for future generations.

>> Why did I survive while my parents and my brother didn't?

And I feel I have to talk.

I'm glad that now I can do it, but for 50 years, I couldn't.

>> There are some people who are unable to speak about their experiences.

And I can well understand.

But it's not possible to, to actually to... To reject the past.

>> I can't really communicate with others properly because they don't know what I'm talking about.

I mean, how many people have their parents murdered or, or seen a gas chamber in action?

It has affected me, yes.

(birds chirping, wings flapping) >> Would you like a cup of coffee?

>> That would be lovely.

>> Frank, can you put the kettle on?

Oh, dear, this is marvelous.

(Cynthia laughing) >> We have divided our work, and my wife cooks, I shop, I wash up, and my wife does the garden.

And I'm upstairs sending emails or getting ready for talks and things like that.

>> Was there a point where you wanted to go over the details of what Frank had experienced?

>> No.

>> Did you talk about that together?

>> No, it just came out gradually.

We saw the film, at the end of the war, they showed us a film of Belsen being liberated, didn't they?

And that, that came as a shock.

And that was, that was bad enough.

And I still think people-- well, certainly this generation-- haven't got a clue.

(printer whirring) >> We start in May 1942, that's when the class picture was probably taken.

That's me.

>> What do you call this picture-- they're all classmates?

>> I call it "Red for Dead," which is pretty crude, but it's to the point.

I took this photo, I put numbers against each child, and if you take number one, that is Pick Hanus, he was born on the 21st of January, 1929.

He was sent on from the ghetto, he was sent to Auschwitz, he did not survive.

And that of his transport of 2,038 people, 144 survived.

Number nine, Kurz Edita-- very pretty girl, I think I had a crush on, on her, but from a distance.

Was sent to Auschwitz, did not survive.

>> It's a tragic photo, really, isn't it?

>> Yes, it is.

And not only is it they died, but they obviously had no descendants, they never lived a, a life at all, they were murdered for no particular reason.

But you've got to just wear blinkers.

You just can't afford to get too involved.

>> Why not?

>> Well, because you wouldn't do it-- you couldn't.

(stammering) I would be-- I would be sitting here crying my eyes out.

(children playing in distance) >> I thought as a child that my mother was very beautiful, I always admired her.

Before the war, she decide to take me to see film, to the cinema, and that was my first experience.

(upbeat music playing, tapping) And I remember it was Shirley Temple.

I remember her dancing, and I remember her curly hair.

When I arrived in the cinema, and it became dark, and I was a bit frightened by the darkness.

(singing, music fading) >> Before the outbreak of war, we used to get all kinds of gossip about the darkness out there.

So we didn't like going out.

When my mum occasionally, very rarely, left us-- my brother and myself-- we went under the table, because we were fearful of what might happen.

(birds chirping, dog barking) (mower whirring) >> My mother and her father on their holidays.

When you think what, what was about to happen, it's kind of surreal.

My mother gave this to me on Christmas Day, and at the time I was really disappointed, because I thought, "What sort of a Christmas present is this?"

She wrote us a letter and this is the letter.

"Dear children, I have written and compiled this document with one thought in my mind, namely that I'm dedicating it to you and to your children.

We have never talked much about those dark days, and how it came about that you do not have any grandparents.

At what point does one start explaining to one's child that there are people in the world who had as their ideology the total annihilation of Jews and other undesirables by murdering them in the most sophisticated manner?"

>> But this is not family conversation, that sort of thing, you know.

Would you talk to your children about things like that?

No, exactly.

Exactly, I mean, yeah.

Who can make sense of it?

There's no sense in anything that happened.

I wanted to have a normal life, so the Holocaust doesn't fit in there.

You know, I don't want to be pitied or whatever.

No, it's different times now.

And hopefully we don't... revert too much into disaster again.

>> Are you feeling all right, enjoying lunch?

>> Yeah, well, I'm not mad on the vegan business.

>> Yeah, I thought it was delicious.

>> Yeah, it's delicious.

>> Now, I was interested to talk to the two of you about what kind of role you feel Maya has going forward after you're gone in terms of... >> Maya has more of a role than the others, because she's very interested in the second-generation trauma.

>> What do you feel that second- generation trauma is?

>> That you must not ask me.

That you must ask her.

>> No, but, no... >> I don't know what the trauma is.

>> But I guess you raised the second generation, so maybe you were a witness to... >> No, I'm, I'm sorry.

I am not-- I will not elaborate on second-generation... To me, anybody who's got a roof over their head and enough food, forget the trauma, you know?

>> But that's a really important answer.

A lot of my difficulties were to do with trauma.

Why was I so disturbed?

Why was I picking my face when I was two?

>> Yeah, well, I can answer that-- because your mother was always absent.

>> But the reason you were always absent was because of the Holocaust.

She will have kind of-- well, she did sort of project into me this, this sort of feeling, an idea that, yes, there was something wrong with me, there was really something wrong with me, and well, you know... Why couldn't I be grateful that no one was trying to kill me or... At least I had parents, and so on and so forth.

So, there was absolutely...

There was...

There, there was no connecting going on in terms of, this was my history and this was...

Nothing at all.

Absolutely nothing.

>> Do you think being the child of a survivor can be problematic?

>> I'm sure.

I'm sure.

>> In what ways?

>> Well, I think, I'm sure I'm, I was a problem to them because I can never see what people need absolutely for their happiness.

I have provided for them what I think is necessary for survival, you know?

(birds chirping) >> I'll start you off with a little one, around the back.

Yeah.

Right, this one is, uh...

It's called "Awakening."

>> The face-- very skeletal.

>> Um... What am I gonna say to that?

>> Just an observation.

>> Yeah.

Well, is it skeletal?

I suppose it is, yeah.

Shall we move on?

When I was six years old, I thought that I'm gonna be a doctor and heal people.

And it wasn't till I faced the reality of that, that it occurred to me that, you know, if I went into medicine, and I would be dealing with dead people, corpses, and so I didn't go that way.

I wanted to give life to things.

Maybe this is a sort of rather curious way of recreating life in sculpture, trying to resurrect these corpses, as it were, which is a crazy idea.

I still don't know exactly what happened to my father.

I know he was taken to Auschwitz.

My fantasy is that, you know, maybe he was the sort of person that got killed trying to escape, I, I've no idea.

And so it's always been a struggle, you know-- how do you deal with that loss and my need to somehow bring my father back to life?

(birds chirping) >> People that don't know will, will say, "Oh, yeah, no, Maurice's sculptures, they're, they're him, aren't they?

They, they represent him."

And, but actually it's not-- it represents his father.

Have you seen the photograph of his father?

That is the head of all of Maurice's sculptures.

Because Maurice does look terribly similar to that.

They just think it's him, but it's... That is, you know, look at those cheekbones, look at that nose.

>> I'm not one of these artists who are dying to get into the studio and make the next thing.

It's always been a, a struggle, in a way, to get around my initial feelings about making a sculpture.

I mean, I have to go back to when I was in the camp and, and I had... My little sister was born there, and, uh... She was coming up for her first birthday, and, um...

I mean, so, as you can imagine, there wasn't somewhere where you could go and get presents and things, and food was very tight, you know, very hard to get hold of.

And anyhow, it was, it was coming up for her birthday, and I'd found a, a carrot, which was a bit bent, and I made it into a little boat, I'd put little sticks for masts in it, and I was gonna give this to her for her birthday.

And I-- you know, I was, what, five-and-a-half or something, and I kept asking my mother, you know, "Is it her birthday now?"

And it wasn't.

And, "Soon," and, "Not now, soon."

So, this, this build-up to when her birthday was, when I could give her her present, and... She didn't get there.

She didn't make it to her birthday, you know-- she died and I couldn't give her this present.

And years later, when I had therapy, you know, the therapist said, "Well, this was your first sculpture, and in a way, that's stayed with you ever since," you know.

And consequently, I've put down the fact that it was always a struggle for me, although I wanted to make sculpture, you know, it was never a lovely experience-- it was a struggle, it was a torment.

>> Your sister, what was she called?

>> Milly.

You know, more or less after my grandmother-- my grandmother's name was Emilia, and she was called, my little sister was called Milly.

In Belsen, when people died, I mean, I remember taking them out.

I mean, it was bizarre, you know, just in the morning, you know, you get up and there'd be a dead body there.

So, what do you do?

When my little sister died, Clara, my older sister, tells me she took her out and put her on the heap, you know?

>> Children grew up on experiences.

Some of the experiences which may have been horrifying to adults were just part of life.

But once we were incarcerated in the camps, I think we tended to grow up pretty fast.

Both I, who was in the men's camp, and my mother, who was separate in, in the women's camp, were both selected to be moved, at the same time to the same camps.

So we spent the whole war together and we were liberated together.

So, my mother survived, as I did.

My younger brother, who was four years younger, he almost certainly did not survive.

I'm saying almost because, to this day, we do not know his fate.

He just disappeared.

I, as a 13-year-old, had to go out and do sort of a day's slave labor, but he was four years younger and he was permitted to stay in the camp.

One day we came home from work, and he and three other young kids who were allowed to stay in the camp had disappeared.

During the day, they had been picked up by some SS members that had orders to pick them up, and since then, he appears to have vanished from the face of the Earth.

>> Speed camera reported ahead.

>> You always held onto a small hope that he might have survived.

>> Yes, yes.

But... it doesn't look like it.

>> Exit to the left onto junction to B550.

>> There was a point in, in my development where I went through a quite severe crisis of faith.

I was really torn between believing in a God, and to believe God to be just and righteous, and at the same time reflecting on the horrors and injustices which I and millions of others suffered.

I could not reconcile it.

(praying quietly) And I began to doubt the existence of a God.

But I looked around me and it became clear to me, crystal-clear, that there had to be a God, an almighty creator, and I concluded the Almighty has given us finite minds which just cannot comprehend the events we went through.

And therefore, it must have been the Almighty's will that we do not understand, that we do believe in Him purely through faith, not logic, and on, on that basis, I have remained a faithful and believing Jew.

(praying quietly) >> When you come here and stand over your parents' graves and think of them, do you also think of your brother?

>> I do.

One hears of miraculous reunions where members of the family find each other after 60 years or more, by pure chance.

And therefore...

I have never recited any memorial prayer on his behalf, always making myself believe that maybe he's still alive.

But I certainly think of him when I stand there in front of my parents' grave, yes.

>> What was his name?

>> His name was Hermann.

Hermann Goldberg.

>> After the war, because I didn't see my mother, I had this fantasy that perhaps she did survive by some miracle, and that she was in one of those displaced people's camps.

Now, the fact that I never went to look for her testifies to the fact that I knew she wasn't alive.

But I somehow needed to keep her alive in my mind, in my fantasy, so that I didn't actually have to deal with this terrible trauma that she had been gassed.

I wrote a poem about it once when I was at a very low point in my life.

It was very short, it said, "Mummy, who held your hand when you were dying?

Who closed your eyes when you were dead?"

>> I did meet my father in Auschwitz, surprisingly enough.

But...

I feel so sad, that I remember walking with him, holding my hand and my brother's hand, and was talking to my brother.

He hardly said anything to me.

And I felt as though I wish I could ask him or talk to him.

But then I thought to myself, what must he have felt, holding my hand, 12 years old there, not being able to protect him?

>> And those were the last moments you shared together?

>> Yeah.

Yes.

Right, we're gonna be going for a nice long walk-- now, you behave yourself, all right?

(exhales) I was in a satellite camp of Dachau in Germany in 1945, February.

My birthday is in February, and I was bar mitzvahed, which mean you were 13 years old.

And I remember going to the barbed wire, across the border in the forest-- the camp was cut out from a forest-- and seeing the birds fly by, and thinking to myself, speaking to God, said, "Please, God, please, God, let me, let me get out of this hellhole, absolutely naked, and I'll never ask another thing from you from your life."

And as you could see, God answered my prayer, but I'm afraid I still keep on talking to God and asking for further, for further, further help.

But, of course, that's the problem with being a, a survivor: Everything tends to remind you of something.

Seeing the trees right at the edge of the forest and the sunshine, it's very, very clear to me.

(birds chirping) (bell tolling) It's a lovely room, isn't it?

Lovely views.

>> Beautiful.

>> I'm usually making my usual jokes, when, the first time I came to Poland, I didn't have this room.

>> No, I know.

Well, we're gonna see today, aren't we?

Your arrival at Auschwitz.

>> Well, that's, that's supposed to have been the, the purpose of the holiday.

>> It's not a holiday is it, Dad?

>> I mean, well, exactly, it's a... You're right, you're so right.

>> Can you remember the first time you heard about what had happened to Ivor as a little boy?

>> Uh, Mum told me when I was ten years old.

Um...

I, I just remember going into a corner of the room and just sobbing my heart out.

And from that moment on, I did not feel I was able to go to him when I was upset, because I didn't want to, and, and it-- and it was also, Mum would often say, as well, she would-- she would say, you know, "Don't upset Dad," you know, "Dad's been through enough."

I do understand, and I've accepted that I won't be able to release my demons because I can't until he has.

That's what I'm hoping I'll get from today.

>> I certainly don't feel the need to go back to Auschwitz.

I was at the conference in Krakow.

And I was staying in a hotel and there was a notice in the hotel, "Sightseeing tours to the salt mines and to Auschwitz."

Now, that really offended me, that it's become a sightseeing event.

A lot of people have taken their children to see Auschwitz.

I think perhaps maybe because it's easier to show it to them than talk about it.

>> What was the trip like?

About six to eight days, I suppose.

Many of us babies and children died along the way.

There was no water to drink.

I just huddled up to my mum.

"It will be over soon.

Keep hoping."

(train rattling) (brakes hissing) >> Every morning, the train stopped and they used to throw out dead bodies.

How can a child of 14... hope people should die so he'll have more room where to sit down?

What has become of me?

Eventually, one early morning, the train stopped.

Through the slits of the truck, I saw the word Auschwitz.

I don't know what it meant, even-- Auschwitz?

Didn't have a clue.

>> None of us Jews actually who had been transported could realize what was awaiting.

Evil rages, evil rules.

And this was totally alien to our minds.

So we just hugged each other, closely.

(train wheels squealing) >> Papa, is that-- is this all how it was, or have they redone the wires?

>> No, we didn't, we didn't, because the trains, you see, the train came in here.

>> And all these electric wires?

>> Yes, oh, yes.

>> Is that how it was?

>> Yes, yes, yes, this is how it was.

>> I remember the arriving very clearly, when the doors opened up.

And the terror and the aggression hit us immediately, and the shouting, "Get out!"

(speaking German) The Germans were waiting.

You know?

>> Yeah, but I, I kind of feel that I need you to-- I need you to be there with us.

>> Oh, I see, okay, right, yeah.

>> Do you mind?

>> No.

No.

>> There was a Hungarian- speaking victim, warning us, quietly, "Don't say you're younger than 15 years old," and I just nodded, not understanding why.

That was what saved me from being sent to the gas chamber on arrival.

We had been so traumatized by then, I think I had lost the ability to express myself.

We were dehumanized from the beginning of arrival in Auschwitz.

>> Oh, my God, the size of it, huh?

Jesus Christ.

Oh, my God.

>> Is, is this actually real, though, from... >> Yes.

>> Oh.

>> Well, you can imagine, for four days, being on a train like that, with 70, 80 people, we arrived to weather like this, absolutely stifling hot, and of course, as the train stopped, German guards kept on going past, "Any, any sick people onboard?"

And I remember falling down on the floor, holding my head, and then suddenly, I opened my eye, and I could see what happened.

Oh, there's thousands of people-- women and children one side, men the other side, kept on pointing left and right, left and right.

>> If it was to the left, you were going to live, if it was to the right, you were going straight into the gas chambers, straight from the train.

And I looked pretty kind of hefty and strong, and I remember he saying... (speaking German) Which meant, "Strong as a horse," and sent me to the left.

>> My mother, who was worn, fatigued, anguished, she looked much older than her age-- she was in her 40s-- she was selected.

There was no parting words.

There was just a hug and, "I love you."

>> I didn't see my mother, but she saw me, and she broke ranks and came out, came to me, shook my hand, and went back.

And then I went out and I saw flames and...

I was told what they meant.

And so it was then I realized what happened.

And I remember standing there looking at the flames and thinking, "Which of the flames is my mother?"

>> Suddenly I started crying, and a man put his arms on me, he said, "Why are you crying?"

I says, "I wanna see my mummy.

I wanna see my mummy."

And so he said, "Oh, don't worry, don't worry.

You'll, you'll see her tomorrow.

You'll see her tomorrow."

And I somehow-- that-- something took hold of me and I said, "You know, Ivor, the game is over now.

This is not a, not a... Not a game anymore, this is...

This is happening, really."

Looking back now, I felt as though the way forward is, this is what happened.

Now, I gotta get up and dust myself down and carry on with life.

The odd occasions which I did speak to my children about, I remember them running under the stairs and in bed crying, and I felt as though I cannot see the point of it all.

But looking back, on the other hand, running away from it also wasn't the right way.

I'll be on the left by the door in one of the chairs.

>> He can never move forward.

He's stuck.

He is quite juvenile, my father, in lots of ways, and my brother always says because he emotionally cut off when he stepped off that train.

Can I just ask you, are you... >> What?

>> This is the first time today... >> Yes?

>> ...you are being a bit... >> Impatient.

>> Right, are you-- are you impatient because you're gonna miss the coach?

>> No, no, I... >> Or because it's too painful to go in there?

>> Too painful, it's both, yeah.

>> No, it's not both.

>> It's, it's, enough is enough.

>> Right.

Yeah.

>> Yeah.

(Ivor chuckles) (chuckling, Judy crying) >> I know it is.

I know.

I know it's every day, I know, Dad, I know.

>> Good.

>> But that is the, like that, your impatience is a bit of a let-out.

>> Yeah, you mean-- what do you mean?

>> You're finally, for the first time today, showing that it's too painful.

>> Yeah.

>> And I can't imagine what it was like for you.

>> Yeah.

>> You know, you were a child.

(Judy crying) >> I haven't been able to cry because... (sighs) I think crying would have no end.

But the memory's there, the memory's strong.

For my mother, for my father, for all my family with their many children.

>> This is a private matter, you know?

People always want to see emotions-- forget it, you know?

We're talking about facts here.

I'm not giving people the, the pleasure to see my emotions because... no.

>> So everybody's turned against Mrs. Merkel because of the refugee crisis, so... >> Well, it brought out the last, the worst in people, that's all.

It brought out the worst in people.

>> In Germans, you mean?

>> That's why there is a Nazi party again here, because they never really disappeared.

>> Yeah, yeah, and what is it like for you to be talking to people who are obviously in no way accountable?

>> It's important but...

Unfortunately in a miniature, a miniature way.

>> Miniature?

What do you mean?

>> Well, because, I mean, how many people can you affect?

It's like throwing a stone in the water and hoping... >> Yeah, but that is-- that is in a way the, the only way anything changes.

>> Yeah.

>> It has to start somewhere.

>> WOLFGANG SCHÄUBLE (speaking German): (birds chirping) >> For neo-Nazis, this is a complete eyesore.

People who hate Jews anyway find themselves with-- saddled with something so unsightly.

(speaking German): The only thing that I know which has struck everybody is that Mrs. Merkel-- who is a wonderful lady-- made this unbelievably generous gesture to open the frontiers and letting in thousands of people which the Germans... can't really deal with.

And I think it brought out the worst in the Germans again.

(speaking German): In the recent election, a party got in, Alternative for Germany-- one could use the word Fascist.

We're really talking about the thousands-of-year-old virus called anti-Semitism that was only waiting to come out somewhere.

>> What do you worry could come of that?

>> I don't know how to put it in words-- I mean, hopefully not another Holocaust, you know?

I mean, it's not healthy.

(lighter clicking) (speaking German): (applause) I must say, if anybody hated anybody, I hated the Germans.

Even to hear the German language.

I really hated the Germans-- I despised them, I hated them.

I'm trying to build bridges, that's all.

And as long as I can do it, I'll do it, and that's all there is to it.

>> Wherever you are looking, it's a very unsettled world we live in.

Europe, America...

The Middle East.

Everywhere things are brewing.

And it's very sad.

We could live in peace.

And we don't even attempt to.

>> My father came to the U.K. two weeks before the war broke out under duress-- he had to leave without his family.

After we were liberated, he sent us a photograph of Hermann, my little brother.

I contacted an artist to paint this painting of my brother from the small photograph and pay him in English cigarettes.

And that's how this came about, and I presented it to my mother on her first birthday after our liberation.

Last July, I was contacted by an organization in our hometown with a view to placing some stolperstein of our family.

And although, as a rule, neither my wife nor my sons would attempt to influence me, they did say, "Let there be a memorial for your family, particularly for your brother."

This memorial plaque will actually be an acknowledgement that I consider my little brother to have been murdered.

>> Are you worried about Manfred?

>> Yes, I'm very worried about him.

He's going to be meeting German people and he's going to be on German soil.

This is the first time, uh, since he left in 1946.

He swore he'd never go back, he said he'd never-- he'd never been back to Germany.

Maybe that will help him to sort of come to terms.

Maybe.

>> I was standing by the desk and a message came up.

(speaking German) "We wish you a very pleasant stay in Kassel."

I, I thought back to when we lived here.

They didn't wish us a very pleasant stay in Kassel then, did they?

It must have been around 1937.

My father had taken a day off, and it was while we were walking home that we came across an enormous crowd of people.

People were telling us that Hitler is going to drive by.

My father stopped, and we waited patiently.

I remember my father lifting me onto his arms, so that I could actually look over the heads of the people in front, and I actually caught a glimpse of a limousine going by with Hitler standing in there waving, or, I think, doing his heil Hitler salute.

>> Did you and your father salute back?

>> My father may well have done in order not to stand out.

(people shouting, clamoring) 72 years since I was in Kassel.

♪ ♪ (woman singing wordlessly) Here you are, Müllergasse, look.

Yeah, this was our street.

(woman continues singing) (woman singing Yiddish lullaby) (singing and guitar continue) (singing wordlessly) (lyrics resume) (speaking German): (praying in Hebrew) Hermann Goldberg, sohn von Rosa und Baruch Goldberg.

(bell tolling) It certainly touched me.

Remarkably, it has now been publicly and officially, incontrovertibly, indisputably... confirmed.

>> I could have been a miserable, depressing character that, "Ooh, you know, I've had an awful start in life, woe is me," but I've taken the opposite view in a sense, and said, you know, "You tried to wipe me out, but it didn't happen, so here I am and take note."

My son made an observation, and he said, "You know, your father would have wanted you to enjoy your life and be happy."

And I think he, he was right in making that observation.

The struggle I've had, um... is partly to do with, um... Well, I'm sure you're familiar with the sort of guilt of surviving that many-- not just survivors of the Holocaust, but many people have survived awful tragedies of one thing or another that they feel guilty about, um, having survived.

And I, I suppose what my son was saying, "Don't feel bad."

(voice breaking): And, uh... Yeah, I think he's right.

I think... you know, don't, don't... Don't feel bad about surviving.

>> When I came to England, I got used to that some people referred to foreigners as a "bloody foreigner," and that doesn't bother me at all.

You can call me a bloody Hungarian, I just smile.

If you call me a bloody Jew, I kick your teeth out.

That's how it affected me.

>> It's not a question of whether you carry it, but whether it interferes with your developing any further.

It's almost as if perhaps they will stop remembering their family.

And that's as if it's a betrayal of the people who they've lost.

>> I've lost so many members of my family.

I suppose to, to go forward, I needed to, uh... um... to look ahead.

I could be irresponsible now.

(laughs) I try not to be, but I read a poem.

It, it says, "The dog is dead, the car is sold, go on, live foolishly."

And I thought to myself, "You got it right."

(laughs) (upbeat rock song playing) I've always had to kind of look after myself.

I was a grownup from the beginning.

(rock song continues) >> You want to hear?

Here it is.

And I encourage youngsters to ask, because we are the last ones.

When we've gone, finished.

Then it's all history books.

(places glass down) Anything else?

>> Go to pbs.org/frontline for more on education about the Holocaust and efforts to preserve first-hand accounts of it.

>> If was to the left, you were going to live.

To the right, you were going into the gas chambers.

>> I encourage youngsters to ask because we are the last ones.

>> And explore "Frontline's" archive of films on the Holocaust.

>> I was five when I was smuggled out of the Warsaw ghetto.

>> Connect to the "Frontline" community on Facebook, Twitter, and pbs.org/frontline.

>> New tariffs announced by the Trump administration on Chinese exports... >> NARRATOR: The U.S.-China rivalry... >> ...China is now punching back... >> The Chinese used policies inconsistent with free and fair trade.

>> We're not in a trade war.

We're in a techonomic war.

>> NARRATOR: "Frontline" and NPR investigate what's at stake.

>> Do you think Americans should be worried?

>> Yes, I think so.

>> They've outsmarted us.

We've got to fix our system to compete with China.

>> NARRATOR: "Trump's Trade War."

♪ ♪ >> For more on this and other "Frontline" programs, visit our website at pbs.org/frontline.

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This program is also available on Amazon Prime Video.

♪ ♪