Kor, Miriam, Mrs. Csengeri, Mrs. Goldenthal, and the children traveled by cattle car, this time with bunks, blankets, and uncovered windows. During long stops, Mrs. Csengeri cooked over small fires. The women discussed preserving their prison uniforms to bear witness, while Kor wondered if any family members had survived.

They passed bombed towns and arrived in Czernowitz, where they stayed at a camp that may have been a former labor camp or ghetto. While exploring, Kor picked flowers from an oddly shaped hill and was scolded—she had stumbled onto a mass grave where Nazis had killed thousands of Jews. She realized the Holocaust’s reach extended far beyond Auschwitz.

Boarding another train, the adults saw they were heading deeper into the Soviet Union rather than toward Romania. Some passengers, fearful of communist rule, jumped from the slow-moving train. After a week, they reached a refugee camp in Slutsk, near Minsk, and remained there for two months. In late September, grouped by nationality, they began returning to Romania. Their first stop was Nagyvárad (Oradea), where Mrs. Goldenthal and her children went home. The remaining group stayed overnight at a hotel paid for by a Jewish agency, then traveled to Şimleu Silvaniei, where Mrs. Csengeri and her daughters departed.

Kor and Miriam continued to Portz. Villagers silently watched as they walked through town in matching khaki dresses and oversized camp shoes. Their property was overgrown and neglected—proof their parents and sisters had not returned. They were the sole survivors of the Mozes family; their grandparents were gone. Inside, their mother’s dachshund, Lily, greeted them, but the house had been stripped. Kor found only three crumpled photographs. Years later, in 2014, Kor learned the poor villagers had assumed no Jews would return and had taken what they could use.

Their cousin, Shmilu, arrived, having been contacted by Aunt Irena, who had survived a concentration camp and traced them through the Red Cross. Shmilu, also an Auschwitz survivor and the only one from his immediate family to survive, had been living in their farm’s summer kitchen, working the land and caring for Lily. He had seen no other family; Aunt Irena awaited them in Cluj. Feeling they no longer belonged, the twins left with Shmilu, angry at the villagers’ silence.

From 1945 to 1950, Kor and Miriam lived with Aunt Irena in her Cluj apartment. Before the war, Irena had been close to their father; her husband and beloved son, Laci, had died in the camps, and she had since remarried. Under communist rule, most of her prewar possessions were seized, but as a war widow and survivor she was allowed to keep her building.

Irena provided shelter but little affection, and the twins felt out of place in the grand apartment. Kor had nightmares about rats, corpses, needles, and soap supposedly made from Jewish fat. Both girls suffered malnutrition and painful sores; a doctor recommended vitamins and a proper diet, but these were scarce, and they often ate at a nearby orphanage.

Cousin Shmilu ran their father’s farm and brought food, including sunflower oil the twins drank straight from the bottle. After someone reported Kor for eating white bread, the secret police raided the apartment and confiscated their food. Irena built a hidden cabinet; later the secret police took her new husband without explanation, and he disappeared.

Life under communism was oppressive. At high school, where they were the only Jews, classmates mocked their matching khaki dresses and spread an antisemitic rumor about a “Jewish vampire.” A Jewish Zionist group they attended was shut down.

An American aunt sent fabric, and Irena had matching dresses made. In 1948, the twins waited all night for coats; a saleswoman who knew Irena helped them get two matching rust-colored ones.

When the state of Israel was established in 1948, Kor recalled their father’s wish that they go there. They corresponded with Uncle Aaron in Haifa, who promised to care for them. To secure an exit visa, Irena claimed Laci was alive in Israel and was approved; Kor and Miriam had to wait two years, as the regime kept young people to rebuild the country. They had to sign over their remaining Portz property. Two months before departure, Irena’s husband was released and received a visa.

In June 1950, allowed to take only what they could wear, they boarded the overcrowded ship Transylvania in layers, each carrying the three photos from Portz. As the ship docked in Haifa, passengers sang the Israeli national anthem. Uncle Aaron met them at the port; for the first time in years, they felt genuine affection and a sense of home.

Upon arrival in Haifa, Kor and Miriam learned Aunt Irena had fabricated the story about her son in Israel to obtain a visa, confirming Laci’s death. They spent the afternoon with Uncle Aaron and met his family, but as newcomers, they were sent to an immigration center; Irena and her husband went elsewhere.

After processing, the twins spent six weeks in quarantine at a children’s village, where they received vaccinations and Israeli clothing, including shorts. They were then assigned to a Youth Aliyah Village, an agricultural center for immigrant teens—relief for the twins, who preferred not to live with their aunt.

The village was welcoming. Two older girls acted as “big sisters,” helping them adjust. Kor and Miriam worked half days on the farm—Kor milked cows and picked tomatoes and peanuts—and attended school the other half, learning Hebrew alongside about 300 teenagers from many countries.

For the first time since Auschwitz, Kor slept without nightmares. They no longer faced antisemitism or fear, and they were encouraged to celebrate their Jewish heritage.

On their first Friday evening, they joined the community to welcome Shabbat in white shirts, with candles and wine on the tables. After prayers, they began singing and dancing the hora. When Kor hesitated, her big sister and Miriam’s big sister took their hands, and everyone joined in a circle. As they danced faster, singing “Hava Nagila,” the twins felt embraced by a large, new family.

Kor and Miriam lived in the Youth Village for two years, then were drafted into the Israeli army in 1952. Miriam trained as a nurse; Kor became a draftswoman and eventually a sergeant major during eight years of service. Though she earned a good living in Tel Aviv, Kor still longed for a home and family.

In April 1960, she met Michael (Mickey) Kor, an American tourist and fellow Holocaust survivor who had spent four years in Buchenwald and Magdeburg. Despite a language barrier—he spoke English, she spoke Hebrew—they married within weeks. Kor moved to Terre Haute, Indiana, near Mickey’s liberator, Colonel Andrew Nehf.

Kor learned English by watching soap operas and taking notes. Their son, Alex, was born in 1961 and daughter, Rina, in 1963. Her trauma resurfaced when neighborhood children harassed the family, echoing Nazi youth in Portz; she defended herself, but harassment, including swastikas on their home, continued for years, ending in 1978 after a widely viewed Holocaust miniseries prompted apologies.

Kor began lecturing but found little documentation of Mengele’s experiments. In 1984, she and Miriam founded CANDLES (Children of Auschwitz Nazi Deadly Lab Experiments Survivors), eventually locating 122 survivors in 10 countries. In 1987, Miriam’s kidneys failed—they had never grown beyond a 10-year-old’s size due to Auschwitz injections. Kor donated her left kidney, but Miriam died on June 6, 1993. They never learned what substances had been injected.

Invited in 1993 to a medical ethics conference and asked to bring a Nazi doctor, Kor contacted Dr. Hans Münch, a former Auschwitz physician. He denied knowledge of twin experiments but detailed gas chamber operations and agreed to sign an affidavit at Auschwitz on the 50th anniversary of liberation. Struggling with how to thank him, Kor wrote a letter of forgiveness and discovered forgiveness as an act of self-healing for the victim. Encouraged by a former professor, she also forgave Dr. Mengele.

On January 27, 1995, at Auschwitz, Münch signed his document, and Kor read her statement forgiving Münch, Mengele, and all Nazis. She felt immediate relief. She also forgave her parents for not protecting them and herself for the anger she had carried.

Kor concludes that forgiveness is a seed for peace and offers life lessons: Never give up on yourself or your dreams; judge people by actions and character; and forgive those who hurt you to heal your soul and set yourself free.

After the 2009 publication of this memoir, Eva Mozes Kor continued her work until her death in 2019. Recognizable by her bright blue pantsuits and two-fingered peace sign, she was stubborn and direct yet refused to be placed on a pedestal.

Her forgiveness message initially caused controversy among survivors who feared she had forgiven Nazis on their behalf. Kor always clarified that her forgiveness was personal and redefined it as self-healing, not reconciliation. At the same time, she pursued justice: supporting prosecutions of Nazi war criminals, joining lawsuits (including one against Bayer that contributed to a German settlement fund), advocating for Holocaust education laws, and sponsoring educators to visit Auschwitz.

In 2015, she attended the trial of Oskar Groening, the “accountant of Auschwitz” (152), as a co-plaintiff. She wrote to him beforehand and testified that, while he deserved punishment, speaking to students would better serve society. When Groening collapsed during their post-hearing meeting, Kor helped catch him, and a photo of his spontaneous kiss on her cheek was widely misinterpreted as support rather than as part of her effort to help convict him.

Kor extended compassion to postwar Germans, insisting on the term Nazi soldiers rather than German soldiers, rejecting inherited guilt. She befriended Michael Woerle, grandson of Mengele’s mentor Otmar von Verschuer, who had uncovered his grandfather’s Nazi role. In 2014 at Auschwitz, she comforted distraught German schoolgirls, telling them they bore no guilt but had a responsibility to remember and prevent such crimes.

Despite accusations of seeking attention, she used her platform for education. She maintained friendships with survivors who disagreed with her forgiveness but respected her work. Scholars such as Rabbi Michael Berenbaum engaged with her views, and USC Shoah Foundation Director Stephen D. Smith included her in the Dimensions in Testimony project.

Kor’s daily life centered on her mission: leading museum tours, speaking to schools, and answering emails from those seeking advice or comfort. She connected especially well with young people. Known for wry humor, she quipped about her children’s sweatshirts, joked at Auschwitz about once being barred from leaving and now from entering, told tearful tour members to witness and make the world better, and replied to a tourist who criticized her smile that she had earned the right to smile.

She embraced joy, from playful moments to an unexpected social media presence, especially on Twitter. A BuzzFeed interview reached hundreds of millions of viewers, expanding her global influence. In her final years, honors included an award-winning documentary on PBS, friendship with Scottish musician Raymond Meade, Indiana’s Sachem Award, and participation in the Shoah Foundation’s hologram testimony project.

Kor died on July 4, 2019, in Krakow, Poland, during her annual Auschwitz trip. In her final days, Rabbi Bleich of the World Jewish Congress affirmed her personal forgiveness; a boys’ choir sang her favorite song outside Auschwitz; and she learned the Katowice nuns wore habits the same bright blue she famously wore.

The Afterword, by Peggy Porter Tierney, publisher, editor, and board chair emerita of the CANDLES Holocaust Museum, concludes that Eva Mozes Kor’s legacy shows how individuals can change the world and how forgiveness can create peace.