(woman speaking polish) (marzynski answering in polish) >> marzynski: i am not alone in my quest. other child survivors like me have come to warsaw for an annual gathering. the holocaust story has been told by others. this is our turn. in our old bodies, we are still children. >> i don't know how we got out. it was not an escape that i remember. i have no image of that in my mind at all. >> marzynski: saved by parents who often gave their lives for us, we are left with a few facts and lots of raw emotions. >> my father sat me across from himself, showed me how to make a design of the cross. said, "from now on, your name is marysia kowalska. "never admit that you are jewish. whoever is with you, say, call her mama, call him tata." he said one more thing: "after the war, read newspapers. maybe someone will be looking for you." >> i remember boots. clean, beautiful, awesome, shiny boots. and for some reason, i was afraid of those boots. they were, you know, "bang bang," noisy. there was something about those boots, and i was a little girl, so you can imagine at eye level, that's what

>> yes. >> marzynski: why? >> because the feelings were too painful and i didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it. >> marzynski: and why e you talking now? >> the last couple of years, i have become a little freer of the fear. >> marzynski: so why do we return to this haunted past? why do we want this self-inflicted pain? to get relief from it? >> sorry... (sobbing) i apologize. >> marzynski: sophia schulman, a former hospital administrator, lives in new york. she takes me to her ghetto courtyard. her fath was sent to the death camp. her mother died of typhus here. five years older then me, she remembers more. >> this is exactly what it looked like to me. and somebody would put in a handkerchief some pennies, some groszy, of course, and throw it down. but the times then got worse and worse. but this is what it looked like. right here is death. except i see people in the windows. i see people, my people in the windows. somebody is going to come down. look at those windows! >> standing at this wall

in the following excerpt, marzynski describes life after he was separated from his parents and takento a polish clergyman by a family friend. >> the priest arranged for my stay at a catholic orphanage run by the italian order of brothers they were 45 orphans there. i was the youngest. only the brother superior knew who i really was. when german police came to the orphanage looking for jewish children, he would hide me behind the altar. at six, i had my holy communion and became the most dedicated altar boy, a favorite of the priests. during the mass i would sometimes fall asleep at the altar. a brother would pick me up and then carry me to my bed. when i was here 30 years ago one sister was still alive. do you remember me, sister? you look a little different. i don't remember your name. it's marish. oh, marish, the youngest of all the children. very small boy. and i remember you as a sister who always gave me sugar. i spent two and a half years at the orphanage. if when we saw the smoke over the warsaw ghetto i overheard the worst "the jews are burning." was my father still there? >>