It was almost spring, when the Gestapo came for them.
The Gronowskis had planned to escape through the back garden if the worst happened. But they were taken by surprise, sitting at the breakfast table sipping coffee and spreading jam on bread, when the doorbell rang.
“The door opened and two men shouted ‘Gestapo. Papers’,” recalls Simon, who was aged just 11. As the Nazis entered their small flat, his mother, Chana, and older sister, Ita, turned pale and started trembling. After examining Chana’s ID card and passport, he confirmed her fears.
“You have been denounced,” he said, curtly.
It was March 1943, almost three years into the Nazi occupation of Belgium. As Jews, the Gronowskis had left their home six months earlier and gone into hiding in a different part of their home city of Brussels. But the Nazi’s secret police had tracked them down.
Just a child at the time, Simon had no clue his family were to be deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau – the notorious death camp where the Third Reich carried out mass murder with brutal efficiency.
As the soldiers shouted at them to pack their bags, Simon grabbed his beloved scout uniform and followed his family into the unknown. Pointing at her young son, Chana asked: “The little one too?”.
“Yes,” they replied. “The little one too.”
After their arrest in Belgium, they were held in a former army barracks in the neighbouring city of Mechelen. This was was Belgium’s only transit camp, a holding place for Jews and Romani before their deportation to the extermination camps.
The living conditions were wretched. A hundred men, women and children were crammed together in each room, forced to sleep on hay mattresses on rickety wooden bunks. Nobody knew what fate awaited them. The word “Auschwitz” was never mentioned, says Simon. “The Nazis told us that Jews must go away to work, in labour camps.”
A month later, Simon and his mother were informed by the SS that they would be leaving the next day by train. Ita, briefly protected by the Belgian citizenship she had proudly claimed on her 16th birthday, wasn’t on the list that day.
The next day, Simon and Chana were loaded on to one of 34 train wagons alongside 1,600 other prisoners. Nobody knew their final destination, they all thought they were going to work.
When the 11-year-old was escorted out of the barracks, he found himself standing “between two rows of soldiers all carrying rifles, leading right up to a train wagon which seemed enormous, as I was very small. I climbed in with my mother and 50 other people”.
Inside the wagon, there was straw on the floor, no seats and barely any light inside. “I was still in my little world of cub scouts,” says Simon. “I didn’t know that I had been condemned to death and that this train was going to transport me to the place of my execution.”
But this was one of the convoys which sent more than 25,000 Jews from Belgium to the death camps between 1942 and 1944.
During the journey, the train came under attack from the Belgian Resistance. Three young fighters halted the train and managed to help people escape. Cowering in their carriage, Simon and his mother held their breath.
Once the train started moving again, the door of their carriage, possibly damaged in the raid, slid open. As others leapt down, his mother told him to follow.
Jumping down, Simon heard soldiers running in his direction, firing guns and shouting. When he dared to look back, he saw that soldiers had caught his mother before she could jump.
“I jumped from the train to obey my mother. If she had told me to stay then I’d have never left her side and I would have died with her in the gas chamber,” says Simon. “I adored my mother. She sacrificed herself to ensure my escape.”
Terrified, Simon ran for his life. He spent the night in the woods before a local Belgian family gave him refuge. Eventually he was reunited with his father, Leon, who was in hospital at the time of their arrest having suffered a breakdown. On his release, he was sheltered by friends.
Three days later, Chana was dead. Murdered in the gas chambers at Auschwitz, the camp where the Third Reich perfected its methods of mass murder.
By the end of the Nazis’ four and half years in control of the camp, they had killed more than a million people – the majority of whom were Jews.
Six months later, Simon’s sister, Ita, also lost her life at Auschwitz.
On Monday, around 50 survivors will join an array of international dignitaries including King Charles, France’s President Emmanuel Macron and Polish President Andrzej Duda to remember the day Soviet soldiers liberated the camp 80 years ago.
In total, an estimated 6 million lost their lives in the Holocaust, one of the greatest crimes in history. Today, Simon is concerned by what he sees as rising antisemitism and the growing popularity of far-right parties and populism in the US and Europe.
“I fight against the extreme right and antisemitism, because I was a victim of it. The extreme right is a pathway to hatred,” he says.
America, the UK, Germany, France and the Netherlands are just some of the countries which reported a rise in antisemitic incidents in the year following the October 7 2023 attack.
A “disregard or disrespect for democracy” is fuelling the popularity of “antisemitism, racism and other forms of hostilities” in Europe, says Professor Stefanie Schuler-Springorum from the Centre for Research on Antisemitism in Berlin.
“We have to be on the alert,” she warns.
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2:50
Auschwitz survivors pessimistic
The 80th anniversary of Auschwitz’s liberation will be for some the final time they attend a major anniversary event and bear witness to the crimes committed.
It’s for this reason, Simon wants to share his memories of the horror he witnessed.
“My mother gave me life twice. When I was born, and the day of my escape,” he says. “I want young people to know about the cruelty of yesterday, to help defend our democracy today.”
Siobhan Robbins reports from Auschwitz-Birkenau in Poland with Sophie Garratt, Europe news editor, and Serena Kutchinsky, assistant editor for premium content
Hundreds of displaced Congolese marched down a sloping road in northeast Goma with their lives on their backs.
Mothers with mattresses strapped to them dragged their toddlers alongside and trucks brimmed with bodies and belongings.
Many of them have been displaced more than once, as the violent insurgency waged by Rwanda-backed M23 rebels against the Congolese army spread furiously in 2024.
It reached new heights in recent weeks as they seized control of large swathes of territory in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and now, are advancing on the regional capital Goma.
The humanitarian hub is marked for capture by M23 with dozens of diplomats and non-essential United Nations (UN) staff evacuated by planes, cars and ferries.
As they leave, 250,000 of the most vulnerable Congolese pour into the city for safety.
We watched the movement near Goma’s Kihisi roundabout as hordes of civilians walked in the middle of the road with experience and urgency.
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4:44
Displaced civilians in DRC face fear and uncertainty
As we stopped to mark their plight, a small crowd stopped to stare at us.
Reports were circling that Rwandan troops had crossed the border into Goma just 5km from where we were standing – an invasion later confirmed by the UN top official in the DRC, Bintu Keita.
As we pressed record, a man with rageful red eyes pointed at me and yelled violently. We were attacked as we tried to escape.
Our colleague translated the intent fuelling the mob once we got to safety – they thought I was Rwandan.
That frenzy gives a small glimpse into the communal-level tribal hostility that has fuelled this 30-year conflict – a hangover from the notoriously violent Rwandan genocide.
The panicked civil unrest in that neighbourhood has not quelled in the hours since news spread of M23 moving in.
UN staff still in Goma have been told to stay indoors and there is increasing concern for civilians here as evidence looms of M23 atrocities in areas of their control.
“We know that M23 has been using the local population to transport their ammunition, like in [recently captured] Minova, and this is not the first time,” one aid worker told us on condition of anonymity.
We spoke to an M23 spokesman Manzi Ngaramble from our hotel in Goma and he confirmed that they are moving in to capture the city to “protect the people”.
“I cannot tell you how soon M23 will capture Goma but I can tell you this: Goma will never be the same again.”
When M23 previously captured Goma in 2012, peace was quickly brokered and the rebels retreated.
Now, Rwandan involvement has made this a regional, diplomatic crisis.
A UN security council meeting due to be held on Monday was expedited to Sunday – echoing calls for de-escalation and protection of civilians as Goma hangs in the balance.
Troops from the United Nations Organisation Stabilisation Mission in the DRC (MONUSCO) – the UN’s biggest peacekeeping mission – have been told to pull into the city and lock in place, after days of fighting on Goma’s outskirts led to at least 13 peacekeepers killed and 50 injured.
UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres says he is “deeply concerned by the escalation of violence”, calling on the Rwandan Defence Forces to stop supporting M23 and to withdraw from the territory of the DRC.
As diplomats and humanitarians scramble to neutralise an explosion that is decades in the making, Goma’s future looks dark.
The hundreds of thousands of civilians who sought safety here are caught in a rabid frenzy of fear, rage and uncertainty.
Congolese rebels say they have “taken” the key city of Goma in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).
The leader of a rebel alliance that includes the M23 group reiterated on Sunday that government forces had until 3am to surrender their weapons.
It comes after 13 soldiers serving with peacekeeping forces in the DRC were killed in clashes with the rebels, United Nations officials said.
Congolese rebels and allied Rwandan forces entered the key eastern city of Goma on Sunday and the airport is no longer in use, according to the DRC’s top UN official.
“M23 and Rwandan forces penetrated Munigi quarter in the outskirts of Goma city, causing mass panic and flight amongst the population,” said the UN’s special representative in the DRC, Bintu Keita, to an emergency UN meeting on Sunday.
The strategic city of Goma has a population of about two million people and is a regional hub for security and humanitarian efforts.
The M23 is mainly made up of ethnic Tutsis who broke away from the Congolese army more than a decade ago.
It’s one of about 100 armed groups that have been vying for a foothold in the mineral-rich region, where a long-running conflict has created one of the world’s largest humanitarian crises.
In recent weeks, it has made significant territorial gains.
The DRC has accused neighbouring Rwanda of fuelling the M23 rebellion and has now severed diplomatic ties with it.
Rwanda has denied the claims but last year admitted it has troops and missile systems in eastern Congo to safeguard its security, pointing to a build-up of Congolese forces near the border.
“Rwanda is trying to get in by all means, but we are holding firm,” a Congolese military source told the Reuters news agency on Sunday.
“It is war, there are losses everywhere… the population must remain calm, we are fighting,” they added.
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2:55
Tensions rise in Congo with fears of ‘invasion’
The DRC has recalled its diplomats from Rwanda and asked Rwandan authorities to cease diplomatic and consular activities in the Congolese capital, Kinshasa.
A UN Security Council meeting to discuss the escalating violence was scheduled for Monday but was brought forward to Sunday.
During that meeting, France and the UK pressured Rwanda over its role in the conflict.
France called for Rwanda to withdraw its troops from Congo territory, while Britain called for an end to attacks on peacekeepers by M23 rebels receiving support from Rwanda.
It comes after a Congolese military governor was killed while on the frontline during a M23 offensive on Friday.
On Saturday, the Congolese army said it foiled an M23 offensive towards Goma with the help of its allied forces, including UN troops and soldiers from the Southern African Development Community Mission, also known as SAMIDRC.
The burning wreckage of a white armoured fighting vehicle carrying UN markings could be seen on a road between Goma and Sake.
South Africa said nine of its peacekeepers had been killed amid the surge in fighting during the last few days.
Three Malawians and a Uruguayan were also killed, the UN said.
Decades of conflicts in the eastern DRC between rival armed groups over land and resources, and attacks on civilians, have killed hundreds of thousands of people and displaced more than seven million.
Militias also include the Cooperative for the Development of the Congo (CODECO) and the Allied Democratic Forces (ADF).
The UN peacekeeping force entered the DRC more than two decades ago and has around 14,000 soldiers on the ground.
There are few who can say they’ve seen the inside of hell, but Albrecht Weinberg is one of them.
From the safety of his living room, the 99-year-old describes how, as a teenager, he survived three concentration camps including the Nazi’s biggest extermination centre, Auschwitz-Birkenau.
“Jews were only for the gas chamber. You worked until you could work no more. Then you went to the chimney,” he explains in a soft Brooklyn twang he picked up after years of living in New York.
Born into a Jewish family of five in the East Frisia region of Germany, Albrecht was a teenager when the Nazis first sent him to do forced labour in 1939.
He was moved to various places in the next few years until, in April 1943, he and his sister were loaded on to a wagon to Auschwitz.
The Third Reich was accelerating its extermination of Jews as part of its “Final Solution” which would see more than six million killed in the Holocaust.
Albrecht had already been separated from his parents, who had been immediately sent to gas chambers.
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Now, he was being unloaded at a place where they, and ultimately more than a million other people, were murdered.
Albrecht remembers that around 950 men, women, children and the elderly were on the train but he had no clue what Auschwitz was.
“I’d never seen a prisoner in a striped uniform and cap,” he says.
As the train doors opened, he remembers soldiers shouting, “Out! Out!” in German.
Terrified, exhausted and dehydrated after days on the train, people rushed out, stepping over one another.
The group was then forced to march in front of one of the commanders so they could be selected.
Some would be sent to work, the rest to their deaths.
“He sorted us like big and small potatoes,” Albrecht tells me, “[If] he thought maybe that you could do a day’s work, he gave you a sign that you should go to the right and the others had to go to the left.”
Albrecht was one of around 250 chosen to be kept alive so that they could work.
He was sent to Auschwitz III (Monowitz) camp where by day he had to do backbreaking labour, laying cables in the freezing weather.
By night he had to sleep in a shared bunk in cramped, cold wooden huts, riddled with disease and with little sanitation.
This is how he spent almost two years.
“They came and they beat the daylights out of you and then you had to get outside. You can’t stay alive very long and do that kind of work with that little bit of food that you got,” he says explaining what his days were like.
In the camp, he met his older brother Dieter, who had been sent there before him.
The detainees weren’t seen as humans, he says they were reduced to less than animals.
Rolling up his sleeve, Albrecht shows me the now-faded grey tattoo scrawled onto his skin by the Nazis when he arrived.
“1-16-9-27: that was my name, my number, that was everything,” he says, lightly tapping his arm.
He remembers the SS guards would inspect them; if they looked too skinny, had sores or were too weak, they were executed.
“He wrote your number down, the next day you went to the chimney.”
Albrecht explains, quietly: “People died, that was their policy. Over a million people got burned.”
Somehow though, Albrecht managed to survive until January 1945 when the guards told him and a group of others they were leaving.
As Soviet troops closed in, the Nazis forced thousands of Auschwitz detainees on so-called “death marches”, moving people they thought could still work to other areas.
Albrecht was among them and remembers seeing starving and sick people die on the route.
Wearing thin clothes and ill-fitting wooden clogs, the detainees marched for miles.
Anyone who stopped or fainted was shot or beaten to death.
After the march, Albrecht was forced to work in a factory making rockets and bombs before finally being sent to Bergen-Belsen camp in northern Germany.
Years of forced labour, beatings, malnutrition and trauma meant by this time he was dying.
He remembers lying on the ground among a sea of corpses, too exhausted to go on.
That’s where he was when British forces arrived and liberated the camp.
“I must have moved my arm or something. I was 90% a dead man,” he says as he describes the scene that greeted the soldiers.
Albrecht says the Bergen-Belsen camp had become a “cemetery”.
“There were thousands of dead people lying on top of the ground. They were not buried, some of them were decomposing. The smell was awful,” he says.
After being worked as a slave and then left to die like an animal, Albrecht was finally free.
After the war, he was reunited with his brother and sister who also managed to survive Auschwitz.
He later relocated to America, only returning to Germany in 2011.
Albrecht will be at home as the world gathers to remember the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz.
He has only returned to the camp once – “once was enough,” he says.
Instead, he is one of several survivors whose memories are being broadcast online as part of a project by the Jewish Claims Conference to mark the anniversary.
In total, around 41 members of Albrecht’s family were murdered by the Nazis.
He says he “cannot forgive” Germany.
He knows that younger generations are not responsible for the crimes of their grandparents, but he’s also deeply concerned about ongoing antisemitism.
Last year, someone knocked over the gravestones in the Jewish Cemetery in Leer where he lives.
Albrecht was so terrified he couldn’t go out.
He says he thought it was a “second Holocaust”.
In March, he will celebrate his 100th birthday.
He doesn’t know for how much longer Auschwitz survivors will be able to tell their stories and he’s worried the world is already forgetting the horrors of the Holocaust.
For this extraordinary man, a survivor of indescribable trauma and a witness to some of the darkest acts in history, there is no peace.
“How can I forget when I think about my family, my mother, my father, my grandma? Every day when I wash myself, I see my number,” Albrecht says.