By MARC E. AGRONIN, M.D.
Published: December 22, 2008

Place of fire,

place of weeping,

place of madness

— Zelda, “Place of Fire”

The forest still stands, but the people are gone. Only a stone memorial guards their place, surrounded by tall grasses that hide bits of ash and bone deep beneath their roots.

On this spot on Feb. 4, 1942, more than 920 Jewish men, women and children from the town of Rakov in what is now Belarus were rounded up by the Nazis and herded into the synagogue. Several shrieking children were stabbed with bayonets and thrown over the heads of the weeping Jews just before the doors and windows were sealed and the building was doused with kerosene.

An unspeakable scene of wailing ensued as the once vibrant Jewish community was annihilated in the fire. My patient, now 98, still weeps when he describes witnessing this horror from a hidden perch in a tree. He gasps audibly when he recalls watching his father being pummeled by a Nazi soldier before he was thrust into the doomed crowd.

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