At the age of four, Alex was placed in a Catholic orphanage. Alex lived in fear for the next two and a half years, remembering the cellar he cowered in when the Nazis searched the orphanage for Jews. Alex heard guttural shouts in German and the loud stomps of the Nazi boots overhead as he crouched in the dark, cold, and lonely cellar.
When the war ended, Alex watched as other parents came to reclaim their children. Not Alex, whose parents perished in Auschwitz. For six months, Alex languished. Then the Red Cross came, brought Alex to Brussels, and posted his name, along with other orphaned children, on poles throughout the city. Fortunately, Alex’s uncle, Herman Teitelbaum, found Alex’s name there.