The Old Brown Suitcase. A Teenager's Story of War and Peace. Review by Janie Wilkins. It is a sunny November day, but I am cold. An endless dark line of us moves slowly through a gate in the tall brick wall.
People carry on their backs or push in carts all that remains of their life's belongings.
They enter the ghetto beneath the cold eyes of German soldiers and Polish police. A cruel silence reigns over us despite the voices, the shuffling of feet, the grinding of wooden carts against the cobblestone street, and the clanging of pots and pans. The faces of the people around us are frightened Some are crying as they walk. I walk with my parents, my hand is numb from the weight of the old brown suitcase. My father carries two large cases, and a knapsack, while Mother holds my sister.