Alan Gratz: Hi. This is Alan Gratz, the author of Prisoner B-3087. I'm going to tell you a bit about how I came to write Prisoner B-3087, and then share an excerpt with you. Jack and his wife Ruth originally took his story of surviving ten different concentration camps in World War II to Scholastic, the publisher. Scholastic immediately saw that Jack's experiences during the war would make a great book, but neither Jack nor Ruth are writers, and so Scholastic asked me to write Jack's story. Once I heard Jack's account of his time in the camps, I couldn't resist. It was such an incredible story. In particular, I liked that he survived. So many stories of the Holocaust, of course, did not end so well. Jack's memory isn't what it once was, and he wasn't able to remember the answers to some of the questions I had for him, but later, when he read my first draft of the book, a lot of things came back to him.

I think he needed the world of the book to help jog his memory. Prisoner B-3087 became not just a way to preserve Jack's memories, but to dig deeper and recover memories Jack didn't even know he had. I'm pleased that I was able to write something that brought the past to life again for him, even if a great deal of that past was painful. Jack is one of the bravest people I've ever met.

The excerpt I'm going to read for you from Prisoner B-3087 comes just after Jack, here known by his Polish name, Yanek, has been taken to Plaszów, the first of ten Nazi concentration camps he will endure during World War II. He has just been reunited with his uncle, Moshe, who has advice for him on how best to survive:

"Yanek, we haven't much time," Uncle Moshe whispered. "Listen closely. Here at Plaszów you must do nothing to stand out. From now on, you have no name, no personality, no family, no friends. Do you understand? Nothing to identify you. Nothing to care about, not if you want to survive. You must be anonymous to these monsters. Give your name to no one. Keep it secret in here," Moshe said, tapping his heart with his fist.

"Are my parents here?" I asked him, daring to hope. If Moshe was alive, why not my mother and father? Moshe shook his head. "I'm sorry, boy. No. Unless they were taken to another work camp, they are most likely dead. And Plaszów is where they bring most of us from Krakow, being so close."

My legs felt wobbly. I had to sit down on my bunk or I would've collapsed. I had known my parents might be dead. There were rumors, after all, about where people went when they were taken, but I suppose I had never let myself really and truly believe it until now. I didn't try to stop the tears that filled my eyes and coursed down my cheeks. Moshe sat beside me and put a hand on my knee. "But you are alive, boy. There is a blessing in that. You're the only other one of us to survive." I suddenly realized what Moshe was saying. "And Gisella? Little Zitka?" I asked. His wife and daughter. Moshe's own eyes teared up, and he quickly wiped them with the backs of his hands. "Dead," he said. "They could not work, so the Nazis shot them." I asked about my other uncles and cousins, but Moshe shook his head. "You and I are the only ones left. You must show them you can work, boy, so you can keep living."

"I have a job in the tailor shop," I said, sniffling. "Good, good. Any job you can do outside the camp will help you avoid Amon Goeth." "Who?" "The commandant of the camp." Outside someone shouted. "Roll call." Moshe said, and he stood. "We must all go in line up to be counted. Remember, you are no one. You have no name. You do not speak. You do not look at them. You do not volunteer for anything. You work, but not so hard they notice you. Gisella, Zitka, your parents, Oskar and Mina, they are dead and gone now, Yanek, and we would grieve for them if we could, but we have only one purpose now. Survive. Survive at all costs, Yanek. We cannot let these monsters tear us from the pages of the world."