Immediately, we left for Baghdad. From there we were placed on army buses, and headed for Mosul. My father and some other men set up a temporary camp in Mindan, right on the edge of the Tigris River. During our stay there, one day my father took me with him to Mosul, which was not too far from Mindan. It was during this trip, after he got through with whatever business he had to transact, that he said, "Son, would you like to go and see the ruins of Ninevah, just across from Mosul?" I knew nothing of Nineveh, and I said, "Yes, Baba (father)." It was no more than 2 or 3 kilometers away. I was in awe of the acres and acres of massive ruins, and the small portions of ancient wall still remaining. I looked up at my father ond noticed tears coming down, and I asked if he was crying and why. With a choking tone in his voice, he picked me up and said, "Son, thousands of years ago, this was the capital city of our people." He put me down and we returned to Mindan.

-- Ben S. Benjamin (Assyrian Holocaust Survivor)