"Nations who forget their past are doomed to re-live it."
To the Reader,
Though this reflection of the Holocaust is purely that of fiction, it does represent frequent occurrences during the time of World War Two.
During this time in history, many children lost everything they had due to the takeover of the Nazis in European countries.
Through this short piece of fiction, I hope to capture just a glimpse of the devastation felt by the children who experienced first hand the horrors of Nazi Death Camps, lost everything they had, and still, somehow, managed to go on.
J. B. Dunn
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To William Crawford Storey Elder, my best friend, I dedicate this piece. I miss you so much and will never forget you. Thank you for encouraging me to write this piece.
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He hand his brother Jacob bolted home as fast as they could, so as to be there before curfew at nine o'clock.
1945 had just begun, and it was freezing in Vienna. Nazis roamed the streets freely with loaded guns.
Six years ago, their father was forbidden his law practice by Nazis and the new racial laws. Neither him or his little brother could go to school, so their mother taught them at home. Vienna had changed. It wasn't such a great place to live anymore - for Jews.
About five years ago, Nazis opened a camp for Jews in Poland - Auschwitz.
Last month, at our neighbours' home, we heard a horrible row. They had received a mysterious yellow slip and were now forced to leave their flat. I was horrified as the mother came to our door, and passed along her last, most precious possession to my mother - her wedding ring. As she shook like an autumn leaf, the Nazi guard stormed out of their apartment and shot her square in the head. Mother slammed the door shut. I don't have the faintest idea where they went, but I do know that I don't want anything to do with that yellow slip. Maybe the war will end before they ever have time to think about us. I hope so.
21 January, 1945. It was a nice day - no rain, but there was snow everywhere, and the sun was shining. I felt optimistic as we sat down to breakfast. But my peace was soon interrupted when there came a violent knock at the front door. I got up from my chair as mother approached to see who was calling at such an early hour. She opened the door, but nobody was there. She looked about, and then looked down at the floor. I saw her crouch down to get something. When I realised what it was she grasped, I felt my face turn white. She turned around, closed the door and mother helplessly held it out. The yellow slip.
As we left the flat on 25 January, I took one last look at what had been home. I saw that small yellow slip sitting on the dining room table, we didn't need to take it with us. How tiny it was, and how it seemed to block out the delicate linen tablecloth on which it sat, and the fancy candles adorning the table. This small paper: why - my hand was larger than it, and yet it held far more power than I. It had enough dominance to evict this entire family. My family.
We arrived at the train station about eight that morning. The noise gave me a terrific headache. Babies cried, mothers wailed and little girls screamed. People pushed and shoved. SS men hit people with their guns, and yelled louder than I'd ever heard in my life. I didn't think that this kind of insanity could ever be possible. I was wrong.
As the people in front of us got onto the train, I seemed to be in a daze, wondering if this was just a hideous nightmare. Suddenly, a guard shoved me closer. He screamed in my ear that I should get nearer and not be so stupid and daydream. As he slammed the butt of his gun across my back, I quickly joined the others.
I seemed to have lost track of where my family was after only a couple of minutes, as it wasn't such a hard thing to do. I didn't wan to add to all the noise, but I couldn't help it. I yelled out for them, but soon I was forced into a boxcar. Whatever sense of freedom I might have felt left me as the door slammed shut. I heard the bolt lock. I was the prisoner now, my family - who knew where?
I was being deported.
It was thunder that awoke me. Lightning strobed the darkened room and kept me awake. The dying fire in the small corner woodstove provided neither warmth nor light.
"You up?" came a voice from beside me.
"Yes, I am," I answered into the abyss. There must've been two hundred people in that room, stacked in bunks of four. Some slept, some cried and whimpered, and most (including myself) shivered with cold.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Don't you know? Don't you remember?" he said.
"If I did, I wouldn't ask you."
"I saw you when we got off the train," he began. "You seemed confused, which is why you don't remember it. Trust me - for a little bit, we're safe. We're going to work, but we're in Auschwitz."
I heard him say Auschwitz. That's what I heard. If that was a joke, it wasn't funny. No, no. I can't be there. We didn't get a yellow slip. The war will end before we get one. We didn't get the slip. This can't be true.
I realised it was true and he wasn't joking when a Nazis burst into the room. He turned on all the lights (which didn't help much anyway, but at least we could see him) and blurted,
"ALLE AUS!" (All out!)
We were marched outside into the freezing air, in little more than a shirt and pants. The cold didn't matter to them - they had uniforms and coats. The chill of the night bit my fingers terribly, and they were numb in seconds.
They ordered us to give a hole. Everyone. We were thrown shovels and mechanically began to dig. They stood over us, waiting - wanting to shoot at one bad move. It wasn't that we were digging that puzzled me so much as the fact that there were two hundred people doing it at the same time. Why would so many need to dig such a thing? What would they need that for?
It had been raining before, but now came a downpour. I thought that maybe they'd tell us to stop until it cleared, but they said nothing. Just dig, dig, dig. By now our group had been lessened in men by about six, all of which had been shot on the spot for dropping their shovels. I looked to my right, through the rain, and saw Jacob. He turned to me and waved, and I think he smiled, but I couldn't see properly through the storm. I saw a Nazi nearby.
"Arbeit, Schwein!" (Work, swine!), he yelled at Jacob. I burned with rage.
Either he didn't hear the guard because of the thunder, or he was foolishly ignoring him, or else he didn't see me wave back, but in and case, Jacob kept waving. I tried to signal to him to look down and do his work, but he wanted me to acknowledge him. I did, and tried to signal him to work as he was told. The Nazi approached, drawing his gun.
I ran. It didn't take long for me to reach Jacob. I was surprised that I hadn't been shot by the time I got to him, falling at the feet of the guard. I began to beg for his life.
Jacob began to cry when he saw what the guard did to me. He pulled me up by the back of my shirt, grabbed my shovel and threw it down, put his gun away and began at my face. He backhanded me several times so that I almost didn't feel the pain of it after a while. Then he began to punch. He grabbed me by the neck and kneed me in the gut. I doubled over in pain as he kicked me to the ground. Then he grabbed me again and punched me across the face. My nose bled wildly. Repeated kicks followed, regardless of the part of my body where they landed. I didn't think I could move, and then he finally pulled me up off the ground.
I stood horror-struck, wondering what he would do. He pushed me onto my knees, and I knew it would be the end. Then, as he aimed his gun at my head he turned around and shot Jacob in the nose. There wasn't even a 'bang' of a gun, just a crack of the nose and skull, blood pouring out a red river and spewing onto my face. I squealed in agony and fell to the ground. He then grabbed the shovel, pulled me up again and demanded that I get back to work. How? How could I get back to work. You just shot my brother. I had no choice, though, for the guard stood right over me as I went back to work.
After several more house of digging, they told us that would be all. The hold was massive. We handed back the shovels and they directed us to yet another task. My back ached as we walked uphill. The sun rose, casting a dull glow on our massive creation. What was to come would be far worse that anything I could ever imagine. When we arrived, and I saw the scene before me, I felt the sudden urge to vomit.
A pile of bodies lay there - dead. Men, women, boys, girls and babies. I wasn't sure how many.
A guard shoved me, and we were ordered to bury the bodies in the pit we had dug. It was sickening work, far beyond my wildest imagination. Then I came across two certain bodies, and my life changed - forever.
My parents.
At the very sight of their bodies, so dead and lifeless, my knees gave in and I dropped to the ground. I never expected them to be here - I'd never even considered it. They were so unmoving, so dead, so gone.
From that moment on, time itself stopped. Everything that was going on around me simply froze. I knelt down beside them and wept. It couldn't be real.
I'm having a nightmare, I know it. They can't be dead.
I didn't see him, but an SS came over and pulled me up off the ground, tearing me away from them. He told me to go bury them. Standing there dumbfounded and saying nothing, I thought,
Bury them? Why would I do that? They're not dead - they're my parents. I'm going to see them soon. Bury them? He must be mad. That's just absurd. They're not dead. They can't be dead.
He was impatient and shouted ravenously, hitting me. I gathered myself and he hit me again, across the other side of my face. He commanded me to bury them, or be shot. I wasn't sure which option to choose. When he pulled his gun out, it was clear that he was willing to do just what he had said.
I carried them, one by one, very tenderly to the big pit and put them in. I wanted to stay with them forever. I didn't want to leave them here, in this massive grave, but a Nazi called me to finish with the rest of the bodies.
During the afternoon, after lunch that day (26 January), we were told that we were going to be able to have a shower. I can't say I ate very much, so I just put my bowl of broth - if it could be called broth - down on the table and went with the others. What choice did I have? We were led out, one hundred or so of us to the shower house. I met up with the boy I'd talked to earlier that morning and spoke briefly with him.
"What do you think of this?" I asked him.
"Sounds great," said he. "We get to be clean again."
To this I gave no response. I wasn't in much of a mood to talk. I didn't have a family anymore.
When we reached our destination, I knew it was a trap. It was the same place I'd found my parents that morning. It hit me like a rock. We were going to die in the shower house. I smelled something coming from the door of the building down the stairs, and it was very thick.
Things began to blur. I got anxious and afraid. I saw people's faces, but they were just white circles to me. I began to move, I didn't care where, and I didn't know how. Was I being pushed, or was it me moving myself?
All of a sudden, I thought I heard noise. Maybe the others were getting anxious too. I didn't know. Maybe the guards wouldn't see me if I darted away. Would they? I didn't care - it was my only chance to get away.
I ran. Down the hill. Fast. I had to get away. There was no question anymore. Grass flew past me. I reached a gate - it was locked. I remembered it from somewhere. Of course. This morning. I tried again and again in extreme haste to open it, and finally forced it open. From behind, I heard screaming - two guards were running after me. I flew through the gate and as I did a sharp, hot pain shot up my right leg. I fell over the edge of something and into a hole. Where was I? Things were completely unclear. I heard the two guards coming through the gate. Then I remembered where I was. The hole. I thought I saw a lot of people lying down. Why, they're dead! Me leg bled. I scrambled to the edge of the hole and lay flat as a board in its shadow. They muttered something, and then turned back. I began breathing again slowly. As their voices grew softer, I slowly looked over the edge. I couldn't see them.
I waited a good couple of minutes, knowing they'd be back to find me. I scanned the area. I remembered then that it was here that I had put my parents. I got up and began to move quickly away from the pit, stumbling over countless bodies. I tripped over something and fell on someone who I remembered from somewhere.
Mother. Then father. My mind raced to that morning.
Wait! No! You're not dead. I'm going to see you again soon. Why are you here? Wake up! You can't be dead. Can you? What am I doing here? I'm not dead. I have to escape, and I have to do it now.
Taking one last glance into their faces, I forced myself to keep going. I found the end of the hole, and jumped over the top of it a couple times unsuccessfully. The third time I made it and ran faster than I ever thought I could. Threes began to rush past me. My mind became a mass of green and brown. I wasn't thinking clearly. I felt my foot hit something. It might have been a rock, or the root of a giant tree. Whatever it was, it tripped me. The ground rushed up toward my face. I got dizzy, tired and scared. I panted. I closed my eyes, and began to see things. Odd things.
I don't know what's happening. I don't know where I am. I don't know where I've been. I don't know where everybody else is. I don't know anything. I can't think. I can't hear. I can't see. I'm hallucinating. I've gone mad.
Everything went black.
I woke up, after a period of time, how long I didn't know. There was a woman and a man standing over me. The man looked to be a doctor. He had a bag of some sort with him, from which he produced something that he used to check my hear. Then he turned to the lady and they both left.
Where was I? What was this place?
I felt something comfortable under me. Is that - is that a bed? I haven't slept on one of those for so long.
The woman entered again. She patted my face gently and said:
"You're going to be fine. We've fixed your leg, and you had a nasty fall in the woods. You must have been delirious or something, at least that's what the doctor thinks. Don't worry, everything is going to be okay. I'll take good care of you. I burned your camp clothes. Nobody will know who you are or where you've been."
My first instinct was of course to make sure that I was in fact wearing clothes, and I was. Nice ones, too. Some new pants and a pair of black socks and a very warm sweater.
She spoke so gently, so softly to me. It was soothing. It had been so long since I'd been spoken to civilly. I closed my eyes again and asked her,
"What's the date?"
"February 3rd, 1945. You've been asleep an awfully long time. You work up a few times, but you were only having delusions. And I was meaning to tell you this once you came about."
And she told me something that seemed wonderful at first, but when I realised what it meant, I was devastated.
Auschwitz. The Russians got there on January 27th. We were deported two days before. We slept the night there, and then dug the hole the next day. My parents died that day too. The 26th, and the Russians got there the next day.
She finished telling me, and I tried to hold back tears.
"February 3rd?" I asked again. So many things were uncertain, I couldn't help but second-guess myself.
"Yes. The war will be over soon, and you can go home to your family. I do hope that they're okay, me dear. Rest now. I'm going to bed. Call me if you need anything, my name is Emmeline."
"Thank you," said I.
I heard her leave the room, and thought,
A family. I don't even have a family anymore. They're dead. It's just me now. Nobody anymore. No family for me.
I lived with Emmeline until the war ended in May. She was very good to me, and restored me to health. She apologized profusely after hearing my story, having said I could go back to my family. Nobody could have been more tender with me in those months. She gave me new clothes, and saw I had good food and water. On my last day with her, she gave me some extra money and a train ticket to Austria. I was back home a week later.
I miss my family so. That horrific bullet to Jacob's head - it will echo in my head forever. The last sight I have of my mother and father chills me to the bone.
I want to see them again. I want to talk to them. I want to tell them all I love them. I want to have a family again. I want them back, so desperately. I don't understand how this could have happened. To me.
Why?