Prose

Hope within Despair

written by: SilverLining

My top priority...
...My little daughters Sara and Alina.
My next priority...
...Teaching the few kids that I can reach in my History class that there is still some hope in this bleak world.
My third priority...
...Hiding my part-Jewish ancestry from the Nazis.
Not anymore.

The rail car I had been in for three days was packed with bodies that had been thrust in like sacks of dirt. I licked the ice off my lips as it was the only water I could drink and savoured it -allowing it to rest on my tongue- as it melted into a cold liquid in my mouth. I kept my head turned to the rip in the canvas that they called a ceiling; not daring to look at the dead faces surrounding me. My chest tightened as I felt the lifeless teenager's body beside me. I had talked to him, and he'd talked back. I had thought I was good with adolescents.
He had killed himself yesterday; eleven days into capture.
This thought raised a memory.

A small hand clutched at my fingers, the pale skin made mine seem slightly darker, but I did not think that. As I felt my little two year old Sara's face buried into my leg, I tried to move to Alina. Her vulnerable dark blue eyes screamed for papa as one of the soldier's touched her virgin, six-year old body.
Get off her! I wanted to roar through my gag. Get the hell off her!
Tears stung my eyes; but did not fall.
Be strong for your daughters, Wolf.
My chest constricted.
"Papa..." Sara whispered.
I tried to move my bound hands to her, but the soldier behind me saw this movement.
"Jewish filth." He hissed as he pointed the barrel of his large Nazi rifle to Sara's head.
"P-Papa!" she screamed.
Terror filled every inch of her face; every delicate cell that made up her wide, blue eyes. Terror that I could not face.
I suddenly pushed against the soldier, my weight pushing him and causing his shot to go through the ceiling. I was on the floor when I heard the second and third gunshot. I tried lifting my head, but my face was squashed beneath a heavy boot.
Alina's scream echoed inside my head.
Sara's scream did not come.

I heard the rail cart stopping. The jolting causing my head to band against someone else's. I felt vomit rising in my throat, but pushed it down.
I felt a hand grabbing my collar and I was hauled through the masses of cold bodies; momentarily glad to be free from the air that had stunk of human excretion and death. I was surprised at how weak my knees were as they hit the ground. My body swayed under the weight. I spotted the boot of the soldier, and my gaze was fixated. My vision blurred. Pain stung at my heart.

When he finally removed the boot, even though I was in pain, I lifted my head a fraction. I saw the dead bodies of my precious daughters. Red blood leaked into my eyes, but I did not close them.
My daughters were dead.

* * *

Auschwitz. Established as a Nazi concentration camp in 1940. Birkenau; one of the three main camps in Auschwitz; an extermination camp. Death Gate; the name they gave to the entrance of Auschwitz. Where it is proclaimed: 'Arbeit Macht Frei.' Work will make you free.
Auschwitz-Birkenau; where I was now.
It was all alien to me, but my movements, my thoughts, were all robotic.
Empty.
I hung my head as I walked. The blood was now encrusted over my left eye- so I was unable to open it- and covered with dirt accumulated on my way here.
The gas chambers were situated next to my sleeping camp. I heard as hundreds of people labeled 'unfit' were dragged in and destroyed. The gas chambers were filled with the chemical Zyklon-B that was poured in pellet-form through vents leading to the chamber. I would be unflinching at the thought that as I lay on the floor, still living, still breathing, people were systematically killed in hundreds.
I knew I would be there soon. I wanted to die.

* * *

I had been here more than two weeks, because that's when I had stopped counting the days and ceased caring at all. I coughed and placed my head in my arms, my lips caked with blood that had been the result of me biting at it.
The door banged open to the cell. I did not look up from my feet and remained folded in the dirty corner of the room, my head rested on the top of my knees.
I felt a rough hand grabbing my frayed, torn collar and my head was jerked upward to the face of a kapos (worker).
"You a teacher aren't you?" his breath; rank and foul smelling was nothing compared to the stench in the air.
My eyes flickered, and I moved my head painfully to nod.
"Get up," He spat. "You gonna work at the barrack hut, left of the Death Gate."
I blinked and opened my dry mouth, but then I shut it again. He hadn't noticed at all. He snapped shut a padlock and chain around my wrists. I felt my skin grazing against the rusted metal and saw blood as it trickled out from fresh wounds.
I was pulled up, without consent. My legs couldn't carry me, and I was dragged toward the barrack huts, and thrust down to do work. Orders were barked at me. I couldn't breath. I looked around wildly and thought of his words.
Near the Death Gate.
My heart pounded like a crazed animal's. A word roared through my ears, overtaking rationality.
Escape.
I looked down at my hands and saw they were free of cuffs. A sack was suddenly pushed at me and I was made to carry it. It was in that instant that escape was labelled impossible. I pushed the sack, my thin, underfed body straining under the weight, I lifted it to my back and swayed towards the door from which I could hear sounds of voices.
Controlled. Sane. Powerful. Educated.
Not scared. Not terrified. Not hurt. Not crazy.
I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped the back at the feet of the person in front of me.
It was only the first bag.
Whips rained down on me, even as my thoughts carried to that one sound that had drifter from the closed doors to the SS soldier's barracks.
Sara. Alina.
A tear trickled out of my eye. I trudged toward the new building I had been given. It was dark, but headlights and guards watched every corner of the camp. Fleeing crossed my mind only once.

* * *

I was able to track the days with more ease now because of work, and knew I had been working as kapos for days, although it seemed near to a few months. Rest was not heard of once work started and my body bore painful reminders of that fact.
I moved through hordes of people towards my camp- returning from work.
I stopped as I neared 'Canada'- the place where women were made to work so things were packaged and ready for Germans to use. A lone woman sat, naked beside a wall outside the entrance to the building.
It struck me how pathetic she looked, and humanity reached my heart. As I neared her, she did not once glance at me, merely held her arms around her naked breasts and sat slumped with her head hung to her chest.
Pity greeted me.
I stood still in front of her. I did not know what to do, but I knew I had to help in some way. Kneeling down, I called to her softly with no response.
She looked so dead. Her skin was a deathly pale, and veins showed blue through it. I reached out for her, my hand hovering; I had not voluntarily made human contact since my daughters had perished. I felt uneasy. Reaching out, I placed a hand just over her shoulder, where lank, dark hair tumbled over.
"Should I get help for you?"
It was a stupid question, but I needed a response; even if it was one for that. I didn't.
My hand moved down and touched her shoulder. It was freezing. I looked down at what I was wearing.
I shook her slightly, but to no avail.
I felt desperate now, and scared. I did not want to have met another dead person. It was a selfish thought, but I realised that the way of the camp only allowed one to fend for themselves. A group of Jewish Hungarians were taken- bound- to the left from the Death Gate.
The gas chambers.
I shook my head and looked at the woman again. I slowly removed the over shirt I wore and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was now that I noticed the bundle.
It was tiny, barely larger than her fist and wrapped in a dirty cloth. Completely covered so I could not see it at all.
Gently, I moved her hand away from her other arm and slowly began to prise her hand off the bundle.
Her grip was firm.
I looked at her, to her closed eyes.
"Can I take this from you?"
No response.
I tried to prise her arm away again, but her grip was as firm around it as before; if not even more so.
I had heard of people trying to kill themselves, I had heard of crazy people building hand grenades, trying to overthrow the SS. I thought of the notion I had had the first time I stood near the Death Gate.
To escape. Flee.
I looked at this woman holding a bundle and suspicion began to creep into me.
What was it?
I felt uncertain as I looked into the dead look in her dark brown eyes that were actually open a fraction. I couldn't hear the people around me as they walked to their final moments in a room filled with toxic gas. I just thought of this small, frail woman, clinging onto something that may destroy everything here.
Maybe not directly, but I could see by the way she clutched it- it was not something she could, or would, let go.
Part of me, the part that still clutched onto my identity as Wolfram Leon, the part of me that was still the father of two deceased daughters, temporarily nudged that suspicion out of my head.
I gently placed an arm around the woman and propped her up so her head did not hang limply in the air, but instead rested on my arm. I felt pain that a person would have to sit here, almost naked, half dead. I felt anger that she was humiliated and she did not even feel it. Instead I could feel the humiliation for her. I could feel the pain for her.
I did not know how long it would be until someone would notice me sitting here, with a naked woman that was now clad only in my over shirt and had something clutched tightly to her breast.
I watched her unmoving face and turned away when I was instantly reminded of Sara and Alina. I reached a hand over to my head and brushed back a strand of my haggard, dark brown hair.
I looked up, my eyes now wary; darting to every corner of my vision. I glimpsed an SS soldier through the crowds and my heart constricted. Panic soared through me and I felt instincts kicking in as I pulled the woman up as I clambered to my feet. My lips were arid. I pulled the woman with me, but realised she did not walk and I was dragging her. My muscles were screaming for a rest that I could not grant them even though I had only walked a few paces. I could see soldiers everywhere.
They know I've escaped! They know about her.
My eyes flicked towards her. I saw no place to hide. My breathing was strained and the woman was harder to hold now. I pulled her with me and stumbled through people- always keeping with a crowd.
I did not stop when I saw a girl Sara's age bleeding profusely from her vagina.
I did not stop when someone screamed at me and the woman.
I did not stop as I saw a Jewish man asking God to claim him to Heaven.
I did not stop as she almost slipped from my fingers.
I just carried on.
I ran to the barrack huts and thrust her behind the storage, sweat pouring through every pore in my body. I slumped next to her and hung my head. I did not know what I was doing, but my empathy had got the better of me.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eyes and saw she still held it, but I did not approach her about it. I realised she had given me something I had thought impossible after losing what I had held dear. I had seen her and known that she had been through worse than me. I had realised that I had not had it worst. That thought, and the fact that someone had seen something worse than me had put hope inside me.
I would get out. I would help her.
I knew it was almost impossible, I had not heard of anyone who had escaped from Auschwitz before. I knew that they would soon see me as unfit- I had a Jewish ancestry.
The activity around us was relentless. I felt scared and wanted the woman to show me the weapon she had hidden the cloth. I wanted to use it so I could kill us both.
Or just myself.
I grabbed my head and buried my face into my knees. I knew I was losing control, and I had to stop myself. I wanted to think rationally, but I couldn't. Not in this place. The clanks and whirs of mechanism could be heard deafeningly. Even to that, she bore no reaction.
"We're getting out of here," I whispered to her.
She was so cold.
"I'm going to help you once we're out."
I expected something. Maybe even a flicker from her eyes, but I did not receive anything. A pang of failure pierced me just for a second, but I did not allow it to overtake me.
Slowly, I pushed to my feet. I could see the large clock that overhung the many workers in the barracks. I felt dehydrated, but I knew what I was to do.
The person nearest to us was three metres away. I watched as the truck trundled into the large building leading to the barracks and kapos began to walk towards it. I grabbed the one nearest- he was Jewish and I felt a stab of guilt, but this had to be done. He was startled, but I placed a hand tightly over his mouth before he could scream. I pulled his outer clothes off him and dropped them to the floor. I caused him to bang his head against the wall beside him; knocking him unconscious.
I did not look at him as I dressed her. It was hard to dress her because of her little package. I pushed her out, but held her at the same time. I did not know why I was being so rough. My eyes darted everywhere and I was glad that she kept her head low.
I went over to the truck and waited as the workers pulled sacks and boxes out of the back. My heart thudded loudly. They'll see us... a voice repeated in my head.
The kapos were pulling the sacks away now. I suddenly hurled her into the truck with, blood poured out of my arm, which I had fallen upon. I could hear as the kapos loaded a new batch of military necessities into the truck. I pulled her further back until we were both pressed against the front of the truck. My heart pounded in fear as I knew that they would check the truck.
I glanced at a sack and opened it. I had packed these often enough to be able to do it in the sudden darkness that engulfed us as the truck was clanged shut. I pushed her in as though she was a mere rag doll and I held it shut. I ripped a hole into it so she could breathe.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
I looked around for another sack and opened one up. I didn't know how I would close it again. I climbed in and pulled it over myself. I tore two small holes and pulled the drawstrings with my fingers, my fingers struggling to knot them. I fell against something and almost cried out.
I felt fear for the woman; I didn't even know where she was. Was I actually leading her to her death?
The truck was stopped, but the engine left running, I heard metal creaking as it was opened. I could hear the harsh German words as each box and sack was inspected. I felt myself being yanked up and thrust to the side. Vomit spilled involuntarily from my mouth. I stopped it with my hand, my breath clogged up with its scent.
I suddenly felt the truck being slammed shut again and it began moving.
I pulled the sack open; almost ripping it. I looked around for her and began moving through the sacks. I found her sack, propped against a wall at the side of the truck. Panicked, I opened the sack and she fell into my lap.
I shook her.
"Wake up!" I wanted to yell.
There was no response; her eyes were shut. I felt sobs rising to my throat. What had I done? I hated myself; she was dead.
Then I noticed it. The bundle. It was in her arms; she still held it. I tried prising it off her, but I felt energy-drained and could not do it.
I knew she was alive. My head swayed to the side and I closed my eyes.
We're free...

* * *

The truck was so loud. I sat up; eyes bloodshot. I didn't know where I was. Then I spotted her. She was no longer in my lap, but a few inches from me. I crawled to her, scraping my knees. The bundle was still by her, but she no longer held it tightly. I reached out for it, and stopped, it was wet. I looked at her and saw that the breast I had had to leave bare was also wet. I reached out with trepidation and smeared some of the liquid off. I brought it to my nose and stiffened with surprise.
Milk.
I looked at the bundle and turned it over; I spotted a tiny pink mouth. My hands quivered as I unwrapped it. Tears spilled out of my eyes as I stared at what I was now holding.
A dead baby. She'd been breast-feeding a dead baby. Looking over at the woman, I put an arm around her. I covered her breast up and closed the shirt properly. I slowly wrapped the baby again, as tears trickled out of her eyes as well and handed it to her.
I couldn't say it; but I knew she knew it was dead. It was why part of her had died too.

* * *

I pushed the door open and slid out, pulling her after me. We were in a town or city, although I did not know where. I walked away from the truck and couldn't believe we had passed the border of the town.
She walked with me, and I was surprised I did not have to drag her so much. We walked mainly through the back streets. I knew they were rationing food and supplies, so felt guilty when I stole bread from a bakery; even though it was stale. I broke it in half, handed her some of it, and nibbled at it.
We began roaming again, dodging anywhere that there would be soldiers. I did not know what to do with her and knew she would die soon.
As we walked past a building, I spotted a policeman. I stopped. It was my last hope. Her last hope. Our last hope.
With renewed faith, I pushed open the small, singular door to the station and entered with her. I was scared, fear pumped inside me as I thought of human contact. How would they react? Would they know I was from camp? What would they do? I stood, my arm around her, heart thudding as though it were to burst through my ribcage.
A policeman glared at me, I swallowed a lump and looked around. He began walking towards us and I felt fear taking hold of me. He grabbed my shoulder with a meaty hand and pushed me back.
"In line, you piece of shit." He hissed.
I shuffled back with the woman and looked at his boots. They were not the military kind and I felt foolish relief due to the mere fact that they weren't so.
It was for five minutes that I had watched the clock that hung lopsidedly on the far wall; and five minutes later that the voice barked a loud "Next!"
I stood up, still supporting her.
We trudged toward the small side-door and walked through. The police officer was leaning back and reclining, but he sat up straight when we came through, otherwise he did not acknowledge us.
We both sat down, beads of sweat poured down my face and I felt I could not speak. I looked over at the woman as she clutched her dead baby.
"Sir," I began. "The- the-"
I suddenly found I could not continue. Tears sprung shamefully from my eyes as I pictured my dead girls, the dead teenager, and her dead baby.
My fingers were curled tightly around the armrest and the policeman looked at me through an austere expression.
"Shut up," the policeman suddenly snapped. "If anyone should be crying it should be the woman. I'm busy, so hurry the hell up."
I wiped my eyes with a sleeve, embarrassed at the tears that had sprung.
"Sorry, sir," I muttered. "Sir. The baby..."
I slowly pointed towards it."
"It's dead," I sniffed. "A- and..."
The police officer sniffed in impatience. "Yes?"
"She doesn't have anywhere to live, and I was wondering if you could help us look for her family."
The policeman laughed. My eyes widened.
"That why you were crying, boy?" he sneered. "This aint lost property. Get the hell outta here."
"P- Pardon?" I stammered.
"Get out," he growled. "Wasting our time, you are."
I blinked and a sudden anger burned inside me, but as my hand curled into a fist, I felt someone grabbing me and pulling me out of the building. I turned around and saw the Nazi's emblem on his crisp uniform. I froze in fear.
"No one helps a Jew." He hissed.
Jew...?
"We give you a few days head start." He mocked. "Now, run coward."
I was paralyzed, but a thin, bony hand grabbed my wrist and dragged me so I was stumbling to run. I looked up and saw the woman. I picked up speed, using every ounce of energy. She was slowing down; breathing ragged. I grabbed her as she fell and looked around.
The baby was gone.
"Where...?" I asked.
She shook her head, tears in her eyes. I sank down to the floor with her. Understanding reached us as we read each other's eyes and I knew she had left her child to save me. I felt grief at that thought, but my eyes suddenly returned to her face and I saw her open her mouth and utter her first words to me:
"Danke."
Thank you.

Author's Note: 1.1 to 1.6 million people were killed only in Auschwitz.
Out of 700 that attempted escape, only 300 people actually did so.
This is based on a true story, but all characters are fictitious.