Roses in the Darkness

December, 24th, 1945 Poland

I’m sitting here, perched on a lump of Birchwood, weaving words with elegant strokes of a wispy feather. The sky cried, whipping gusts of air across the flaps of the tent I sheltered in. A lone candle stood next to my ink plate, its flickering wick shimmering radiantly in the enclosing darkness. It was the first day of duty, the squadron has departed in the brink of dawn, marched though forgotten hovels of homes of Tarnow, devoid of inhabitants, all but for one weeping girl. When we searched the vicinity, I’ve found her in a hidden compartment, cans of food littered the floor near her; and empty of contents. She rubbed her eyes with tiny little fists, the area around them raw from long hours of falling teardrops. She stared at me with frightened eyes, clutching a miniature Torah, wrapping it in her arms in a protective stance. A slight pang of pity fell though the pits of my heart then; and I outstretched my hands and placed my rifle on the ground, before reaching into my back pocket to retrieve my ration of food for the day and reached one hand in a friendly gesture to her with a loaf of crusty bread. She stared at it for a while, and after I was about to withdrew my hand, she stumbled up to me and grasped the loaf with both hands, vanished the bread down her mouth, chewing ravenously, and then before stopping to swallow, hugged me around the legs as she could hardly reach my fingertips. I chuckled at the oddness of the moment as a fellow mate poked his head over my shoulder and glanced at the girl. The girl instantly buried her ruffled head into my trousers, her tiny arms bounding tighter. “Don’t worry, you will be okay” I heard myself ensure. That very day, I begged pardon with the girl, but before she left she placed a small emerald shaded notebook into my gloved hands, and with a cheeky smile disappeared behind the ranks of the soldiers. She was going to a better place.

 

December, 25^th, 1945 Poland

Light spilled though the thin fabric of my tent and woken me as the camp began to move about. After I’ve quaffed down the morning rations, I rolled my tent and sleeping bag and bounded off as the squad commander barked orders at bed-ragged foot soldiers that wormed their way out of their cocoons. Morning dew dripped from the tips of leaves, and twinkled alike liquid crystals as the pale sunlight bounced off of the many chasms. Only the silence of the crunching boots against earthen dirt resonated for a margin of the time, and then suddenly a soldier pointed at a direction in the air and shrilled “Smoke”!

 

December 26^th, 1945 Poland

A thicket of branches swung in our path and we drew our hacking blades from their scabbards, swinging metal over our heads and bounding on. We shuffled onward, a ghastly smell pelted our nostrils and many soldiers had jutted white, linen, handkerchiefs to their face. I scrunched my face in disgust; the smell was of not any of others, a bit drearier, lingering, awful, acrid odor.

 

December 27^th, 1945 Poland

Yet again we have found no avail. A marooned camp stood collapsing on itself, three-men high fences surrounded the area, the rusty gate left fraying in the breezy wind. We marched in with quiet, light, steps. After patrolling the area for any life, the scent grew stronger until we’ve stumbled upon a burrowed trench that ran though the ground alike a jagged arrow that protruded the scent alike an overstuffed trash bin. The commander of the squad insisted that we stay in the area for a few days, since the towering guard towers were efficient for spotting enemies and neighboring cities.

 

December 29^th, 1945 Poland

We slept with an actually roof for that day, my back throbbed with pain from the hard wooden surface of the makeshift bed in one of the building the squad rangers had found. A soldier poked his head over the trench as we stumbled off the area, the instance his eyes met the contents in the trench, he lurched with wild spasms, and several other soldiers helped assist him and encouraged him to walk, but he didn’t get up, closing with eyes with a fierceness as if to shield himself from a gruesome sight. Another soldier curious of what the other soldier has seen casted his eyes at the pit of the trench, and held his hand to his month with a clenched face, clutching the bowels in his stomach from spilling unto the cement, lifeless, ground. Due to the other men’s reaction, the entire squadron kneeled down at the trench; I myself glanced at the trench and blackened skeletons, both small and large littered the trench, remnants of any other color then death was empty, all there was that presented was death.

 

December 31^th, 1945

A light, drifty, snow padded upon our boots as we marched. The white flakes seemed to dance between our misty eyes. A frisky tension ran though the squad, after seeing the mangled bodies of Jews, not a spare men dare laughed or he would’ve been ridiculing himself in front of the squad. I thought about an image as I walked, an image of the corpse of a small girl clutching a miniature tiny, charred, teddy bear. It made me walk faster, determination lid in the eyes of my mates and then a few hours later, we reached Auschwitz. We ran up to the gate, yelling our voices into the air like maniacs, and then suddenly we heard a stampede of footings, a group of starved Jews came to us and yelled with us with unimaginable joy and even bowed to our feet, kissing them with unbreakable smiles. I couldn’t help it either, I smiled too.        

     

Author's Note

Bit of something I wrote for English class,laughably my teacher commented it as one of the best she has seen for a long time and I made a failing grade on it.

Reviews

[Raindrop]

A failing grade on this? :/
Great imagery! You really took the time to describe every detail and it made me feel like I was there watching the whole scene. :) I'm not that fond of war writings, but this one caught my attention and I'm glad I read it.