Helpless in the Holocaust

I had to write this for an english assignment, but I ended up really liking it.

I’ve left my home and begun on a long journey. Not by choice, of course. They forced me to do it. I stand alongside my family in the cramped-full train. Every time I inhale, I wince from the putrid smell of sickness and dying. This is not the pleasant train ride out of the country I had always imagined.

          I was taken from my home, in the ghetto, but my home none the less, and put on this train with hundreds of other people from the area where I live. Put on this train to….I don’t even know where we are going. We were all shoved in this car, probably fifty of us, and I scarcely have room to breathe. There are many, many other cars behind us, and we all have something in common. Well…two things. We are Jewish, and we face a life of misery ahead. We are not fed, nor given water; they do not even take the sick and dying people off the train. We don’t stop, except for more people to be shoved in here with us.

          My twin sister, my young brother of fifteen, my parents, and myself are all enduring this misery and pain together. My mother is not taking this well. She keeps whispering to my father, trying to keep the children from being frightened. But I know what she is saying. I don’t even have to listen, and I know. I am seventeen after all.

          She is talking to my father about what is going to happen when we get there. We know nothing for sure, but we have heard many things. Many awful things that I dare not mention for the sake of keeping myself at least moderately brave and composed. The worst thing is, we don’t even know where we are going.

          “We are here! We’re arriving!” As someone shouts these words, there becomes a panic, a feeling of franticness throughout the car. People are pushing, shoving trying to get to the front of the car as if it will spare them. We are all scared, but I do not move; I only try to stay with my family. I reach down for my sister’s hand, who is already to my brother’s which is to my mother’s, which is to my father’s. We are together-for now.

          The train finally comes to a halt in front of very bright lights. It is only then I know for sure that we have arrived. I have spent three long days in those confinements, and although I know horror awaits me, I am relieved to finally step out and get some fresh air. However once I get out of that terrible place, it is not fresh air I smell. It is the smell of burning flesh and rubber. I finally come to the conclusion that this is going to be even worse than I expected.

          The officers outside the train motion us off the platform. I hold my sister’s hand tight, and I try not to get separated from my family as people are pushing and shoving, trying to get to the front of the group. I am even more scared than I was before, because I know what is to happen. But I hope that maybe, just maybe, I am wrong.

          “Women and children to the left! Men and boys over fourteen to the right! Leave your luggage; it will be returned to you after you and your belongings have been disinfected.” We are told this, and although I am terrified, I must obey, for I do not want to die. My mother, Sister, and I go to the left, my brother and father to the right. When my brother and father part from the rest of the group, my mother squeals with anguish because she is afraid she will never see them again.

          After the men are gone, all that is left are us women, and the very young children. I become more worried as I know what lies ahead for us who are not chosen for work. “There is help coming. Someone to save us! Maybe they will arrive and free us before it is too late,” My sister whispers to me. I know this is not likely to happen, but I need to try to think positive, or else I will die of anxiety.

          A few of us women are selected from the group for work, and none of them I know. These women, they are the lucky ones. They are led away from the group, off to...live and not die. “They are going to live.” I say to myself, “and us? We are going to DIE,” My mother does indeed hear this, which I did not intend. She bites her lip and tries to hold back her scream, but a small “Eeep!” comes out instead. We know the end is near, but we are trying to be strong. I don’t know for whom I am being strong, but if I am not, I shall feel ashamed of myself.

          I notice that more people are being selected. Two small boys are pulled out of the group. Twins, I observe. This is my chance to save my sister and myself. “You!” The man says, pointing to my sister and I. “You two! Twins?” I nod, not knowing why the man even cares, but maybe this is our chance. “Step forward, you two.” I listen, but look back to my mother, beckoning her to step forward as well. She does not, for she was frightened she would be whipped or shot.

          The rest of the women now are going away, led by a different man. A woman runs back, screaming, and I know she is the mother of the two young boys. Before she gets halfway back, there is a loud “BANG!” She falls to the ground, and the young boys hug each other and cry, cry, cry. I also begin to cry, because of the other women, and because I know what lies ahead for my poor mother.

          Only a small group of us remain now, exactly four of us are waiting to see what is to happen next. It is dark outside now, and the lights above shine down upon us. There are lights on in the buildings beyond, and I wonder where the rest of my family has gone. I look at the remaining people. There is my sister Ally, the two young boys; whom I do not know the names of, and Serena-myself. I notice that all of us are identical twins. I do not understand why there are only twins.

          We are led through the grounds, and beyond. We finally arrive at a strange, large building away from everything else. There are no people in sight. I am half curious, half scared for what is to come.

          The two boys leave us, but we are led into this building. When Ally and I enter, I see men in white coats. “Sit down,” The SS man says, pointing to a lone, cold looking metal chair. I sit in it, and my sister is left standing. Then man motions for her to lay on a cold metal table with straps. She is strapped down on this table, and I think to myself, “This is way worse than dying.”

          They get out all sorts of liquid-filled needles of different shaped and sizes, and my sister tries to resist, but the straps hold her back. My short time at Auschwitz has already scarred me more than anything else that has ever happened to me, and I realize that no matter how hard I try, this image can never be erased from my memory. Finally, the white coated man begins his work. They may call it “experimenting”, “testing”, or “work”, but I call it torture. I can no longer handle these happenings, so I look away. Suddenly, I can feel in myself what they are doing to my sister. I hate this feeling! It has to stop, there has to be something I can do about this.

          I get up and rush to my sister, all the time shouting out words I do not even recognize. The next thing that happened went faster than my blinking, it seems. There is yelling, crying, and other odd noises as I am grabbed by the wrists by the SS man, who still hasn’t left, but has stood watching, as if it were a game. He pushes me to my knees, utters a sentence in words I do not understand, and then- a gunshot. 

Author's Note

Thoughts? Anything is appreciated, thanks!

Reviews

[George Love]

You tell this story with much more maturity than your years should allow. You also held back from becoming too explicit. You kept the thoughts innocent in the face of horrific actions. I commend you on this work. It is excellent

[Brown Bull]

I think you have captured the experience and the fear that must have been felt very well. I think rather than repeating the story after the gunshot, assuming that you intened to repeat it, that you might just repeat the first paragraph repeating that this was not the trip you had imagined.

As I said before, I am very impressed with your writing talent and will certainly be back to read more!

Have you seen "The boy in the striped pajamas?"
BB

[Rob Hackney]

The imagery is vivid without being heavy-handed. I wasn't ready to enjoy it but got sucked in.