Chapter 6 Chapter 4 Auschwitz

We move from place to place with the things we love, and now they all stay in the car, with our fantasies. Every few yards stood an SS man with a machine gun pointed at us.We held hands and moved with the crowd. An SS man came towards us, brandished a stick and ordered: "Men go to the left! Women go to the right!" These two sentences are spoken so calmly, so indifferently, so ruthlessly.Just two sentences separated me from my mother.Before I had time to think, I just felt my father's hand squeeze mine: there were only two of us left. In a blink of an eye, I saw the mother and the sisters go to the right, Zipolo took the mother's hand, and the mother stroked the younger sister's blond hair, as if protecting her.I watched them drift away.I walk with my father, I walk with the men.It never occurred to me that, here and now, my mother and Ziporo would leave me forever.

I continued walking, and my father took my hand. Behind me, an old man fell.An SS man nearby holstered his revolver. I held my father's hand tightly, my only thought was not to be separated from him, not to be alone. The SS officer ordered: "Stand in five rows!" There was a commotion among the crowd.Everyone must stay in formation when they are together, that is the order. "Hey kid, how old are you?" The interrogator was a prisoner. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I could hear his tired and kind voice. "Fifteen." "No, you are eighteen."

"But I'm not eighteen," I said, "I'm fifteen." "Fool. Listen to me." Then he asked my father.father said: "I'm fifty." "No," the man sounded annoyed. "It's not fifty, it's forty. Get it? Eighteen and forty." He disappeared into the darkness.Another prisoner came over, and his mouth was a string of swear words. "Bastard, what are you doing here? Why are you here?" Someone dared to answer: "What? You think we want to come here? They forced us to come." The man was menacing, as if he was going to kill: "Shut up, you idiot, or I will tear you to pieces. Even if you hang yourself, you shouldn't come here! Don't you know what Auschwitz has prepared for you? ? Don’t know? It’s 1944 and you don’t know?”

We really don't know!No one ever told us!As if he could not believe his ears, his voice was even harsher: "Over there, do you see the chimney over there? See it? And the flames, see it? (Yes, we saw the flames.) Then Over there, they're going to take you over there, and over there is your grave. Don't you understand? You bastards, don't understand anything? You're going to be burned, to slag and ashes." He was furious.We were stupefied and stupefied.Could it be a nightmare, an unimaginable nightmare? I heard a "buzzing" sound from Zhou Za: "We have to do something, we can't be slaughtered by others and killed like cattle in a slaughterhouse. We have to resist!"

There were some reckless lads in the crowd.They hid knives and persuaded everyone to attack armed guards.One of them muttered: "The whole world should know that there is an Auschwitz here. Everyone should know the truth as long as there is a chance..." However, the elders pleaded with their sons not to do stupid things: "Never give up on yourself, although people hang knives on our heads. But wise men teach us..." The atmosphere of resistance was suppressed.We continue walking until we come to a crossroads.In the middle of the intersection stood a man, whom I did not know at the time, Dr. Munger, the notorious Dr. Munger.He looked like a typical SS officer, with a resourceful but ruthless face and a monocle.He held a baton in his hand, surrounded by a group of officers.He kept waving his baton, turning left and right for a while.

Not long after, I stood in front of him. "How old are you?" he asked, putting on a fatherly air. "Eighteen." My voice trembled. "How are you?" "it is good." "what occupation?" Can I say I am a student? "Farmer." I can't help answering. This interview was only a few seconds long, but it was terribly long. Pointing the baton to the left, I took half a step forward.My first thought was where did they send the father?If I go to the right, I will chase after it. The baton pointed to the left again, and I was relieved.

At that time we didn't know which way to go, the right or the left, which road led to the prison and which road led to the crematorium.But I still feel very happy because I can be with my father.The team continued to move forward slowly. Another prisoner came towards us. "satisfied?" "Yes." Someone replied. "Poor fellows, you are walking towards the crematorium." Apparently, he was telling the truth.Not far from us, flames, blazing flames, steamed up from the gutter—something was burning in the gutter.A truck comes by and unloads a bunch of stuff: a load of kids, babies!Yes, I saw it, I saw it with my own eyes... those children were thrown into the fire. (I've been having insomnia since then, is that weird?)

We go on like this.There is also a sewer a little farther away, which is a fire pit for burning adults. I pinched myself, am I still alive?still awake?Men and women, old and young, were burned, and the world was silent!How is this possible?No, it's not true!Possibly a nightmare...I'll wake up soon.My heart beeped and I found myself in my childhood room with my books... My father's voice woke me from my daydream. "Too bad, too bad, you didn't go with your mother... a lot of kids your age did go with their mother..." His sad voice made people palpitate.I understand that he didn't want to see what people did to me, didn't want to see his only son die through fire.

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead, but I still told him that I couldn't believe that in this day and age, someone would be burned alive, and the world would never forgive such a crime... "The world? The world is not interested in us. Today, anything can happen, even the crematorium..." He choked up. "Dad," I said, "if all this is true, I don't want to wait a moment. I'll hit the grid, and it'll be a lot quicker than being slowly burned to death." He didn't answer, he was crying and shaking all over.Everyone around was crying.Someone started chanting lamentations, which are prayers for the dead.Never in the history of the Jewish people have I heard of such prayers being recited for themselves.

"Yisgadal, veyiskadash, shmey raba...may his name be praised and sanctified..." the father prayed softly. For the first time in my life, I felt righteous indignation.Why should we sanctify his name?The omnipresent Lord, the dark universe, the terrible master, he is silent.Why should we thank him? We continued to walk, getting closer and closer to the fire pit, where the flames of hellfire were steaming.There are still more than twenty steps. If I want to commit suicide, now is the time.Our team was still fifteen paces from the fire pit.I bit my lip tightly, afraid that my father would hear the "giggle" sound of my upper teeth hitting my lower teeth.There are eleven or twelve steps, eight steps, and seven steps.We walked slowly, like a funeral procession, a procession for one's own coffin.There are only four steps left, three steps.Arrived, the fire pit and flames are within easy reach.Gathering all my strength, I was ready to burst out of the queue and pounce on the grid.In the back of my mind, I said "goodbye" to my father and the universe.

I couldn't help it, and recited a few prayers against my will: "Yisgadal, veyiskadash, shmey raba... May his name be praised and sanctified..." My heart was about to burst, and I was about to face death... stand!When we were two steps away from the fire pit, we were ordered to turn left, toward the shed. I squeezed my father's hand hard.He said, "Do you remember Mrs. Shasht, in the carriage?" We walked into the shed, which was very long, with a few light blue light bulbs on the roof.This is what the vestibule of hell must look like, I thought.So many people going mad, so much shouting, so much brutality. Dozens of prisoners were waiting for us, all with sticks in their hands, beating us indiscriminately and without reason.Then came an order: "Undress! Quick! Get out! Belt and shoes!" Our clothes had to be thrown on the floor in the back half of the shed.There was already a great pile of clothes, new clothes, old clothes, rags and rotten clothes.To us, that means true equality: being naked.We shivered in the cold. A few SS officers walked around the room, picking out the fittest ones.If people are selected on the basis of energy, should people pull themselves together?My father thought just the opposite—it was better not to attract attention (we found out later that he was right. Those who were selected that day were all included in the cremation team and went to work in the crematorium. Bella Kaz is our town. The son of the last rich merchant, who came to Bekenor with the first group, arrived a week before us. When he found us, he slipped a note and told us that he was chosen because of his physical strength. , he was forced to throw the body of his biological father into the crematorium). Their sticks rain down upon us: "To the barber!" Holding my belt and shoes, I came to the barber under the push of others.They shaved off our hair and all the fine hair on our bodies with clippers.My head was "buzzing", and a thought came to my heart again and again: don't be separated from your father. Freed from the barber's knife, we wandered the crowds looking for friends and old acquaintances, cheering each one we came across.Yes, cheers.God!You are still alive! Someone was crying, wailing with all their might.Why should they be at the mercy of others?Why can't you die in your own bed?They talked and sobbed. Someone suddenly opened his arms and hugged me tightly. It was Yeshir, the brother of Rabbi Saiga.He was crying very sadly, and I think he was crying happily because he was alive. "Don't cry, Yesil," I said, "don't waste your tears..." "Don't cry? We're on the threshold of death. We'll be in soon... Do you understand? Go inside. How can I not cry?" Through the light blue lights on the roof, I can see the night is gradually falling.I am no longer afraid, I am exhausted. Nobody mentioned separated relatives—who knew what happened to them?However, we no longer consider their fate.We are not capable of thinking.Our senses are numb, and everything is like a fog.We have nothing left!The instinct of self-preservation, the instinct of self-defense, the sense of pride, are all gone.I woke up in a flash, terribly sober. I think we are souls in hell, wandering in nothingness; we are souls cursed, wandering through infinite space and time, seeking redemption, seeking amnesty, but not at all count on. At about five o'clock in the morning, we were driven out of the shed.The prisoners beat me again and again, but I no longer felt the pain.The cold wind was blowing around us, we were naked, carrying our shoes and belts.Someone gave an order: "Run!" We started to run.After a few minutes, I ran to another shed. There was a large wooden barrel by the door, and it smelled bad—the smell of disinfectant.Everyone had to do a dip in the bucket, followed by a hot shower.Everything is very fast.After we left the bathroom, we were chased away again.They ordered us to run, until we reached another shed, which was a warehouse.There is a row of long tables beside the warehouse, and prison uniforms are piled up on them like mountain bags.They threw clothes at us as we ran by: trousers, coats, shirts... Soon we won't be human.If it weren't for the tragic situation, everyone would have laughed.We look terrific!Mel Katz was tall and burly, but wore a pair of child's trousers, and Styne was short and skinny, but wore an unusually large suit.Then we quickly started switching again. I glanced at my father.His eyes were blank and his appearance changed drastically.I want to talk to him, but I don't know what to say. The night passed.The stars twinkle in the sky.I also became an indifferent person.I am a child, a student obsessed with the Talmud, but the flames around me have burned me out of energy, leaving only a body that resembles myself.The smoke and fire have corroded my soul and devoured my soul. With so much going on in a few hours, I completely lost track of time.When do we leave our homes?When did you leave the Jewish Quarter?When to board the train?A week ago or a night ago?Just one night ago? How long have we stood in the cold wind?One hour?Just an hour?Or sixty minutes? It must have been a nightmare. A group of prisoners worked nearby.Someone is digging a hole, someone is lifting sand.No one glanced at us, we were like dead trees in the desert.Someone was talking behind me and I didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know who was talking and what was being said.No one dared to speak loudly, although there were no guards around.Our voices were low, probably because the smoke poisoned the air and choked our throats. We headed for another shed and into the concentration camp of the gypsies.We line up in five rows. "Stand!" There was no floor, just a ceiling and bare walls, our feet sunk in the dirt. Waiting again.I stood there and fell asleep, dreaming of the bed, of my mother's hands touching my face.Suddenly woke up again, and found that he was still standing with his feet sunk in the mud.Someone suddenly collapsed, collapsed in the dirt, and one shouted: "You're crazy! They told us to stand. Are you trying to cause trouble for everyone?" But it seems that all the troubles in the world have not befallen us. People gradually all sat in the dirt.But we still had to stand up every time the headman came in and he came to see if anyone had new shoes.If there is, you have to hand over the new shoes.Protesting is useless, only to be beaten up and handed over in the end. I had a new pair of shoes on, but they were covered with a thick layer of mud, which they didn't notice.Then I prayed, thanking God for making the clay in the vastness of the amazing universe. Suddenly there was silence in the shed, an oppressive silence.An SS officer came in, bringing with him the smell of death.We stared at his fleshy lips, and he stood in the middle of the shed and lectured us: "You are in a concentration camp. This is Auschwitz..." There was a pause as he observed the effect of this sentence.To this day, I can still recall his face.He was tall, in his thirties, with sin written all over his forehead and eyes.He examined us as if we were a pack of leprosy dogs trying to survive. "Remember," he went on, "remember always, forever, that you are in Auschwitz. Auschwitz is not a sanatorium, it is a concentration camp. Now that you are here, you have to work. If you don't If you want to work, you have to go to the chimney or to the crematorium. Whether you want to work or go to the crematorium, you choose." We had been through so much that night that we thought nothing would scare us anymore.However, his words still make us shudder.The so-called "chimney" is not abstract: it floats in the air with the smoke.In this place, it may be the only word with any real meaning.He left the shed, and the prison heads entered, shouting: "All craftsmen - locksmiths, carpenters, electricians, watchmakers - step forward!" The rest were moved to another shed, a stone shed.They sat us down and were guarded by a gipsy prisoner. My father suddenly had a stomachache.He stood up and asked very politely in German, "Excuse me...can you tell me where the toilet is?" The gypsy stared at him, surveying him from head to toe, as if to see if the man who was speaking to him was a living being, a man with flesh and belly.Then, as if waking up from a deep sleep, he slapped his father hard.Father fell to the ground and crawled back to his place. I was dumbfounded.What's wrong with me?Someone beat my father face to face, and I didn't even dare to blink my eyes.I watched silently without saying a word.If it was yesterday, I would have strangled the criminal and driven my fingernails into his flesh.How can I have such a big change?become so fast?Regret bites me.All I can think is: the scoundrel must not be spared!My father guessed what I was thinking and whispered to me: "It's not hurt." There was a bright red handprint on his cheek. "Everyone come out!" Another order came.A dozen gypsies came to watch us, and there was a sound of clubs and whips all around us.My legs trembled, and I was afraid of being beaten, so I hid behind others.It is spring and the sun is shining brightly. "Stand in line, five rows horizontally and five columns vertically!" That morning, I saw prisoners working nearby, there were no guards, only the shadow of the chimney... I fell asleep in the sun and dreams, and someone tugged at my sleeve. It was my father: "Come, son." We walk together.The gate opened and closed again, and we continued walking in unison through the barbed wire.Every step you take, you will see a white sign with a black skull, which reads: Beware of death!How absurd, what is fate here? The gypsies stopped near the sheds, and the SS took their place.They stood around us with machine guns and police dogs. We walked for half an hour.Looking around, I saw barbed wire behind me.We have left the concentration camp. It is now May, the sun is shining, the air is filled with the fragrance of spring, and the gold is falling. However, we had just walked a few steps before we saw another concentration camp surrounded by barbed wire.Above the big iron gate is written a line of words: ABREIT MACHT FREI - work for freedom. This is Auschwitz. First impressions - better than Birkenau.A double-layer concrete building replaced the wooden shed, and there are some small flower beds.We were led near a "building", stopped at the entrance, sat on the ground, and waited again.From time to time, people go in to take a bath. This is the rule, and they must be washed.From one concentration camp to another, several times a day, you have to take a bath each time. After hot showers, we shivered in the dark.Our clothes were all taken off, and they said they would change our clothes. Around midnight, we were ordered to run again. "Quick!" shouted the guards. "If you want to go to bed early, you must run." We ran like crazy for a few minutes to a new building.A man in charge was waiting there, he was very young from Poland, smiling at us.He spoke to us, and we listened attentively though weary: "Comrades, now you have come to Auschwitz, and the road ahead is a long one paved with pain. But don't lose heart. The most terrible test is over. So take courage and strengthen your faith. We will all see the day of liberation. Believe in life, believe a thousand times and ten thousand times. Only by driving out despair can you stay away from death. Hell will not last... I pray for everyone, or give everyone a little advice. You Be camaraderie. We are all brothers, facing the same fate, with the same smoke hanging over our heads. Help each other, only in this way can we all survive. Well, I have said enough, you too I'm tired. Remember, you live in Building 17. I'm in charge of maintaining order, and anyone who has any difficulties can come to me. That's all, go to bed, two people get on and off the bed, good night." We hear human words for the first time. We fell asleep as soon as we climbed into bed. The "veteran" prisoners did not treat us rudely the next morning.We washed up and got new clothes.Someone brought us bitter coffee. At about ten o'clock we left the building because someone had to clean it.We basked in the sun, slept again, and felt much better.Friends met and talked to each other about everything except those who had disappeared.Most people think the war is almost over. At noon, someone brought soup, each with a bowl of thick soup.I'm so hungry, but I don't want to touch it.Before this, I was a spoiled child.My father drank all my soup. We dozed in the shade of the building.The SS in the mud shed must be lying: Auschwitz is sort of a sanatorium... In the afternoon, they put us in line.Three prisoners brought a table and some medical equipment.They made us roll up our left sleeves and file past the table.Three "veteran" prisoners took steel needles and stabbed numbers on our arms.My number is A-7713 and since then, I have no name. Roll roll begins at dusk.The crematorium returned; bands played military music at the camp entrance; tens of thousands of prisoners lined up as the SS checked their numbers. After the roll call, the prisoners in each building were released, and everyone looked for friends, relatives or neighbors among the newcomers. The days passed.Drink bitter coffee in the morning and soup at noon.On the third day, no matter what kind of soup, I can't wait to drink it up in one gulp... Roll roll at six o'clock in the afternoon, bread is delivered, some miscellaneous food is served, and I go to bed at nine o'clock. We spent eight days in Auschwitz.After roll call, we stood until the bell rang before disbanding.Suddenly I noticed someone walking along the queue, and I heard him ask: "Which of you is Wiesel from Segat?" A small man with spectacles on his wizened face was looking for us.father said: "I am, I am Wiesel of Segat." The man narrowed his eyes and looked at his father carefully. "Don't you know me? You don't recognize me? I'm Stein, your relative. What, forgot? Stein, Stein from Antwerp, Raizel's husband. Your wife is Raizel My aunt...she wrote us a lot...lots of letters." Father didn't recognize him, and he certainly didn't recognize him.He is busy with affairs in the community all day long, and rarely cares about family affairs.He was always thinking about other things (one time, a cousin came to see us in Segat, lived and ate at my house, and it took two weeks for my father to notice her).Yes, my father didn't know him, but I recognized him immediately.I know his wife Razel, she went to Belgium later. He told us that he was sent here in 1942.He said: "I heard that a group of people from your area have arrived, so I came to see you. I think you may know about Raizel, and my two children, they are all staying in Antwerp... " I don't know anything about them... Mom hasn't heard from them since 1940, but I lied: "Yes, my mother has letters from them. Razel is fine, and the children are fine..." He burst into tears with joy.He wanted to stay a little longer, but an SS man came towards us and he had to leave, saying that he would be back tomorrow. The bell rang and it disbanded.Let's get dinner: bread and margarine.I was so hungry I gulped it down on the spot.Father said: "You can't eat it all at once, there is still tomorrow..." However, his advice came too late, and I had already eaten up.He left his dinner untouched. "I-I'm not hungry," he said. We stayed in Auschwitz for three full weeks, with nothing to do, and we slept often, in the afternoon, and at night. One of our aims is not to be sent away, to stay here as long as possible.It's not difficult, as long as you don't sign and don't say you are a skilled craftsman.People who don't have a skill will stay forever and stay to the end. At the beginning of the third week, our leader was removed because he was too humane.The new boss is vicious, and the assistants are all villains.The good times are over!We were confused and wondered if we should be picked out and go with the second group, which might have been better. Stein, a relative from Antwerp, came to visit us from time to time, and he often brought us half of his own bread. "Here, this is for you, Eliza." Every time he came, there were tears on his cold face.He always said to his father: "Take care of your son, he is weak and dehydrated. Take care of yourselves, you must not let them pick you up. Eat whatever you can! Eat anything, anytime, whatever you can What to eat. People with weak constitutions don't live long here..." But he himself was bony and withered and frail... "The only reason I live," he always said, "is to know if Razel and the little ones are alive. If it wasn't for them, I'd be done with it." He came to see us one night, his face was full of joy. "A group of people have just been escorted from Antwerp. I will go to see them tomorrow. They must have news..." he's gone. We never saw him again.He had news—real news. At night we lay on our cots and sometimes hummed some Hasidic tunes.Ajiba Duma often tells heartbreaking stories in a deep, serious bass. God was mentioned, his mysterious ways, the sins of the Jews, the coming of the Day of Atonement.As for me, I no longer pray.I agree with the spirit of Job and do not deny his existence, but I doubt whether he is absolutely fair. Ajiba Duma said: "God is testing us. He wants to see if we can overcome our base nature and kill the Satan in us. We have no right to give up on ourselves. If He punishes us mercilessly, that means love us more..." Hersh Gnud was well versed in esoteric teachings, and he spoke of the end of the world and the coming of the Messiah. During the conversation, a thought came to my mind from time to time: Where is my mother now?Where is Zipolo? "Your mother is still a young woman," my father said once, "she must be in a labor camp; Zipolo is a big girl, and she must be in a labor camp..." Of course we would like to believe all this.We assume so, but what is the basis for our belief? All the skilled workers were sent to other concentration camps, only a few hundred of our simple laborers remained. "It's your turn today," the secretary of the building announced, "you go with the next group." At ten o'clock we received our bread for the day.A dozen SS men stood around us.A sign on the gate says labor means freedom.They counted the number of people, and we stood in the yard, the sun was shining on the road, and there were white clouds floating in the sky. We walked slowly, and the guards took their time, and we were happy.As we passed through some villages, many Germans looked at us, not at all surprised.There is no doubt that they have seen many such teams... We met some German girls on the way, and the guards flirted with them, and the girls giggled.They let others kiss and tickle, and let out bursts of laughter from time to time.They all laughed, had fun, and passed love notes to each other.At least during this time, we were not beaten or scolded. Four hours later, we arrived at the new concentration camp: Buna.The iron gate closed behind us.