Chapter 8 Chapter 6 The Big Challenge on New Year's Eve

Summer is coming to an end.According to the Jewish calendar, another year is coming to an end.This year was really unlucky. On New Year's Eve, the first day of the year, everyone in the concentration camp was anxious and nervous.After all, today is different from other days, it is the last day of the year. The word "last" has a weird connotation. Could it really be the last day? People got dinner, very thick soup, but no one touched it, we had to say our prayers first.The gathering place was surrounded by barbed wire, and thousands of Jews gathered there, with mournful faces, silent.

The night is coming fast, and more and more prisoners are gathering here, from every building.They can suddenly conquer time and space and make time and space obey their will. who are you my godI was burning with anger.These suffering people come together to express their anger and contempt and their convictions with one voice, but are you worthy?You are the master of the universe, but what is the meaning of your brilliance in the face of timid people, people who are as cheap as dirt, and people who suffer a lot?Why do you keep torturing these poor people?To torment their scarred minds and tormented bodies?

About 10,000 people came to participate in this solemn ceremony, including the head of the building and the head of the prison, as well as the big and small leaders who worked for the god of death. "Thanks to the Almighty Lord..." The person presiding over the ceremony was a prisoner whose voice was so low that he could barely hear it.At first, I thought it was a gust of wind. "Bless the name of God..." Thousands of mouths repeated congratulations, people bent over like trees bent by a storm. Bless the name of God? Why?Why should I bless him?Every fiber of my body rebels.Because he let thousands of children burn to ashes in the huge cemetery he created?Because he kept six cremators burning day and night, including the Sabbath and Holy Days?Because he has boundless mana and created Auschwitz, Birkenau, Buna and a lot of death factories?How can I say to you, thank you, Almighty Lord, Lord of the universe, that you have picked us out of all peoples, and tortured us day and night, so that we could see our fathers, mothers and brothers burning Ended his life in the furnace?We praise your name, because you have chosen us to be slaughtered, to be sacrificed on your altar?

Amid the weeping, choking, and sighing of all the "religious people," I heard the prisoner presiding over the ceremony raise his voice, powerful but incoherent: "The earth and the universe belong to God!" He spoke intermittently, as if he had no strength to reveal the meaning hidden in the scriptures, and his voice choked in his throat. I, a former mystic, am thinking now.Yes, man is stronger than God.When Adam and Eve accepted you, you drove them out of Eden.When Noah's generation failed to please you, you destroyed them with a great flood.When Sodom fell out of your favour, you sent down fire and curses from heaven.But look at the multitude of beings you have betrayed, tortured, killed, poisoned, and burned!And what are they doing?They pray before you!They are praising your name!

"All things bear witness to the greatness of God!" Once upon a time, New Year's Eve has always dominated my life.I know that my sin grieves the Almighty, and I beg His forgiveness.At that time, I believed with all my heart that saving the world was connected with my every act and every prayer. But now, I have nothing to ask for, and I no longer feel sorry for myself.Quite the contrary, I felt powerful, I was the accuser, God was the one to blame.I looked around and was alone, in a terrible loneliness in a world without God, without humanity, without love, without mercy.Now, I am nothing more than a pile of ashes, but I feel that I am stronger than the Almighty, on whom I have long held my life.I felt myself a mere spectator, a stranger among the devoutly praying crowd.

The ceremony concluded with a prayer of condolence.Everyone is reciting condolence prayers for parents, children and themselves. We have stood for a long time in the empty field, unable to escape from the time and space beyond reality.It was time to go to bed, and the prisoners slowly returned to the building.I heard them wish each other "Happy New Year". I ran to my father.But at this moment, I'm afraid to wish him a happy new year because I don't believe in a new year anymore.He leaned against the wall, shoulders hunched, as if his whole body was under heavy pressure.I went over, took his hand and kissed it.I felt a tear on his hand.whose tears?Mine or his?I didn't say anything, and he didn't say anything.But at this moment, silence speaks louder than words, and we have never been connected like this before.

The ringing of the bell brought us back to reality - we had to go to bed.We came back to reality from the distant reverie, and I looked at my father's face, expecting to see a smile or something like that on his wrinkled face, but there was nothing, no expression at all, just depression . Yom Kippur, also known as the Day of Atonement.Do you want to fast?People are arguing about this issue.Fasting certainly means hastening death.In such a place we fast every day.Yom Kippur means the cycle of the year.But it is said that fasting should be all the more because it is dangerous, and we must show God that even here, locked in hell, we are still singing his praises.

I am not fasting.First of all, my father won't allow me to do this.Also, I had no reason to fast.I cannot tolerate God's silence.My swallowing of that soup was itself a betrayal—a protest against God. I ate all the crumbs. But deeper in the body, I clearly felt that a bigger hole was opening its mouth. The SS has a nice New Years present for everyone. As we returned from work to the camp, we had a strange feeling as we passed the gate.The time for the roll call was shorter than usual; at dinner, the soup was distributed very quickly, and everyone seemed to be very anxious, and they drank everything in three or five mouthfuls.

I don't live in the same building as my father.They transferred me to another labor force—the construction crew.In this team, I had to work twelve hours a day, moving heavy stones.The head of the building was a German Jew, short and sharp-eyed.That night he announced that from now on no one would be allowed to leave the building after drinking the soup.A terrible word quickly spread - big challenge. We know what that means, an SS is coming to check.If he found someone too weak, he would take his number and send him to the crematorium. After the soup, we gathered between the bunks.Veteran prisoners said: "You were lucky to be late. Compared with two years ago, today's concentration camp is considered paradise. Two years ago, Buna was an absolute hell. There was no water and no blankets. There is less soup and bread than now. At night, we basically sleep naked, and the temperature is less than thirty degrees. Every day we can collect hundreds of corpses. The work is hard and tiring. Today, this place can be regarded as a little paradise .At that time, the prison chiefs came back every day and announced the order: execute the prisoner of so-and-so. Once a week, a big pick, a ruthless pick... Yes, you are very lucky."

"Come on! Stop it!" I begged them. "Tell your story tomorrow, or another day." They roared with laughter, these old prisoners have all seen the world. "Aren't you frightened? We were all frightened to death. At that time, how could anyone not be frightened?" The older people stayed in the corner, silent and motionless, like captured wild animals.Someone is praying again. An hour passed.We knew the order was coming: either death sentence or death reprieve. Where is the father?I thought of him first.Can he escape the big challenge?He is very old... Since 1933, our building chief has been in the concentration camp.He has seen all the slaughterhouses and been to all the factories of death.At about nine o'clock he returned and stood in the middle of the crowd:

"Achtung!" The room fell silent immediately. "Listen carefully," his voice trembled for the first time, "the challenge will begin in a moment. You will have to undress, and then, one by one, will pass in front of the SS doctor. I hope Everyone can pass, but you must find ways to increase your chances. Before entering the next room, move your limbs as much as possible to make your body a little bloody. Don't walk slowly, run, run as if a devil is chasing you! Don't look at the SS. Run hard, keep running!" He paused for a moment, then added: "Most importantly, don't be afraid!" We would all like to heed such advice. I undressed and threw it on the bed.Tonight, no one will steal clothes. Taibi and Yossi were transferred to the construction team at the same time as me. They came to me and said, "Let's stay together so that we can be stronger." Yossi murmured, he might be praying.I never doubted that Yoshi was a devout Christian.In fact, my belief is just the opposite.Tibby was silent and pale.All the prisoners in the building stood naked in the gap between the upper and lower beds.This is what people must have looked like when they came to the Final Judgment. "Here they come." Three SS officers surrounded the notorious Dr. Munger.In Berkenau, he had hosted us.The building chief put on a smile and asked everyone, "Are you ready?" Yes, we are ready, and so are the SS doctors.Dr. Mengel was holding a list with our numbers on it.He nodded to the building manager: we can start now.It's like making a game. The first to be inspected were the "nobles" in the building: the captain, the head prisoner, and the foremen.They are all in good shape!Then it was the turn of the ordinary prisoners.Dr. Munger looked them over from head to toe, jotting down a number from time to time.I have only one thought, don't write down my number, don't show my left arm. Tibby and Yossi were the only ones ahead of me, and they passed.I took the opportunity to glance over. Dr. Mungle hadn't written down their number.Someone is pushing me - it's my turn.I ran forward without looking back!My head is spinning: you're skinny...you're weak...you're skinny, perfect for a cremator...this run seems endless, I think it's been years...you're too skinny ...you're too weak...at the end of the run, I'm exhausted.After panting for a long time, I asked Yossi and Taibi: "Did they take me down?" "No," Yossi added, smiling, "How could they remember you? You ran too fast." I laughed out loud.I'm so happy, I really want to kiss him.At this point, nothing matters, except that they didn't take my number! Those who wrote down the number stood aside, and the world abandoned them.Someone was sobbing silently. The SS officers left.The building chief came out, and his tired expression reflected everyone's mood. "Good job! Don't worry, nothing will happen to anyone, no one will..." He forced a smile.A poor, bony Jew said in a trembling voice: "But... sir, they took me down." The building manager became angry when he heard it.What, someone didn't believe his words! "What's the matter! Do you think I'm lying? I'll tell you, I'll tell you again: there's nothing wrong with you. There's nothing wrong! You're a fool, wallowing in despair!" The bell rang, and it meant that the whole camp campaign was over. I tried my best to run towards Building 36, and met my father on the way.He came towards me: "How is it? Passed?" "It's over! What about you?" "It's over." We both breathed a sigh of relief.My father brought me a present: half a buttered loaf of bread, which he found in a warehouse for a rubber skin to repair a shoe in exchange for the bread. The bell rang again.Time to break up, time to go to bed.The bell rules everything, the bell is an order, and I can only obey unconditionally.I hate ringtones!Whenever I see a better world in my dreams, I think of a universe without bells. A few days passed, we no longer thought about the big load, we loaded the truck with heavy stones as usual.The only change is that the daily rations are getting smaller and smaller. As usual, we work at sunrise.We got bitter coffee and a piece of bread, and got ready to go to work as usual.The building manager ran over: "Everyone, be quiet for a while. I have a numbered list to read to you. Anyone who reads the number will not have to go to work this morning and stay in the concentration camp." He spoke calmly and read ten numbers.We understand that these are the numbers picked for the Big Pick.Dr. Munger has not forgotten them. The building manager turned to go back to his room.Ten prisoners surrounded him and grabbed his clothes. "Help us! You promised . . . we're going to the warehouse, we're healthy, we can work, we're good workers. We can . . . we must . . . " He wanted to silence them, tell them not to worry about their fate, and explained that staying in the camp meant nothing else, that being there didn't mean tragedy: "After all, I'm here every day..." He understands that all arguments are worthless.He stopped talking and locked himself in the room. The bell rang. "Stand in line!" Now, it doesn't matter whether the work is heavy or not, what matters is how to stay away from the building, away from the torment of death, away from the center of hell. I saw my father running towards me and felt a sudden panic. "problem occurs?" He was out of breath and could hardly keep his mouth open. "Me, and me...they kept me in the camp too." They took his number, but he didn't see it. "What shall we do?" I asked anxiously. Instead, he came to comfort me: "Fortunately, it hasn't been finalized. There is still a chance. Today, they have to choose again...and then make a decision..." I did not say anything. He felt that time was running out, and he spoke very fast, as if he had a lot to tell me.His words were incoherent, his voice choked up.He knows I'll have to go soon, and he'll be left alone, alone... "Here, take this table knife," he said, "I don't need it anymore, it will serve you well. And this spoon, don't sell it. Come on, take it!" This is my father's legacy... "Don't say that, Dad." I almost cried. "I don't want you to say that! You leave the knife and spoon, you and I need them. We'll see you tonight, after get off work." He looked at me with tired, hopeless eyes.But still insisted: "I asked to do this...Go on! Do as I say, son! Time is running out, listen to Dad..." The prisoner gave the order to walk in unison. The labor team walked towards the gate of the concentration camp.One two one!I bit my lip.The father remained in the concentration camp, leaning against the wall.Then, he started running, trying to catch up with us.There may be something he forgot to tell me... But, the line is moving too fast.One two one! We arrived at the gate, counted, and heard the noise of military music.Then, we went out the gate. Throughout the day I plodded around like a sleepwalker, with Tibby and Yoshi reminding me and trying to comfort me.That day, the prison head assigned me an easier job.I feel bad, they treat me well, as if I have been an orphan.I feel, even now, my father is still helping me. I don't know if it's better to pass this day quickly or slowly. I'm afraid that I will be the only one left at night. I wish I could die now! Finally on the way back, I really hope they give an order to run.Marches, gates, concentration camps.I immediately ran towards Building 36. Are there any miracles on earth?He was actually alive, and passed the second big challenge safely.He still has juice to squeeze... I gave him back the knife and spoon. Ajiba Duma left us, he fell victim to a big pick.In recent days, he has been wandering among us, his eyes wandering, and he tells everyone how weak he is: "I can't hold on...it's over..." We cheered him up, but he didn't listen, he just repeated, For him, it was all over.He couldn't fight anymore, he had no strength, no confidence.His eyes were often blank, and there were only two holes left, like two terrible wells. He wasn't the only one who lost heart during the big pick days.I know a rabbi from a small town in Poland.He was old and stooped, with trembling lips.He was always praying, in the building, at work, in the queue.He recited the Talmud from page to page, asked endless questions, answered questions, argued and defended himself. One day he said to me: "It's over! God has left us." He seemed to regret having spoken such indifferent and dry words, and stammered, adding: "I know that no one has the right to say such things. I know in my heart that human beings are small, insignificant, and unable to comprehend the mysteries of God. But like me What can a man do? I am neither a wise man, nor a discerning judge, nor a saint, but a simple being of flesh and bone. My soul and body are suffering in hell. I have eyes, and I have seen What happened here. Where is the mercy of God? Where is God? How can I believe in the mercy of God, who can?" Poor Ajiba Duma, as long as he still believes in God, as long as he sees this ordeal as a holy test, he will not be swept away by the challenge.However, as soon as a crack appeared in his belief, he lost all his fighting courage and opened the door of death. During the big challenge, he was destined to be doomed, and he took the initiative to stretch his neck to the executioner.All he begged us was: "In three days I will be gone... Say the prayers of condolence for me." We promised: for three days, whenever we saw black smoke rising from a chimney, we would think of him.We'll have a special ceremony with ten people, and all the friends will say prayers for him. Later, he left, walking towards the hospital.He walked almost firmly, without looking back.An ambulance was waiting there to take him to Burkenau. The next few days were horrific.We were beaten a lot, but there was very little food, and the work was exhausting.Three days after he was gone, we forgot to say a prayer for him. winter is here.The days are short and the nights unbearable.In the middle of the night, the biting cold wind lashed at us like whips.We sent winter clothes: shirts with stripes, just a little thicker.The veteran prisoner took the opportunity to laugh at himself: "Now you really have a taste of the concentration camp." We went out to work as before, and our bodies were frozen.The stone is cold, it hurts to the touch, as if soaked in the marrow of the bone.But we got used to it very quickly. During Christmas and New Years, we don't go out to work, and the soup is not as clear as usual.In mid-January, my right foot was swollen from the cold.I couldn't stand on my right foot and had to go to the clinic.The doctor, a famous Jewish doctor who was also a prisoner like us, said bluntly: "There must be an operation! If you survive, you will have to amputate your toes, or even amputate your whole leg." I had to have this kind of surgery!But I have no choice.The doctor decided to perform an operation, and there was no room for bargaining.In fact, I'm quite happy because he made the decision. They put me on a bed with a white sheet.I forgot that this is the kind of sheet people sleep under. Actually, life in the clinic was not bad: we got good bread and soup, no bells, no roll calls, no work.Every once in a while I can send my father a piece of bread. Next to me lay a Hungarian Jew, scrawny with dysentery, with dead eyes.I could barely hear his voice, which indicated that he was still alive.How could he still have the strength to speak? "Don't get too excited, boy. There's big trouble here too, more often than outside, and the Germans don't need sick Jews. The Germans don't need me, and you'll have new neighbors when the next ones come. So listen I said, before the next challenge, you must leave the clinic!" These words seemed to come from the grave, from a ghost without a face, and I couldn't help feeling horrified.The clinic is really small, and if there are more patients, it will have to make room. However, this faceless neighbor may be afraid that others will squeeze him away. Maybe he wants to send me away to free up the bed so that he has a chance to live... Maybe he just wants to scare me.But what if he was telling the truth?I decided to wait and see. The doctor came over and told me to have surgery tomorrow. "Don't be afraid," he said, "everything will be all right." At ten o'clock in the morning, I was sent to the operating room.I was relieved that the doctor was there, and I felt that as long as he was there, there would be no major problems.Every word of his has curative effect, and every look in his eyes can give people hope. "It hurts a little," he said, "but it will pass soon, be brave." The operation lasted an hour, and they did not put me to sleep, and I never took my eyes off the doctor.But then, I feel lethargic... I woke up, and when I opened my eyes, I saw first a huge white cloth, which was my quilt, and then I saw the doctor's face, bent over me. "Everything is going well. You are very courageous, my boy. Next, you will stay here for two weeks, take a good rest, and that's it. You will eat better, and your body and mind will relax..." I will do whatever his lips move.I could barely understand what he was saying to me, but his voice was infectious and reassuring.I suddenly broke out in a cold sweat, I felt like my legs were gone, they amputated my legs? "Doctor," I stammered, "Doctor?" "What is it, child?" I didn't have the courage to ask him. "Doctor, I'm thirsty..." He brought me water...he was smiling, ready to go out, see other patients. "doctor?" "Ok?" "Will my legs still work?" He stopped smiling.I felt a pang of fear.He said, "Listen to me, boy. Do you trust me?" "Very confidently, Doctor." "Listen, then: in two weeks you'll be all right, and you'll be walking like everybody else. You've got pus all over the soles of your feet, and I had to cut them all out. Your leg isn't amputated, and in two weeks you'll be You'll see, you can walk around like everybody else." I had to wait patiently for two weeks. But two days after the operation, gossip was everywhere in the camp, and the front line was suddenly pushed very close to us.The Red Army is advancing rapidly towards Buna and will be there in a few hours. We are used to this kind of gossip.It is not the first time that false predictions have been circulated: World—Peace, Red Cross—Society—Negotiation—Liberation—Us, or other fables...often we believe it to be true...like a shot in the arm. But this time, the rumors seemed to be no longer groundless. For several nights in a row, we could hear the roar of cannons in the distance.The faceless neighbor said, "Don't have illusions. Hitler made it very clear that before the clock struck twelve, he would kill all the Jews." I exclaimed, "Whatever he says! Do you want us to take him for a prophet?" His cold eyes fixed on me, and finally he said in a weary tone: "I trust Hitler more than anyone else, only he keeps his word. All his promises to the Jews will be kept." At four o'clock in the afternoon that day, as usual, when the bell rang, all the building managers went to make daily reports. When they came back they were all so distraught that they could barely open their mouths to speak.Only one word came out of their mouths - retreat.The camp had to be emptied and we all had to go to the rear.where to?Evacuated to the interior of Germany, to other concentration camps.Germany has no shortage of concentration camps. "when?" "Tomorrow night." "The Russians will probably arrive before the retreat..." "possible." But we know this is impossible. The concentration camp became a hive of chaos, people yelling and running around.The prisoners in the building were all getting ready for the road, and I forgot I was crippled.A doctor came in and announced: "Tomorrow night, after dark, the concentration camp will be moved out, one building after another, and the patients will stay in the clinic and will not be evacuated!" This news baffled us. Would the SS leave hundreds of prisoners in clinics and let the Red Army liberate them?Did they want the Jews to hear the twelve o'clock?of course not. "All patients will be executed on the spot," said the faceless man. "A final sweep will be thrown into the crematorium." "Sure, they'll plant mines in the camps," said another, "and blow them up as soon as they're evacuated." As for me, I was not thinking of death, but of not being able to separate from my father.We have suffered so much and suffered so much together, and we cannot separate at this time. I ran out to find him.The snow was so deep that the windows of the buildings were covered with a layer of frost.I was carrying a shoe in my hand because I couldn't fit my right foot.I was running, and I felt neither pain nor cold. "What shall we do?" Father didn't answer. "What shall we do?" He is thinking.We can choose, just this once.We can decide our own destiny, both of us stay, stay in the clinic.Thanks to the doctor, with his help, my father can enter the clinic as a patient or as a medical staff.I decided that no matter where my father went, I would accompany him. "Well, Dad, what should I do?" He was silent. "Shall we leave with the others?" I said. He looked at my feet and didn't answer. "How do you feel, can you walk?" "I think I can go." "I hope you don't regret it, Eliza." I only heard after the war that those who remained in the dispensary were lucky to be freed by the Russians two days after our withdrawal. Instead of going back to the clinic, I ran straight back to the building where I lived.The wound on the foot opened again, and the blood flowed continuously, staining the snow under the feet red. The building chief gave out double portions of bread and margarine for the trip.We can get clothes from the storeroom as much as we want. It was cold and we went to bed.It was my last night in Buna, another last night: my last night at home, my last night in the ghetto, my last night in the wagon, my last night in Buna.From this "last night" to the next "last night", how long can our lives last? I can not sleep.Through the icy windows we could see flashes of red fire, and the roar of cannon pierced the still night sky.The Russians are too close to us!They are only one night away from us—the last night.People were lying on the bed whispering that with a little luck the Russians would be here before we retreated.There is still hope. Someone shouted: "Go to sleep! Save some strength and get ready to go." I remembered my mother's last exhortation in the ghetto, but I couldn't sleep, my feet ached like they were on fire. The next morning, the camp changed drastically.Prisoners were dressed in all kinds of weird clothes, as if they were putting on a masquerade.In order to keep out the cold, everyone wore several sets of clothes, one for another.The poor clowns are all sideways, their height is not as wide as their bodies, and they are more dead than alive. These poor people have skeleton-like heads protruding from layers of prison uniforms, poor clowns! I'm looking for a pair of big shoes, but I can't find them.I tore off the blanket and wrapped it around my right foot.Then I walked around the camp looking for more bread and potatoes.Someone said we were going to Czechoslovakia, no, to Gros-Rosen, no, to Greviz, no, to... At two o'clock in the afternoon, there was heavy snow falling in the sky. Time passed quickly, and the sky darkened at dusk, and the sun broke into the gray mist. The building chief suddenly remembered that we hadn't cleaned the building yet, so he ordered the four prisoners to wipe the floor... an hour before the retreat!Why?For whom? "To liberate the army," he said, "let them know that people live here, not pigs." are we humanBut everyone still cleaned the building inside and out. At six o'clock, the bell rang.It is the bell of death, the bell of a funeral.The team is about to leave. "Line up! Hurry up!" We lined up quickly.The prisoners lined up in a building, one team next to another.It was getting dark, but everything was going according to plan. The searchlights came on, and out of the darkness appeared hundreds of SS soldiers, leading police dogs.It's still snowing. The gates of the concentration camp opened, and it seemed that a darker night awaited us outside the gates. The teams from the first few buildings began to walk in unison, and we waited until all the fifty-six buildings were evacuated before it was our turn.It's cold and I have two loaves of bread in my pocket.I really want to eat it!But I know I can't eat it, and now is not the time. It's our turn. Building 53... Building 55... "Building 57, let's go together!" The snow still kept falling.