Next Stop, Auschwitz

“Elijah! Elijah! Wake up!” The voice of my friend Isaac awoke me from my pleasant memory of my family and brought me back to a living nightmare. It was day two in this hell-hole of a train – if you could call this a train. The cattle cart as it was initially designed and intended for was no longer used for cattle, but for men, women, and children. There, I lay among fifty others, squashed like sardines in a tin. The cattle cart was dark, hardly any light would come through the small windows on either side. They were barred with iron. We were held prisoner, our crime, being born into a Jewish family. We were heading to Poland, all rounded up in Paris, France. The trip would take seventy-two hours according to one of the guards. They took all our possessions and gave us each one receipt in return. Upon arrival at our final destination, we would retrieve our belongings once we present our ticket to the camp guards – this was of course a lie. The train showed no sign of stopping, time was not on our side, with roughly forty-eight hours already passed we had one more day until arrival. The concentration camp that we were heading to was infamous, the few that escaped the horrors told the resistance. Most knew all too well from the rumours and horror stories that quickly spread soon after, they spoke of a gas chamber and a crematorium that constantly burning, this place was where we were heading according to the guards boarding us on, the guards all smiled when they saw the fear in our eyes as one said...

“Next stop, Auschwitz.”

*****

“Elijah!” My mother called me. She was outside handwashing the laundry. My mother became a widow when I was nine, she worked part-time sewing to pay the bills. We lived as urban dwellers, I was now 17 years of age, and I had two younger sisters 12 and 14 years old. Being the eldest made me the man of the house, this instilled in me a sense of responsibility to protect and provide for my family in any way that I could. It was hard growing up but my mother and us kids somehow managed.

“Yes, mama?”

“Place the laundry on the clothesline please, thank you”. She passed me a metal bucket filled with wet clothes. She continued washing the rest of the dirty pile next to her on the floor using a washboard and soap. I carried the heavy bucket with one hand and dumped it near the clothesline. It was a sunny warm day and I was in the mood to go play. I picked up the first item, it happened to be the largest, a white bedsheet. The water gushed off it like a wet sponge being squeezed. The water splashed over the floor surrounding the clothesline as I attempted to fling it around one of the wires above me on the clothesline. My mother, out of sight from me, called out instinctively like she had eyes on me in the sky.

“No, no, wring them out first, they dry much quicker that way.”

“I am,” I lied.

“Don’t lie, it’s a sin.”

I huffed, I’ll show her, I thought. I was fit and competitive at that age, any time I could find an excuse to prove my strength or intelligence I would. I twisted the bedsheets and twisted, holding both ends tight. Water continued to wring out but it wasn’t enough. It was as if I needed to prove that my strength alone could dry these clothes of all water, simply by twisting. I had an ingenious idea of wrapping the bedsheets around two of the metal arms of the clothesline, which ran perpendicular to each other. The clothesline was above my head and I would then hold onto both ends of the bedsheets and spin myself, twisting and twisting, gripping the floor with my toes and putting my entire body's strength against it. You would think that the bedsheets would tear with this much strain, but it was just as stubborn as I was unwilling to let go, it too did not. The water helped, it kept the fibres together without fraying, long enough for me to experience the clothesline breaking under the pressure. CRACK. One of the arms fell to the floor just missing my head and made a loud BONG noise on the floor. I thought my mother would be mortified that her only clothesline is now broken thanks to me. I knew clothes lines didn’t come cheap; she would have to work extra hours just to save up for the repairs.

To my surprise, my mother was not mad or upset with me, instead, she rushed over to see what had happened and saw me collapse on the floor defeated. She stood there and stared, I stared back speechless. Her concerned look cracked and a smile began to appear, followed by a snicker and a full laugh. She laughed and laughed that even I began to laugh, I had no idea how strong of a force wet clothes had against something as unmoving as a metal clothesline. Truth be told, this was a lesson I would never forget.

“You don’t know your own strength,” she said between fits of laughter. She then put her hands into the wet bucket and pulled out a pair of trousers. I could not work out what she was doing with them as there was no use putting them on the clothesline. She then splashed me with them soaking me from head to toe. She laughed even louder now and my two younger sisters rushed outside to see what all the fuss was about. They saw me collapse on the floor with the clothesline arms dangling down, both mama and I were laughing, throwing wet clothes at each other. The look of confusion on their faces made both of us laugh even more and we then started splashing water at my sisters trying to get them wet too, they screamed and joined in on the fun. Those were fond memories, memories that I would replay in my mind regularly, they always would bring a smile to my face, even in a dire situation like the one I was in right now.

*****

On November 6th, 1943, Hitler’s war on the Jewish people was in full effect. I knew this for certain, though there were many of us including some in this very carriage who refused to believe it.

I passed out from the lack of air and dehydration, though it was not for too long as Isaac and I were desperately trying to find a way to escape before we arrive at our final destination. Both Isaac and I did not sleep the first day in the cart. Most did not, there were some kneeling on the ground praying, and others were lying on the floor. There was a metal bucket, just like the one my mother used to use for the laundry in the middle of the cart. This bucket was for all fifty of us to use, the guards never told us what for, but it was apparent what it was there for, within the first few hours it was filled to the brim with faeces and urine, and by the next morning it was overflowing. The smell was putrid, people were vomiting in the corners of the cart because of the smell. We all were stepping in it, breathing it in. The air was thick and steamy with the humidity, every breath I took made me sicker and sicker. People were fainting all around me, including me at this very moment.

“Elijah, get up!” Isaac gently slapped my cheek with his hand to call me back to reality.

“Where am I?” I said dazed and confused.

“We’re heading to Auschwitz, quick get up!” Isaac grabbed my shoulder and tried to lift me.

“Let the boy rest!” A man shouted.

“Yeah, leave him be,” another said. “He is exhausted, we all are.”

Isaac paid no attention to them and continued to lift me. I slowly got back up to my feet and looked around. There were pairs of eyes all around me, some squatting, others standing up leaning over each other, and some were sitting in their waste praying.

“Blast this place! They treat us like cattle!” A man shouts. He looked to be in his fifties.

“They are going to kill us!” A woman cried, she looked like she was having a panic attack, breathing heavily.

“Shut up! You’ll scare the children” another shouted. You could hear the sobs and soft crying of children clinging to their mothers.

“They aren’t going to kill us.” A middle-aged man said directing his voice to the children. He smiled at them reassuringly, he then turned to the crazed woman and snarled, “If they were going to kill us, they would have done that by now.”

“That’s right! A mother stood up. “And! They went to all that trouble to give us receipts for our belongings.” The mother lifted hers into the light like it was a golden ticket.

“Don’t flash that thing around, someone might take it and then what? You’d for sure forfeit your life.”

“Who would want to take her ticket, are you mad?” A larger man barked.

“I am not mad! I don’t know you, for all I know you could take it.”

An argument broke out, people were getting fed up and tired, shoving and throwing their weight around. I patted my pockets, my pants felt wet as I was lying in the human waste that overflowed out of the bucket. I pulled out my receipt and saw it was wet. The ink was smeared, I could not make out anything on it anymore. I threw it to the ground in disgust and frustration. Isaac looked at me and pulled his out to show me. He held it up in front of my face.

“Well, yours is still good,” I sighed. He smiled at me and shook his head, he then ripped it in half and tossed it on the floor. I looked on in shock.

“Elijah, it means nothing, if we get to the camp, we are done for. Look how they treated us in France, it’ll be death at Auschwitz. You know this, I know this. Now come help me with this window.”

I look over to the window Isaac was referring to. It was small, more than half of the people on this cart would not be able to fit through it even if we were to pry the bars free. We had no tools, nothing hard except for the bucket in sight. Isaac grabbed onto two bars and began to climb up the cart wall, using his feet to push against the wall whilst gripping a bar with both hands. He was practically horizontal to the wall pulling against the metal bar. It wouldn’t budge.

*****

Suddenly, guards could be heard yelling followed by the distinct sound of gunfire. We were being fired upon. Everyone ducked, and I fell to the floor of the cable cart, my hands covering the back of my head and ears. Mothers cradled their young and tried blocking their ears. The guards fired back in all directions. Explosions could be heard in the distance, from what I could only suspect grenades were being thrown. The train showed no signs of slowing down, instead, it appeared to be going faster. “The Resistance!” A man shouted. “They’re here to save us.” A few curious men looked through the window.

“He’s right! It’s The Resistance!” Another shouted. Cheers began to echo through our cattle cart. There were roughly twenty carriages of prisoners, they all began cheering and waving their arms out of the windows. Some were holding stained white singlets as a sign of surrender.

“Help us!” Desperate screams could be heard between the gunfire. More explosions rang out, this time getting closer and closer to the train. The guards continued to fire rapidly, there was no sign of them slowing down or running low on bullets. The shooting felt like it was going on forever. “For heaven’s sake, why isn’t the train stopping!?” someone demanded. The torment was too much for some, not being able to see what was going on outside or who had the upper hand was agony.

“I knew they would come, see! I told you, they will kill every last one of those guards and free us!” A crazed man shouted. I started to breathe a bit better, and the feeling of relief began to take over. I looked over at Isaac, his eyes were closed, hands were squeezed together while he prayed.

The gunfire began to slow, then it could only be heard from one end. The guards had won. The resistance failed at slowing the train. People around me began to catch on, and the hope of potentially escaping was replaced with shock, horror and silence. “They aren’t stopping.” A man said while looking out the window. “They aren’t…stopping.” He slumped down. The men and women around him all collapsed.

“We’re doomed.” A faint voice said to themselves. The cattle cart fell dead silent as we all collectively processed another defeat.

*****

A high-pitched scream echoed through the cart; it was a hysterical woman. “He’s dead!” She got up and moved away from an old man's body. He laid still on the floor head facing downwards on the floorboards. His nose and mouth were submerged in liquid. No bubbles could be seen coming out, he wasn’t breathing. The arguing ceased for a moment as everyone looked on and gave the old man room. Another stepped closer and knelt down lifting his face out of the liquid. He checked his pulse on his neck and looked around at the onlookers. He shook his head and laid the man back down face up. Women and children began to cry while others prayed in silence.

“You think you will see any of your belongings again?” Someone said to the golden ticket holder. She diverted her eyes away.

“He is at peace now.” An old man said, more wailing began to break out.

“They will shoot us all; they will think we are diseased.” One could be heard saying to another. A hungry man went over to the dead body and began checking the trouser pockets. He pulled out a piece of cheese and began eating it immediately.

“What on earth are you doing!?” Someone shouted at the man.

“I’m hungry.” He scoffed the whole piece in one mouthful.

“There’s women and children who are hungry too! Did you ever stop to think about them!?” The angry man pointed at a woman sitting down holding her enlarged stomach. She was pregnant and looking sickly. “She’s pregnant, for goodness sake.” He grabbed the hungry man by the collar and shook him.

“Enough!” An old lady with crutches shouts. She was sitting on the floor holding the crutches upright, her right leg had been amputated. “Don’t you see what they are trying to do to us? They want us to act like animals and tear each other apart. Show them we are better than that, we are not animals.”

*****

We were given a piece of cheese, tea and a small loaf of bread before entering the cattle cart. It was not enough to sustain us on the trip to Auschwitz, within a day it was all gone. There was so little food that we could not even give half of it away. Time was running out; people were dying in here. I had no time to lose. I grabbed the iron bars and tried to pry them apart with all the strength I had. I then began to put one foot on the wall to help push and then another. Soon, I was standing horizontally just like my friend was. Nothing, not even the slightest bend in the bars. It was hopeless.

“Get away from there.” A man with a French accent said. “You’ll get us all into trouble if you damage the cart.”

“We will be dead if we don’t escape,” I replied.

“You maybe, but not me, I’m a French Jew, they will send me back to France. my grandfather fought in Napoleon the Third’s army.” I laughed at how ridiculous the French man’s rationale sounded, but he believed with his whole heart and mind that he was safe from the atrocities waiting for us on the other side. I looked over to Isaac and he rolled his eyes. I nodded to Isaac to try pulling the bars at the same time as me. The French man shouted again.

“I said leave it!” He then grabbed me and threw me to the floor knocking over the bucket of faeces and urine. I was covered in it, my clothes soaked. Isaac lunged at him, and they tumbled to the floor. Isaac punched him across the chin with his right hand, then another to his temple with his left fist. A few men broke up the fight and pulled Isaac off the French man.

I sat there, defeated. I closed my eyes. “This is not how this is going to end,” I told myself. I will break free. I must. For my mother's sake, for my sister's sake. I missed them. I have no idea where they are or whether they are safe. I said a little prayer in my head. “Please, show me the way out. Help me escape, please give me strength. Give me the answer.” I sat still and thought about my mother and sisters again.

*****

I was 17 years of age and Hitler decreed that everyone should boycott stores owned by Jews. There was a call for all men aged 16 to 60 to be sent away and never to return. Packages would arrive at homes; the mothers would be screaming at the front porch. The packages were of ashes. My mother feared for my life. She told me I had to leave, if I didn’t then I would be next. I could not bring myself to leave her and my sisters, I was the man of the house – I had to protect them. My mother would not take no for an answer. More and more families surrounding us were getting packages and it became apparent that the window of time was slowly closing in on me if I didn’t escape while I had the chance. So, I did, I packed my bag and threw on my trench coat, gave my sisters and mother a big hug, and heaps of kisses and told them I loved them before setting off out of town. That was the last time I saw them. That was a sad memory, not one that I wanted to replay in my mind. I thought back to a simpler memory, one of me breaking the clothesline with the wet bedsheets and how we were all laughing. Suddenly, I froze. “That’s it!” I shouted.

I shot up off the ground and began taking off my sweater. Isaac looked over at me and came in close. “What is it?” He spoke.

“I have an idea!” I exclaimed.

“What?” Isaac’s eyes lit up with excitement. I dunked my sweater into the disgusting liquid of faeces, vomit and urine soaking it all up. The sweater was like a sponge. It was dripping with the most horrible smell. Isaac looked on with a confused face.

“I broke my mother’s clothesline with wet bedsheets. If we twist the sweater tight enough around two bars while its soaked, we might be able to pry them apart.” I shoved my way back to the window where men were refusing to move.

“Excuse me please,” I pleaded. But they would not move. “Excuse me!” I said again. Isaac also tried to get them to move with no luck.

“It’s finished. Give it a rest.” One of the men said.

“No!” The old lady with the crutches shouted. “Let the boys through. They must at least try.”

“They have been with no luck.” Another interjected. “Let someone else get some fresh air.” The old lady aimed her crutch at the men like a scalding mother holding up a wooden spoon.

“Don’t you dare get in the way of any of us wanting to escape or are you just as bad as guards out there? They need to try so that they can tell the world what happened here today. So that none of our lives go out in vain.” She put her crutches back down and looked at us both. “Go on now.” She smiled at us. Although she was much older and looked nothing like my mother, she felt like her. Like she cast a spell on those men, they all obeyed and stepped aside, letting me and Isaac through.

*****

We both inspected the bars on the window. The iron bars were both welded vertically and horizontally to the window frame. I looked at the ends of each bar to see if any had bad welds. The welds were done well but old, rust could be seen where the rain, sun and wind would have been hitting them day in and out. I wrapped the sweater around two of the bars next to each other and held the two ends of the sweater together. I began to twist the sweater torque, tighter and tighter. The urine and human waste soaked up by the sweater poured down my arms and my legs. Neither of us cared as we were already covered. Isaac and I took turns twisting inch by inch, millimetre by millimetre. Everyone looked on without saying anything, nor did anyone aid us for they had no strength left and must’ve thought our efforts were in vain.

“Say you break the bars, then what? The train is moving too fast to jump out, you’ll kill yourselves.”

I paid no attention, I wanted to say, “I’d rather die on the tracks a free man than sent to death a prisoner” but I didn’t care to argue. I kept twisting. The air around me began to get dusty and I found myself having to close my eyes as the dust would sting them. The sweater did not rip or show any signs of loosening. I started to twist my own body while holding onto the ends of the sweater, the noose around the bars in the window constricted them tighter still. Isaac called out to me. “Elijah look! Your arms.” My arms were covered in not dust, but rust. The waste dripping down from the shirt made me sticky and the rust from the metal bars was naturally sticking to me.

“It’s working!” I shouted. “The bars are moving.” Isaac and I gripped the knotted sweater tight and twisted it one or two more millimetres and then finally SNAP! One of the bars popped off the window frame and fell into the cabin with us. I picked it up, it was heavy. I held it up high for all to see. “Look!” I exclaimed. “We can all escape!” Isaac grabbed me by the shoulders.

“We can use this to help tighten the hold,” he said. “But we must hurry, we should be arriving at Auschwitz any minute now.” He grabbed the sweater and dunked it into the bucket and soaked up some more puddles of human waste and began twisting the sweater tight again. Using the iron bar, we were able to snap off the second, third and then fourth bar with considerably more ease. I looked at Isaac, “Now’s our chance.” He gave me a boost up and I climbed one leg through the window, then another, I sat on the frame and looked back at Isaac.

“Quickly!” He screamed with excitement. I nodded and looked at everyone inside, they all seemed shell-shocked, no one said or did anything, except for one. The old lady with crutches shouted, “Tell the world what happened here, tell our story, the world must know.” I nodded and waited for the train to slow down around a curve. “Now!” I shouted to Isaac, I pushed off the cart and braced for the impact of the ground below. I tumbled and rolled a metre before stopping. I looked up and saw just in time Isaac jumping out. I raced over to him and held him tight. “We did it,” I whispered, it was dark, and I could not see too well what was around me. The moon above gave us enough light to see the train ride off. We waited in silence, wondering if anyone else would jump, or if the train guards noticed us jumping and commanding the train to stop. But it did not stop, it kept going and still, no one else jumped out the window. “Why isn’t anyone else jumping?” I said to Isaac.

“They will,” Isaac said in a low tone. “They will.” I watched on as the train continued until it was out of our sight. Freedom, at last, I inhaled the night's fresh air, it smelt like sweet grass and honeydew. We had escaped death at Auschwitz. I hoped deep within my heart that all on that train would somehow make it out alive, that a miracle was still awaiting them on the other side. My miracle of escaping was a gift, but now we had bigger fish to fry. With no money, clean clothes or clear direction as to where we had to go, with only each other and the shadows of the night to hide us, we now had to escape to safety, but to where?

“Where do we go now?” Isaac asked, reality started to sink in. I looked around, not far from us was a tree line into the mountains, on the other side of the tracks was more or less the same thing. No town lights or signs of life close by. I stared at the train tracks for a moment trying to gather my thoughts.

“The resistance,” I said to Isaac. “They were trying to stop the train a few kilometres back that way.” I pointed to the train tracks. “If we follow the train tracks, we might find them.” Isaac nodded in agreeance and we began running in the opposite direction of the train, back to where the shooting started. Our minds were racing, hoping that we will be saved.

“We’re going to be famous,” Isaac said smiling. “We broke out of an iron-barred window from a moving train with just the clothes on our back.” He laughed.

“Imagine if we had all our belongings with us,” I laughed back, “We would win the war.”