The stench was unbearable and Elisha thought he was going to be sick. Several people already had been and the stuffy, rotten air inside the boxcar was making him gag.
They had been travelling for hours, packed together like animals, shoved into the airless cattle-car of a transport train, speeding through the bleak war-torn countryside. There were no windows and no fresh air. The door had been bolted shut from the outside and the only toilet facility was a bucket in the corner of the carriage. But that had quickly become inadequate and was overflowing only an hour into their journey.
They had been travelling for hours, packed together like animals, shoved into the airless cattle-car of a transport train, speeding through the bleak war-torn countryside. There were no windows and no fresh air. The door had been bolted shut from the outside and the only toilet facility was a bucket in the corner of the carriage. But that had quickly become inadequate and was overflowing only an hour into their journey.
Elisha glanced at his watch and realised that it had been almost seven hours since they had been herded like cattle onto the train. Seven hours since he had been informed he was no longer a human being with the right to be treated with dignity. How many more hours would he have to endure, he wondered. How many more could he endure of this nightmare?
Elisha sat huddled on the floor near the corner of the boxcar, as far from the bucket as he could get. He sat squashed up next to a man who had a hacking cough, the sound of which Elisha had long ago learned to block out. The man sat to his left and Elisha’s right side was pressed up tightly against the rough wooden side of the train. His legs were pulled up tight against his chest and in front of him sat a woman whose back was jammed against his knees. On her lap was a little boy who had finally fallen asleep. The constant rocking and swaying of the train had made the child nauseous and he had thrown up along with a number of other people in the carriage. In her arms the same woman cradled a baby who had needed her diaper changed six hours ago. The baby had also finally fallen asleep, or maybe it was unconscious, Elisha had no idea which it was, but it wouldn’t have surprised him if the baby had finally succumbed to dehydration. It had cried constantly for four hours, unable to understand why her mother wasn’t giving her a bottle.
Elisha sat huddled on the floor near the corner of the boxcar, as far from the bucket as he could get. He sat squashed up next to a man who had a hacking cough, the sound of which Elisha had long ago learned to block out. The man sat to his left and Elisha’s right side was pressed up tightly against the rough wooden side of the train. His legs were pulled up tight against his chest and in front of him sat a woman whose back was jammed against his knees. On her lap was a little boy who had finally fallen asleep. The constant rocking and swaying of the train had made the child nauseous and he had thrown up along with a number of other people in the carriage. In her arms the same woman cradled a baby who had needed her diaper changed six hours ago. The baby had also finally fallen asleep, or maybe it was unconscious, Elisha had no idea which it was, but it wouldn’t have surprised him if the baby had finally succumbed to dehydration. It had cried constantly for four hours, unable to understand why her mother wasn’t giving her a bottle.
Despite being early winter it was so hot in the overcrowded carriage that those people who had enough room to do so, had taken off their coats and jackets. The rest of them, who were unable to move, had to keep their winter coats on and several people had already fainted from the heat and lack of oxygen.
He had watched in horror as one person after another had passed out from the heat, their fellow passengers had swooped down upon them, divesting them of their coats and shoes. A fight had broken out over the items; half the carriage were trying to grab a hold of the belongings of the poor souls who were unable to defend their items and the other half were attempting to stop them.
In the seven hours that they had been travelling, Elisha had watched supposedly civilised people turn into monsters he could hardly recognise.
At the beginning of the journey, people had been talking loudly and some had even been crying. But as the day wore on, silence had finally fallen and the only sound that could be heard now was the hypnotic clicking of the train wheels and the quiet sobbing of those desperate souls who did not know what else to do.
Elisha looked at the mass of humanity sharing this tiny space with him and wondered what they had all done to deserve being treated like this. He looked at their faces, some worried, some in shock, some crying silently, all of them unable to believe what was happening to them. He wondered what they had been before they were reduced to this state. At the station, before he had been pushed up the wooden ramps and onto the boxcar, he had heard some of them talking and he had managed to gather that amongst them were a doctor, a baker, a lawyer and a teacher like himself.
He studied the clothing of the people he could see. One or two were dressed smartly but most were working class people wearing working class clothes. The only thing that bound them together besides their very ordinariness was the cloth badges they wore stitched to the outside of their clothing. The majority of them, like him, wore yellow stars on their chests. The Star of David – which to them was the blessed symbol of their faith that had singled them out as hated Jews since the start of the war. Over towards the opposite side of the carriage Elisha had seen a family with purple triangles stitched to their clothing – Jehovah’s Witnesses is what the symbol marked them as. At the station, the political prisoners with their red triangles stitched on, and those common criminals with green triangles, had been separated from everybody else and pushed into their own cattle-car towards the back of the train. Elisha had seen four men wearing black triangles on their chests and asked the woman next to him what it meant.
In the seven hours that they had been travelling, Elisha had watched supposedly civilised people turn into monsters he could hardly recognise.
At the beginning of the journey, people had been talking loudly and some had even been crying. But as the day wore on, silence had finally fallen and the only sound that could be heard now was the hypnotic clicking of the train wheels and the quiet sobbing of those desperate souls who did not know what else to do.
Elisha looked at the mass of humanity sharing this tiny space with him and wondered what they had all done to deserve being treated like this. He looked at their faces, some worried, some in shock, some crying silently, all of them unable to believe what was happening to them. He wondered what they had been before they were reduced to this state. At the station, before he had been pushed up the wooden ramps and onto the boxcar, he had heard some of them talking and he had managed to gather that amongst them were a doctor, a baker, a lawyer and a teacher like himself.
He studied the clothing of the people he could see. One or two were dressed smartly but most were working class people wearing working class clothes. The only thing that bound them together besides their very ordinariness was the cloth badges they wore stitched to the outside of their clothing. The majority of them, like him, wore yellow stars on their chests. The Star of David – which to them was the blessed symbol of their faith that had singled them out as hated Jews since the start of the war. Over towards the opposite side of the carriage Elisha had seen a family with purple triangles stitched to their clothing – Jehovah’s Witnesses is what the symbol marked them as. At the station, the political prisoners with their red triangles stitched on, and those common criminals with green triangles, had been separated from everybody else and pushed into their own cattle-car towards the back of the train. Elisha had seen four men wearing black triangles on their chests and asked the woman next to him what it meant.
“Gypsies.” She spat the words at him. “They’re almost as disgusting as them.”
The train lurched again and sent the sea of human bodies sitting on the floor of the boxcar colliding into each other. Elisha sat with his sleeve pressed up against his mouth and nose trying hard to filter out the stink in the air as he struggled to breathe. There was less and less oxygen in the boxcar and breathing was becoming difficult. The headache he had developed was threatening to turn into a migraine and he was feeling tired and dizzy, but he tried hard to stay awake.
There was just no air coming in. The only air they had to breathe was fetid and stale and carried the smell of sickness, fear and death.
Every time Elisha thought he had become used to the bone-jarring jolting of the train, it would lurch and shake in a way that banged his already aching back against the hard wooden side. He grimaced in pain and wondered just how bruised his back would be when they finally got off. If they ever got off. He was beginning to wonder if they would simply keep going until everybody on board either died of suffocation or starved to death.
The train began to slow and he thought perhaps they had at last arrived at wherever they were being taken to. But just as he relaxed, the train turned along the sharp bend it had slowed for and Elisha's back slammed into the hard wooden planks behind him. He heard a crack; the sound of splintering wood and looked up to see if anybody else had noticed it too, but they hadn't. Slowly he turned his head and saw that the seam between two planks had split and the brittle wood had opened a little. It wasn't much of a crack; it only gave him a sliver of space to look through, but by the best of miracles, it also allowed a stream of ice-cold fresh air to blow on his face. For a few moments, Elisha closed his eyes and simply relished the feel of the cold air on his cheeks. He breathed deeply, pulling the fresh oxygen into his choking lungs.
When he opened his eyes again, Elisha looked through the split in the wooden planks and noticed the countryside they were travelling through was bleak and barren. What looked like farms had been stripped bare and torched. The few houses they passed were abandoned and broken. He had no idea where they were – they could have been anywhere on earth.
An hour later, with his face feeling numb from the constant blast of icy air, Elisha was still sitting with his head twisted sideways looking through the crack in the panels. He had seen a few signposts but they had flown by too fast for him to be able to read them. But as he watched the countryside whiz by, he noticed that there were more and more houses dotted along the side of the tracks and he realised they were approaching a town.
It was more of a sleepy village than a town and they clattered through it without slowing or stopping but Elisha was able to see the signs and read them. Or in fact, not read them. They were in a foreign language; not English or German or French, not one he recognised at all. It wasn't until they left the village that Elisha saw a sign with the village's name on it.
Jedlina he read. And his mouth dropped open in shock and surprise. Poland. They were in Poland. Elisha knew the name of that town from a Polish student in his art class who came from here. He couldn't imagine what they were doing in Poland unless they were travelling through on their way to somewhere else. Elisha closed his eyes and tried to picture a map of Europe in his head. He tried to think what was beyond Poland's borders.
The map wouldn’t form in his exhausted mind and he opened his eyes again and stared blankly at the scenery as they rattled and rolled their way through the Polish countryside. Elisha was still trying to think where they were headed. Away from the front and the advancing Allies was all he could think of. He was thinking so hard about it that he almost missed the sign that gave him the answer. He glanced at it, read the words and saw the direction the arrow was pointed, but it took a moment for the full impact of those words to register in his brain. Elisha's face registered shock as he pressed his eye right up to the crack and read the sign again as the train sped past it.
Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Every time Elisha thought he had become used to the bone-jarring jolting of the train, it would lurch and shake in a way that banged his already aching back against the hard wooden side. He grimaced in pain and wondered just how bruised his back would be when they finally got off. If they ever got off. He was beginning to wonder if they would simply keep going until everybody on board either died of suffocation or starved to death.
The train began to slow and he thought perhaps they had at last arrived at wherever they were being taken to. But just as he relaxed, the train turned along the sharp bend it had slowed for and Elisha's back slammed into the hard wooden planks behind him. He heard a crack; the sound of splintering wood and looked up to see if anybody else had noticed it too, but they hadn't. Slowly he turned his head and saw that the seam between two planks had split and the brittle wood had opened a little. It wasn't much of a crack; it only gave him a sliver of space to look through, but by the best of miracles, it also allowed a stream of ice-cold fresh air to blow on his face. For a few moments, Elisha closed his eyes and simply relished the feel of the cold air on his cheeks. He breathed deeply, pulling the fresh oxygen into his choking lungs.
When he opened his eyes again, Elisha looked through the split in the wooden planks and noticed the countryside they were travelling through was bleak and barren. What looked like farms had been stripped bare and torched. The few houses they passed were abandoned and broken. He had no idea where they were – they could have been anywhere on earth.
An hour later, with his face feeling numb from the constant blast of icy air, Elisha was still sitting with his head twisted sideways looking through the crack in the panels. He had seen a few signposts but they had flown by too fast for him to be able to read them. But as he watched the countryside whiz by, he noticed that there were more and more houses dotted along the side of the tracks and he realised they were approaching a town.
It was more of a sleepy village than a town and they clattered through it without slowing or stopping but Elisha was able to see the signs and read them. Or in fact, not read them. They were in a foreign language; not English or German or French, not one he recognised at all. It wasn't until they left the village that Elisha saw a sign with the village's name on it.
Jedlina he read. And his mouth dropped open in shock and surprise. Poland. They were in Poland. Elisha knew the name of that town from a Polish student in his art class who came from here. He couldn't imagine what they were doing in Poland unless they were travelling through on their way to somewhere else. Elisha closed his eyes and tried to picture a map of Europe in his head. He tried to think what was beyond Poland's borders.
The map wouldn’t form in his exhausted mind and he opened his eyes again and stared blankly at the scenery as they rattled and rolled their way through the Polish countryside. Elisha was still trying to think where they were headed. Away from the front and the advancing Allies was all he could think of. He was thinking so hard about it that he almost missed the sign that gave him the answer. He glanced at it, read the words and saw the direction the arrow was pointed, but it took a moment for the full impact of those words to register in his brain. Elisha's face registered shock as he pressed his eye right up to the crack and read the sign again as the train sped past it.
Auschwitz-Birkenau.
The words rattled around in his mind as his head emptied of every other thought. He must have read it wrong. He shook his head, closed his eyes and tried to picture the sign again. Deep down inside he knew he hadn't made a mistake. Opening his eyes again, Elisha stretched his stiff neck and eased his head forward. Looking at the crumpled mass of people herded like animals into the boxcar with him, their sullen faces reflected the badges on their chests – the yellow stars, the purple triangles, the black triangles. Jews, Jehovah’s Witnesses and gypsies.
He thought of the homosexuals, political prisoners and criminals in the boxcars behind. And he knew he hadn't made a mistake. His blood ran cold and he began to tremble. Nausea rose in his throat and he forced himself to swallow hard. He looked again at his fellow travellers. They were the living dead. All dead, they just didn't know it yet. There was only one entrance into Auschwitz but there were many ways out like the gas chambers, the firing squads, exhaustion from forced hard labour and death from disease. Your life expectancy once you entered its massive imposing gates was three months.
Elisha felt chilled. Three months. He would be dead by Christmas; if he even lasted that long.
The baby, that the woman in front of him was holding, began to cry and it suddenly dawned on Elisha how many other children and infants were on that train. How long would they last? Three days? Three weeks? His head pounded as he realised he already knew the answer.
Probably not more than three hours.
Before the long journey even began, he remembered the very young, the very old, the sick and disabled weren’t even processed. After they were picked out by the German Officers, they left the train and boarded trucks that went to the infamous “showers” where tears flowed more freely than water. The only thing that would be coming out of the pipes above their heads was cyanide gas.
He thought of the homosexuals, political prisoners and criminals in the boxcars behind. And he knew he hadn't made a mistake. His blood ran cold and he began to tremble. Nausea rose in his throat and he forced himself to swallow hard. He looked again at his fellow travellers. They were the living dead. All dead, they just didn't know it yet. There was only one entrance into Auschwitz but there were many ways out like the gas chambers, the firing squads, exhaustion from forced hard labour and death from disease. Your life expectancy once you entered its massive imposing gates was three months.
Elisha felt chilled. Three months. He would be dead by Christmas; if he even lasted that long.
The baby, that the woman in front of him was holding, began to cry and it suddenly dawned on Elisha how many other children and infants were on that train. How long would they last? Three days? Three weeks? His head pounded as he realised he already knew the answer.
Probably not more than three hours.
Before the long journey even began, he remembered the very young, the very old, the sick and disabled weren’t even processed. After they were picked out by the German Officers, they left the train and boarded trucks that went to the infamous “showers” where tears flowed more freely than water. The only thing that would be coming out of the pipes above their heads was cyanide gas.
After being evacuated from the ghetto, they were told that they were going to a refugee camp. But he now understood that the word “evacuate” was nothing more than a pleasant euphemism for the word “exterminate”.
As his sense of dread grew, so did his sense of hopelessness. By the time the train had slowed enough for Elisha to clearly see the barbed wire and electric fences of their destination, he had almost lost his will to stay alive. He saw the guard towers and the soldiers who manned them. They stood watching the slowing train, machine guns were slung over their shoulders. They looked neat, grey and emotionless.
As his sense of dread grew, so did his sense of hopelessness. By the time the train had slowed enough for Elisha to clearly see the barbed wire and electric fences of their destination, he had almost lost his will to stay alive. He saw the guard towers and the soldiers who manned them. They stood watching the slowing train, machine guns were slung over their shoulders. They looked neat, grey and emotionless.
Elisha watched the huge, looming structure of the entrance as the train curved along its tracks towards it. He saw the long wings of the building that spanned either side of the railway tracks and the clock tower that sat over them. He felt the blood drain away from his face as the train swayed heavily through the arch under the tower. As it slowly ground to a halt with a screech of steel brakes and a hissing release of steam.
The people around him became aware that they had stopped and their faces brightened as they thought they could finally get out of the cramped boxcar and into the refugee camp they had been promised. They believed this would be their home until the end of the war.
If you only knew where we are, you would never leave this train, Elisha thought as the people around him struggled to their feet as soon as they heard the bolts on the outside of the door scraping open.
As much as Elisha needed to get out of the cramped space, he couldn't face the crush of humanity trying to squeeze its way through the door all at the same time, so he hung back and waited until all of them had disembarked. He stood up carefully and stretched his legs as he grimaced at the pain in his cramped muscles that had been forced into an uncomfortable position for so long. He noticed another person left in the train too. An elderly man was lying on his side on the opposite end of the carriage. Slowly, Elisha moved over to him and tried to shake him awake.
"Sir, wake up. We can get off the train now," Elisha said softly.
The man's body rolled over stiffly as his vacant, unseeing eyes stared back at Elisha. From the blue tinge in his open lips and the unsightly way his tongue was protruding from his mouth, it was clear he had been dead for a long time. Weak, old and unable to breathe in the stifling heat, he had been crushed to death not long after he boarded that fateful train.
"Oh God!" Elisha cried out and jumped back so fast he almost lost his balance. He spun around and jumped onto the long platform and into a throng of shouting, pushing and frightened people.
If you only knew where we are, you would never leave this train, Elisha thought as the people around him struggled to their feet as soon as they heard the bolts on the outside of the door scraping open.
As much as Elisha needed to get out of the cramped space, he couldn't face the crush of humanity trying to squeeze its way through the door all at the same time, so he hung back and waited until all of them had disembarked. He stood up carefully and stretched his legs as he grimaced at the pain in his cramped muscles that had been forced into an uncomfortable position for so long. He noticed another person left in the train too. An elderly man was lying on his side on the opposite end of the carriage. Slowly, Elisha moved over to him and tried to shake him awake.
"Sir, wake up. We can get off the train now," Elisha said softly.
The man's body rolled over stiffly as his vacant, unseeing eyes stared back at Elisha. From the blue tinge in his open lips and the unsightly way his tongue was protruding from his mouth, it was clear he had been dead for a long time. Weak, old and unable to breathe in the stifling heat, he had been crushed to death not long after he boarded that fateful train.
"Oh God!" Elisha cried out and jumped back so fast he almost lost his balance. He spun around and jumped onto the long platform and into a throng of shouting, pushing and frightened people.
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