. . . In That Quiet Earth

Outside the Chamber

Heinrich watched one of his fellow Nazis: a blond-haired, blue-eyed Aryan slam the thick iron door shut, tight, sending waves of deep, flat sound vibrating throughout the Chamber. The man spun the large wheel, locking the door and making the Chamber airtight, a cocoon, a prison, a coffin.  Heinrich walked over to the rectangular window, giving the viewer a clear sight into every crevice and corner of the Chamber. Behind him were the controls. Paul, the man who had locked the iron door, now stood beside Heinrich, to his left; to his right stood another Nazi, this one a better friend than Paul. Friends for a long time, right from the days of the youth groups, on through their severe but promising training. For the last year, the inseparable pair had been part of Hitler's right-hand men, the S.S. officer’s name was Adolf, and Heinrich knew full well that he was just about the happiest man alive to bear the name of the Fuhrer.

Heinrich was about to perform a duty he’d performed many times over, so much so that it was all meaningless to them, just like taking a shower or brushing your teeth. That had been until yesterday.

As Heinrich stared through the window at the group of emaciated, naked, helpless bodies huddled, shivering, terrified in the center of the room, for the first time in his life, Heinrich began to doubt the task he had to perform.

~ ~ ~

Yesterday had been a beautiful day, crystal-blue skies, a warming sun, and everything seemed to be going just right with the Nazi war machine. But by midday, there was not a single person in the town who didn’t wish they were somewhere, anywhere else. The smell had started seeping into the main street, starting small and barely perceptible, like something that had died and been rotting for only a few days.  At fifteen minutes before noon, the smell had grown so that people were starting to look for this decaying animal.  At a few minutes to twelve, the kerchiefs had come out; people began sealing themselves in their homes, bolting the windows tight, others began visibly coughing and choking.

After midday, Heinrich had set out for the origin of the pervading stench, which took him a couple of miles from the town, to a deep pit. He looked down, stared, and quickly covered his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his black coat, trying to block the cloud of gray smoke that wafted over him.  The stink of burning human flesh, nevertheless, infiltrated his nostrils. Heinrich turned and headed back to the town. 

~ ~ ~

The pale group had gone quiet, their moans and wails having petered out, as time passed and nothing happened. They writhed against each other, as they looked around, staring wide-eyed, even though they hadn’t slept in days, fear a contagious breath that they all possessed and passed on to each other. It was apparent in their faces, as they sensed and prepared themselves for the inevitable end.

"We are ready," Paul spoke and Adolf gave Heinrich an admonishing nod. He now had the go ahead.

Even though the action was very simple, it was necessary to be conducted by a Nazi of higher rank.  Many times Heinrich had performed this ordinary feat, and there was no reason why this time should be any different.

Only a single scientist knew what gas would be used on the Jews today.

The men outside the Chamber didn’t know and didn’t care. They were just following orders.  Heinrich stared at the huddled group within the center of the Chamber.

Nodding very slightly to himself, he turned and walked to the lever and wheel directly behind him. Slowly, his arm reached up and settled his hand on the thick bar. The metal was cold, biting into his skin like frostbite. He stared at his hand, thinking, wondering, deciding. 

Whatever he chose to do, he knew each possible outcome – one would result in a return to normal life, the other in a drastic ending.  Heinrich could feel Adolf's and Paul's eyes on the back of his head, like bayonets titillating his scalp as he was forced into a decision.  Heinrich used the weight of his arm to pull the lever down, and with a loud clunk, it locked in place. He let out a wavy breath and rested his forehead against the wall of metal. The thick drops of sweat that Heinrich didn’t know were there became cold and icy. He stood straight.

Heinrich turned and saw two pairs of eyes on him, staring in confusion and grim determination – What the hell was he doing? Why was he taking so long?  Heinrich turned back and settled his hands on the wheel that would let out the gas. The lever had opened the ducts to let the gas into the Chamber. Normally, a loud thunk sounded after the pulling of the lever; Heinrich had been so deep in thought that this was the first time he hadn’t heard it.

The metal of the wheel, like the lever, was cold.  But he couldn’t do it. The wheel was stuck in its position and no matter how much he tried, he simply couldn’t turn it.

He didn’t know that he hadn’t tried. 

Paul and Adolf just watched in question.  Heinrich's breath quickened to an audible panting, and he could do nothing to hide the fact.

"Come on Heinrich!" Paul said.

Heinrich took a deep breath and held it.

"What are you waiting for?"

He let out the breath.  He thought he saw fog in front of his eyes, or was it gas?

"Turn the damn wheel!"

Heinrich sneaked a peek behind him and caught a glance of Paul with his mouth open and Adolf just staring at him in a stern and condescending manner. 

Heinrich knew he was disappointing his loyal friend.

"Enough!" Adolf shouted. He grabbed Heinrich's shoulder and tore his hands from the wheel, turning him to face the two faithful Nazis. Adolf looked down in pity at this traitor who didn’t follow orders.

"Heinrich!"

The traitor raised his eyes to his former friend, who was forever dutiful to the Fuhrer.

"You have disobeyed your orders, proving your disloyalty to your superiors and your Fuhrer. You are thus sentenced as a traitor."

Heinrich looked into the man's eyes and saw the emotion within: only the surging power of the Nazi regime. He had disobeyed an order; he had been ordered to kill and he had chosen otherwise. Because he had chosen not to kill, he was going to die for it.

Adolf drew his Luger and aimed it at Heinrich.  Paul wanted to stop this madness, they were all friends.  He stood his ground and bit his tongue; his mouth began filling with fresh, coppery blood.

Heinrich breathed. He looked up at Adolf, for a moment pondered attacking him and stealing his gun, but he knew he wouldn’t make it out of the building alive.  He stood his ground and looked through the window into the Chamber at the pale people. Their shaven heads looked animalistic in nature, some were missing teeth; their hair had been made into wigs and sold, their gold teeth melted down and stored in a bank account in Switzerland.  

Heinrich continued to stare at the people sealed in the Chamber, knowing that no matter what he did, they would still all be gassed.

"Wait!" Paul cried, knowing he was running a huge risk in intervening. He pulled his own Luger and pointed it at Heinrich.

"Turn the wheel, now. You're not thinking straight.

If you turn the wheel right now, we will pretend none of this ever happened." Paul looked to Adolf, who considered his proposition, then nodded at Heinrich, who was staring at him.

Heinrich turned to the suffering people and didn’t move or react. Paul's arm slowly lowered in hopeless defeat and Adolf took a step closer; the least he could do was make it a clean shot.

Paul took a breath, then Adolf pulled the trigger twice within the space of a second.

As the two bullets, one following the other as if they were tethered, slammed through Heinrich's skull and plugged his brain, he watched the pale people, then everything turned black.

Notes on “Outside the Chamber”

Another older story of mine, this was my response to dealing with the fact that humans willingly and without hesitation -- perhaps with a perverse enjoyment -- exterminated other human beings, supposedly under the pretext of “experimentation.”  In college I took a class on the Holocaust, where I learned a lot about this dark period in history and humanity, as well as meeting former concentration camp prisoners.  Seeing that tattooed number on the inside of that elderly woman’s arm made it all seem so horribly real.  While I don’t necessarily agree with the premise of this story anymore, it is nevertheless a powerful piece of writing that I’m proud of.