The Writing on the Wall

The water dripped gloomily off the dank concrete walls. The filthy hut stank of unwashed bodies and human feces. My job today was to clean it.

It was 1941 and Adolf Hitler hated me. To him, I was a filthy Jew, worth nothing more than the feces I was washing off the floor. My little brother Benjamin ran in, sobbing as if the world had ended. "Clara! The guard took away my bread ration for the day and now I won't get any food!" He curled up on my lap and looked up at me with those brown puppy dog eyes, filled with tears.

"Yes, I'll give you some of mine," I sighed. More than likely, I would give him all my food, then when he complained I would say, "It's ok, I'll have some tomorrow."

"How did you get in trouble anyway?" I asked.

"I might have tripped and spilled the bucket of water I was holding...," he said, looking up sadly, "and the guard and hit me with his gun!" He lifted his shirt and I gasped. Big, purple bruises stained his skin like grape juice on a white shirt. Red gashes covered him, oozing out blood. "How many times did he hit you, Benny?" I asked quietly.

"Ummm, eleventeen times?" he mumbled and frowned down at his fingers. Rolling my eyes, I got out my handkerchief from under my pillow. It contained three pieces of jewellery: Ma's wedding ring, my necklace and a watch Pa had gotten from his colleagues. Ma had sewn them into the lining of my dress before the Gestapo came and arrested us. Just thinking about it made my heart ache for the little white house on Hauptstrasse. I hoped my little terrier Stromer was okay.

"Come on. We'll see if we can bargain with the soldier. I'll give him a ring for three days ration, plus some soup," I said, coming out of my daydream. I grasped Benjamin's hand and we ambled down the narrow dirt path to the soldiers' main camp. There we were greeted by a red-haired soldier who had chunks of beef stuck to his salt-and-pepper mustache. He agreed to give us two days ration and soup for the ring and necklace. I bargained a bit more and he gave us a hunk of beef for the watch, which I handed to Benny. I gave him the jewellery, and I walked away. After about 5 minutes, I noticed that the sticky hand holding on to my dress was gone. My heart started thumping like a drum in my chest.

"Benny? Sweetheart, come on I have more food!" No reply. I threw the food down and ran wildly back to the camp, hiking up my skirts as I did so. Then, I saw him.

The soldiers had him tied up and were beating him with a thin white stick. Tears were streaming down his dirt streaked face. I ran over and started punching the soldier on the back. He turned around, furious, and pushed me down. I thrashed about in his arms, screaming my lungs out. He hit me with his stick and I coughed, weakening. This gave him the opportunity to tie me up with Benny.

"There!" the soldier said proudly, then spat at my feet.

"Ugly, Jewish trash!" he yelled. He turned on his heel and walked away, nodding proudly to his laughing colleagues. The soldier, who was hitting Benny with the stick, cleared his throat and in an arrogant way, introduced himself as Lieutenant Karl.

"Your brother seems to be stealing things. Hard earned food, interestingly enough. You see, we came across this little maggot and discovered some meat in his pockets. These things are expensive and in times like this we cannot afford to have little worms like him steal it." He sneered at me and continued on.

"You see, I don't think he earned this, do you? I personally think we need to show him what happens to people who don't earn their food."

"No!" I yelled, "We bought that food fair and square! I gave him three pieces of jewellery for that! Talk to the red-haired soldier over there! He has them! He can prove to you that we bought it!"

At this, Karl marched over to the redhead and calmly asked him to turn out his pockets. There was nothing there. I clenched my fists in fury. I had given him the jewellery! How dare he hide it! The lieutenant smirked and calmly strode back over to me.

"I don't see anything, do you?" I silently prayed to God.

"DO YOU!?" he screamed and slapped my face so hard I thought it might fall off. I nodded slowly, tears streaming down my face. One dripped off and landed on my hand.

"No... I didn't think so. So this little one here needs to be punished, and so do you. Soldiers, I think these two need a trip out of Auschwitz. Why don't you give them a lift?"

We were dragged into cars and driven away. After about a mile or so, we pulled up to a big concrete building. There were no windows or bars. Just a heavily bolted, thick metal door. I shuddered. I wrung my hands together, as they were shaking with anxiety. Where were we going? I had heard stories from people around the camp of trucks driving off with people and never coming back. We were ordered to get out of the truck and to march single file, into the building.

They led us into a locker room and told to strip off our clothes. Were they trying to strip me of my last shred of dignity? It was all I had left. The soldier barked an order in German, "Bewegung!" Then he shoved us into the next room, with harsh hands. The room was crammed with other people, sweaty and scared. What kind of train station was this?

I groped for Benny's tiny hand. I found it, sweaty and hot, and pulled him close to me.

"It smells bad in here. I want to go home!!" he sobbed and started crying, his body heaving. I looked down and reassured him that we would be okay. We would see our terrier Stromer  very soon. We would see our little white house on Hauptstrasse again. We would see Ma and Pa and for his birthday we would do something special. He looked at me with a wan smile on his cherubic face and said one word. "Okay". The air started getting thicker and thicker. I wrapped my arms around his trembling body and his shaking stopped.

Everything stopped.