Escaping reality

1

Lithuania 1942: It was two degrees celsius, just above freezing. The mountains behind us had white tips from the harsh snow. We walked in a line sluggishly like mindless zombies searching for their next meal. I was barely covered by the thin clothes on my back. Many of the men in this line are shivering. My short greasy black hair doing nothing to help warm my neck. I wish I could have shaved this morning, it seems that I have the beginning of a potential beard that may never leave my face.

I wonder where my sister is. Is she in the same situation? Why would they take me, a 25-year-old male, away from my sister? What do they need me for?

I was brought out of my thought by some voices to my left. The guards are shouting at us in a language I don't know. Whatever it was, it wasn't Russian. They keep pushing and pulling us towards something. Each step carries us closer towards what seems to be a dark hole clouded by a foggy haze. I quietly ponder what we could be marching towards and what that hole may be concealing. I keep hearing hushed whispers about it. What is it? Where are they taking us? Are we going to die? I felt a small tap on my arm and turned towards one of the men in line. Why are there only men in this line? Where are the women and children?

"What about you?" He had an unruly smile while saying this. I actually took the time to inspect the man before me. He had a grotesque look about him. His clothes were shredded with multiple unknown stains scattered all across. The brunt of these stains was mostly seen on what appeared to be a gray-hued shirt. His face was covered in soot. He must have been a miner.

"What?" I don't understand him. Was he speaking a different language?

"You don't speak English? I asked you if you had any thoughts on to where we are being led?" He had an angry scowl on his face. I still did not understand a word he said. He screamed it a bit too loud and the soldiers noticed this. One, in particular, seemed agitated by this man's words. It was almost as if he was appalled by the fact that this old man spoke words that he could understand.

He was wearing what appeared to be a grayish green overcoat with a red band on the left arm that portrayed a certain symbol. I recognized this symbol, It was a swastika. I've seen this while studying Hindu culture, It was used for good fortune. I don't believe that these men meant a type of good fortune for us, but maybe for themselves. He was also wearing pants of the same color and boots that reached about mid calf. It seemed as if each soldier was wearing the exact same outfit. They may have been amongst the lower ranks of their militia.

"QUIET!" It sounded like German. "Stay in your place you filthy Jew!" Spit was flying out of his mouth by this point.

"We are not filthy Jews." The man who questioned me earlier stated adamantly.

"What did you say to me? You're just filthy low life." The soldier was seething. He almost seemed like a rabid dog, he was foaming at the mouth.

"What could you possibly do to me?" He was just adding fuel to the fire that was slowly brewing in the depths of this soldier's stomach. " As a soldier, you wouldn't harm an innocent citizen."

"Fine if you want to act like this then I have no choice." The soldier advanced on the man. In his hand was something metallic, but I couldn't tell what it was.

A loud sound rang out.

The body of that brave and stubborn man now lay before me, blood pouring out of the wound in his chest. The blood painted his gray clothing turning it into a dark crimson red. He seemed so peaceful, yet so pained as he lay there motionless.

"Let this be a lesson to you all. If you wish to live, you will keep your mouths shut." With these final words, the soldier marched towards the dark hole and disappeared into the haze. A few of the lower ranked soldiers gathered the body and went to dispose of it. Where they put it I don't know.