Arbeit Macht Frei

11

Hans left early that morning. He hadn’t slept. He walked weakly towards Auschwitz, his letter weighing heavily in his pocket. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground. Everything he had ever wanted was so much more than he could ever handle. Viktor was wrong—one does not get used to Auschwitz, he merely becomes numb to it. Hans had become numb, but he yearned for the feeling of security he felt before his days at Auschwitz. He hadn’t told Lea what he was doing. He would explain to his dearest family just why he couldn’t stay at the ghastly camp any longer. He would tell them the awful sins Mengele had done, and they would leave. They would pack their things and disappear; somewhere that Mengele would never be able to find them.

He saw his beautiful family. Happy. Safe. In a carriage on their way to a new life. Somewhere Hitler hadn’t reached yet. Hans thought of Sweden or Norway.

Hans paused in front of the gate. Something was wrong. It was louder than usual. There was more movement.

“Fire!” Someone shouted from inside the camp.

Hans forget the day before in a flash of adrenaline. There were nearly seven thousand prisoners in the camp, he had to help.

He raced into the camp, but saw that the prisoners were not the ones rushing in distress.

“Reichsleiter, what’s going on?” Hans shouted to a soldier running through the camp, papers filling his arms.

“The Red Army.” He shouted. “They’re coming! We have to burn it all!”

Hans’ eyes were wide.

An explosion erupted from behind the Reichsleiter. Hans’ ears rang as he ducked for cover.

Fire appeared over the prisoner huts.

“What was that?” Hans shouted.

“The crematorium!” The soldier shouted back. “Everything burns!”

Hans’ eyes were wide with shock. The same army that was destroying the most terrifying location in Germany, and they were at his home.

Another explosion. Hans watched limbs fly through the air with the fire. They had blown up the warehouse.

He thought of the children. All those young souls, likely sleeping, unaware of the danger around them.

Hans began running towards the children’s quarters. He saw the rusty playground, for the first time since he had come to Auschwitz, empty. All the children were inside.

He stepped into the small, warm room. Small bodies slept all around him.

His eyes were immediately drawn to David’s bed, or what was his bed. There was a body there, but whoever it belonged to was not sleeping. The breathing was not slow and calm. It was rigid and scared. 

Hans walked quickly towards it, and placed his hand on the tiny shoulder. The child jumped up, and Hans saw that it was a little girl.

Tears streamed down her face. “Are we going to die?” She whispered.

Hans shook his head. “No.” He scooped her up and began to walk up, but she fought him.

“What about my sister?”

“Wake her, quickly.” Hans looked around at the children, sleeping around him. The little girl raced to the bunk that was beside hers and shook her sister.

“Mariam, we have to go.” She whispered.

Her sister woke quickly, and when she heard the noise from outside jumped from her bed.