Broken Wings

Taken

Maximilian Schüffen-   Munich, Germany 1942

He was stolen. Like many things that are stolen, he was violently whisked from his home without consent, and taken somewhere where no one could find him. They came rather suddenly, stomping their way up the steps with their big black boots. There were four S.S. officers in total, all determined to do their job.

"You filthy pig!" a soldier barked.

He glanced up groggily with droopy eyes. A horizon of tan blurs stood hovering over the bedside. Confused, he weakly sat up, only to be violently jerked out from the covers. An eruption of snickers broke out. Who were these people?

"Come on, Jude, can't you walk?" One of the tan figures pulled him by his wrist, yanking him towards the stairs. His breathing intensified as he realized the situation. They were taking him away.

"Stop, please," he croaked. A deep, swelling pain emerged from his ankle, causing him to stumble down the stairs.

"Get in the truck." A long, blurry finger pointed to a dark mass, presumably the truck. Nodding, Maximilian stumbled blindly across the cobblestone road.

They were taking him away.

❀❀❀

"We are all going to die."

"I learned that quite some time ago, my friend."

Maximilian counted eight blurry figures, all huddled up in the back of a truck. It was in the first few minutes that he found the most out of his fellow companions. For instance, the woman with the high pitched voice was extremely morbid. She spoke of death as if she experienced it firsthand, which shook Maximilian's already unstable nerves.

The man with the mellow voice was quite clever, and judging by the way he spoke to the woman with a blue blouse, he had a wife. There were two children, both huddling in the corners silently, lingering close to the woman in the blue blouse.

"Who are you? I don't think I've seen you before," the woman in the blouse said.

"Maximilian Schüffen." Pain revolted through his entire body. Bed. He needed a bed.

"Are you okay? You don't-"

"Ja, I'm fine. I just need to rest," he said, gulping. He felt all eyes staring at him, judging in concern. Smiling weakly, he gently shut his eyes, drifting into a lulling sleep.

"Are we almost there?" she whined, pressing her nose against the foggy window.

"Just a little further Else." He laughed, drawing the figure of a snowman on the window. Giggling, Else rubbed away the bottom of the window.

"There's the snow! You can't have a snowman without snow."

"I know that." A laugh escaped his mouth.

"Max?"

"Ja, Else?"

"What's a Jew?" She stared up at him with those eyes. A curious sparkle gleamed in them, begging him to tell her.

"You know what a Jew is."

"No I don't. Are you a Jew?"

"Ja. I'm a Jew."

"Herr Schüffen, wake up. We are about to unload," the clever man said.

Maximilian groaned, realizing that he was still in the back of the Nazi truck. A long, red-brown building was visible, standing defiantly in the middle of nowhere. Was this the concentration camp so many spoke about?

I would like to say that it was. It would have made the life of Maximilian Schüffen so much easier.

"Get out!" an S.S. officer yelled, pushing the two children off the back. Screaming, the woman in the blouse jumped after them, along with her husband. Maximilian was the last Jew out.

"Jude," the officer sneered, slamming the door behind him.

Maximilian soon found that many S.S. officers have a passion for screaming. They also had a tendency to use their strength to beat those who performed unsatisfactory.

The team of scraggly Jews were led in a single file line towards the entrance of the building. It was quite the opposite of welcoming. A feeling of rising dread arose in the pit of his stomach. Where were they taking them? His question was asked for him.

"Where are we going?"

"Stupid Jude," the officer yelled, slamming a baton into the asker's skull. Cringing, Maximilian stopped in his tracks. He glanced sympathetically at the man lying on the ground who was dabbing his head with the sleeve of his shirt. The nabbing pain in his ankle persisted, hesitant to continue marching.

"Keep marching!"

They were led through several long, narrow passages, marching automatically on, until they reached two metal doors that led to a gymnasium. They were at a school. The double doors revealed a party of disheveled prisoners, lying haphazardly on the wooden floors. Several stations were set up throughout the room, S.S. officers manning them.

"They're going to kill us! First, they're going to take all of our belongings away and then they're going to murder us all here!" the morbid women shrieked, being shoved towards one of the stations. Shuddering, Maximilian dutifully followed, lining up behind his companions.

Else. Where was she right now? Had she noticed his absence yet?

His face remained emotionless, staring off blankly into the distance. Yet his soul was sobbing, torn apart in a matter of minutes. It was like he'd already forgotten what it was like to cry outwardly.

"Name."

"M-maximilian Schüffen."

"Age."

"Twenty-two."

Maximilian glanced around the gym, studying faces. The clever man stood at the next station, removing his watch from his wrist. His head felt faint. And then-

The blackness. Surrounding him like a blanket of darkness.

"Then how come I'm not Jewish?"

"Else, you know these answers. I'm not your real brother, not by blood."

"Ja, but I thought that all families were either Christian or Jewish."

"Not necessarily, sweetie."

"Are Jews bad?" She asked it with such innocence. How clueless and oblivious to the world she was then. If only she was like that now.

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"I don't know. But are they?"

"That's for you to decide. Do you think I'm bad?"

"Nein, Maximilian, you're the kindest person I know."

"I love you, honey, don't you ever forget that."