Broken Wings

Train Ride

Maximilian Schüffen- Germany 1942

"Maximilian, wake up. Wake up."

"Wake up, Max! Please, wake up."

"Herr Schüffen, wake up, it's time to go."

The voices. They surrounded his head like a thick storm cloud that lingered in the sky, threatening to burst into hail. Yet, he could not react to them. He knew they were there, yet he couldn't move. The blackness still remained, refusing to go away. Maximilian felt himself being lifted up, cradled like an injured bird. Footsteps pounded gently beneath him, covering up the loud slurs of abuse that were swung at them.

"Herr Schüffen, Maximilian, wake up. We have to board the train now."

His eyes fluttered, struggling to open. Where was he?

"Is he dead?" A voice shouted. One filled with hate and order. A Nazi. Maximilian felt the rising dread fill his chest again. He was with the Nazis.

"Nein." A softer voice, which Max felt vibrate through his chest. It was filled with fear and kindness.

"Get in then, you filthy Jude!"

He felt himself thrown onto a dusty, wooden floor. Sour breaths breathed upon his back. When the man who had been carrying him was thrust inside, he crawled towards Maximilian as best he could, avoiding stepping on his fellow prisoners.

"Hallo. Are you awake yet, son?"

Maximilian weakly lifted his head from the floor, trying to focus his eyes. It seemed like dozens of brown and gray dots huddled in the tiny space in which he was placed in.

"Where am I?"

"A train car. We are being deported," the kind voice said.

He nodded meekly, setting his head back on the dusty floor. It was crowded. And filthy. And cold.

But Maximilian didn't care.

Sleep was all that mattered; it seemed to be calling his name. All of the bones in his body seemed to want to collapse into a deep, deep sleep. His stomach grumbled. What did food taste like, anyways? The train soon lulled him into that deep sleep. He was oblivious to everything else. The screaming, the crying, the stench.

Thank goodness for that.

❀❀❀

"We are going to be stuck here forever." It was the morbid woman, again. Maximilian forced open his eyes, lifting his head from the ground. He rubbed his neck, which was stiff from lying uncomfortably on the splintered, dusty wooden floor.

"I saved you some food. It's not much, but it's the best I could do. Don't let the others see it," the kind man said, drawing a chunk of stale, soggy bread from behind him. Yet, it was food, and Max didn't care what it was or where it came from.

"Danke." He nodded his head, taking the bread carefully and tearing away at it. Though it was the most disgusting thing Maximilian had ever put in his mouth, he gnawed at it gratefully. When the last crumb of dough was consumed, his stomach still decided it was not enough and continued to growl.

"Sorry," the man repeated.

Maximilian nodded his gratitude, trying to focus his eyes. All he could gather about the train car was: it was dark, dirty, smelly, cramped, and had a bucket as a toilet.

Such grand amenities.

A volcano of voices erupted, its lava slowly flowing throughout the car. The issue was widely debated. Who should get the bucket next?

"I have two children! They will wet their pants if they don't get to use the bucket soon, so unless you want to live in a bed of filth--"

"We already live in a bed of filth, my dear."

"I don't care your reasoning, I was in line first!"

"Will you all just shut your mouths and use the bucket, so I can?"

The volcano continued to erupt.

"Will you please be quiet?" Maximilian whispered through dry, cracked lips. His body felt like it had been thrown out of a plane and left to wither in the sun.

"Silence! You are all acting like the pigs they say we are. Form a line, without pushing, and wait your turn," the kind man called, winking at Max. The eruption slowly began to secede, leaving a burnt scar on many souls. Still, many sat in bitter angriness, fuming on how they should have been the first one to use the bucket.

"Do you have any loved ones?" the kind man asked, smiling.

"Ja."

"And who would they be?"

"Else, my sister. Und Rosalinde, who saved me." Tears burned in his eyes, just thinking of the past. Where were they? What happened to them?

"You'll find them, I promise, Max."

Maximilian nodded, at a loss for words. The man stared off in the distance, contemplating his current situation, or maybe remembering the past.

"Und you?"

"Everyone, Maximilian, everyone."

❀❀❀

The train ride was nonstop, with the exception of the few stops that were made to empty the bucket.

That dreaded bucket.

People were beginning to lose patience.

"When will they let us out of this nightmare?"

The question was often repeated throughout the car over and over again, sometimes shouted, sometimes whispered. And then, there were incidents, as there always is when several people are placed together in close proximity. The first major one occurred when the bucket was to be taken outside to be emptied. Typically, it was the person or persons sitting closest to the bucket that would be selected as bucket dumpers. Therefore, the prisoners sitting by the bucket would rotate, so each person had a turn to take out the bucket.

This time it was the morbid lady sitting closest to the bucket.

When the train had come to a screeching stop, and the train car doors swung open, the morbid lady dutifully lifted the bucket from its place and stepped over her companions. Maximilian strained his head to get a glimpse of the outside world, but all attempts were wasted. Though he could not see what was happening, he could certainly hear it. Shouts were heard outside. And then the ringing of gunfire. Maximilian heard a high, screeching scream, which came to a sudden stop.

Everyone in the car held their breath.

"That's what happens when you filthy Jews try to revolt against Hitler." An S.S. officer smirked, slamming the door closed.

"She had a child," someone whispered.

The morbid woman was never spoken of again.