I was there when my family were taken to the Jewish camps, presumably to be killed. It was the winter of 1933, we were settling for be night, into our beds of wool from our sheep farm.
Bang.
Initially I thought it was just a sheep escaping from its pen, I thought nothing of it. But then, I heard screaming and deep voices shouting. My instinct was to race out there and see what was going on, but my gut feeling was telling me different.
I raced out there, wanting to know what the hell was going on. I found my mother in the arms of a man that was not my father, he was dragging her outside.
“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” My voice was very shrilly, betraying my fear. A young man nodded my way, and a much older man was rushing towards me, raising his gun incase I tried to escape; but from what, I did not know. Before I could put up a fight, he has my arms behind my back, I struggled against him, but he would have nothing of it, he knocked me out cold.
I remember waking up on a train, occupied with about 100 people, young and old. They all looked scared. They were holding their children, cradling them, singing to them, telling them everything was going to be ok. But by the look on their faces and the surrounding people, I could tell they knew otherwise.
It was then I remembered that they would have taken my whole family, not just me. I started crawling through the people, because I knew if I stood up I would fall other. I started saying my mothers name “Gretel, Gretel, are you here? It’s joy, mum, are you on here?” No one responded, she must have been on another carriage, I hope.
About 3 hours later, we come to a complete halt. We must have arrived to wherever we were going, because the doors opened and what appeared to be soldiers were standing by it with guns, ordering us to get out of the carriage. Everyone got up slowly, taking their time. They must have known what was going on.
We were herded around like sheep, with men yelling at us and babies crying in their mothers arms. We were moved into a bunker and told to claim a bed, put on the clothes on the bunk and line up. The clothes looked like that of prison clothes, but I am suer that was what the purpose of it all was, we were the prisoners of Adolf Hilter. We were also given a star, it was a clear reminder that we were jewish.
I was scared to say the least. Even in the space of a day or maybe even more, I had given up on finding my family. The last time I was ever to see them was the night where we were taken from our house, where we were taken to certain death.
We were lined up and they shaved our heads. Everyone was free of hair, and we all looked exactly the same.
We were starved, they rarely ever fed us, it was pure torture. Everyone around me was frail and delicate, including myself. It was like if I touched them, I would break every bone in their body.
We never saw the man behind it all, but all I knew is that he was cruel and heart-less. I wished a horrible death upon him, like those around me who were emaciated and slowly dying, suffering.
The conditions there were terrible. As time went on, less and less people would return to the bunker. Sometimes, when instructed to, the soldiers would line up 10 men and execute them by shooting them in the head. We weren’t allowed to practise our religion, and if anyone even tried, they too would be executed.
One day, very early in the morning, we were roused and forced into a very crowded room. Everyones face was very solemn and afraid, but I didn’t quite understand what for. They locked us inside the room, with no army personnel around. I assumed that this meant the situation couldn’t be good, and I was fretting for the worst.
It was then that a gas started filling the room. I heard screams and saw people collapsing to the ground. I tried not to breathe, hoping that if I could hold my breath for long enough, I might have a chance at survival.
My lungs started to burn, and I had to give in to my own demon. By then, most of the people had fallen, most likely dead or in the last stages. My life flashed before my eyes; running with my little in the meadow, mum braiding my hair and humming a song that almost put my to sleep if it weren’t for her yanking and pulling every last strand on my head, my dad holding me in his arms when I was sick. Those were my only moments of happiness in the last 6 months, all taken away from me in an instant.
The last thing I remember seeing was my mum, gorgeous as ever, smiling at me. She held out her hand and I was more than happy to take it.
Kalynda