大象传媒

18th March 1942

18th March, 1942
This date was pierced into my heart, embedded into my soul. The figures and letters started swimming before my very eyes. Eradication was no viable option. I would have to live with this forever. For eternity.
Mighty hands seized me from the depths of desperation and hurled me into the fiery flames of hell. Red. Yellow. Orange. The burning furnace of death on this earth. My first experience of a living nightmare.

18th March, 1942
It was a day I had been anticipating since the birth of my only son. It was the day when my child reached the momentous age of thirteen. A day when this innocent boy would transform into a virtuous man. A single Jew who throughout his whole life would contribute to the holy achievements and endeavours of the whole of our nation.
As he stood in the centre of the diminutive basement, in a disowned shack, reading his selection of our blessed bible, my eyes brimmed with tears whilst my soul wept uncontrollably. Only a selection of my family crowded around as his soft, sweet voice filled the room. Oblivious to the dust and dirt and the darkness of Austria. Oblivious to the Nazi soldiers hunting us down and the miserable lives we had to endure every day. Oblivious to our immense depression and fear. It was the 18th March 1942 that my son, my child, helped us see light. He showed us hope through the purity of his song. He gave us reason to survive.
This false sense of security lasted 22 and half minutes. The sound of loud, distinct footsteps marching down the stairs outside broke up the murmur of congratulations and the family embrace. The wooden door was smashed down with a mighty fist. Then silence. The black silhouette of a German soldier transfixed our stares. We eyed him incredulously and each one of us was returned an individual menacing glare. One that bore a burning hole through our hearts.
I swallowed. Once. Twice. A third time. A shudder began its journey from the back of my neck down my spine. Perspiration painted itself along my forehead. But I controlled any emotions I was feeling.
I stood unmoved. My family around me. Together we were like an army against this evil enemy. Nothing would break us. I kept my eyes focused on the tall, intimidating figure. He started advancing towards me, each step matching the beating of my heart. One. Two. Three. He raised his arms in my direction and tightly gripped around my neck. I twisted in agony as his grasp increased in strength. I could taste his pungent smell. I could feel the flesh around his cold-blooded body. He knotted my arms behind my back in a painful twist but I prevented the blood-curling scream from leaving my mouth. I would not grant this devil any unnecessary contentment. With the help of an aide, this man lifted me from my feet and dragged me out of the small room, up the narrow staircase and into the murky world of Austria. My wife who had stood my side throughout our whole marriage of 27 and half years was not prepared to end it today. She seized my son and my eight-year-old daughter and followed the soldiers and myself outside. I could hear her pitiful sobs. I could hear her inconsolable prayers. I longed to comfort her but was unable to escape the clutch of these tyrants.
Outside it was as if the world had momentarily stopped moving. No birds flew overhead. No people walked by. No trees blew in the wind.
I scrutinized the truck alongside the road. A truck full of men stripped of their dignity. Some crying. Some moaning. All praying. I was flung onboard. My head hit the floor. A loud bang echoed outside. My wife shrieked in desperation and helplessness. My two children yelped in sympathetic pain. I raised my head to the heaven and shouted a heartbroken prayer. 鈥淧lease G-d. Save us.鈥�
I watched as the tormenters glared at me, their eyes glinting in satisfaction.
I remember glancing at my family and watching their painful expressions. I recalled all our happy years as a family, all the times we had spent together, all the memories we had shared. I heard their aching cries for me, their furious shouts at the soldiers.
My children knelt down by the side of the road as my wife frantically tried to reach up to me. They watched dumbfound as I was driven away.
I knew in my heart I would never see them again.
18th March, 1942.

19th March, 1942
I saw red. The red of blood. The red of eyes. Eyes that led to the soul of evil. Men who welcomed evil and bathed in the satisfaction it produced. A world of red. Unconscious of the events around me I focused on the black gates leading to my home for eternity. Tall, black gates. Below the surface of terror I was suffering, it was fact that upon passing those tall, black gates there was no means of return. No escape. Every single one of us was to live permanently in this hell. Men around me were similarly becoming accustomed to the light. Eyes blinking, hands shaking, hearts sobbing. The facts I had discovered were apparently becoming common knowledge, as each person examined the gates. In their hearts they accepted the same truth. The time when we would leave this world of hatred and trauma would be the point of death. Our death.
I felt German breath down the nape of my neck. 鈥淢ove鈥�, he commanded. Arms still pinned behind my back, eyes locked in front I stumbled onto the ground and apprehensively edged forward.
The concentration camps beckoned ahead. I felt them reaching out a hand and viciously yanking me in. Attracting me like magnetism. Trapping me like a fly without consent. I absorbed all signs of sanity outside. Fresh air, regular sounds, traces of freedom before I would be deposited into the hands of devils, to live, sleep and breathe fear. All day. Every day. Forever.
My clothes were torn from my body, as simultaneously hope was torn from my heart. I stood naked in a small, square, empty chamber as a solitary Nazi soldier inspected me. His eyes ablaze, staring at me. As his vision studied all my privacy it felt like flames of fire consuming my body. Burning. Burning my skin. Burning my soul. He nodded his head in approval, I shook my head in mortal trepidation. The soldier summoned a fellow Nazi who imprinted a number onto my right upper arm. 126759. One hundred and twenty six thousand seven hundred and fifty eight desperately unfortunate fellow people entered before me. Entered into a night where you could not see tomorrow. A single question prominently appeared in my mind. How many were still alive?
During the journey from the small office to the room I would call home I continuously drifted in and out of consciousness, only to be kicked awake by the boot of a soldier. I glanced up into his face. His scowl so fierce, his eyes so inquisitive, his expression so cruel, like a hungry fox searching for prey. And when the fox found his victim? What happened then? I detected signs of impatience and irritation and so painfully regained balance on my feet.
At the doorway of this new room I stood I examined its interior. Row upon row of single wooden beds. Some occupants sleeping, some staring into the void above, others standing in salute to the Nazi soldier. I eyed each man. Their image was beyond masculinity. Thin. Dirty. Pale. I couldn鈥檛 bear to look at them. I was sick beyond belief. These were once proud men who stood before G-d in heaven and vowed to serve Him all his days. These were men who worked honestly every day to earn a living in order to support family who waited at home. These were men who brought up good, decent children in the path of Judaism.
These were poor souls who, like myself had been ripped of identity and given a number instead of their name. These were poor souls who, like myself, had been seized from the depths of desperation and hurled me into the fiery flames of hell. These innocent man had been deprived of all compassion and mercy and now lived eternally in the hands of Nazis. I felt nauseated.
I sat on the mattress that had been assigned to me. Cries of death enveloped me. Ringing in my ears. Pounding in my heart. Shrieks of anguish. Screams of agony. Cries of torture. Moans of suffering. I heard one young girl plead with the Nazi, 鈥淣ot Mama, please not my Mama.鈥�
I wept uncontrollably, invisible to the eyes of any tyrant. I allowed my emotions a path of escape. I began to drown in my flooding misery. It was incomprehensible that human beings could involve themselves in such catastrophic harm, inflict such hateful cruelty and smile throughout. These men were not human. Their hearts were stone, their brains cold as ice.
Minutes. Days. Months followed. Wherever I turned, whatever I was doing, the devil was forever laughing.
Under the Germans鈥� watchful eyes we acted like machines with no reason to survive. When commanded we obeyed. When questioned we answered. When we dare query an order or unsuccessfully complete a task, we were punished. Sentenced to the ultimate punishment. Death.
Smoke filled my lungs. I breathed in the ashes of people who, like myself, focused on the idea of survival. Hope was slowly fading. Outside the world was black. Darkness everywhere.
I longed for the familiarity of home in Austria, the touch of my wife, the laughs of my children at jokes I used to share. The sense of closure and happiness. I prayed for their safety and survival and for the long awaited moment of unity.
I was unaccustomed to the terror I was living in. Desperately I tried to recall the sound of my children鈥檚 voices calling 鈥楶apa.鈥� They had been washed away. Replaced with cries of grief from young children who had been cut off from life by Nazi soldiers. Murdered in cold blood. Innocent children who would never be able to make a family of their own. Never be able to continue the family name. Never be able to see another day. Innocent children, mothers, fathers 鈥� killed because of their religion. Because of their beliefs. Because they were Jews.
The devil was always laughing.
Every day another five thousand people slaughtered. Executed. Destroyed to nothing like the dust of the earth. People were no longer considered people; they became insignificant matter that had to be annihilated. Flames of light that had to be extinguished. Depression was ever living. No person dared become an acquaintance with another. For one day you would say hello. And the next, goodbye.
I could go on no more.

18th March, 1943
A year had passed. The red was still glowing bright. The red of blood. The red of eyes. The world of red. Normality had passed. I was living in a daze. On the edge of survival. On the verge of falling into the pit of darkness. Hundreds of thousands innocuous people heaved into the camps everyday. None had ever left. I waited for the day my number would be called. The moment when my time would be up.
My wish was soon granted.

There was no verification for the pain,
No justification for the agony,
They tortured for fun.

19th March, 1943
I took the long walk down to the room where I would meet my death. The room where nobody survived. I sent my family a silent prayer. 鈥淚 love each and every one of you.鈥� Never forget me. I stood tall and firm until I could no longer muster any strength. I鈥檝e lived past my time. I鈥檓 sorry. The Jews will beat the Germans. The Jews will live on. I will not contribute to this triumph. I will not survive.

19th March, 1943鈥�

The Nazi shook the wad of paper in front of an assembly of soldiers. Each laughed enthusiastically, pleased with the pain they had successfully inflicted. Satisfied with the agony they had produced. This Jew, 126759, had been another flame extinguished, another soul that would live no longer.
The description of this man鈥檚 emotions and feelings, hatred and agony would be nothing more than ashes on the ground.
The Nazi shredded the sheaves of paper and threw them into the burning furnace

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