War Torn Love (55 page)

             
As we were preparing to leave, everyone’s arms were full of either our belongings, or small children. Abram choose to carry his daughter, her little head leaning on his shoulder as if it was a pillow, and she was drooling all over him. Her arms dangled over his shoulder, after she had wiggled them free from inside the confines of the blanket, flopping then back and forth as she walked, that was one thing about my daughter, she could virtually sleep through just about anything. I am the exact opposite to her. Drop a pin and I am awake. This has made it difficult on me over the last three years. Having to listen to several people snoring at the same time, it could truly be maddening

             
It did not take long to discover once outside that it was an extremely cold morning out. I was going to freeze, not dressing warmly enough. The weather outside, that day was light snow - a couple of inches of fresh snow had already fallen just since last night, after my husband and I had been out.  The prevailing wind wiped up inside my dress, and danced around, successfully cooling me off. My knees were knocking, and I had
Goosebumps
up and down my legs.

             
As we were making our way down to the train station on the other side of town, the whistles of were going
off in the distance as it was pulling into town.  Going off two separate times the whistle blow loudly. After three years, I knew this inevitably meant the train was pulling into the station for us.

Chapter Nineteen

            
           
“The ride to the unknown!”

             
Maryn walked beside me, holding my hand, with her one free hand, her beautiful daughter on her other hand.

             
She unexpectedly spoke up loudly, reminding us all, “Do you guys all realize that this is the very first time any of us had had a chance to step foot outside these gloomy gates in nearly three long grueling years, I cannot believe we are finally leaving that place once and for all. I know that I surely shall not miss that horrible place and everything it represents.”

             
Deep down I knew none of us were actually excited about leaving, I think secretly we all felt the place we were being taken by the Germans was going to be much worse. We had no other reason to believe otherwise - to cope, we had to lie to ourselves.

             
I want to see the Ghetto one last time, one last look. Then I thought, why bother, this just was not the sort of place that one would strive to – Leave. I had already had a pretty
-
good image built up in my mind - too many painful memories, and I knew I’d probably have nightmares the rest of my life. It was a horrible place, so no I did not need to turn around. But it had also been home. Truthfully, I had no want to see that place ever again, as long as I lived. If it
was physically possible to wipe this place from my memory I would.”

             
When I realized this, it was a sobering thought. To be escaping this prison fully was impossible - I would be haunted by this until the day I died. I just hoped that this change we were being forced to make was the lesser of the two evils. Of course, we were not walking through the gates to the outside world freely, being released on our free will. As we wandered closer to the gate. German soldiers were now there to greet us, and leading along us, as we had to pass through the rest of the city again on our way to the train station.

             
The non-Jewish inhabitants stopped and briefly watched us, and then went back to their daily business - they appeared as afraid as us. There was one difference from before. After three years while we were prisons, it would appear in a way they had also become prisoners. It looked like they were nearly starving; the buildings that lined the city streets were unkempt. A massive German swastika was now draped city hall, and there were more troops everywhere.

             
We made it to the train station. There were five separate boxcars, with the Nazi symbol painted on the side of each one of them, hooked onto the steam locomotive. By the time we arrived, the doors to the boxcars were opened, ready for us to load. Looking around, I witnessed several soldiers eyeing all of us with contempt written openly across their faces – some with pure unadulterated hatred.  So much so I am sure they would have loved to shoot us if they were given the go ahead.

             
The boarding began immediately - we were in a long line waiting to board. All
together,
there was between five-hundred, to seven hundred of us all waiting to board.  A Nazi officer pointed with a gun, directing us which car we were supposed to board. The cars were filling up rather quickly with the many people. 

             
Down the line, we were all startled when an unexpected gunshot broke out, interrupting the calm, subdued loading.  And then shortly afterwards there was another gunshot going off even closer to our present position - with that came fresh screams of horror, there I noticed a women on her knees crying loudly, holding on tightly onto what appeared to be her murdered boy. I heard the German screaming at her. She was clearly devastated. When she would not leave her son’s body behind, the soldier had a couple of Jews grab her and throw her into a boxcar.  We all knew what it had meant, without having to even look. We had been bearing witnessing to such atrocities for three years now, usually every day be were forcefully exposed to unspeakable  things. Murders, beatings, verbal abuse, humiliation, rape. We were had become conditioned to the true horrors of this war was representing.

             
When the gunfire erupted, I grew concerned Abiela would wake up, but bless her
heart;
she
slept
on - even quietly snoring. Seeing her like that cheered me up. I guess she was conditioned to it, since she heard it nearly every day. When I looked into her young face, I realized the fact that she still walked this earth, that there was a small measure of hope left in me.

             
The family had gotten up to the boxcar we were being loaded onto, the third car down from the locomotive, two ahead of the locomotive. It was already nearly bursting full with others, yet the soldiers demanded my family start boarding the boxcar at once, regardless.

             
One of the soldiers was brandishing a small whip like instrument, and officer, striking those who were loading too slowly in their eyes. Question is where were we supposed to go - the boxcar was packed.

             
Being as high as it was, and carrying bags, and children, Abram and my brother-in-law gave all the women behind them a hand up into the boxcar. Then he and the other men began coming aboard. Oh, the whole boxcar smelled something horribly - it was clear they did not bother clearing out the inside of the car after each trip.

             
However, before the last of us to boarded, which
was Abram’s
dad nervous when it looked like there may be a problem with him being able to come aboard in the same car. He began to come over to the boxcar to get in, but than a nearby soldier shouted at him,

             
He shouted, “No more, now move down to the next boxcar, down!”

             
My father-in-law was begging to come aboard, he put his hands together, with a look of sincerity, “Please my family is already aboard this one, I need to be with my family, sure we could make room for me.” He pointed desperately back to the boxcar we were now in, not wanting to be estranged from his darling family - he knew
he needed to stay together. His greatest fear had suddenly become true, that was being separated.

             
Abram was trying his utmost best to reach out to his beloved father, holding onto the door, and hanging his body way out trying to reach out to him. Panic written on both their faces. Abram was now panicking, calling out to his father. “Poppa, Poppa, please, please!

             
His father ignored the commands, and moved passed the
soldiers. By
now, I was st
arting to get extremely worried
I was actually quite terrified. Looking over at my husband, and I could tell there was something definitely wrong!

             
The soldier shouted at him in German, “Halt!” without bothering to give him a chance to halt, shot him in the back of the head. It was like a witnessing a nightmare, unfolding in slow motion. Just like that, he fell slowly face forward into the snow. But before he did his right arm had been raised high, reaching out to his son.

             
My father-in-law was screaming, “I love you my son, I love you, take care of Momma.”  Then like that, the gun went off, and he was silenced forever more. Before the gun was fired, I could sense, he knew he was about to die. Moments after his body lay motionless in the snow – it was quickly stained red with his blood, spilt by Nazi.

             
It felt like my heart had just been ripped out from my chest. I could barely breathe.  I heard the gun go off, and then saw him fall. I started to cry. It was not just that, Abram was instantly pelted with his own father’s blood,
since at the time he had just grabbed hold of his father’s hand. Abram having to witness the murder of his father first handedly, turn pale, - he did not move, I think he was in complete shock.

             
I loved my father-in-law so much, and oh what about my husband, and my mother-in-law. I screamed out in pain as it began to sink in what had just happened! “No, no, no, please God no!”

             
I shook my head; I could understand just how much it hurts to lose a parent in this manner, after seeing my own mother’s gunned down.

             
With the train beginning to roll out, I sensed Abram was about to do something really stupid, and completely snap. I saw him starting to clutch his fists, I knew that look of his, I knew he was thinking of jumping down out of the car, and attacking that soldier, it would spell out certain suicide if he had.

             
He had to be stopped. Poppa was the closest to him. I glanced over at Poppa, and he looked back at me. He understood perfectly what I was asking of him. He knew how important he was to me. Poppa did
not want
to lose another of his family member to these Nazis. Too many of us were being taken and killed – it was too high a price. He just was going to have no more of it. My Poppa reached out to Abram, and with all his strength he could muster in his fifty year old body, he began pulling my husband back into himself as the door began slamming shut, they then both quickly flew backwards unable to catch their balance.