A heart touching story with an ending that will leave a lump in your throat.
Written by Samarth Rangavittal
--------------------------------------HANS---------------------------------------
Elise ran past the courtyard, hair flying in the wind, and caught her
breath. Throwing her head back, she let out a melodious peal of laughter
and ran on. The majestic Alps were a wonderful background for young
children's play, not something to be found in today's crowded cities.
Hans Wojnicki watched her run, pretending that he would catch her, but
letting her get away - it thrilled her no end that she was faster than him.
She delighted in holding his hand, pretending that they were married - in
their make believe games he was always the one to fetch the wood to
build the house, the one who'd fight the monsters that lurked in the
Bavarian countryside and drive her fears away.
Hans had always known she was the girl for him, so when he proposed
marriage she'd been surprised, shocked even that he'd had to ask. Her
parents' approval was swift, and within the week they'd been married at
the synagogue in Merysberg. They were happy with each other, a
contentment born out of years spent in each other's company, giving rise
to a comforting familiarity.
Then came the offer one day, when he was in his father-in-law's study,
discussing how best to invest in the barley crop for the coming summer.
A telegraph had arrived from the capital, from the office of Radio
Opelski. Their violinist had left to perform in the Vienna Orchestra, and
they were looking for a young replacement, someone raw, with a village
background perhaps. Would he be so kind as to audition for them?
Within a moment, Hans knew his chance had come, and by the end of
the week he had impressed the radiopersons sufficiently to land his first
real job, that of a violinist for the National Radio.
"Father! Father come here!" his son called out as he played. Hans wiped
the tears from the corner of his eyes and shook himself out of his reverie.
Frede Wojnicki was golden haired with deep brown eyes, a combination
that was unique to the Rhine where his mother was from. He was tall for
a boy of five, and was awfully talkative with a penchant for make-belief.
Hans was sure he got that from Elise's stories that he'd heard as a little
child.
"What is it? Why do you disturb me so early in the morning ?" Hans
enquired, his tall figure casting a shadow over the boy. Frede gestured
towards the opening of the tent, in his excitement it was all he could do
to keep from falling over. "They have come, father. The Free Men,
perhaps they are looking for us?" "No, Frede. Haven't I told you before,
these aren't the men, they are the Guards we must hide from. Quick,
quick! Put on your coat and join me. We can go work on that gold mine,
and someday we will be rich enough to buy a palace!" "A palace?", Frede
enquired, "Now that will be something ! I shall tell Ann all about it, and
she can come visit me. Where has she gone off to, Father ?"
"Do you see the train there, sonny ?" Hans asked, pointing to the black
soot-filled rails. "She has gone off into the hills to meet her family, to tell
them all about you. That train leaves for her town every week, so maybe
she'll be back in a fortnight".
Frede smiled at his father and straightened his cap. He held the pick-axe
at an angle on his young shoulders, and trudged away towards the
quarry. Hans smeared his face with soot, to avoid recognition, and
walked behind his son. Another day had just begun at Auschwitz.
--------------------------------------ELISE---------------------------------------
Elise had seen many days away from her family, but none had prepared
her for the sorrow when she moved in with Hans. He was the one she
had always dreamt of being with, but she'd hoped to live in the
countryside, in the beautiful hills and lush Alpine meadows. She'd
dreamed of having her own little school, where she would teach young
girls to embroider dresses and spin strong cloth, providing them with
income to live on their own terms.
But in the gutters of the city of Warsaw, nobody cared for a woman who
had such dreams. She was just another hand in the factory, to darn and
stitch parts that would move through a machine. She was one among the
hundreds of women who had accompanied their husbands when they
moved to the city in search of jobs and opportunity. Hans had found
work as an violinist, and every morning, she would wake up to the sound
of polonaise on the radio. And his love for music bought her support - it
had won her over as a child, and nothing had changed.
It was a hard life, and they would see each other for only an hour
everyday. But these were the dark days that every young couple had to
work through to see better times. They were happy, living every moment
as it came - and tonight she had come to watch his performance.
The concert was not at the royal opera house, it was in the common room
of the inn at the corner of Strawoski street. Elise stood in the first row of
the crowd, gazing at him, her worn hands clasped in front of her apron.
He had taught her once to listen with her body, not just with her ears.
When he would play on the violin, she would close her eyes and shut her
ears, trying to feel the music with her arms, in the balls of her feet, and
the bottom of her belly. And now she could sense his presence in the
music, in every note that quivered in the air around them and her hair
stood on end.
As he played, she smiled fondly at him, thinking of the times as children
when they would sit with each other during the harsh winter. He would
play the songs she loved, one by one, until she fell asleep by the fireplace.
Her father would then carry her to bed - when he lifted her she'd open
her eyes to find Hans sitting on the cold stone floor, gazing at Elise as
she drifted away from him, into sleep again. The crowd applauded and
she jerked out of her reminiscence, eyes focusing again on the Hans that
stood before her, his tall figure in a black dress suit, holding the bow ever
so slightly in his hands.
And that was when the bombs began to fall. The entire building started
to shake and people fell to the ground. In the distance, they could hear
horrific screams, and then the roof of the inn was torn apart. The metal
birds in the air crisscrossed as they dropped their load on a trembling
city, and the bombs rained down like a blizzard that wouldn't come to a
halt.
--------------------------------------HANS---------------------------------------
Without her, his life was an empty shell. The air was stale, the sky was
just a hazy gray. Every breath would hurt, and every path seemed to lead
to a dead end. He sat looking at his hands, disbelieving. His dreams were
shattered; the world was hollow, without meaning. He would have left it
all if not for the one thread that tied him to the world of the living. And
that was Frede. The boy was a joy, a wonder - unknowingly, he brought
cheer to his father, and saw him through the darkest of days.
At the quarry, the two Wojnickis continued to hack away at the stone as
the chips splintered all around them. The boy was hard at work, eager to
get to the supposed gold. As it turned into evening he would get sceptical
and restless, with the treasure that hid beneath the rocks eluding them.
As they trudged back to their tent, Frede would shake his head in
disbelief, arguing with his father that perhaps they were digging in the
wrong place. The next day, they would pick another spot and the cycle
would repeat itself.
That afternoon, as they continued their endeavour, they heard a cry of
pain as an old man who was digging with them fell to the ground,
clutching a sprain in his side. The guards were quick on the uptake, and
immediately dragged him away. Seeing the limp body bundled away,
Frede asked his father "Where are they taking him, Papa ? Why do they
drag him, and bump his head on the rocks ?" to which Hans replied "The
man hasn't taken a bath in weeks, boy. So they're taking him to the
showers, to get him cleaned up. " The boy giggled with glee and looked
away, satisfied.
Hans shook his head and wiped the sweat from his face. Neghut, the old
man, had been their neighbourhood police officer in Warsaw who'd
always ensured that justice was rendered. And now, what a terrible way
to die! The soldiers would take him to the sickly side of camp, where he
would be deemed officially unfit for work. Then they'd march him to the
Schkozellen, the showers of death, the very thought of which made all
the prisoners weep with fear. Once there were about a hundred sick
workers, the shower rooms would be closed, and mustard gas would
enter the chambers, killing anything that breathed. But Frede didn't
need to know all this, to him it would just be a shower for grown-ups.
Luckily, like any young boy, Frede hated getting cleaned up. Hans
remembered all the times his wife had to force their son into the bath
when he returned from play. Smiling fondly, he returned to the task at
hand.
--------------------------------------ELISE-------------------------------------
Elise was trapped in an ocean of people, and the train started off again.
They were piled against each other - with not an inch to move – people
stood up only because they were held up by one another's collective
efforts. Infants bawled, and were silenced, some by their mothers and
others by a creeping, inevitable death. It was all she could do to keep her
eyes open, though there wasn't much to see. The desperation and shock
was evident in the eyes of those closest to her, and she could safely
assume it was the same for everyone else. Whispers carried all the way
through in a train when people were frightened, rumours twisting
monstrously into stories of their destination - ranging from brutal
murder to scientific guinea pigs for the Germans to practice their
tortures on. Slowly, her eyelids drooped, and she fell into dreams as the
train sped on to the icy north.
The train came to a halt, and the door was thrown open by two young
men in uniforms that seemed to shine with a deep brown. As they
collectively fell out onto the snow, Elise looked around in wonder. The
ground was carpeted in a thick blanket of snow, and everything was
basking in its beautiful white glow. She smiled at herself, looking away to
avoid attracting the advances of her captors and slowly made her way
towards the fence in the distance, along with the river of people that
streamed from the open doors of the train. There was still hope in this
world, she thought. She would keep fighting, and one day she'd bring
Hans and the little one to see this wonderful land.
Within a week, things had begun to fall into a rhythm. Every morning,
the prisoners would awake at 4 in the freezing cold, and after a hurried
breakfast of the soldiers' leftover gruel from the previous day, they would
begin the day's work. Their tasks could range from darning and stitching
uniforms, to preparing readymade bandages to be sent out with the
German troops, or the mundane tasks of emptying out the thousands of
makeshift latrines. The best cooks among the women would be selected
to prepare food for the soldiers, which had to be different everyday and
tasty, or they would be subject to terrible consequences. The abject
humiliation of women like herself depressed her no end, but with a
combination of luck and sheer numbers, she stayed out of the soldiers'
way.
--------------------------------------HANS---------------------------------------
There was a commotion near the official quarters. A group of soldiers
had gathered, and they held an officer while a young private handcuffed
him. The chief of the Gestapo himself was there, as he announced to a
startled crowd "By decree of the Fuhrer, I arrest you, Colonel Fritz
Faunberg, on account of spying for the enemy and conspiracy against the
Fatherland!"
Hans's heart seemed to stop dead. Fritz was a friend from their youth in
the Bavarian country. He'd warned them from moving to Warsaw, and
even when the Fuhrer rose to power, Fritz wrote to them to go into
hiding. But Elise hadn't listened - she was determined that Frede not
grow up in fear - and the family decided to remain where they were.
And when they were captured, Colonel Faunberg was their guardian
angel - he'd made sure they weren't killed by the excitable young
soldiers. He'd assured Hans that Elise was safe, sent away to a camp
where they'd make her work with her hands, and promised that skill with
the needle would keep her alive. He'd let Frede stay with his father at all
times, instead of being wrenched from him as so many other children
had been. But what could he have done? A spy? No, Hans had hardly
seen anyone who'd loved their country so much, inspite of it being
ravaged by a madman.
He leaned closer to the iron fence to overhear what the soldiers were
saying. ".. too soft I hear, they want someone with an iron will. The
Fuhrer is angry with the production here, and prisoners are actually
requesting transfers to this place!" a soldier spat, with condescension
dripping from his voice. "Yeah, Faunberg alway was too easy on the
Jews, now Ziegner... he'll bring some change, you'll see!" his companion
replied with a smirk. The officers tied a black hood around Faunberg's
face, and the jeep carrying the Gestapo rolled away. "Goodbye, my
friend!" Hans whispered, collapsing to the ground.
----------------------------------------*****--------------------------------------
"Of what use are a musician's hands ?" Hans asked himself. "They do
well to hold the bow of a violin, delicately poised to make music that
could transport a crowd of thousands to a faraway place, but not to carry
heavy stones across the quarry and back". The general's orders were
clear - anyone who could not add to the productivity of the camp would
be executed.
The Enforcers had come down to the quarry. In their hands they held a
long list, and Hans knew his name was on it. When he was shown the
paper, the site engineer raised his finger, pointing at Hans and he knew
what was coming next. Quickly he dragged Frede to his side and
whispered "Let me show you some magic ! When you turn around, the
soldiers are going to come and grab me. But don't you worry, it's just a
pretend kidnap. It's like.. like the bullies at your school, when they would
steal something from you and give it back only if you gave them your
lunch, remember ?" The boy nodded. "Good, now if you have to free me,
find the gold at the bottom of these stones and bring it to them. Only
then wi..." he stopped as the soldier brushed the boy aside and grabbed
him, tying his hands behind his back. Hans smiled encouragingly at his
son, looking one last time at that determined young face before being
shoved on by the soldier. "I'll come for you father, I'll bring the gold!" he
heard Frede shout, and then came the frenzied rhythmic beats of his
son's little pick-axe against the stones.
----------------------------------------*****--------------------------------------
The black-listed men were dragged into the woods, and made to kneel in
a line. They stood facing the west, with the blood-red rays of the setting
sun blinding their eyes. The soldiers took their positions, with rifles
loaded; they seemed to be waiting for orders. "Halt!" a voice called -
General Ziegner was slowly pushing a young boy towards the
executioners.
Frede held his head high, fearlessly striding up to his father. He smiled at
Hans "I saw them walking you here, and followed without making a
sound, just like you taught me!" he exclaimed. "You shouldn't have
come," Hans replied, eyes brimming with tears. "Be brave, father! I shall
soon return to set you free" Frede assured him, turning around to leave.
But a shot rang out and the boy collapsed to the ground, his eyes which
were a moment ago filled with confidence, now lay open, listless and
empty.
One by one, the executioners fired at the defenceless prisoners. And
when the bullet finally hit Hans, he did not know it, for he was already
dead.
---------------------------------------ELISE------------------------------------
A month passed. And then a year. Every day was a struggle, and every
moment tortuous. Elise found herself slowly losing grips with reality,
and her will was shattering. The only tether left now was the comfort of
routine; she found it harder to remember who she was, and what she was
striving for. Slowly she became weak and frail, until one day she awoke
to find herself lying outside her bunk on the street, with a young blue-
eyed child looking down at her with curious eyes.
Who was that child? He was running away from her now. But his eyes,
they seemed such a familiar blue, and his smile, she had seen that smile
somewhere. She ran after him, seeing his little figure disappear among
the trees; she followed as fast as she could. She ran on, and felt a
tremendous joy building within her, she hadn't run like this in ages!
What a thrill she felt from running, there was nothing like freedom in
this world, she thought. And then a hand stuck out, and Elise went
tumbling to the ground.
"The child! The child!" She spluttered, holding the arms of the young
soldier who had tripped her, trying to look past him. But she could only
spot a group of white-coated guards who laughed at her, striking her
down as she tried to rise. Their laughter attracted the attention of an
imperious looking man, who strolled menacingly up to them. "And what
do we have here?" the lieutenant asked, the hint of a smile twitching at
the corners of his mouth. "She was trying to escape sir, until Jasper here
caught her!" the guard in the white coat barked, saluting his superior.
"She said she was chasing a child, a little boy in these woods!" The
lieutenant shook his head in disbelief. "Ah, not another one gone crazy,
where was this one working?" he demanded. "She was in charge of
Embroiders for the Panzer division uniforms", the white-coat replied,
examining her name-tag. The lieutenant's eyes hardened, and grew even
icier. "Get rid of her", he pronounced, and walked away without as much
as a cursory glance at Elise.
The guards threw her on the freezing ground. The thaw of spring
approached, and the cracks in the ice displayed a wonderful green layer
on the underside, as her face pressed against the floor. "Ah, Jasper! The
time has come to make a man of you", a white-coat roared, patting the
young soldier on his back. "Take it, she has been wanting you for weeks
now! Claim your prize, son" he announced, guffawing loudly. In front of
his comrades, the young man dragged his feet to where she knelt on the
ground. She saw the fear in his eyes, and realised he wouldn't go through
with it, an honourable man among those thieves who desired to snatch
her honour. But in his hand he held a pistol, which he concealed from
the other men. The pistol was pointed at her chest, and Elise knew what
he intended to do. Bracing herself, she smiled for a last time, and nodded
her head sadly. The young soldier closed his eyes and squeezed the
trigger.
The flame that burnt within her went out, and in that moment Elise saw
all that she'd been through. The beautiful first-times, running in her
apple orchard as a child, while the leaves fell around her. Lying with
Hans in the mountains, looking into his eyes and watching them burn
with love. Holding Frede in her arms, a healthy, beautiful child that
gurgled with laughter. Moving to the city, with dreams of her own
association for working women, a place where she'd share ideas with
people like herself, and they could make such a difference! And that final
performance of Hans, where he stood so magnificent on the stage, with
the crowd applauding her hero. It had been a good life.
At last, but too soon, she saw peace.
---------------------------------------THE END----------------------------------
Written by Samarth Rangavittal
--------------------------------------HANS---------------------------------------
Elise ran past the courtyard, hair flying in the wind, and caught her
breath. Throwing her head back, she let out a melodious peal of laughter
and ran on. The majestic Alps were a wonderful background for young
children's play, not something to be found in today's crowded cities.
Hans Wojnicki watched her run, pretending that he would catch her, but
letting her get away - it thrilled her no end that she was faster than him.
She delighted in holding his hand, pretending that they were married - in
their make believe games he was always the one to fetch the wood to
build the house, the one who'd fight the monsters that lurked in the
Bavarian countryside and drive her fears away.
Hans had always known she was the girl for him, so when he proposed
marriage she'd been surprised, shocked even that he'd had to ask. Her
parents' approval was swift, and within the week they'd been married at
the synagogue in Merysberg. They were happy with each other, a
contentment born out of years spent in each other's company, giving rise
to a comforting familiarity.
Then came the offer one day, when he was in his father-in-law's study,
discussing how best to invest in the barley crop for the coming summer.
A telegraph had arrived from the capital, from the office of Radio
Opelski. Their violinist had left to perform in the Vienna Orchestra, and
they were looking for a young replacement, someone raw, with a village
background perhaps. Would he be so kind as to audition for them?
Within a moment, Hans knew his chance had come, and by the end of
the week he had impressed the radiopersons sufficiently to land his first
real job, that of a violinist for the National Radio.
"Father! Father come here!" his son called out as he played. Hans wiped
the tears from the corner of his eyes and shook himself out of his reverie.
Frede Wojnicki was golden haired with deep brown eyes, a combination
that was unique to the Rhine where his mother was from. He was tall for
a boy of five, and was awfully talkative with a penchant for make-belief.
Hans was sure he got that from Elise's stories that he'd heard as a little
child.
"What is it? Why do you disturb me so early in the morning ?" Hans
enquired, his tall figure casting a shadow over the boy. Frede gestured
towards the opening of the tent, in his excitement it was all he could do
to keep from falling over. "They have come, father. The Free Men,
perhaps they are looking for us?" "No, Frede. Haven't I told you before,
these aren't the men, they are the Guards we must hide from. Quick,
quick! Put on your coat and join me. We can go work on that gold mine,
and someday we will be rich enough to buy a palace!" "A palace?", Frede
enquired, "Now that will be something ! I shall tell Ann all about it, and
she can come visit me. Where has she gone off to, Father ?"
"Do you see the train there, sonny ?" Hans asked, pointing to the black
soot-filled rails. "She has gone off into the hills to meet her family, to tell
them all about you. That train leaves for her town every week, so maybe
she'll be back in a fortnight".
Frede smiled at his father and straightened his cap. He held the pick-axe
at an angle on his young shoulders, and trudged away towards the
quarry. Hans smeared his face with soot, to avoid recognition, and
walked behind his son. Another day had just begun at Auschwitz.
--------------------------------------ELISE---------------------------------------
Elise had seen many days away from her family, but none had prepared
her for the sorrow when she moved in with Hans. He was the one she
had always dreamt of being with, but she'd hoped to live in the
countryside, in the beautiful hills and lush Alpine meadows. She'd
dreamed of having her own little school, where she would teach young
girls to embroider dresses and spin strong cloth, providing them with
income to live on their own terms.
But in the gutters of the city of Warsaw, nobody cared for a woman who
had such dreams. She was just another hand in the factory, to darn and
stitch parts that would move through a machine. She was one among the
hundreds of women who had accompanied their husbands when they
moved to the city in search of jobs and opportunity. Hans had found
work as an violinist, and every morning, she would wake up to the sound
of polonaise on the radio. And his love for music bought her support - it
had won her over as a child, and nothing had changed.
It was a hard life, and they would see each other for only an hour
everyday. But these were the dark days that every young couple had to
work through to see better times. They were happy, living every moment
as it came - and tonight she had come to watch his performance.
The concert was not at the royal opera house, it was in the common room
of the inn at the corner of Strawoski street. Elise stood in the first row of
the crowd, gazing at him, her worn hands clasped in front of her apron.
He had taught her once to listen with her body, not just with her ears.
When he would play on the violin, she would close her eyes and shut her
ears, trying to feel the music with her arms, in the balls of her feet, and
the bottom of her belly. And now she could sense his presence in the
music, in every note that quivered in the air around them and her hair
stood on end.
As he played, she smiled fondly at him, thinking of the times as children
when they would sit with each other during the harsh winter. He would
play the songs she loved, one by one, until she fell asleep by the fireplace.
Her father would then carry her to bed - when he lifted her she'd open
her eyes to find Hans sitting on the cold stone floor, gazing at Elise as
she drifted away from him, into sleep again. The crowd applauded and
she jerked out of her reminiscence, eyes focusing again on the Hans that
stood before her, his tall figure in a black dress suit, holding the bow ever
so slightly in his hands.
And that was when the bombs began to fall. The entire building started
to shake and people fell to the ground. In the distance, they could hear
horrific screams, and then the roof of the inn was torn apart. The metal
birds in the air crisscrossed as they dropped their load on a trembling
city, and the bombs rained down like a blizzard that wouldn't come to a
halt.
--------------------------------------HANS---------------------------------------
Without her, his life was an empty shell. The air was stale, the sky was
just a hazy gray. Every breath would hurt, and every path seemed to lead
to a dead end. He sat looking at his hands, disbelieving. His dreams were
shattered; the world was hollow, without meaning. He would have left it
all if not for the one thread that tied him to the world of the living. And
that was Frede. The boy was a joy, a wonder - unknowingly, he brought
cheer to his father, and saw him through the darkest of days.
At the quarry, the two Wojnickis continued to hack away at the stone as
the chips splintered all around them. The boy was hard at work, eager to
get to the supposed gold. As it turned into evening he would get sceptical
and restless, with the treasure that hid beneath the rocks eluding them.
As they trudged back to their tent, Frede would shake his head in
disbelief, arguing with his father that perhaps they were digging in the
wrong place. The next day, they would pick another spot and the cycle
would repeat itself.
That afternoon, as they continued their endeavour, they heard a cry of
pain as an old man who was digging with them fell to the ground,
clutching a sprain in his side. The guards were quick on the uptake, and
immediately dragged him away. Seeing the limp body bundled away,
Frede asked his father "Where are they taking him, Papa ? Why do they
drag him, and bump his head on the rocks ?" to which Hans replied "The
man hasn't taken a bath in weeks, boy. So they're taking him to the
showers, to get him cleaned up. " The boy giggled with glee and looked
away, satisfied.
Hans shook his head and wiped the sweat from his face. Neghut, the old
man, had been their neighbourhood police officer in Warsaw who'd
always ensured that justice was rendered. And now, what a terrible way
to die! The soldiers would take him to the sickly side of camp, where he
would be deemed officially unfit for work. Then they'd march him to the
Schkozellen, the showers of death, the very thought of which made all
the prisoners weep with fear. Once there were about a hundred sick
workers, the shower rooms would be closed, and mustard gas would
enter the chambers, killing anything that breathed. But Frede didn't
need to know all this, to him it would just be a shower for grown-ups.
Luckily, like any young boy, Frede hated getting cleaned up. Hans
remembered all the times his wife had to force their son into the bath
when he returned from play. Smiling fondly, he returned to the task at
hand.
--------------------------------------ELISE-------------------------------------
Elise was trapped in an ocean of people, and the train started off again.
They were piled against each other - with not an inch to move – people
stood up only because they were held up by one another's collective
efforts. Infants bawled, and were silenced, some by their mothers and
others by a creeping, inevitable death. It was all she could do to keep her
eyes open, though there wasn't much to see. The desperation and shock
was evident in the eyes of those closest to her, and she could safely
assume it was the same for everyone else. Whispers carried all the way
through in a train when people were frightened, rumours twisting
monstrously into stories of their destination - ranging from brutal
murder to scientific guinea pigs for the Germans to practice their
tortures on. Slowly, her eyelids drooped, and she fell into dreams as the
train sped on to the icy north.
The train came to a halt, and the door was thrown open by two young
men in uniforms that seemed to shine with a deep brown. As they
collectively fell out onto the snow, Elise looked around in wonder. The
ground was carpeted in a thick blanket of snow, and everything was
basking in its beautiful white glow. She smiled at herself, looking away to
avoid attracting the advances of her captors and slowly made her way
towards the fence in the distance, along with the river of people that
streamed from the open doors of the train. There was still hope in this
world, she thought. She would keep fighting, and one day she'd bring
Hans and the little one to see this wonderful land.
Within a week, things had begun to fall into a rhythm. Every morning,
the prisoners would awake at 4 in the freezing cold, and after a hurried
breakfast of the soldiers' leftover gruel from the previous day, they would
begin the day's work. Their tasks could range from darning and stitching
uniforms, to preparing readymade bandages to be sent out with the
German troops, or the mundane tasks of emptying out the thousands of
makeshift latrines. The best cooks among the women would be selected
to prepare food for the soldiers, which had to be different everyday and
tasty, or they would be subject to terrible consequences. The abject
humiliation of women like herself depressed her no end, but with a
combination of luck and sheer numbers, she stayed out of the soldiers'
way.
--------------------------------------HANS---------------------------------------
There was a commotion near the official quarters. A group of soldiers
had gathered, and they held an officer while a young private handcuffed
him. The chief of the Gestapo himself was there, as he announced to a
startled crowd "By decree of the Fuhrer, I arrest you, Colonel Fritz
Faunberg, on account of spying for the enemy and conspiracy against the
Fatherland!"
Hans's heart seemed to stop dead. Fritz was a friend from their youth in
the Bavarian country. He'd warned them from moving to Warsaw, and
even when the Fuhrer rose to power, Fritz wrote to them to go into
hiding. But Elise hadn't listened - she was determined that Frede not
grow up in fear - and the family decided to remain where they were.
And when they were captured, Colonel Faunberg was their guardian
angel - he'd made sure they weren't killed by the excitable young
soldiers. He'd assured Hans that Elise was safe, sent away to a camp
where they'd make her work with her hands, and promised that skill with
the needle would keep her alive. He'd let Frede stay with his father at all
times, instead of being wrenched from him as so many other children
had been. But what could he have done? A spy? No, Hans had hardly
seen anyone who'd loved their country so much, inspite of it being
ravaged by a madman.
He leaned closer to the iron fence to overhear what the soldiers were
saying. ".. too soft I hear, they want someone with an iron will. The
Fuhrer is angry with the production here, and prisoners are actually
requesting transfers to this place!" a soldier spat, with condescension
dripping from his voice. "Yeah, Faunberg alway was too easy on the
Jews, now Ziegner... he'll bring some change, you'll see!" his companion
replied with a smirk. The officers tied a black hood around Faunberg's
face, and the jeep carrying the Gestapo rolled away. "Goodbye, my
friend!" Hans whispered, collapsing to the ground.
----------------------------------------*****--------------------------------------
"Of what use are a musician's hands ?" Hans asked himself. "They do
well to hold the bow of a violin, delicately poised to make music that
could transport a crowd of thousands to a faraway place, but not to carry
heavy stones across the quarry and back". The general's orders were
clear - anyone who could not add to the productivity of the camp would
be executed.
The Enforcers had come down to the quarry. In their hands they held a
long list, and Hans knew his name was on it. When he was shown the
paper, the site engineer raised his finger, pointing at Hans and he knew
what was coming next. Quickly he dragged Frede to his side and
whispered "Let me show you some magic ! When you turn around, the
soldiers are going to come and grab me. But don't you worry, it's just a
pretend kidnap. It's like.. like the bullies at your school, when they would
steal something from you and give it back only if you gave them your
lunch, remember ?" The boy nodded. "Good, now if you have to free me,
find the gold at the bottom of these stones and bring it to them. Only
then wi..." he stopped as the soldier brushed the boy aside and grabbed
him, tying his hands behind his back. Hans smiled encouragingly at his
son, looking one last time at that determined young face before being
shoved on by the soldier. "I'll come for you father, I'll bring the gold!" he
heard Frede shout, and then came the frenzied rhythmic beats of his
son's little pick-axe against the stones.
----------------------------------------*****--------------------------------------
The black-listed men were dragged into the woods, and made to kneel in
a line. They stood facing the west, with the blood-red rays of the setting
sun blinding their eyes. The soldiers took their positions, with rifles
loaded; they seemed to be waiting for orders. "Halt!" a voice called -
General Ziegner was slowly pushing a young boy towards the
executioners.
Frede held his head high, fearlessly striding up to his father. He smiled at
Hans "I saw them walking you here, and followed without making a
sound, just like you taught me!" he exclaimed. "You shouldn't have
come," Hans replied, eyes brimming with tears. "Be brave, father! I shall
soon return to set you free" Frede assured him, turning around to leave.
But a shot rang out and the boy collapsed to the ground, his eyes which
were a moment ago filled with confidence, now lay open, listless and
empty.
One by one, the executioners fired at the defenceless prisoners. And
when the bullet finally hit Hans, he did not know it, for he was already
dead.
---------------------------------------ELISE------------------------------------
A month passed. And then a year. Every day was a struggle, and every
moment tortuous. Elise found herself slowly losing grips with reality,
and her will was shattering. The only tether left now was the comfort of
routine; she found it harder to remember who she was, and what she was
striving for. Slowly she became weak and frail, until one day she awoke
to find herself lying outside her bunk on the street, with a young blue-
eyed child looking down at her with curious eyes.
Who was that child? He was running away from her now. But his eyes,
they seemed such a familiar blue, and his smile, she had seen that smile
somewhere. She ran after him, seeing his little figure disappear among
the trees; she followed as fast as she could. She ran on, and felt a
tremendous joy building within her, she hadn't run like this in ages!
What a thrill she felt from running, there was nothing like freedom in
this world, she thought. And then a hand stuck out, and Elise went
tumbling to the ground.
"The child! The child!" She spluttered, holding the arms of the young
soldier who had tripped her, trying to look past him. But she could only
spot a group of white-coated guards who laughed at her, striking her
down as she tried to rise. Their laughter attracted the attention of an
imperious looking man, who strolled menacingly up to them. "And what
do we have here?" the lieutenant asked, the hint of a smile twitching at
the corners of his mouth. "She was trying to escape sir, until Jasper here
caught her!" the guard in the white coat barked, saluting his superior.
"She said she was chasing a child, a little boy in these woods!" The
lieutenant shook his head in disbelief. "Ah, not another one gone crazy,
where was this one working?" he demanded. "She was in charge of
Embroiders for the Panzer division uniforms", the white-coat replied,
examining her name-tag. The lieutenant's eyes hardened, and grew even
icier. "Get rid of her", he pronounced, and walked away without as much
as a cursory glance at Elise.
The guards threw her on the freezing ground. The thaw of spring
approached, and the cracks in the ice displayed a wonderful green layer
on the underside, as her face pressed against the floor. "Ah, Jasper! The
time has come to make a man of you", a white-coat roared, patting the
young soldier on his back. "Take it, she has been wanting you for weeks
now! Claim your prize, son" he announced, guffawing loudly. In front of
his comrades, the young man dragged his feet to where she knelt on the
ground. She saw the fear in his eyes, and realised he wouldn't go through
with it, an honourable man among those thieves who desired to snatch
her honour. But in his hand he held a pistol, which he concealed from
the other men. The pistol was pointed at her chest, and Elise knew what
he intended to do. Bracing herself, she smiled for a last time, and nodded
her head sadly. The young soldier closed his eyes and squeezed the
trigger.
The flame that burnt within her went out, and in that moment Elise saw
all that she'd been through. The beautiful first-times, running in her
apple orchard as a child, while the leaves fell around her. Lying with
Hans in the mountains, looking into his eyes and watching them burn
with love. Holding Frede in her arms, a healthy, beautiful child that
gurgled with laughter. Moving to the city, with dreams of her own
association for working women, a place where she'd share ideas with
people like herself, and they could make such a difference! And that final
performance of Hans, where he stood so magnificent on the stage, with
the crowd applauding her hero. It had been a good life.
At last, but too soon, she saw peace.
---------------------------------------THE END----------------------------------
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