Bergen-Celle

Thus our journey continued, coming to a stop after and unknown amount of time. We dragged ourselves out of the boxcars as the doors were unlatched, the Nazi guard roaring out orders. We had to line up in fives at our destination, the Bergen Celle train station, a slow and steady rainfall welcoming us.

Since we were chased out of our former homes, dark skies and steady rain greeted us at each new location. Such a marvelous sensation this phenomenon gave me. I was overcome with a special feeling that somehow even managed to uplift my darkened spirit. It came to me as a message from the heavens, which were venting their anger. The Almighty shares in our tragedy and is pouring tears of sorrow. He is crying on our behalf. These thoughts planted seeds of hope and faith into my soul against the backdrop of the great catastrophe.

I had lost all faith in mankind when we were banished from our home. First, because of the devilish brains that devised the plans to exterminate innocent souls. Second, because of those who executed the satanic decree. And third, because of the outside world - those nations which did nothing to stop Hitler's atrocities at the very beginning. By keeping silent, they, too, carry the burden of the crime.

Lined up in rows of five, we set out on our sad march. Army trucks delivered our backpacks. Swab German SS Nazi soldiers escorted us. The group I was in consisted mainly of women and children, some old people and a few young ones. Men aged 18 to 48 were taken to forced army labor several years before, where most had perished from starvation, from inhuman beatings, or from freezing to death in sub-zero weather.

Our group marched in the middle of the road, with a few stone houses to our left, curious eyes staring at us from the windows. I felt deep humiliation, but the people who should have felt the shame were those staring at us from the houses. We were innocent, defenseless people; they were partners in the annihilation of millions of innocent souls.

© David Muskal, 2001