My Last Train Ride

My Last Train Ride

  by

  James Bailey

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  My Last Train Ride

  Copyright 2011 by James Bailey

  *****

  It was 1944, rain pounded on the roof of the train, dripping through the cracks and onto my parched face. I pictured the grimy streaks it must be leaving down my face. I hadn’t had any water in a day and at the moment rain seemed like a blessing from God.

  People bunched in next to me, jostling for position to get more water. I held my ground as best I could, being careful not to get knocked to the ground and trampled like some of the others had been earlier. Nobody spoke despite this being the first positive moment of the entire trip, words weren’t necessary. We had all been on this train together since we had left the station over a day ago and had said all we needed. Not everyone had survived the lack of food and water and the constant crushing press of bodies. At first we had tried putting aside a corner for the dead but there were just too many of us in the carriage for it to work, no one wanted to be next to a body so now the bodies had become part of the floor. I could feel a hand beneath my shoes, I didn’t look to see who it belonged too, they didn’t matter any more.

  The carriage we were in had been used for cattle I assumed prior to the transport of Jews. The stench of the animals pervading the small space, although admittedly it was rapidly being overpowered by the smell of shit, piss and dead and decaying flesh. I preferred the cattle.

  Having my fill of water I let the middle aged lady next to me take my spot, I took her position at the side of the car. Wooden slats panelled the walls of the carriage, Squinting, I peered through the cracks in the wooden slats, in search of a landmark or signpost something to give me an indication of my location. I could see fields, cows in the distance. A farmer came into view, he was watching the train, pitchfork in hand. He was middle aged and well weathered with a ridiculously large nose I thought. He was making a strange gesture with his hand, a swiping motion against his neck. I puzzled over this as he fell out of view. The man next to me answered my internal queries.

  “Death is what he is saying. Death is what awaits us” He said.

  These were the first words I had heard spoken in hours. I didn’t reply, there was nothing to say.

  A noise could be heard from the front of the train, a change in the engine. I felt the train begin to slow down. We were stopping.

  We had stopped twice before so this was not something unusual, however the actions of the farmer made me think this would be the last stop. A low murmur began to grow within the carriage, I wasn’t the only one too think this it seemed.

  Peering through the slats again I saw we had travelled into a heavily wooded area now, a blur of trees was all I could see initially. As the train slowed down I could make out a gravel road alongside the train track.

  The train slowed to a crawl now, I heard a distant hoot from the locomotive at the front of the train. The murmur within the carriage grew louder, I could make out some prayers, accompanied by both the optimistic whispers of a mother to her daughter and pessimistic words shared between two friends of the fate that awaited them.

  I knew what waited for us, the Germans made it clear enough when they loaded us into this human sardine can. The farmer I had just seen simply confirmed it. We had been sent here to die, not work, not fight or knit or simply be resettled. We would be killed.

  I glimpsed the start of the platform and distant shouting. Slowly the squeal of the train’s brakes grew in volume, ever so slowly the train ground too a halt. The murmuring had ceased as the people around me awaited their fate. The shouts grew louder, I started to make out some of the voices, I could hear that they were speaking German but my German was poor at best.

  “Schnell!” I heard a German shout repeatedly. distant footsteps and whimpers could be heard between the shouting as well as the noise of the carriage doors being opened. The carriages further ahead were being unloaded, I listened for shots or screams but heard none. We weren’t to be killed immediately then I thought.

  ‘Can you see anything?’ The lady behind me said. I looked through the slats again, I saw three Germans approaching our carriage, black uniforms with the two lightning S’s on the breast pocket. I knew that symbol very well. We appeared to have stopped at a camp of sorts, I could see a barbed fence surrounding some drab grey buildings. I could see the other Jews that had been unloaded being herded by brown shirted guards up a ramp into the camp.

  ‘I see Germans, they are taking some Jews into a camp. There are some SS men outside our carriage.’ I whispered. My voice was not as croaky as I thought it would be, the water must have helped.

  ‘Another Ghetto? She said.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Suddenly the carriage doors were flung open and the Jews pressed against it fell out onto the concrete. Luckily I was a couple of feet away from the doors otherwise I would have fallen as well.

  ‘Aus! Aus!’ The Germans shouted.

  We got the idea as to what they wanted. As quickly as we could we all stumbled and shuffled out of the carriage, being careful not to trip on the bodies. I stayed with the mass of people, barely noticing the transition from carriage floor to concrete. More Germans had arrived, the brown shirted guards. They wielded batons and had rifles slung over their shoulders, they kept shouting at us as well.

  I risked a glance back into the now near empty carriage. The floor was covered in excrement, a dozen bodies at least littered the floor. In the corner I could see a tiny hand poking out of a swaddle of clothing. I remembered a baby had been crying at the start of the journey but hadn’t made a noise in hours. I knew why now.

  I looked forward again as I felt the mass of bodies move towards the ramp the other Jews had been herded up. I looked at the forest surrounding the camp, dense pines not that much different from home. Perhaps we had not travelled as far as it had felt.

  As we reached the top of the ramp I looked around what I could see of the camp. The chimneys were the first thing to catch my eye, they towered into the sky in the distance, dirty with ash. A factory? I wondered. A building ahead was marked ‘Disinfection’ in a number of languages, Yiddish being one. Two more buildings flanked us confining us into the rectangular courtyard, I couldn’t make out their purpose but assumed they were barracks or some like. Everything was a dirty dull grey, marked with the ash from the chimneys.

  A German stood on a platform in front of one of these buildings. He was not SS from what I could see but was clearly a man with authority. He waited for the crowd to be gathered together by the guards. I ignored him initially, I had met enough Germans like him in the ghetto. Instead I watched the brown shirted guards that were keeping us together. The might not be Germans really, I thought, looking at them more closely. Poles perhaps or some of the locals from wherever we were. None of them would look me in the eye. From the few I observed and stared at the most I got was a quick glance before they looked away and shouted more German at us. No other guard or soldier I had met did this, they were more than willing to look us in the eye while they extorted more money or property or whatever else they could out of us. Then I realised, they were distancing themselves. I had been right we were going to die here.

  The German on the platform had begun speaking. Calling for attention, he was smiling at us as if we had arrived at a Summer camp and were about to be shown to our rooms.

  ‘You are all here to work!’ The German shouted, his arms raised towards us as if he was grabbing us all in an embrace. ‘We have great need of workers to aid our troops in the front, clothes, machinery, construction, all manner of trades.’

  I stopped listening and observed the people around me that we
re captivated by his speech. Mumblings of hope had begun from those drawn in by his words.

  ‘We can start over!’ One old man whispered to a man next to him, his son perhaps.

  ‘Anything is better than the ghetto’ Another woman said.

  A strong hatred for the man sprung up within me, the strongest emotion I had felt in weeks. I hated this man. I saw what he was doing, raising hope so we would go to our deaths more willingly. I observed the door marked ‘Disinfection’ at the end of the courtyard with greater suspicion.

  The German on the platform had begun asking random people their trades, one emaciated woman replied she was a nurse. ‘Excellent!’ He said. ‘We have need of those for our injured.’

  It would take a month for her to come close to being fit for duty after that hellish train ride and the conditions within the ghetto before that.

  The German was finally reaching the end of his speech. ‘Now I need you all to undress and proceed into the showers for disinfection. We need you healthy for you to work!’

  The Jews around me began to follow his orders, the murmurings had stopped for the most part. A few muttered prayers from those who had reached similar conclusions to me was all that could be heard from us. The guards resumed their shouting. No one resisted, after years of subjugation, seeing those who did fight back brutalised or worse we all knew how futile it was.

  I started unbuttoning myself, then paused.

  I looked into the sky, the clouds had parted, the first blue sky that I had seen in months was peeking through. I smiled. Memories of home flooding back. Walks along the lake enjoying the air and mountains surrounding me, the breeze on my face and the local children paddling in the water. Cycling into town to meet with friends and maybe go to a dance. Those times were over now I knew, never to return. I looked around at the picture of misery that surrounded me now. Scrawny men and women of all ages, struggling to undo their buttons with shaky hands. Half skeletal and parched they looked and were pathetic. I was pathetic.

  I stared at the guard closest to me, he looked young, early twenties. He could have been a neighbour, a friend. At one time he could have anyway. I made up my mind, he would be my executioner.

  He had already noticed me staring I realised from the furtive glances he kept making, accompanied by the shouts of what I assumed to be ‘undress’. I turned to face him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ A furious whisper asked next to me. I turned my head realising it was the woman who had spoken to me on the train.

  ‘Making a choice.’ I replied.

  She started to retort before stopping herself. ‘See you soon.’ She said with a wan smile, touching me on my arm. ‘You are braver than I.’

  I turned back to the guard and started walking towards him slowly. I looked into the sky once more bringing a smile back to my face. The guard had started yelling at me to halt. He was looking at me now at last. My smile grew, I was only a few feet away.

  ‘I forgive you’ I said as he raised his rifle. He stepped back, giving himself some room. Other guards had started shouting as well. His finger moved to the trigger.

  I closed my eyes as the shot rang out.

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