Heinz did as they bid, ignoring the wave of dizziness as he put all his weight on his foot. He would find a stick as soon as they were outside, to use as a crutch.
That thought fled as they marched and he saw crutches being kicked out from under those using them. If the men fell, the other prisoners were ordered not to help them. The men had to get to their feet alone, or they were shot.
“At least it’s a fast escape,” Gavriel growled, as another shot rang out behind them.
Heinz didn’t want to die. He was too young, and he hadn’t even kissed a girl. When they got a chance to rest, he closed his eyes and pictured Rachel’s face. Not that he told Gavriel and Izsak he dreamed of their sister.
They marched for a while until they reached a station. The train wasn’t a passenger one but one used for transporting livestock. The men took a seat where they stopped, figuring the Nazis wouldn’t shoot all of them. They were right.
“Dachau is near Munich, isn’t it? Always wanted to see that part of the country.”
Heinz appreciated Gavriel’s attempts at humor. He was trying to distract all of them but his father most of all. Mr. Bernstein wasn’t doing well and struggled to keep up with the march.
At a roar from the Nazis, they stood up and marched toward the train.
“They can’t be putting us in there?” Izsak commented.
“Looks like we are traveling first-class,” Gavriel replied, as the Jews were ordered into the cattle-cars. Nothing could have prepared them for the smell. The dirt of the animals had been left behind. They gagged but the Nazis just kept forcing them inside, using their weapons to club them over the head or back, whatever was closest.
Heinz held tight to his father with one hand and Gavriel with the other hoping they would end up in the same car. They did, with Izsak and Mr. Bernstein following behind. Then the door was slammed shut and locked. It was worse in the dark. They inched their way towards the side of the car to try to be near a gap. At least then, they would have fresh air. There was no water and only a bucket for the entire car to use.
A train journey between Berlin and Dachau should have taken, at the most, about five hours. Instead, it took them over a day-and-a-half, with the train constantly stopping to let other trains past. During these stoppages, nobody opened the cars to provide them with water or food.
Mr. Bernstein started raving the first night, finally slipping into a coma. Heinz was relieved at the silence, despite feeling guilty. His own thirst was the only thing he could concentrate on.
Disorientated and exhausted, most fell out of the carriage when the door was finally opened. Gavriel helped Heinz down before trying to return to help Izsak with their father but a club from a guard stopped him. Izsak couldn’t carry his father. Papa said he was dead but his sons hadn’t believed him. The body was kicked out of the car and the sound of it hitting the ground would remain with Heinz for a long time.
“Get in line. March.”
They staggered into a line, Papa and Heinz following Gavriel and Izsak. They stumbled along the route, passing a few curious onlookers who turned away in disgust.
“We should be there soon. I can see smoke up ahead.” Gavriel’s commentary was cut short by the uniformed men’s screams demanding silence.
Heinz forced his legs to move, despite the urge to give in to the pain and just take the easy way out. One foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right. He couldn’t even look up, just stared at his feet willing them to behave.
He walked into the person in front of them, when they were ordered to stop.
The guards saluted, as an officer made his way toward them. He introduced himself and told them he was there to make sure they behaved. If they did, they would be set free, eventually. If they didn’t, they would never see their homes again. The camp guards formed a guard of honor on each side of the group. Heinz didn’t have to wonder why, for long. As the Jews marched through, the line of guards struck them with whatever they held in their hands; truncheons, whips, gun handles. The victims screamed, which only seemed to increase the frenzy of the attacks. The Jews started to run as if by doing so they could get through the horror unscathed. A number fell over those already on the ground and they didn’t get a chance to get back up again. Papa staggered under the force of a blow and momentarily lost hold of Heinz. Heinz could do nothing, as he watched Papa try to stay upward but another belt sent him flying to the floor.
Heinz would have dropped too, only Gavriel put his arm through his elbow and dragged him through. He glanced behind him, catching a glimpse of Papa’s face, bloodied, holding his hands over his head in a bid to protect himself. His father opened his eyes and looked at him once. Heinz looked up in time to see a uniformed man, a distinctive scar running down one cheek, raise a club. “No,” he screamed, but the crowd surged forward, and he lost sight of Papa.
Gavriel put his arm under Heinz’s jacket and pulled him through the last couple of inches. Only then could they breathe. They were through. He hadn’t been hit once but Gavriel wasn’t as lucky as a whip had caught him across his shoulders, cutting through the fabric of his shirt. Only then did Heinz notice Gavriel’s jacket was missing. He’d given it to his father in an attempt to keep the man warm.
They waited for Papa and Izsak to make it through. Izsak arrived, his eye streaming from where a rifle butt had
