Taylor 1

05/20/18
Kelley
English 2

The Life I Once Lived

I awoke in the cattle cart. People were moaning, sobbing, praying. We had been

riding in this dreaded cart for an amount of time that I cannot recall, and people were

starting to feel the effects of dehydration and malnutrition. We continued on like this for

what felt like an eternity, until we stopped. We were ordered out of the cart, and soldiers

brandishing automatic rifles angrily shouted at us to move faster as we entered the

camp. I looked up as I walked in, and read two things. Auschwitz, and below it, Arbeit

Macht Frei. Work will set you free.

Before the war I was a happy man. I lived in Zakopane, Poland, and I had a wife,

two daughters, and a good job as head of my own bakery company. Income was

steady, and I was well liked in our community. All that changed when the Nazis came.

The soldiers rode into our villages in armored vehicles, demanding that everyone bring

out everything they owned that referenced western culture. The people who brought

things out, such as books and clothing, had to toss everything into a pile. Those who did

not comply were thrown from their houses into the street while soldiers ransacked their

house for anything they deemed as a threat to the Nazi ideology. Once everything was

gathered, gas was poured on top and matches were lit, burning many of our belongings

to ash. During the burning of these items, one soldier rushed from our house, shouting

something in German to his commanding officer. Immediately my family and I were

thrown to the ground, handcuffed, and brought into the military transport truck that the

Germans had brought with them. I was confused as to why we were suddenly being

arrested, but as I looked out of the truck, I saw the German soldier hand the officer two
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things. A pair of Stars of David. Then I understood why we had been arrested, and I

realized that our lives were about to get much worse.

As we walked through the gate, my family and I were split up by gender, men to

the left and women and young children to the right. At the end of the road of the right

path, I saw a massive stone building billowing black smoke and red hot fire. I wondered

what would become of my family as we said our goodbyes, but I assured myself that

they would be alright. That’s probably the kitchen, where they cook food I said to myself.

But despite this, I still couldn’t shake that feeling of worry and guilt that I had not done

anything to prevent them from going down the road. But it was too late now. We filed

into a single line, walking by a table as we were inspected by several men dressed in

black and gray striped outfits. They were watched closely by armed guards, and as I

walked up to them, they began asking me questions. “Name?” Asked the man on the

left. “ Keit, like the black bird.” I said with confidence. The man seemed to be

unimpressed with that. “Age?”. “33.” I said plainly. “Any gold tooth or implants?” He

asked. “Nope.” I said. He then directed me to another man sitting at a long table with a

chair on either side. I sat in one, and he took out a device and proceeded to tattoo a

number on my arm. 4475613. “That’s your name now, bird man.” The other man said,

laughing at the nickname he had just created. I shrugged it off, and went with another

group of men led by more armed guards to another building, black and bland. As we

walked there, a man ran out, straight towards the guards walking us. He launched

himself onto one and proceeded to claw at him with the ferociousness of an angry lion.

We stood back in fear as another two guards threw the man off and onto the ground.

Then, without the slightest hesitation, they all drew their lugers and shot him until their
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clips ran dry. The shots echoed in my head, and I thought to myself, “thank god that

isn’t me.” All of a sudden, a woman was shouting behind me. She yelled for the man,

Friedrick, and ran sobbing to his side. However, as soon as the officers saw her, they

opened fire. They left the two where they had died, soaking in the mud and the rain.

Afterwards, the guards turned and barked at us to walk into the building from which he

had come from. Inside, hundreds of other men, all wearing that same black and gray

clothing, gathered to take a look at us. It was like a sea of eyes gazing directly at my

soul, like I was an animal in a zoo and the tourists simply had to get a look at me. One

of them then stepped in front of the rest, and asked our names. I started to say mine but

he stopped me short. “Not your real name. Your number name.” He said in crude polish.

I then proceeded to recite my number along with the others that came in with me.

Afterwards, the man shouted at us where we would be sleeping. As I went to my bunk, I

discovered it full. The man in the bunk turned around, and with a delighted tone, he

said, “Hello! My name is Elba. You must be my new bunkmate! So nice to meet you!” I

greeted him and told him my name. We then started exchanging our stories. I found out

that he was a Pole from Warsaw, and he had been here for a week or two. He

proceeded to talk about his wife and young son, who he had been separated from.

“Unfortunately, I know what truly happened to them,” he said. I pressed him to continue,

and with a sad sigh and a sniffle, he said, “They were taken to the crematorium and

burned.” He then pointed to the black brick building billowing smoke across the street.

My heart sank, and I froze. He looked at me and asked if I was okay. I did not answer. I

was too deep in thought. I thought about my wife and two daughters, whom were only 6

and 4. I looked back at him, and with one swift movement, I jumped off the cot. I
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sprinted out the door, desperate to find my family. I ran into a guard, pleading to him to

help me. “My wife and kids are in there!” I said as I pointed to the crematorium. He

followed my finger, and when he saw what I was pointing at, he started to laugh. That

sent me into a blind rage, and I tackled him, tearing his weapon out of his hands and

smacking him with the barrel. I then jumped up and ran towards the crematorium, my

legs like an unstoppable machine driving my body forward. As guards became aware of

the insane prisoner running around with a rifle, they gave chase, taking shots at me. I

turned and fired back, striking a young boy with blonde hair right between the eyes. This

subsequently drew more soldiers to me, who fired machine guns. I felt a sudden

hotness in my lower abdomen and left shoulder, but despite the pain I pressed on,

determined to get to my family. My injuries started to catch up with me, and I fell face

first into the dirt. I looked up, and saw the luger barrel staring at me menacingly. But

before he could pull the trigger, I got the chance to look at my wife and kids one more

time. We stared at each other, and they all gave me one last smile. As soon as my lips

started to curl upwards, I heard a gunshot, and it was over.

I fell into the abyss, floating away from the life I once knew. I saw myself, strewn

about on the ground, motionless. A bloody, wet mess lying half buried in the mud. I saw

my family rush to my side, my kids screaming for me to wake up. My wife held my head

up in the manner that I had seen once before, with the crazy man. Then, I finally

understood. It wasn’t him that was crazy. It was everyone else that was crazy, accepting

that their families had been torn apart and murdered and they did nothing. I finally

understood, and as my family wept over my body, I felt a sense of peace. I died
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protecting those I love, and even though I didn’t succeed, I knew they would be with me

shortly.

Endnotes
● Auschwitz: German concentration camp during World War 2
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● Luger: German pistol used mainly by German officers during World War 2

● Zakopane: City in Poland, population of 27,000

● Gold teeth and implants were valuable and were immediately removed from any

inmates that had them

● The German soldiers used soldiers as inspectors for new arrivals into the

concentration camps

● All women, unless proven to be useful to the Germans, were immediately put to

death

● The Black Kite is a bird of prey native to Poland

● All Jewish prisoners were designated by numbers and their names were often

forgotten

● Jewish prisoners often had to share bunks with multiple people

● Arbeit Macht Frei was the slogan on the sign at the gate of Auschwitz, and it was

extremely ironic as hard work only delayed the inevitable