The Night Train
The guards loaded the children into the 46th boxcar
and were prepared to close the door. Only three boxcars remained to be filled.
“Don’t be afraid,” Pani Ottla told Michal, one of
the two-dozen children in the boxcar she had volunteered to chaperone during
the transfer from Theresienstadt to the new camp.
“I’m not afraid,” Michal said, giving Ottla
his most confident look. “Mama told me what to do.”
“What’s that?”
Ottla said.
“Always be polite,
she said. Nothing really bad ever happens to a polite person. And always stay
in line. If you get out of line, you will attract attention to yourself, and
that could be bad. Never ask for special treatment because you might get
treated badly. Never get mad, because that will attract attention, almost
certainly unwanted.”
Through the boy
Ottla heard the voice of a frightened woman, putting on a brave face,
pretending to know how to control the uncontrollable.
“Oh! And never get
hicstayracal…,” Michal added.
“Hysterical?”
Ottla said.
“Right,
hysterical. It’s okay being afraid, but if you get hysterical, you attract
attention to yourself…”
“And that would be bad,” Ottla said.
“Right.” Michal
smiled, looking satisfied now he had been able to recite the entire list.
The door was shut,
and boxcar became completely dark. The inevitable smell from the soiled
undergarments of the terrorized children began to rise. Ottla knew it would
dissipate as soon as the train began to move.
“What do you know about
the new camp, Pani Ottla?” Michal whispered in the dark, so as not to wake the
other children who were too frightened to sleep. “Will we have better food?”
“I’m told the new camp
is very efficient,” Ottla said. She heard the cascading clanks of each boxcar
being clenched by its neighbor as they were dragged forward by the locomotive.
“I’m sure it will be nicer than Theresienstadt, but I’ve never met anyone who’s
been to Auschwitz .”
Tags:
Short Fiction