Black Night

[Unpublished]

I watch from the truck as they hammer on the door, black shapes scurrying around in the dark. Seconds later it opens quickly, and the moon's glow spotlights a frightened man, his expression pale and anguished. They take him by the arms and drag him down the yard, as others burst into the house, reappearing swiftly with the man's whimpering, moaning family members. All of them are escorted forcibly from the house and tossed into the back of the truck. I hear the slam and bolting of the rear doors, and then the jabbering and the shrieking and the groaning starts again. The engine splutters into gear, and I settle down for the trip. This is the final pick-up. Now begins the journey to hell.
I am surrounded by hard faces, features of rock and granite. I believe that this is necessary, for weaker ones would crumble, and would not be able to perform the tasks required. The steady hum of the engine mingles with the sounds from the back of the truck as the night passes us by. The trip seems to last for an eternity, although in reality it is mere minutes. Presently the vehicle halts, and I tremble as they leap outside into the coldness, and slowly I join them.
The back doors are wrenched open, and out tumble ragged, lost figures reeking of fear. Men, women and children of all ages, some shouting in protest, others silent, and others crying out to the night. They are beaten and battered, all of them, even the ones that are not complaining. They are ushered through a large entrance, two sturdy wooden doors that seem to lead into a warehouse of some sort. I follow, keeping to the rear of the crowd, watching the bobbing heads as they proceed along a narrow corridor. Shortly we approach a larger room, and the victims are pushed into this wide, open space. The weeping continues, and it appears to be louder now.
In seconds they are all inside, and I peer through the doors. I shiver in horror at the sight within. The room is enormous, and I guess it is a hall of some kind. It is filled with these people. Mattresses are spread across the floor, and I immediately notice frail, thin figures hunched together in small groups. Everyone is naked, and I see that the newcomers are being forced to strip too. The neverending sea of white flesh is disturbed at intervals by dark uniformed shapes, and I look closer to see what is taking place. Upon one of the mattresses is a pathetic female figure with lank, blonde hair and an expression of numb terror. The dark ones are taking turns to rape her, and yet she remains still and aloof, her eyes blank and staring into oblivion. I reckon she must be around nineteen years of age, and that at one time she was beautiful. I close my eyes tightly so that I cannot witness this scene; but alas, all I can see in my personal mental darkness is an ocean of swastikas, and the expression that is etched upon the poor girl's face.
So I open my eyes again, and just before I am taken away, I spot another of the soldiers. He is perhaps twelve feet away, bent over a table behind an emaciated, naked figure. He is buggering this victim, stabbing away furiously, although I am unable to tell whether this person is male or female. All I realise is that he or she is very young, perhaps a pre-teen. My stomach churns up inside and I am almost compelled to vomit. But I fight it, as the soldiers take me down the corridor. I enter a smaller room, and at once I smell cigar smoke.
A bespectacled figure of authority is seated behind a makeshift desk, surrounded by stern-looking soldiers. He seems to be in a happy mood; apparently this has been a successful night for him. I wait for him to speak, and as I do so I hear noises outside; people crying and yelling, then gunshots, followed by silence. The purging has begun.
"It's been a good night," the officer says to me. He belches a thick cloud of smoke in my direction, before pushing his fat cigar back into his mouth.
"I suppose so," I say, my voice a mere croak. I resist the urge to shift from foot to foot.
I hear more sounds outside; more shouting and whimpering, more gunfire, more silence. My attention now moves to the doorway, as two unclothed figures are dragged into the room. They stand close to the exit, breathing heavily and with eyes dashing around the room. One is a woman, the other is a young girl. I eye the latter, snaking my eyes up and down her quivering form. I see crusts of blood around her upper legs, matted into her tiny tuft of pubic hair, and dry trails of claret running down her inner thighs. This tells me that she has not escaped the sexual abuse inside that hall. Her expression is of pain and suffering, as is the other female's. I look at her, and spot small blotches all around and over her breasts, which I guess to be cigarette burns. Immediately I look away, choosing to keep my gaze upon the man at the desk.
"What shall we do with them?" he asks, nodding to the naked ones.
I glance their way again, before resting my eyes upon the officer once more. "What do you mean?"
"Shall we drag them outside and shoot them?"
I hear a shrill gasp escape from the lips of the young girl. I do not look at her. "Yes," I say.
There is a strange quietness in the room as the pair are hauled out and along the corridor. The officer is staring at me, directly into my eyes. I want to look away, but I feel I daren't. Some seconds later I hear that distinctive noise again; bawling voices, the rat-a-tat of gunfire, then the sound of two figures falling to the ground. I will the tears to come, but they refuse.
"You have done well," the officer informs me, "do you want your freedom now?"
Somehow I know it would not be right to nod in agreement. Instead I allow the question to linger, to float around in the air. Outside I listen to more people being shot. I expect some of them were my friends at one time.
"I repeat... do you want your freedom?"
The officer's eyes are stabbing at me, large and evil. Two soldiers approach, and roughly grab me by the arms. They await further instruction. Cigar smoke drifts across my vision.
"Yes," I mumble.
Suddenly the one behind the desk lets out a fearsome bellow of laughter, as if someone has told him a huge joke of some kind. His face turns red as he chuckles, and saliva escapes in torrents from his foaming lips.
"Take the fool away," he commands.
"No!" I cry, and I feel my heart begin to pound more fiercely inside my chest. "You promised! You promised!"
My pleas trail off into the gloom as the soldiers escort me from the room, and I am taken quickly along the corridor, my thoughts in disarray. I really ought to have expected this. Presently I feel the cold night air hit my face as we arrive outside in the yard. I see corpses being tossed into the back of a large truck, and naked people lined up against the wall, a firing squad facing them, ready and aiming. I hear the crackle of gunfire, and the pale figures drop to the earth, lifeless.
I am shaking horribly as the blindfold is tugged over my eyes, and I consider my actions of late. My decisions had been out of desperation, yet I should have known that the Nazis would not let me go; for I am a Jew, just like the rest of them.
All the names and addresses I gave them, they weren't enough. Betraying my wife and daughter - even this sin wasn't enough to win my freedom. And now they have perished because of my cowardice... I should weep, but I cannot. I should fall down on my knees and beg God's forgiveness, but I cannot. This dog eat dog world in which we live is His doing, not mine. And as I await the very last beat of my heart, I realise that my will to survive was just as strong as the next man's.