We had vacated our home for a small time, hiding with another Jewish family. The plan was to return home when the bombs stopped falling, the radio said that the air force was on the offensive and that the Germans were winning. I may be Jewish but this conflict needs to stop — all I want is to go home to our bakery, sleep in my own bed and return to my life. I just wanted to retreat into our home with my family and be left alone–not much to ask, right?
We were lucky that we hadn’t been taken, we were together, and for that I am grateful. A broadcast came over the airwaves saying that the skies were clear over Nuremberg. We watched the skies from the attic window for days and days on end. A week went by, not a single plane in sight, not a single artillery shot, nothing by clear blue sky and warm crisp autumn air. My father woke us early a Sunday morning and told us to pack our belongings, we were to leave that night and return home. He believed that the authorities would think we had gone and would not come to check our home. Essentially we would be in hiding in our own home.
Darkness fell over Nuremberg and we left the house that was sheltering the other families. We walked swiftly through the dark, not even a red lantern in hand to light the way; wondering to our home by memory. We turned on our street and walked towards our house only to have my mother let out a long low wail as we stood in front out home that had been destroyed in the bombings.
My father covered her mouth with his hands but we saw headlamps swivel down our street. It was a military style truck, open aired with two helmeted men sitting in the front. They spotted us in the middle of the block and began to speed up, there was nothing we could do. They saw our stars on our chest and that was all they needed to see before cracking all of our skulls. I came to in the back of the truck with blood dripping down my face.
At dawn we were taken to a rail station where we were thrown into a cattle cars. We were bloodied, sweaty and scared. Dozens of faces were added to the cattle car as the day progressed and as night fell, we were jammed to capacity. All the faces were the same, alone, scared, knowing that this train was likely to take us to the camps where our friends and family have been taken.
The train rolled out of Nuremberg and traveled east through the night. We stopped many hours later in the dark of the morning. Wired with fear, our eyes were wide open starring at the the looming dark brick building along the railway. We were corralled out of the railcar, through a muddied yard and below an arch that said, “Work Will Set You Free”. It was at this point that I knew we were in trouble — this was Auschwitz–it would be impossible to make it out alive.
Kristof Block