Never Forgotten (original historical fiction)
As a little girl of about eight, I remember being driven by Allied soldiers out to the barren countryside. It felt like we had been riding in these huge transport trucks for years, but I now know it was really only about seven hours or so. All the way, I was thinking about the surrender of Germany and the death of Hitler. I remember my parents crying when the news was released to the public, but I was too young to understand what had just ended. All I knew was that the Jews were allowed to do what all the rest of us could do again, and I knew that was wrong.
I know better now. Even as such a young girl, I scoffed and spit at them. Looking back, I realize it was because of the propaganda against them, but the anti-semitic attitude was already there, everywhere in Europe and across the world. I realize that it had been for centuries. We were told by the Nazi party that they were the source of our problems, and I admire the citizens who were smart enough to see that they weren't. I was too little to know any better, and most other citizens needed someone to blame.
Eventually, we came to a set of huge gates framed by a brick building that made the gates all the more intimidating. It was glaring at us from the distance. As we approached, I heard my parents, who were sitting next to me, gasp in shock and fear. Not a few moments later, I felt them grip my hand tightly. They thought we would be imprisoned in this monstrous jail-like place because we had supported the Nazi party and their rise to power. I didn't think so. The Allied soldiers had seemed nice enough.
The gates opened as we got closer to them, as if someone inside had been waiting for us to arrive. I suppose someone was. We were let out of the transport car and told, kindly, to follow the soldiers. They led us through the gates that so scared us and we followed, not really knowing what to expect. We knew it wasn't the sight that greeted us.
What we saw was skeletons. Skeletons standing there, staring at us. Beyond the immediate wasteland, we could see dead bodies randomly strewn, piled up, and badly buried in the near distance. But it wasn't the corpses that scared me. They were dead, how could they hurt me? No, it was the living, breathing, thinking cadavers staring at me with their dead eyes that frightened me. It was them who would hurt me, hurt me for living healthily and relatively comfortably while they had been in this terrible place, dying. As the rest of the group and I stared in shock, disgust, and horror, we were completely unaware that these people were Jews and prisoners of war, gypsies and homosexuals, and all those people we were taught to hate. They were mostly Jews. The Allied soldiers eventually spoke.
"These...creatures, for they can no longer be called humans, were condemned to die here by you. You sent them here by your support of Hitler and the Nazi party. This was his goal all along, to reduce everyone in the world that he didn't like to this. Do you smell that smell?" The end of their righteous, angry speech came with this question. For a second, it seemed random, but once the question was asked, a terrible smell - more horrendous than any of them had ever experianced - was brought to their attention. Oh, the power of suggestion. Instantly, many of us were gagging, some even vomitting off to the side. The soldiers only continued their speech.
"That smell is the smell of burning human flesh. The people who ran this camp began burning all the prisoners alive when they found out about the beginning of liberation. Or, the end of the war. Do you see that building?" they ask, and point to a square, stone buidling that is standing about five hundred yards from where we were. We would have nodded in any other instance, but in light of what we had found out, we could do nothing but stare. They assumed we could see it, and continued further.
"That building housed the gas chambers. Here, prisoners who were deemed too weak to be useful were taken under the impression that they were going to take a shower, and so stripped of clothes. When they got there, the room was sealed behind them, and poison gas spilled from the vents, killing them. It was called the 'final solution'. The plan was to kill every single Jew, homosexual, and gypsy in the world, along with anyone else Hitler didn't think should be a part of the dominant Aryan race," one of them states challengingly, pointing to the building. I could barely understand what they meant, what they were saying, but I knew it was bad from the look on my parents' faces. It wasn't until years later, when I remembered this scene in recurring nightmares, heard the soldiers' voices reverberating in my mind, that I realized exactly how important, how apalling, how shocking and repulsive what they had been telling us was. It was testimony to the cruelty of man and to the fact that ignorance truly is sheer bliss. And that is what the adults were comprehending now, as I and they swam in awe and loathing at the smell and the sight before me, not to mention the words to explain them. I told myself that the people who had experianced such terror and barbarity had deserved it. At that moment, I understood that's what we had been doing for the entirety of the Fuhrer's Reich. At that moment, I grew up. And then the soldiers continued.
"Do you see that road leading away from us? Do you see those structures a ways away? That's where they slept, packed in like sardines. That road leads to where the strong ones worked. I'd take you to see them, but I think you've seen enough. I think you get the point. Do? Do you understand what you've let happen? Will you let it happen again?" the soldier asked as he finished his sililoquy. And then he just stood there, staring us down, staring at us challengingly. He waited for us to say something. No one did. I still didn't understand quite what was happening, but I knew it was bad. I knew it was terrible. And I knew his point was that we were never supposed to let anyone forget what had happened here. In my young, childlike mind, I promised the kind soldier I never would.
And I haven't. I've done my part to make sure the events that took place during the forties are never forgotten. Many from that group of people, among others who had supported the Nazi regime, committed suicide because of what they had seen that day, at Auschwitz and the other death camps, or even after just being told about it. But beyond that, many who survived went deep into denial to make themselves feel less guilty about what had happened. Others didn't. Others made it their mission to ensure that such an atrocity would never be committed again. They ensured that what came to be known as the Holocaust was never forgotten, me included.
So far, we have succeeded.
This is something I wrote for Holocaust Remembrance Day. I don't remember what day it was on, but I know it was in March. I'm a little late...XD But, better late than never. I'm not really all that happy with how it turned out, but that may be paranoia. Tell me what you think...
The information presented in this is gleaned from history classes, documentaries, books, articles, and pictures. If there are any facts that are slightly wrong, I deeply apologize, especially if it offends you. I do know that regular citizens were taken to the death camps to see them and their inhabitants, but I might have taken a little creative licence and tweaked how it was done a little bit. Again, I'm sorry if it offends you.
This is basically about a girl who is taken by the soldiers of Allied forces (Britain, the United States, and France were the big ones) to Auschwitz and her, along with others from her village/town, were presented with what Hitler was actually doing. The girl comes to the conclusion that this terrible crime must never be forgotten, and it shouldn't.
My mother's family came from Germany, and yes, some of them were Jewish. This is a very personal topic for my mom, so it's sort of written for her...