Hsc
He told me one last story. He used his aged, ruined voice hands like an old man's hands to pick the lock on his past and open the door for me to enter. He is happy to tell me stories about his times here, but as soon as I ask about his childhood his face shuts down and he ignores me until I change the subject. I never knew about his family; brothers or sister, Aunts, Uncles, cousins; Nothing. Until he changed his mind. What he told me will haunt me for the rest of my life.
He told me of how his head was shaved; his clothes taken away and replaced with a flimsy prison-type uniform. He told of being separated from his family; Children crying for their mothers, and mothers crying for their children. People begging for mercy. Others trying to bribe with the little they had left. He talked about people becoming breathing skeletons, while the guards seemed to grow fatter in comparison. He talked about the fear that was instilled in them, seeping to their bones. The fear that one day you'd never wake up, or worse, you would be sent off and not be seen again.
I found out he had a brother. They were twins. He said they were the lucky ones, but of what he told me they didn't seem lucky at all. Compared to the other children that were mentioned, they got off lightly. There were no attempts to sterilise them, no operations to change their eye colour. They weren't purposely made sick to see how the other twin reacted. I guess "Uncle Joe" hadn't gotten around to them.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn, faded photo of two young boys, with their arms around each other's shoulders. The broad smiles couldn't remove the haunted look in their eyes. He handed it to me andl ooked off, his voice having a dreamlike quality to it. He and his brother survived the ordeal, although his parents and sister were not as lucky. His brother killed himself after a few years, to get away from the ghosts. The fact that he had no one left caused him to move and start a new life. The life he has now.
I harboured a new found respect for my Grandfather after that day. It took all his courage to tell me about his experiences, but he told be that they had to be told. The horrors needed to be known to stop them from reoccurring. I didn't have the heart too tell him it was too late, history was repeating itself. I think deep in his heart he knew this as well as I did.
He told me of how his head was shaved; his clothes taken away and replaced with a flimsy prison-type uniform. He told of being separated from his family; Children crying for their mothers, and mothers crying for their children. People begging for mercy. Others trying to bribe with the little they had left. He talked about people becoming breathing skeletons, while the guards seemed to grow fatter in comparison. He talked about the fear that was instilled in them, seeping to their bones. The fear that one day you'd never wake up, or worse, you would be sent off and not be seen again.
I found out he had a brother. They were twins. He said they were the lucky ones, but of what he told me they didn't seem lucky at all. Compared to the other children that were mentioned, they got off lightly. There were no attempts to sterilise them, no operations to change their eye colour. They weren't purposely made sick to see how the other twin reacted. I guess "Uncle Joe" hadn't gotten around to them.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn, faded photo of two young boys, with their arms around each other's shoulders. The broad smiles couldn't remove the haunted look in their eyes. He handed it to me andl ooked off, his voice having a dreamlike quality to it. He and his brother survived the ordeal, although his parents and sister were not as lucky. His brother killed himself after a few years, to get away from the ghosts. The fact that he had no one left caused him to move and start a new life. The life he has now.
I harboured a new found respect for my Grandfather after that day. It took all his courage to tell me about his experiences, but he told be that they had to be told. The horrors needed to be known to stop them from reoccurring. I didn't have the heart too tell him it was too late, history was repeating itself. I think deep in his heart he knew this as well as I did.