We are leaving Theresienstadt

5000 men are crowded together in the train. Bauschowitz sinks behind them. The dream of being able to stay together with the family is over. They are going, everyone feels, into the unknown. Squeezed in between rucksacks, suitcases and all sorts of luggage, they begin the recurring debate: where to? To Dresden, to a labour camp? Or to central Germany? No one knows anything. As happens so often, they have been left in the dark by the SS about their true intentions. Between waking and sleeping, in the monotonous wagon rhythm, sounds the farewells of their loved ones that they left behind in Theresienstadt. Yes, the mother behaved well, bravely fought with the rising tears and firmly, firmly believed that everything would go well. The men know it: the dearest thing she ever protected, that suffered for her, is now in the unknown. Everyone - on the train, in Theresienstadt - gropes in the darkness.

Stations drift past: just recognizable in the darkened light: houses, forest, meadow - the train rattles on and on. Dresden. The goal. They should get out there. But as so often, they have not been told a word of truth, the journey continues. SS guards on each platform. If anyone throws any paper out of the window, he is shot. / You are not allowed to send the truth to Theresienstadt. The men are serious sitting on the train. Smoking ... Where are we going? Pessimists speak up: to a concentration camp, but no. It was said and yet... Yes, we were told. When had the SS kept its word to a Jew? - - The journey continues: Bautzen, Görlitz, Neisse… One thinks of his wife again. What will she do now? Noticing the end of a margarine paper at his feet, he throws it carelessly out of the window. The door flies open, framing the wild face of the Untersturmfuhrer escort yelling, Who threw the paper out of the window? -Silence- Well, and? Fear creeps in. He takes the revolver and removes the safety. Within one minute I will know who threw the paper out, otherwise I'll put the whole car down. He looks at his watch. Pale, someone stands up, says: It was just margarine paper, I threw it out. - You know it's forbidden. - Yes. He gets even paler. The Untersturmfuhrer launches, aims - the people sitting there do not grasp it yet - shoots, the other sinks, covered in blood, still alive. The man in green approaches him, shoots him in the head, then pushes the lifeless body into a corner with his foot, goes out. The blood is flowing. Covers the floor. The men are frozen. They are deeply shaken. Was that possible? A margarine paper. A human. Do not look, how the blood flows. Where one lies dead, who minutes before was their comrade, their fellow sufferer, with all the hopes and desires they themselves had. Now they know it: you do not count as humans to them anymore. Now they are completely in the hands of the SS.

The journey continues, untouched by what happened in the wagon. One of many has already suffered out. The further the train rolls, Myslowitz, Gleiwitz, the surer the destination: Auschwitz. A labour camp? What do you know about it? Everything and nothing. And then a few more stations, the train halts, is pushed onto another track and stops. The 5000 look out: barbed wire with the white insulated buttons. For those who have been in a camp before, the familiar picture: the German concentration camp.

White-blue striped convicts are already jumping into the wagon: Out, out, Leave all luggage in the wagon. Taking it along is forbidden. One painful surprise follows the other. Stand in rows of ten... And there stands the line of the 5000. Already without will. A herd, looks and looks. They do not know what is happening to them. The last thing of their clothing and food stays behind. At the disposal of the SS. Well-fed convicts are clearing out the wagons. Creatures of the SS. Supplying them with cigarettes, watches, gold. The 5000 close up. You are in a waking dream: Is this all true? Is this possible? Around them the barbed wire, electrically charged: criminals, yes, they are stamped as criminals because they are Jews. Now they know what they feared. Gone is the dream of all the beauty that they still possessed. Now just do not think about mother, away, far away with those thoughts. They feel how their throats close, in their eyes are the faces of their loved ones they left in Theresienstadt. They only think: God protect them from this fate. Then they stand in front of the SS man. Age - 26 - Healthy? - Yes. A short, searching glance, a gesture to the right. Age? - 52 - Healthy? - War injury on the arm The thumb of the SS man points to the left. And so on. The son is torn from the father. Brother from brother. Can my father go with me? - No and a sadistic look from the SS man. And he plows on through the pile. Then off to the blocks. 3000 are gone. Where are the others? No one asks aloud. A tremendous tension prevails. The son, I forgot something urgent to tell him, I must go to him. Soon soon. --- Suddenly a command: In the sauna. The line moves towards the sauna. Take everything off. Nothing may be taken into the bathroom." They throw everything away without a word: documents, the picture of the father, the mother, everything on the floor. In the dirt. Now they go to the bathroom. Dozens of showers. Towels and soap are distributed. They are toddling around, waiting for the water. A convict's face looks through the rubber-sealed window: Ready? - Yes. The doors close. It becomes tight in the room. Those inside look at the showers. Still no water? The air is bad, it presses in so closet. Air! Air! The eyes bulge out. They want to scream. Can not. Scream. The chest jumps. Gas! Gas! I have to say something important to the son, I can already see him: Yes I see you. You are so indistinct, my eyes, what’s wrong with my eyes? The mother, I wanted to stroke her, and she goes away from me. Farther away, I ... mother ... I do not see you anymore ... So they die. 3000. We, the meager remnant of six million Jews, think of them and of those who died before and after them. The horror has marked us. We know about life and death. We rarely talk about it anymore, and the word family has become nothing more than a shimmer of a distant, distant time.

We smile again because we live. We see the sun, the spring but we remain lonely. We look at the people who marvel at us and some who advertise us, they do not understand us.

We remain lonely. --------------

Otto Kalwo