Das Vieh - The Cattle

• Sneha Mishra, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2013

It had often been cold. Today, however, was different. The temperature must have been at least minus seven, the door was frozen solid, and icicles hung from the ceiling of the small cubicle. Water dripped from them at two-second intervals. It used to drive Nurita crazy, but now she was immune to it.

The room was merciless and unfeeling. Each wall carefully designed to hold her back from the freedom, which she longed for. She prayed to god everyday, to let them out soon. Elora, her friend, always told her “The god has forsaken the Jews Nurita! There is no use praying”, but Nurita didn’t believe her. Her god would never let her down.

She looked outside. Nothing grew in Auschwitz concentration camp. There was not a single bird, no grass, nothing.

“Steh auf du Stück filth! Get up you pieces of filth!” Nurita looked around slowly. Everyone was petrified, all of them staring at the Schutzstaffel officer standing there.

“Follow me!” the officer bellowed in scratchy English.

Everyone was lined up with the rest of the camp for a mass counting, a usual procedure. Everyday, at 4 am, the entire prisoner population would be lined up by the SS officer in rows of five for counting and inspection. Selections were made for the gas chambers. If someone couldn’t be accounted for, the entire camp had to kneel until that person was found, dead or alive. Anyone who stood up was killed.

Nurita, along with others, knelt barefoot and freezing until noon. When they returned to the barracks, everyone was given one small bowl of “soup”, filled with grits, and filthy vegetables. Everyone satisfyingly drank the distasteful liquid prepared by the maid sticking her arthritic feet in to warm it. It was a necessity to consume something to endure the long work hours.

They had to work eight to nine hours everyday. Usually it involved unloading gravel and coal from trucks. If you didn't finish your assigned task, you got a beating.

As usual, Nurita was transporting the heavy sack of gravel from the truck when an unfamiliar train arrived. As she slowly walked down the line of cattle cars, she heard muffled sounds from inside; a sort of stifled sobbing sounds. It took all of Nurita’s courage to ask the guard, "What’s in here sir, in these cattle cars?”

He replied with a wide grin, "It's cattle – what else would be shipped to the fine slaughter houses of Berlin?”
There were a lot of carts on the train, and they seemed full. "Wow, that's a lot of cattle."
"Ja! They are all contaminated, so we are disposing them before they infect the others." The whistle blew and a loud moan elevated from all the cars in harmony. Nurita realized they must be sick. She had never heard cattle make such a sound before.

As the train began to move, she shouted after the officer, "What breed are they?"
He sniggered and replied,
"Juden!"