Articles of the Holocaust

Articles of the Holocaust

by Karen Lesley

Copyright 2014 Karen Lesley

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents.

Journalist introduction.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

About the Karen Lesley.

Other Titles.

******Journalist introduction.******

When I first learnt of Eichmann's arrest – and later what he had done – I thought they must be a reason to explain it, a way to describe it, to prescribe it by the limits and circumstances of human behaviour – now I know this isn't true.

I read of how he stood and told the world of how he'd organized.

Of all the places the trains had been. Of how they'd picked up and placed down – despite everything that was in their care – and I knew that it all could be explained.

So I scoured the globe – I searched for people who'd been effected – who'd been involved.

I searched high – and low – following up every lead I could find.

Hiding identities – promising never to involve authorities.

And here are their stories – and still I don't know - I can't explain why.

******Chapter One.******

Max is 63 years old. He lives with his wife in a small square chocolate coloured house in the suburbia of a well known Germany town. The house is well proportioned and shows signs of affluence. The grass, on all times of visiting, was well cut, and the path leading up to the front door was immaculate. On each occasion his wife, the German epitome of the traditional Hausefrau, opened the door onto a spotlessly clean, front room, parlour.

Each time, starting with the first, a ritual began, his wife bringing in a tray of coffee and spiced iced gingerbread biscuits, closing the windows, turn the lights on, or, if the weather was cold, the fire on, and closing the door.

Four photographs stood on the carved wooden German chest – the first of a very young man in an old fashioned uniform, an Iron Cross pinned on his left side, the second a wedding photo, the woman wearing a dress from the late 1920's, her hair up, with a flower slotted into its side. The third showing a family group, a man and woman, a group of five children, all standing by their mother's side, looking nervous, all smiling down at the baby in her mother's arm, and then nothing until much much later, the same man and woman – slightly older and plumper – both smiling down at a baby wearing a long flowing christening robe, held in the woman's arms.

Tell me about your family. Where were you born. What did your father do.

I was born in 1899. 22nd March. It was a blowy day – showy, 'perky' as you say now.

i) Though questioned repeatedly for details of his

birth and childhood i.e. location, town, he refused

to say, wanting to keep that to himself,

'between him and his maker'.

I was the oldest of three. A younger sister, Gretha. She was born two years later. But she died...later...in the second war...in a bombing raid...one of those, how do you say...blanket raids.... where everyone, everything, was killed. One evening the bombers came and took the city away.

Then there's Rudolf – my brother – six years younger than me. I don't know...04, 05? 1906.

i) Though pressed over his whereabouts when his sister was

killed, it obviously still distressing him, he refused to say,

just shaking his head saying, 'fighting fighting'.

And your parents?

Mama and Papa....

Mama and Papa....

"They were married the year before I was born.’A year of rain before the sunshine came', they used to say.’A moment of happiness', 'the first of three', Papa used to say. ‘The five of us, a family', Mama used to say.

'Close the curtains Isla', Papa used to say, 'and make it just the five of us again'.

i) He paused and was so quiet the ticking of the clock above the fireplace was audible.

"1898 they married. Isla and Adolf. Mama and Papa. He was a bookkeeper and she was a housewife, a Hausfrau. 'One of the best jobs you can have', she used to say. 'Looking after our three moments of happiness'.

He passed away in 1930, and Mama twelve years ago. She came here. She was happy here. They weren't poor. They were what's called now, the new middle classes, the first middle classes.

We had everything we needed, and more, us children, their three moments of happiness.

They were Catholics. We were all supposed to be Catholics.To follow and keep the faith.

But not you?

I was then – but no, not anymore.

i) It was at this point, for the first time, he looked distressed.

He looked towards the photographs standing on the chest.

They could never understand.

I could never understand.

God – he could never understand.

After the war – the first war. Did you lose your faith, did you?

It disappeared. It was lost to me. And they could never understand.

i) At this stage of the interview, he became quiet,

agitated, in so much, as to need a break for twenty

minutes, during which he recomposed himself.

You were telling me about your parents.

Papa was a bookkeeper. A good one. One of the first with one of the biggest companies of his day. He wanted me to follow him, to follow in his footsteps. To be like him...But I didn't want...not, not to be like him.... just be different.... not even from him.... I wanted .... I just wanted.... to be different

The army.... a proper life.... a good life.... a meaningful life for a boy.

Papa wanted me to follow him straight from school...but I wouldn’t....

Mama told me later, nearly forty years later.... that I hurt him...but he loved me...he was proud of me....'our three little moments of happiness all have to make their own paths Isla', he'd said.

A life in the army.... an army life was for me....

The young man.... the young man was me. I'd just...I had it taken and sent home.... home to them...I was young....

They kept it.... kept for years over the hearth.

One of me, one of Gretha in her nurse’s uniform, and one of him dressed up – pretending he was a sailor going off, overseas.

'Our three little moments of happiness Isla', Papa said when he sat down for tea.

Your brother – Rudolf.... where is he now?

i)The room went silent for some time. The clock was audible

again.

I don’t know. I haven't seen him for years – we...don't...get on. He was there at Mama's funeral with his wife and oldest child – but I haven't seen him since....

We don't get on.

And Gretha.....

I told you.....

i) At this stage of the interview, he looked annoyed. He

pushed his chair back – but then slowly sat back down

again.

She died - in the last war.

She never married – had children?

There were no young men left not after the war, the first war, the Great War – they were all wiped out – destroyed. There was nobody left.

She was a nurse – played her part, fought in both wars.

i) At this point, his eyes misted over, and he took a sip of water

out of the glass his wife had left for him.

She died when the bombers hit the town.

And you...you married your wife - when?

In between the wars....

i) Here he shouted to his wife.

1928. July.... 1928. It was sunny.

i) For a moment he looked at the photograph on the

wooden cabinet.

And children... How many children do you have?

Six of them – Ada, Adolf, Dieter, Eckart, Isla, Gabriel - one after another from the first year after the marriage.

i) He looked at the photographs and smiled.

"Then it was the thing to do – somewhere she'll have her medal – she kept it even after the war. I was away a lot – making ends meet – sending money home. Jobs were short on the ground – had to go where you could – to make ends met....to send money home.

The last one - Gabriel - came the year of the war – the second war. The last big war.

i) He laughed – but sarcastically.

There's grandchildren now – the youngest one, six.

And your parents..... Isla and Adolf – what were they like.

i) At this point of the interview he didn't speak for

a long time – his wife came and brought more

coffee.

"They were good – good people...good parents..... they loved us, their three little moments of happiness. ’Put the kettle on Isla and get the coffee going'.....

'Nip to the garden Papa and get us some peas'".

They were firm..... none of this modern nonsense.... we knew where we were.... they were Mama and Papa, and we were their three little moments of happiness.

If we were naughty.....

if we were good.....

And what did they think when you left home and joined the army?

They were proud of me.

Papa..... he..... kissed me.... told me......I was all grown up.

Mama cried all the way to the station.

'Wipe your nose Isla and say goodbye to our boy', Papa said at the railway station.

And she did".

i) Once again he stopped talking and stared into the distance.

She stroked the lapels of my coat and told me she loved me – that I was a man now as well.

And so.....So… you were in the war. The First War......

i) This question produced the most astonishing response of the

whole interview. Though always an upright man; almost as if

he had something he was trying not to hide, but something he

was not entirely comfortable with; he sat bolt upright in the

chair, stiffened, and then collapsed forwards

at the waist. His face reddened, and a doctor was called.

Two weeks later the interview recommenced.

I would still be there – in the army if they'd have me...if they hadn't disbanded me...but it was no-more.

You were in the other war – the second war, the second great war – tell me about that.

There was only one war – one proper war, one Great War – one total, complete war. A man's war. A war of men. Of blood and battles. A war to end all wars.... A war of boredom, and battles....and blood.

But the second war...The second big war.... what was your role in this?

i) At this he lost his temper. He slammed his

fist down on the table, which stood next to his chair,

nearly shattering the tape recorder. It was only

good manners, and pleading from his wife that

prevented him from terminating the interview as a

whole.

The next day he apologized.

The second war.... the second war.... that's all anyone these days.... wants to know about.

The Great War....the war to end all wars.....The last war..... The total war.....

The deaths.....

i) At this point he started crying, and consequently

some of his words were lost to the tape recorder.

Men – on both sides....Dying...heroes....

Both sides....

Not just our side....their side as well.

"The men.....the men.....lost their lives – lost....legs.....

Up to necks in body parts....seeing limbs.... toes sticking out of mud.

Heroes on both sides....

Men....my friends.

His chest all over me....covering my face....running down....right into my eyes so I.....couldn't see....

Adolf....my friend....enlisted with.....his guts covering my chin....blinding me....couldn't see....

i) Here he started shuddering, and rubbing his face over and

over again. His wife brought him in a glass of brandy and

whispered, 'he doesn't talk about it, can't talk about it too

much – it upsets him. Makes him remember things he'd rather forget'.

Men lost body parts, and later you'd find them. Step on.....in them....legs, pieces of hands....once a whole head....only the eyeball hanging out.

There was an honor between us – all of us, them and us.

Both knew what the others felt like – what the others were going through.

It was.....grotesque.

Like going to an abattoir.

Friends of mine....friends from when I'd enlisted....gone....or not gone.....gone in different ways.

i) By now he was more in control of himself, more able to talk. To express himself coherently.

There was an honor then – nothing like today. Nothing like it was in the other war....we respected them, and respected ourselves.....knew what we all were going through.

And the battles.....which battles did you fight. Did you see?

i) He was quiet for a minute.

The first one Liege - 14th August 1914 - ending 16th August, when we were victorious in Belgium. And Marne, later that one, later.....1916, 1916, yes, I think.

i) When questioned concerning a solid fact, i.e. dates, he

was able to talk more lucidly.

There was lots of waiting....endless waiting....sitting round in sticky mud, waiting for something to start.

And the smell....the smell never leaves you....even to this day.....the smell of bodies.....of decaying bodies.....

i) His wife later stated that once she'd left some

meat out in the sun and his response was similar

to the initial stage of this phase of the interview.

People don't think of the smell – and the rats....big as dinner plates – plenty to eat....to feast on.... Apart from when the bombing started, and then the rats ran away.

It was tedious.....mind numbing after the trenches settled in. After Marne, no ...during Marne....when the trenches settled in.

Filling sandbags, making sure the duckboards were kept in repair.... and the smell....the dirt....the mud – never quite knowing what it was like to be clean.

Up before dawn to check the firestep.....make sure the other side wasn't going to attack.

The smell....

People today don't know what boredom's really like.

What else did you do?

I was given the listening post, one of the most dangerous jobs of the war.

In front of the others line.....listening – watching out for their attack.

And after the war – what did you do?

After the war. After the war... That's all any of you want to know. The second war – the important war. This war....this war.....The Great War.....the important war.....the epitome of war..... the moment of war.....The Great War......the war to end all wars.......

i) At this point, he appeared to be losing his

temper again. He swallowed several times and

called his wife for coffee.

Later......later.....1917/1918? I became part of a wiring party.....a member of the wiring party – under Flynn.

They sent me. I was told to go.

It was the most dangerous job of the war – more dangerous than anything I’d ever done before.

You crept into no-man's land, into the craters, and the bodies.....the unexploded......shells, when it was dark.....before it got light.

He was our leader.....a brilliant leader – one of the best leaders a man could have......

Men.....men.....who'd hadn't been rescued, calling for their mothers as they died.

Craters that you fell down in and had to crawl back up.

The noises of the dying once they'd got past the last stages of life.

It was grim.

Thinking....believing..... it was a.....er.....foothold.....and.....then......seeing it was the guts of another man, the leftovers of a hand.....or......a......foot.....that had been there since 1914.

All bodies.....churned up.....and left where they lay.

"Once you got there......once Flynn had led us there.....past.....all.....all.....

then we started work".

Banging new posts back in, but quietly.....really quietly so the other side didn't hear. It was dangerous – really dangerous – and many of Flynn's men died.

In front of the trenches, in front of our trenches and their's.

Then winding the barbed wire back round.

i) He stared into the distance again. Then he looked at the

clock.

All the time the other side looking for you, trying to find out where you were.

Them doing the same thing - but on the other side.

Sending up flares....Machine gunning you if you were lucky..... hand to hand if you were unluckily instead.

Men dying....men brave on both sides.

Meeting....each other – men.....men in the middle, from the other side.

Hand to hand combat......seeing, touching them......feeling....them.....before they died.....

While they died......

Fighting.....

Horrible......

Brave men....hearing......them die.

After afterwards.....afterwards.....feeling the shake at the back of your legs – knowing that you could have died.

i) At this stage he got up, touched a photograph

and signalled he needed a break.

And after the wiring party – after that?

I've got nothing to say.

And the leaders.....do you think the leaders were to blame?

"Cowards - nothing but filthy dirty cowards, riding a war on the