Monday, May 19, 2008

NIght pages 23-28



The cattle cars carrying the narrator and the other prisoners is cramped, with little room to sit. There was little air, and after two days of travel under these conditions, the heat and their thirst grew intolerable. The narrator remarks that "our principle was to economize, to save for tomorrow. Tomorrow could be worse yet" (p. 23). These Jews are living for the future, not caring or considering their hunger or desire in the present. The train stops in Kaschau, a small town on the Czechoslovakian border. A German officer, through the interpretations of a Hungarian lieutenant, informs them that those with valuable objects must hand them over or risk being shot. He informs them that "there are eighty of you in the car...If anyone goes missing, you will all be shot, like dogs" (p. 24). The Germans dehumanized the Jews, calling them dogs so that it felt more like killing mad, mangy animals than humans. The two officers leave, and "the doors were nailed, the way back irrevocably cut off. The world had become a hermetically sealed cattle car" (p. 24). http://www.gendercide.org/case_jews.html . The way back to Sighet is cut off with the closing of the doors; their whole world becomes the cattle cars and where they are traveling.

A certain woman among them, Mrs. Schachter, has been totally shattered by the mistaken deportation of her husband and two oldest with the first transport. She is in her fifties, traveling with her ten-year-old son. As the trip commences she quickly loses her mind. On their third night, as everyone else is sleeping, Mrs. Schachter screams "Fire! I see a fire! I see a fire!" (p. 24). The narrator as well as the other Jews are initially terrified, jumping up to press against the bars of the cattle car, but soon they calm themselves, murmuring that "She is mad, poor woman..." (p. 25). She continues to scream and to sob fitfully, as if she were possessed by a evil spirit. They attempt to reason with her, but all in vain. A few men force her to sit down, then bind and gag her. Somehow, however, she manages to free herself of her bonds. And once again, "the young men bound and gagged her. When they actually struck her, people shouted their approval" (p. 26). To ease their own fears and anxieties, the other members of the transport deal out their stress to the only person who appears to be the external focus and voice of their fears, Mrs. Schachter. Once more she screams out for the fire, but no one possesses the energy to beat her again. They soon pull into a station; "Someone near a window read to us: 'Auschwitz.' Nobody had ever heard that name" (p. 27). Their lack of knowledge concerning Auschwitz reveals the disinterest of those who chose to ignore the torture of the Germans as long as they themselves were protected, a disgusting practice of self-preservation that denies and pollutes the humane virtue of charity.

The train moved no more. Two men were given permission to find water; "when they came back, they told us that they had learned, in exchange for a gold watch, that this was the final destination" (p. 27). It surprised me that they still had a gold watch to barter, given that they were to hand all such items to the Germans under penalty of death, and reveals a certain boldness and bravado in the Jews and laxity from the Germans. They eat what is left of their food and prepare to sleep when again Mrs. Schachter cries out, "Look at the fire! Look at the flames! Over there!" (p. 27). The others quickly leap to observe the fire, but once again are disappointed as there is only darkness. The men in the transport call for a German officer to escort her to a hospital car, but he tells them to be patient. The train begins to move again once morning sets in, and a final time Mrs. Schachter cries, "Jews, look! Look at the fire! Look at the flames!" (28). These flames are later determine to be the flames of a crematoria (http://youtube.com/watch?v=WG1-k0Uu52w&feature=related). They have arrived at Birkenau.

No comments: