The Deliverance of Justice

Nazi Germany was in ruins. The capital, Berlin was being invaded by the Red Army on one side and the army of the Allies on the other, tearing down the magnificent city. Bombs exploded in the distance. Men, women and even children screamed and wailed in horror upon setting their eyes on the bloodshed and misery brought upon them. But didn’t they deserve it? Hadn’t those of the Jewish race been treated worse? The Jews had been burned alive or worked all day and had starved to death. At least, the Germans were being murdered painlessly or at least with less pain. But wasn’t it wrong to murder innocents simply because of the actions of a man with a silly, little mustache? It was since they had followed his orders, without abandon. But was it their fault? Hitler had a sort of charisma, which you just couldn’t fight as many had succumbed to it. Surely it wasn’t the loyal Germans’ fault?

These thoughts pricked the minds of five men weaving their way through the forest. Mud clung to their battered boots, while their uniforms were drenched in sweat. Rough holes in their uniforms, indicated that they’d turn off their medals of valor and performance as if they were ashamed. But why were they ashamed? We had just followed orders, the men thought, attempting to justify their actions to ease their conscience.

NO. You had a choice. You could’ve at least tried to save a few of the many, you so mercilessly slaughtered. Their conscience replied.

And the men withered at the face of the truth. Knowing that arguing would be pointless, they withdrew from the conversation and focused on the path ahead. After more silence, a stout yet short man broke it.

“Can we stop for a while, der kumpels? My legs are getting tired and I’m dying for a puff.”

No one replied. They just kept walking, though one of them had slightly hesitated. The short man cleared his throat and yelled, “Oi! I know we’re all feeling guilty; we all want to run away from our sins, but one small break is hardly going to anyone any harm, right?”

Seeing the slight logic in his argument, they stopped. Shoving their bags into one pile, they all went off into their own corners. Bernard, the one who’d pestered them for a break went up to a tall, muscular figure, who was leaning on a tree, staring into the horizon.

“Say, Mark, got a match?”

Mark pulled a box out of his pockets and tossed it to Bernie, who grunted his thanks. As Bernie lit his cigar and smoked, he looked back, wondering when his life had gone so horribly wrong.

 

6 years ago, shortly after the Allies had declared war on Germany and the Axis, the Gestapo were on the prowl for officers for the concentration camps. Any German Aryan would be immediately registered at the slightest hint of supporting the Allies or not believing in the Anti-Jewish propaganda. But how could he sleep at night, knowing innocent men, women, and children were suffering and rotting in misery? So, he’d sent out a message to the Jewish resistance, which sadly never even reached. Within a week, the Gestapo officers were at his house, leaving him with only one option. After a sad farewell to his family, he left for the Treblinka extermination camp, where he would meet 4 others, who would become his new family.

“We should keep moving”, announced Karl and snapped Bernard out of his reverie. While the others nodded, Bernie frowned at the prospect.

“Oh, c’mon. A couple of minutes is hardly going to kill you.”

“Truthfully, it just might”, interjected Albert, reminding the others of the Allied forces hunting them down. Despite the protests of the group, Bernard refused to depart the clearing, and the others had no choice but to remain. They couldn’t abandon their family again, could they?

Slowly, a thick layer of mist settled on the forest floor, followed by an eerie, wailing sound. Immediately they all stood up, their eyes scanning the surroundings, trying to discern where it was coming from. And then as suddenly as it came, the sound went. And the forest was still. Frighteningly still. Not even a rustle of leaves, or the chirp of a bird, no… all was quiet. The others’ eyes flickered, and frustration overcame them as they gazed around dumbly, wondering what was going on. But not Bernard. For he could see through the mist, or rather what the mist indeed was. Such a sight was too much for him to handle alone.

He opened his mouth to shout and make the others aware, but… what followed was too sudden. A wisp of the mist darted into his mouth, circulated through his body and exited through his head. How exactly did it exit? By tearing a hole through the man’s skull. And through it, blood didn’t seep out, but rather memories, emotions, his entire past. The others stared at him in horror, paralyzed by fear. Then, slowly his body rose and, in a voice, entirely different, he chanted.

“אחד מהם פגש את גורלו. גם הצוואה הנותרת כי אין מקום שתוכלו להימלט אליו, שם לא נמצא אתכם היזהרו, בני המולדת. הצדק ייעשה” One has met his fate. The remaining will, as well. For there is no place you can flee to, where we will not find you. Beware, sons of the Fatherland. Justice will be served.

 As their faces paled and fists clenched; their body shaking with fear, Bernard settled on his feet and raised his head. If the group was not terrified yet, they certainly were now, for a blue flame burned in his eyes as he screamed, and inhumane sound; one of misery and suffering. His face contorted with pain and hate, struck fear into their hearts, as he leaped, attacking them.

 

 

The next day, Albert and Arnold packed up the bags, while Mark stood over Bernard’s mangled corpse, still mourning. Karl was wiping the blood of his hands using leaves and the corners of his uniform. Yesterday’s brawl still vivid in his memory, he shuddered and stared at the ground.

It was self-defense. It wasn’t wrong for me to kill him. He argued.

Oh, really! Then why were you ready to attack him, beforehand. And was drinking his blood, self-defense as well? His conscience replied.

Not wishing to argue, he ignored the nagging sensation at the back of his head and returned to the group. Although all were weary, tired and had bloodshot eyes, they had no wish to stay in this ghastly forest. Silently, they took off with Arnold taking the lead and Karl in the back.

As they walked, none uttering a single word, Mark reflected on his friend’s death and lost himself to his memories.

It was the Führergeburtstag, the national holiday declared, due to Hitler’s 50^th birthday. The year was 1939. The tension was high and people were worried about the fate of Europe as war seemed inevitable. But of course, they couldn’t appear worried or talk about it in public, due to the presence of the Gestapo. Mark lived in Nuremberg and the city was having a big carnival, in celebration of their beloved Führer’s birth. For one day, the town appeared lively and cheerful, oblivious to what fate had in store for them. Food and drink whirled around the city and everyone was either dancing or talking animatedly and laughing at jokes. The Gestapo prowled the streets, unnoticed by others as they observed others. The slightest hint of dislike or a snarky comment about the Führer could land you in the army or the work camps. Thus, many watched over their intake of alcohol, for in a drunken state, you couldn’t control yourself. But he was not that wise. Completely wasted, he launched into a series of rants about the beloved, the charismatic, the great Führer. Needless to say, the next day, he bid farewell to his family, and left to work in the Treblinka extermination camp. And there he’d met Bernard. Der Bruder.

The thought of Bernie pained him, and he reminded himself, what Karl did was necessary. Can’t blame him.

Really? Who told him to drink the poor man’s blood? Who told him to try to eat his liver? And wasn’t he smiling the entire time? His conscience snapped at him.

Well… yeah, that bit was creepy. And Karl has never liked Bernie that much. And he could’ve just shot him, Mark admitted.

Unbeknownst to him, Karl too had fallen prey to his own memories.

Karl had grown up in Alderley, which was heavily industrialized. His father was a butcher and a single parent but, he was below mediocre in both. He constantly abused the poor kid, often shoving him against the wall and hitting him severely with a cane. The first few times, Karl resisted, even cried a little, but eventually, the tears dried up and a steely resolve took over the young lad. Most of the time, Karl was simply fed 2 slices of bread and a bit of butter. Even requesting for more, would earn him a thrashing. Due to all this, he roughened up and bid his time. After going to work in the factory for the war cause, Karl easily overpowered his father, but unfortunately, he was part of the Gestapo. And even simply disagreeing with the Gestapo was a terrible sin. So, Karl accepted the abuse, hoping that one day he would get his revenge. Alas, anger is a fickle emotion. Once it takes control, nothing can stop you. Two days after the Führergeburtstag, Karl got to know that his father was the reason he didn’t have a mother. Shortly after he was born, his father, the swine, had come home in a drunken state and started thrashing his mother. Unfortunately, the beer bottle had cracked her skull open. Her body had been quietly disposed of. As soon as he came to know, he headed home. Snatching a cleaver, he yelled for his sorry excuse of a father. Furious, the father rushed over, holding a beer bottle. (big surprise, there) Upon seeing the cleaver in Karl’s hand and his look of pure fury and hatred, he stopped and gulped. Before he could even utter a sound, Karl was tearing apart his father, all the while, yelling insults like Hintern, or Arschloch. After his father’s pleas died out and his body stopped thrashing around, Karl stopped. He stood up, hawked some saliva and spat it on his face, or what was left of it. Auf Nimmerwiedersehen, he thought to himself. Obviously, the next day, he was sent to work in the Treblinka extermination camp.

Snapping back to the present, Karl looked at Mark. He could sense Mark’s unease and disgust for Karl, which only infuriated him more. He remembered, ripping apart Bernard’s skin. Ah! What a pleasant sound. He remembered, tearing his organs apart and biting a part of the liver. He remembered, the taste of blood, for blood oozed from Bernard’s wounds. The sweet, yet bitter taste of it. Ah! The taste. He wanted blood. He wanted Mark’s blood. He turned to look at him and found Mark staring the same direction. He knew Mark wanted to avenge Bernard’s death. The mist appeared as the eerie, wailing noise filled the forest. All went silent. With a sense of foreboding, Albert and Arnold turned to witness Karl pounce upon Mark, a smile on his face.

As the two of them stood paralyzed by fascination and horror, Karl and Mark fought, trying to rip the other in half. While Karl was taller and packed more muscle, Mark was more lithe and smarter. Mark kept evading Karl’s blows and infuriated the other more. But while Mark landed more blows on Karl, the other was much stronger. Finally, Karl gripped Mark by the stomach and tore his neck apart. Blood fell on the forest floor and Karl continued ripping apart the lifeless body, devouring the other man’s organs and drinking his blood. All of a sudden, Albert jolted into action as he pulled out his pistol and loaded it. The sound made Karl pause momentarily and turn towards him. Before the beast could react, Albert fired. The bullet in his gut, caused immense pain and raising his head back, Karl screamed inhumanely, a pure animal howl. Then, Albert fired again. And again. And again. Till the round didn’t get over. By the end of it, there were six bullets in Karl’s body, which had turned completely white. Then, slowly the body rose in the air, as the mist settled. A blue flame blazed in his eyes, as he chanted in a voice, which was not his, “. עוד שניים פגשו את גורלם. שניכם, גם אתם. זה חייב להיעשות. הצדק ייעשה” Two more have met their fate. You two, will as well. It must be done. Justice will be served.

With that, the body dropped to the ground.

The next day, the two set off early, with only one objective in mind - To cross the forest before nightfall. Keeping a reasonable distance between them, they trailed on in silence. Karl’s monstrous behavior had left them both shocked, that a human could cross all the limits, for even violence and murder had some limitations. Of the five who had started the journey together, only two remained.

Our family is breaking apart, thought Arnold.

Oh, really? And what of the countless families you all broke apart, by murdering innocent children and burning men alive? His conscience replied. Shunned into silence, Arnold looked down shamefacedly. As Arnold walked silently in front of him, Albert decided to dwell on his past.

Albert was an honest man, the sole bread-earner for his family. He was a shop vendor, so he usually made enough for his wife, daughter, grandparents and himself. They lived in a decent house, and lived comfortably, not too rich, but not too poor, either. He was good friends with some of the Jews in his vicinity and was, thus against Hitler’s motives. Sadly, after Hitler’s rise to power, they all simply disappeared, and Albert was only left with one kumpel - Arnold. Arnold wasn’t just a friend, though, he was more like his Bruder.

His wife, Adela, who was furious, when Albert had returned home, completely drunk, had only been calmed down by Arnold who’d accompanied him. Albert remembered the way, Arnold had played with Emma and Adelgids, making funny faces, as they laughed with pure joy. Good times, he thought and smiled.

He wondered where all five of them had taken a turn for the worse. Where had they changed? The answer came along with painful memories. The firing squads. In 1943, the winter was cold and harsh. The Jewish resistance had plans regarding the Treblinka extermination camp. The escape had been planned for quite some while, now. Tensions were high. We five had been spies for the Jewish Resistance, inside the camp. But then, one night, when Mark had been drinking, the date of the revolt had slipped in his slurred speech. As the Jewish Resistance decided to carry the revolt out then and there, the camp went on complete lockdown. Several Nazi guards were killed, a few tanks were destroyed, but overall a heavy defeat for the Resistance for 1500 inmates was killed. Fortunately, about 70 of them escaped, only for most of them to be brought back. The Nazi guard to whom, Mark had accidentally given away the plans to, had ratted out on us. We were taken to meet the Gestapo. It had been the second and the last time, we would.

We were taken to the firing ground and each given a rifle. Around 50 of those who’d attempted to flee, were tied to long wooden poles. The Gestapo officer announced, “Kill them and you live. Decide fast, I have another place to be.” Crisp and clear, thought Albert.

All five were still. Frozen with indecision. Then, slowly Bernard raised his rifle and started firing, followed by Karl, Mark, Albert and finally Arnold. As the terminated the hapless Jews, their screams, wails, pleas for mercy all fell on their ears and weighed heavily on their heart. It was truly the turning point of their lives. The turn from good to evil. From selflessness to selfishness. From kindness and generosity to cruelty and harshness.

Then his mind turned towards recent events, for he’d detected a pattern. The first to go mad was Bernard, and Karl had been the one to kill him. Then somehow, Karl, in turn, had gone insane and killed Mark, after which he, Albert had shot him. Ergo, the next in line for the madness train was him. And what more reinforced his belief was the order in which they had started firing upon the Jewish inmates. Moreover, if he went crazy, he might end up hurting Arnold, the prospect of which weighed heavily on his mind.

Despair threatened to crush his soul, as he realized there was no easy way, out of this. He knew what must be done, therefore, he must do it. Slowly, he pulled his pistol out of his pocket, as the mist appeared once again. Alarmed by the mist’s reappearance, Arnold turned around, concern clear on his face. As he saw what Albert wished to do, he yelled, “ALBERT, NO!” However, his words reached deaf ears. Mustering as much energy as he could, Arnold ran towards Albert, cursing under his breath. But he was too late. For before he could reach him, Albert pulled the trigger and all life left his body.

At first, denial sunk in, which was quickly replaced by grief upon discovering the hole in Albert’s head. Uncontrollable grief and rage overcame him, as he screamed at the sky, the clouds, the trees, the ground, the mist… the mist?

Shocked, he stood still. For now, he saw what the mist truly was. Spirits of the Jews murdered by the five men walked towards him. One whispered, “. ארבעה נפלו. אחד נשאר בחר, גרמנית – מאבק ולהיות מקולל בשיגעון או כניעה ולהיות מתוגמל עם המוות. החלט, וקבל את גורלך הצדק יוגש” Four have fallen. One is left. Choose, German – Struggle and be cursed with insanity or surrender and be rewarded with death. Decide, and accept your destiny. Justice will be served

He tried to speak but remained paralyzed, for this was a sight not meant for mortals. Or even the gods. This was the deliverance of justice, itself. The five men had taken the lives of these Jews. So, they had taken the lives of the four, with only his left, now. The choice was clear. Weakly, he whispered back, “I surrender,” and embraced death.

Justice had been served.