The Long Road to Auschwitz (A Tale of Tyranny and Heartbreak Book 1) by Anthony Vincent Bruno

Author:Anthony Vincent Bruno [Vincent Bruno, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2019-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

One day I heard the unmistakable hum of a low flying aircraft. I pushed through the throng of Hungarians looking skyward and ran out onto the Appellplatz. A beautiful sight confronted me, a warplane that was clearly not German. We all knew the markings of the Luftwaffe, but this was not the same. I stood watching this vision of heaven knowing that Baumann was running at me, his mouth frothing over. I raised my arm and waved at the sky just as the thug smashed into me and pinioned me to the sodden earth.

‘Bitch!’

‘Fuck you, Baumann!’ I retorted through his barrage of punches. ‘You SS are all going to die for what you have done to us.’

He dragged me away to the shed where he pounded my arms, legs, and ribs. For once it was worth the beating. Who had sat in that small aircraft? Would the pilot report back to his commanders that he had seen a woman being beaten by a man in black in a compound that stretched for as far as the eye could see? I celebrated a few days later by joining Leah, Sara, Rachel, and a girl I did not know. We got drunk on something disgusting after the unknown girl had given herself to a Kapo.

Disgusting as the stuff was, it was an evening of utter, beautiful escape. We even gave the pilot an imaginary name.

Stich told me the next day that the aircraft was German, but I could tell from her darting eyes of horror that she was lying, not that I needed to doubt my own sight. I saw what I saw. A while later, when Baumann was out of camp, she made a move on me, trying to seduce me. It was then she admitted that the aircraft was an enemy one which had actually flown over twice, taking a healthy interest in the Auschwitz IG Farben factory. I wished and prayed for that pilot to return with his friends and bomb that compound to smithereens. The Farben people not only availed themselves of cheap labour, there were constant reports that their doctors ‘practised’ on living inmates. I saw people who had been used for ‘scientific purposes’ vomit blood. Those poor people suffered from the worst diarrhoea imaginable. One of them was a French lady called Claudette who had been at Ravensbrück Camp around the same time as me. Though I had not seen the incident, she recalled the night when a group of drunken SS had put up to seven Christian nuns straight into the ovens. They were not gassed; they were burned alive by drunken demons. I asked Baumann if he could arrange that Claudette join me in the laundry barrack. He called for her and shot her in front of me.

Come back Jimmy, my name for the mysterious pilot, fly back here with your mates and bomb this whole fucking abomination.

From that day, Baumann would freeze and look skywards whenever an irregular sound was heard in the distance.

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