A Survivor's Guide to Eternity

by Pete Lockett

  “I was so happy and yet so extraordinarily sad. I didn’t want him to join such a brutal section of the German army. I knew about the camps and what went on there from my husband’s gossip and really didn’t want to see Jürgen involved in all that. I burst into tears and didn’t know what to say to him. I hugged him with all my being, grabbed him by the shoulders, looked into his eyes and told him how much I loved him. He didn’t respond at all, totally cold and unemotional, not at all like he had been as a little boy years earlier. That training had changed him into a monster. It was ruthless and dehumanising. The stuff they had to do was unbelievable, from barbaric bare fist fights to competitions to see who could kill the most animals. They would put chickens and rabbits into an enclosure and send the boys in one by one. They each got a minute and the one who killed the most was the winner. Jürgen won every time, sometimes proudly bringing his blood stained shirt home to show me. That’s why we don’t stand a chance in here. That is how they are trained and we’re the chickens. They have had every vestige of emotion, compassion and fairness pounded out of them in their Fuhrer training. They are nothing more than heartless killers now.”

  “But this doesn’t make sense. How did you end up in here?”

  “I just got to a point where I couldn’t live the lie anymore. Not only was I suffering but my son had been converted into a machine whilst tens of thousands of people were being deported every week. I knew where they were going and I just cracked. I went down to the police station and handed myself in. I knew that would at least stop one SS officer from being recruited. Maybe it could have also saved his life, I don’t know. I do know he was arrested as well though. I saw him being taken into the cells as I was being led out to the train station. He spat at me and tried to ‘SIEG HEIL’ as much as he could in handcuffs. I just told him he was as Jewish as me and that now he could see the lie we had been living for the last ten years. Reality would overcome illusion finally.”

  “I didn’t know what to say to her. It was such an extraordinary story. I just comforted her as best I could, told her a little of my life and advised her to go inside. She didn’t come in until much later.”

  “Did she tell anyone else?”

  “No, not to my knowledge. I certainly didn’t pass it around either. She wasn’t around for much longer anyway. A few days later I saw her running away from the hut towards the fence. ‘HALT’ ‘HALT’ ‘HALT’ rang out before a single shot burst into her head as she approached the fence. At least that was an end for her. I’m sure she felt better for having purged and offloaded her story. I had no idea how she lived with that at all.”

  “To be honest, Yedida, I have no idea how you lived with all that either. What a view of humanity in a very short period of time,” replied Ed.

  “Yes, it wasn’t easy. When I was a young girl I read a lot of novels and really looked forward to discovering the moral of the story or finding out how the characters were rescued, enlightened or gained salvation. In the camps, however, it was completely different, tragedy following tragedy, day after day, month after month, and year after year. No happy ending. It was truly devastating, a real book of horrors. I tried to be strong and tried to keep going and be positive. I put everything into it, losing count of time, day after day after day. Then one morning, they were all gone, every one those SS pigs. We were left roaming around the camp stepping over meatless shrivelled bodies, all with our yellow stars and stripy uniforms. It was like a surreal scene from another planet. We had got so used to the tormentors and then to suddenly not have them there was like walking without a floor. It was a complete shock. Then the Russians came and started to feed us and assess the situation. They raided the local town for clothes and we all got much more comfortable outfits to wear. Hence, this white trouser suit I am wearing now, and for the rest of eternity.”

  “But weren’t you safe then? What happened?”

  “A few days later I got terribly ill, like a tidal wave of pain and sickness to my innermost core. I remember being up and about one day and then flat on my back on a stretcher the next. I don’t even remember dying. I must have just blacked out and been in a coma.”

  Ed was lost for words, shocked at what some people had to endure in their lifetimes. How could there possibly be a god in any world where there was such suffering? There and then his journey with religion ended with abrupt disillusionment.

  “Don’t you think people like this should never be forgiven though, I mean, those that have committed absolutely unthinkable crimes against other people?”

  “That’s certainly a thought that one starts with but then where would it all end? We cannot choose to hate forever. Then there really would be no hope.”

  “I’m not sure I could stop myself hating them with a vengeance forever, Yedida.”

  “Hatred and vengeance are feelings that eat away at one’s own inner being as much as it is projected outwards. There is a reason people use the term, ‘consumed by hatred’. It has no positive function whatsoever for the ‘hater’ and just drags remnants of the past negativity into the present. I don’t hate them, blame them, resent them or forgive them. Most of all I do not want the repugnantly unfavourable elements of their psyche in my inner consciousness. It’s more about trying to understand them. Up to a point, I can see how a generation of civilised Germans could have been hijacked by a crackpot leadership with oppressive means of persuasion. Make them believe in a superiority based on the demonisation of others, pushing the belief that the economic suffering is because these ‘aliens’ were taking more than their fair share. Then build such an oppressive wall of fear around them that they are terrified to disagree to the point of convincing themselves of the validity of the message. Then they will either join the ranks or sit on the sidelines and condone the consequences. As long as they felt secure and comfortable why shouldn’t they have turned a blind eye to the odd group of Jews being marched off or the odd barbed wire camp in their very back yard? Denial is a powerful tool in the hands of evil.”

  “It sounds like you are saying it was all okay,” stated Ed strongly, noticing the tunnel was veering on a curve slightly to the left.

  “I’m not looking to justify it at all. The most we can ever hope for now is to understand it. How could such negative brainwashing be possible in an educated society? What strands of weakness can be common to so many individuals? I put it down to power and greed at the top and subservience, fear and denial at the bottom. These elements went hand in hand not only with the Nazi regime but also with the kidnapping and victimisation of my distant relatives. They were taken without mercy or conscience, ripped from their homeland and separated from their bloodline and soil. Inspired by greed and condoned en masse with subservience, fear and denial, we had plumbers, postmen, lawyers and janitors becoming death camp perpetrators. They killed me, murdered my mother and destroyed my country, along with god knows how many other innocent people. Nothing can change that. It is history and in the past. What we have to do now is put ourselves in a position where we can prevent that happening again, for a whole society to become completely brainwashed into a belief that can create a pseudo justification for mass murder and slaughter,” replied Yedida emotionally, slightly raising her voice.

  “Well isn’t religion the same in that it brainwashes whole swathes of the community?”

  “Exactly. Power, fear, guilt, manipulation, obedience, self-negation and servitude. They all play their part. However, we can’t confuse all religions with mass negativity such as the Nazi ideology. Of course the human pattern of subservience is similar but the outward message can be very different, even sometimes positive,” replied Yedida.

  “I hear you there. You’ve really got a well-rounded and wise attitude to it all. One question though. I noticed there was an SS guard in the crowd yesterday. How can you possibly interact with him?”

  “Like I say, you can’t hang onto things too long or else you’d never be free. It was never easy to speak with him or share any space with him to
begin with but that’s no different to what a lot of the Jewish survivors had to go through when they returned to their homes in Germany, Hungary and Poland. I’m sure they walked down the street concerned that every postman and policeman had previously been a Nazi. Truth is that Niklas, the SS guard, was as much a victim of the whole thing as everyone else. He was so damaged by everything he saw that he killed himself. He had been studying medicine when he got drafted into the army and suddenly found himself in a position to obey orders or die. When the orders got beyond the realm of his personal morality he felt suicide was the only choice.”

  “You’re probably right. Jews returning to Germany and Poland would have found it tough but there were a lot relocated by the British in Palestine. That all got a bit confrontational. What did you think of all that when you heard it?”

  “Well the first I heard of that was from an English soldier who had been killed in a Jewish terrorist attack on the British at the King David hotel in Jerusalem. He told me about a Jewish group called the Irgun who had carried out that attack, and many more, trying to force the British out and assure an armed Israel state in Palestine. Apparently it is still one of the largest terrorist attacks in Israel ever. I was shocked and disappointed. After all the violence and oppression we had endured, we were doing the exact same thing to others. I felt we had lost our innocence and had been perverted away from the righteous peaceful path and onto one that demeaned our wisdom and depth as a people. It’s only my personal standpoint, but I was frankly disappointed.”

  “Do you think it’s wrong then?”

  “It’s not about right or wrong. Being oppressed and persecuted gives a deeper understanding of how painful it is to be in that situation. We should rise above it with wisdom and an understanding of how it should never be inflicted upon others. Anger is an emotion of unwise stupidity whilst oppression and persecution is the language of the fascist. There’s no place for any of that in a civilised world.”

  “I agree. It would certainly be an improvement if people took an ethical lead rather than a physical one based on brute force,” replied Ed, noticing the breeze in the tunnels getting stronger as they proceeded.

  “It’s certainly a complex issue. Anyway, what about yourself, Ed? What sort of life did you have?” enquired Yedida with a gentle, but authoritative tone, changing the subject.

  “Well I have to say, my life has nowhere near as much shocking content. In fact, you’ll probably nod off if I even begin telling you about it,” reflected Ed ironically. Yedida, however, was having none of it and soon Ed was into the whole saga of solar-powered lamps and tortoises. Before they knew it, they were approaching their first major obstacle on their route.

  Chapter 13

  Marks in the sand

  “How in hell are we going to get across that?” he exclaimed with disbelief, staring at the powerful gushing hurricane of wind enveloping the transience tunnel in front of them.

  “It’ll be fine. Come over and I’ll show you what we’re dealing with,” she said as she led him to the entrance and pointed up at the matrix of solid vines that clung firmly to the walls and ceiling. They stretched from the doorway upwards in every direction around the inner surface of the tunnel.

  “We need to squeeze between the vines and the walls and make our way over to the entrance on the other side which is about two hundred metres down the way.”

  “You’re kidding, right? How is that going to be possible? There’s no way those vines will be strong enough,” pleaded Ed, a little shocked by the proposition and startled at the prospect of crawling through the small space between the vines and the walls.

  “Of course they’re strong enough. It’s a bit of a squeeze but it’s definitely okay. I’ve done it a few times before, both directions.”

  “That’s terrifying. I don’t like the look of it, but what choice do I have? I guess if we go back, I’ll have to use that ladder again, is that right?”

  “Yep, that’s kind of about the shape of things. Well are you up for it?” queried Yedida.

  “I guess so. Another bizarre step along the way. Let’s go. I assume you’ll go first?”

  “Yes, I’ll go first. Follow me. When we get over the top of the tunnel we have to turn around so we are going feet first. Otherwise by the time we get down to the doorway we’ll be upside down, and it’s then too difficult to turn round and jump out into the side tunnel.”

  “Okay, I’ll just copy what you do.”

  “Cool. Be careful though. The first bit before you get properly under the vines is the most dangerous. Same at the other end, you need to be really careful jumping into the side tunnel. There are a lot of gusts that side.”

  Yedida went to the opening and edged along the ledge slightly into the tunnel with her back to the wall.

  “Follow me, Ed,” she exclaimed, as she started to clamber and climb up between the vines and wall, the wind rushing past and pushing her loose clothes tight against her body. Ed followed suit and nervously stepped out onto the ledge and pulled himself up, higher and higher around the curvature of the tunnel. He looked down on the violent gushing river of wind and noticed in the distance the all too familiar bright white light. It was smaller than he remembered.

  “Is this a different tunnel than the one Donald got me from, Yedida?” shouted Ed.

  “Pardon? I can’t hear you! Shout louder,” yelled the young lady, now almost at the top of the curved roof, and a few feet ahead of Ed.

  “Is this a different tunnel from the one Donald got me from?” he shouted again.

  “Yes, it is. When you get up here, look down into the stream - it’s quite a sight,” shouted Yedida in a penetrating voice before adding, “We need to crawl along the top in line with the tunnel. Then we’ll turn around and go backwards down towards the door. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, I can. No problem,” bawled Ed, as he too got to the top part of the tunnel and began to crawl along the vines against the flow of the gushing current. He looked down into the violent wind stream, shocked to see bodies being whisked along in the current, helplessly tossed every way up. He continued to keep an eye on Yedida who was beginning to twist around sideways and descend down the other side, feet first. He followed suit, and before he could even have time to get nervous, he was jumping down backwards and was pulled back into the side tunnel by the assured lady.

  Soon they had dusted themselves down in the sheltered area.

  “Right, I’ll make some marks in the sand, so if you come back this way on your own, you know it’s the right tunnel,” stated Yedida as she bent down and started to dig a small hole beside the wall. As she dug away so the hole filled in, forging itself back into a smooth surface.

  “Oh, I forgot about that. The sand won’t allow us to do that,” she exclaimed despairingly.

  “Anyway, it might get disturbed by someone else in time anyway,” replied Ed, before peering in between the vines at the remarkable black wall.

  “Look, Yedida, there’s a small crevice in the wall here. We could fill that with sand and that would be another landmark. I could even put my watch in it.”

  Ed pointed to a small opening in the rock hidden behind the vines. Yedida got up and looked at the hole.

  “Yes, that’s a much better idea. You should check the time on your watch now though, to see how long you have left.”

  “I agree,” replied Ed looking down at the big clock face to realise he had well over a day left, almost two. He took off the watch and put it in the hole on top of some of the sand that Yedida had just placed there.

  “Another thing to look out for is the white vines in the tunnel that mark this entrance. As I understand it, this is one of the only places that has them, so it’s a good way to ensure you’re in the right place if you need to get back to see the Viking.”

  “Why would I need to visit him twice anyway?” asked Ed.

  “I’m not sure, it’s just that people often end up visiting him more than once, but maybe you won’t need to.�
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  “I assume you mean after another transience?”

  “Exactly. Apparently he can have some influence over where in the tunnels you come back to. I don’t know how he does it though.”

  The duo proceeded forward along the vine-clad tunnel and into the distance with an eager intent.

  “Did you see the bodies whizzing by back there? It is one very powerful stream, Ed.”

  “I can’t believe it. I guess that was us at one point or another?”

  “Yes and soon it will be you again. Luckily there is never much of a memory of all that, apart from a strange dream-like recollection.”

  “That’s good at least. I didn’t notice any animals though. Are there any?”

  “Not in these tunnels. I’m not sure how it works. Maybe this whole process is only for human souls. Some say that the soul stays with the body for a few days which would explain why we see the bodies in the tunnel and also why we have this cycle of transience and rebirth.”

  Ed thought about what Yedida was saying and how all this had suddenly become logical and believable to him since his death. Trying to believe any of it in his previous life would have been a lot harder indeed. His mind wandered to the vines and tunnels and how they were all so similar.

  “Crazy how all these tunnels are so alike don’t you think?” enquired Ed.

  “Yes, I suppose so. It means you really have to memorise the route we are about to take in case you need to travel this way again,” replied Yedida.

  “Yes, good point.”

  “Indeed. Do you know the ‘mummy daddy’ roll?”