Free The Journey by H. G. Adler Page B

for we have to pay for your guilt with our innocence. Since we have taken everything away from you, we are your guardians. Your souls are in our hearts, in our laps, in our mouths. We lead you by your little hand so that you can survive the struggle.
    Now you are out of the snow flurries outside, wrapped up in your soft blankets, having found peace and joy. We lock the doors of the wagons and place the seal of our blessing upon them. Now you can’t get away. Pleasant journey, little sheep, but don’t sing too loud and don’t shout from the train, because the guards will shoot without warning at a moment’s notice. A little caution couldn’t hurt. We’ve secured the route, soon you will reach your destination. Nothing will happen to whoever is obedient. Only the bad ones will be shot. The good will be praised and will get some sugary snow. They are given some before they even purse their lips to ask for it. All in all everything is in place, a safe journey is guaranteed.
    The stationmaster lifts his baton. The heroes turn away. Herr Nussbaum turns around and stares with his crossed eyes off and away. Away, away … a safe journey and security … guaranteed … though they will shoot, they’ll shoot … the house and the steps … the beautiful snow, the snowdrops … whoever doesn’t believe, whoever doesn’t believe … doesn’t believe … believe.…
    The connection we feel to our surroundings is built on belief. Yet Caroline woke up unable to believe where she was, though it also must have been difficult for her to get her bearings, for in the cavernous casemate she could hardly see anything under the single lightbulb that was burning. No brightness came from it, but rather a turbid flickering. She had never seen an electric light quite like it; it reminded her of an oil lamp. Caroline could believe none of it. There was snoring and groaning all around her, the rustling of many little things. It was worms, that was it; they had fought their way through all the impediments, for only worms could thrive in this damp cave. This meant that one couldn’t keep any flour because the worms would ruin it and there would be no more bread. And yet it couldn’t be worms she was hearing, for she clearly heard someone whisper. It came from somewhere, one minute here, the next in the corner over there that the eyes couldn’t make out. So there were people here, genuine people, it occurred to Caroline as she rubbed her eyes in order to see better. Yet that didn’t help, the darkness didn’t lift and her eyes only burned. This was caused by the gooey flour that had formed in her eyes during sleep. But was there an eye doctor here who could rid her of this awful inflammation?
    Caroline sat up in order to see better. She wasn’t able to see much more, but she could grasp where she was, and that yesterday they had been locked up here, she and her husband, her sister, the children, and at least a hundred others. They all must have arrived here and rolled around in the flour. No, it wasn’t flour made of grain, it was bran, but also not made of grain, rather moldy sawdust that produced an acrid smell, the flaky splinters pressing at you no matter which way you turned. If you stood up and shook yourself off, your neighbors would yell at you to watch out as the bran flew all around and everyone complained. Leopold said it was like being in the army, but outside in the field, not in a barracks, though now it would seem that everyone here was enlisted; you could only makedo with whatever quarters you found, making sure that you had a roof over your head and were not stuck in some foxhole full of water. “Look, Caroline, they prepared a straw bed for us so that we would be more comfortable. They even made sure to take care of the lights.” It was good that Leopold was satisfied. At home things were never right. Caroline sat and placed her hands on the knapsack in order to better remember. But inside her mind the past was no