Free Together in Another Place by Jan Vivian

 
    Jan couldn’t quite stem the tears.
    In
spite of his best efforts to control the swell of emotion that the photo had
aroused within him, his sight became blurred; the image of a young man capering
in front of the camera became unrecognisable in the mist. So too did the
snaking line of people, old and youthful, men and women, who had been portrayed.
It was as if the photographer had been looking through a keyhole at a group
posing for him in a sunny courtyard. The narrow field of view made the observer
look closely at the faces; in Jan it had aroused mixed emotions that had
momentarily overwhelmed him.
    In
that simple, almost innocent, image he had seen pathos and heart-breaking
naivety, or, perhaps, a sublime acceptance that a different world and changed
circumstances, somewhere, awaited a carefully chosen multitude who espoused a
faith that the authorities had deemed inappropriate and declared worthy of
recording…for a last time.
    The
looks upon the faces held emotional contrasts; wariness and hope, curiosity and
a mis-placed sense of optimism that they would survive the tumult that
prevailed all around them. Could they really be living out a nightmare in their
home city of Amsterdam? Friends and colleagues, associates, loved ones and
members of their extended families…they were all being gathered in, a diverse
human harvest that would be gauged and winnowed before they were transported.
    The
invader had not been alone in that task.
    On
the one hand he had been assisted by collaborators; on the other by those where
emotions prevailed upon them to offer equivocal help to fellow citizens. They
could not bear to observe displacement and heartbreak, the loosening of
historical and familial ties to places of birth and the rendering asunder of a
community that had always sustained those less fortunate amongst them. Stark
choices had to be made. They had to find the means to save themselves, one and
all, as far as that was ever within their gift.
    Every living soul
in the image might have clung to the hope that a love of life and their faith
would prevail over changed circumstances. The reality was to be outrageously
and unimaginably different. A sense of self and a generosity of spirit could
not withstand the duplicitous, and ruinous, might deployed by an occupier and
of some fellow countrymen engaged in their service.

    ‘Ayee!’ Harriette was startled
as a shrill whistle shattered a moment’s fragile peace.
    ‘More
travellers,’ Simon said choosing to make light of a meaningful event.
    Another
train had announced its arrival at the Westerbork transit camp. They stopped on
the path and watched from afar as the train slowed to a stop. There was no
platform, no shelter, or calls of welcome to those that looked out of the
carriage windows. Orderlies, with Stars of David stitched to their work suits,
waited on them under the indifferent gaze of läger officers. The new arrivals
would be administered by their fellow inmates and countrymen. They were to be
encouraged in the belief that everything, although new, was quite normal.
    ‘One
comes in…and soon, another will leave. Who will be selected to go on the next
one?’
    ‘Be
still,’ Simon consoled. For her he would be the optimist; the regime in the
camp had changed after overall control had passed to the SS.
    ‘That
will be difficult…there’s so much uncertainty and rumour.’
    ‘Believe
in what can be proved…’
    ‘How
can I do that?’ she said in dismay. ‘It’s not possible for any of us. Even the
orderlies…supposedly our fellows, don’t know everything or dare to tell of it
if they do. It’s more than their life’s worth to disobey. Do that and they too
are transported. The true evil is that it is beyond our imagining.’
    Simon
allowed her to finish. He already knew that many around them closed their minds
to the reality of what might await them when they too stepped onto a train and
left the camp. Everything was being done to discourage such