history homework

I am startled awake by the Kapo yelling at us. It is still dark out. I have had 4 hours of sleep after a long day of hard labor and am exhausted. The fear of the Kapo beating me wakes me quickly and I am alert. My bunkmates and I hastily tidy our straw mattresses. It is difficult to do. My hands are so cold they are numb and I am terrified the Kapo will see my struggling. If I am not fast enough I will be beaten. After I finish with my bunk I rush to the restroom, which is a ditch I helped dig. I have to have another man hold my hands as I lean backwards to go to the bathroom so I don’t slip on the frozen ground. It doesn’t smell as terrible as it does in the summer now because the ditch is mostly frozen. I must hurry because role call will be in minutes.

The soldiers spend hours on role call. It is snowing outside and wearing nothing but rags. I shiver so hard I have to clench my teeth from being heard. I try to stay as still as possible to not be noticed by the guards. To be singled out is to be beaten to death. I do not want to go to the furnaces with the dead man at my feet. There is a man three rows over that collapses with weakness. The SS force their way in and drag him out to be made an example of in front of everyone. He cannot even struggle. They are excited and enjoy beating the man to death. I hear the bones breaking and as his blood hits the frozen ground, steam rises up. There is a competition among the soldiers to see who can inflict the most damage. We had to take that Jew to the furnaces with the others who died in the night.

It is time for breakfast. The SS toss bread into a freezing muddy puddle and we must fight over it. To not fight is to die and I want to live. I pretend the men I am fighting have no faces. To see a face is to know the person whose death you had a hand in. I force my way in and rip the bread away. I can feel the other men’s cold hands clawing at me and I can smell their breath. Yet I do not give up. I must eat to survive the day of hard labor. I wish we could all have bread.

We are surrounded by guards as we are marched by the gates to our station. As we exit, I can hear the buzzing of the electrified fence. I have seen people attempt to escape. They survive the shock, but not the Nazi’s wrath. No one has attempted an escape in a year. We are all too weak and have seen too many perish in the attempt. We are helpless and cannot fight back.

My group and I arrive at the furnaces. There is a never ending mountain of bodies. We cannot burn them as quickly as they arrive. Some days I work with the furnaces. I have to load countless bodies into the furnace. I recognize some of the faces. I cannot afford to feel anything. To feel anything would make me weak and I am barely surviving. The smoke is acrid and the worst thing I have ever smelled. When I leave at the end of the day, it is still in my nose. I smell nothing but death and burning. Yet, today I stay warm.

Other days, I dig ditches for the ashes and parts that didn’t incinerate. We are given shovels and pickaxes. It is slow and hard work because the ground is frozen. Every time my pickaxe hits the ground my body hurts with the reverberation. My hands are tired and stiff from the cold. I have trouble holding on and it falls out of my hands. The guard kicks me in the back into the ditch. I land so hard I break a tooth on a rock. Then I am beaten with a club, but he decides to let me live. The pain is nothing compared to my fear. I apologize profusely and work harder than ever. It hurts to breathe deeply. I spend the rest of the time concentrating on my breaths and counting the strikes of my pickaxe.

Fourteen hours later we arrive back at the center of camp for the evening role call. I struggle to stay awake. My eyelids are heavy and I am having trouble keeping focus. I take deep breaths because the pain it causes keeps me awake and alert. Role call is finished and I file into my bunk with the other men. There is a new face with us. We look at each other and I know we think the same thing. We survived another day but for what purpose? We dare not hope for liberation, lest it break us when it never comes.

A bibliography of at least three references in one of the approved formats. This is in APA format, but you may also use Chicago Style for Humanities or MLA.

References Borenstein, I. (1999). Survivor Stories. Retrieved from Holocaust Survivors.org: http://www.holocaustsurvivors.org/data.show.php?di=record&da=survivors&ke=1 Danner, M. (2013). Horrors of a Camp Called Omarska and the Serb Tragedy. Retrieved from PBS.com: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/karadzic/atrocities/omarska.html Yad Vashem. (2013). The World of the Camps: Daily Life in the Camps. Retrieved from The Holocaust Martyrs' and Heroes' Remembrance Authority: http://www.yadvashem.org/yv/en/holocaust/about/06/daily_life.asp