⚠️ Warning: This chapter contains graphic images, violence, and references to historical events. The author has researched historical books, documented records, and survivor bibliographies from the Holocaust. Remembering that all of this is fiction, the author does not intend to offend any survivor or victim of this tragedy. Reader discretion is advised.
"Dad, I want a sweet."
"All right, my Biscottini, I'll give you a sweet, but in a moment, please. There's something I'm hearing on the radio."
(Announcement on Polish National Radio) "Attention, attention. Today, September 1st, 1939, at 5:40 in the morning, German troops have crossed the borders of the Republic of Poland. Our homeland has been attacked by air and land. We are at war with Germany."
"What was I remembering? Yes! I remembered how beautiful my sisters looked when we were still at home. They wore their bell-shaped floral dresses. Mom held them in both arms."
"My love… maybe… look, maybe… we don't need to worry, okay? Maybe… everything will be fine."
"Why was Mom worried?... Ah… it's true… the Nazis invaded us. I remember it all happened so fast that I didn't even understand how. They took us to some confined buildings, I think… that's what it was called… Ghetto… if that's the word, Ghetto… We stayed there for almost two years. Then Dad got a job in a factory. Only for four months… and I ended up here."
"Hey, brat! Brat!"
"I want to eat the kisiel Mom used to make for me again…"
That thought was barely a memory Nuriel clung to, trying to focus his mind on something else, memories of when he could still enjoy those pleasures he had once ignored. The kapo, a Jewish prisoner from Auschwitz, hit him in the face with a stick, one of the typical ones used in the camp.
"I'm sorry, sir… it's just that I'm hungry."
"Idiot, do you want me to kill you?""No, sir.""Do you want to be shot?""No, sir.""Then move!"
Nuriel was clearing debris from one of the repairs being done at the place; they needed labor. To understand how the Lightning Saint ended up in Auschwitz, one had to go back in time.
Year 1939. His father, Marco Graziani, of Italian origin, was married to Hanna Szymanski, a beautiful woman, with very attractive features for the time. Nuriel was their firstborn, followed by his sisters, Bianca and Aniela, beautiful girls with chestnut hair and hazel eyes. Marco worked as an accountant at the Bank of Poland, the Bank Polski, and Hanna was a librarian at the María Curie Municipal Library.
In September, when the Germans invaded Poland, the family saw the hostility the Germans had toward the Poles. Marco, logically, was planning to leave Poland with his family; however, he did not think the situation would escalate to an almost impossible scenario, because at the end of 1939 and beginning of 1940, transfers to the Warsaw Ghetto began. Even with his connections, when the Nazi authorities registered his wife and children, the SS department classified them as a Jewish family. His first impression, the same doubt he saw in the newspaper, was that they would gather all the Jews in this place, moving into large houses. Opening the door, he saw 24 people in a single room—women, men, children, elderly—and he realized the situation had escalated to a critical point.
"My God, what is this? Why are they bringing us here as if we were animals?"
Despite this, he found comfort and hospitality among some roommates, especially a retired management administrator, who would be an important contact for what he planned to do. He decided to adapt to the conditions of the ghetto and interact with the Jewish community, helping in operations of food smuggling and fake papers; however, someone was needed to facilitate these accesses, with enough freedom to help his family get out of the ghetto. Speaking Italian and Polish, combined with his charisma, allowed him to befriend a Jewish police officer in the ghetto: Abram Lewkowicz. He was very friendly with the family and was of great help for the Grazianis' recommendation to a textile factory. Through bribes of potatoes and collecting contacts of wealthy Jews that Marco had, it took approximately three months to get the necessary documents for them and other Jews without raising suspicion. Thanks to Abram, the Grazianis could catch a break, as Marco managed to give them news that would bring joy to the family.
"Hanna, children, listen, forgive me for not being very present, but this… this is our pass to…""Marco, look, I…""Hanna, my Biscottino, wait… I want you to know that I love you, and I will always choose you, yes… look, this will guarantee our leaving here, look, I got a job and for you too, Biscottino… there's a textile factory, Fabryka Tekstylna Warszawsk, that's where we'll go to work…! Isn't it fantastici!? Give me a smile."
Marco got these papers with authentic stamps; the forgery wouldn't be detected. The family could catch a break from the ghetto, being moved, on January 15, 1942, along with other Jews, to the factory.
But luck didn't last long. Despite his enthusiasm to keep their joy alive, it wouldn't change the Nazi regime's opinion. After six months of adaptation at the factory, orders for immediate deportation arrived, reorganized by systematic orders; all plant workers were instructed to form up at the Umschlagplatz station. No one knew what was happening. Marco thought they would be moved to another factory, maybe for armament needs; however, he had a unanimous look, because despite being optimistic, his words seemed a hypocritical contradiction, like a cynical master convincing himself of his own lies.
"Where will they send us? Calm down, Marco… show a smile, your wife and children depend on your strength… maybe… they'll just move us to another factory… if that's the case… maybe an armament factory… if that's the case… the Germans are at war… right? … they need… weapons… don't they?"
While Marco tried to regain his courage, the sharp sound, like two metal plates violently kissing, because that metal machine, shattered his optimism. Seeing the wagons stop… hearing the whistle that gave the order to open the doors, knowing that inside them would be the answer he didn't want to accept, he could feel the great abyss between the trench of the platform and the wood of the wagon, understanding that maybe he should stop thinking… or else… the echo of their voices would strike him. One lash was enough to know they had to enter that thing. Marco feared the worst. Hanna and the girls were scared as other people stepped on their feet.
The order was given: the sheep had to enter that wooden box, elderly people fell on the slippery floor, and children lost their parents due to the crowd. And it became clear when they slammed the doors shut, that their land, their country, their dreams… were only the color that would stain the walls of the ovens.
After hours on the train, cold and with no space to move, Marco told Hanna:"Biscottin, lean on me, we'll be near the walls."
However, Marco saw that for some reason there was more space and realized that people were falling. After only one day, with the sunlight fading, the icy air that chilled arms and fingers could be felt more intensely. Hanna shivered, so Marco gave her the coat he was wearing and tried to think of something, but the smell of the wagon made him dizzy, didn't let him think; he felt suffocated by the putrid stench, leaving no space for the wind from the window.
"Dad, I need to pee."
"Biscottin… all right, come, do it in this corner."
"Marco, I fear the worst, something tells me we're not going to a factory."
"Hanna, don't think that, please."
"But, what if…" Marco kissed her to calm her anxiety a little.
"We've gotten out of this before, and we'll do it wherever we go… okay."
Hanna cried, for fear was devouring her soul; the old man who had fallen was only fortunate not to have entered the gates of Hades. Her husband could only hold her.
"Mom, no… it's sad."
"Bianca, no, daughter, no…"
"Mom, don't cry, don't cry."
Both Aniela and Bianca wanted to cry in response to their mother's anguish. However, one reaction would worry the family.
"Hanna, are you okay?"
"Yes, sorry, my stomach just hurts… I'm fine."
It wasn't serious at first, but under the circumstances… it would not favor her. On the second day, inside, Nuriel saw another man fall without response, his son trying to hold his elderly father. Only the face of age was directed toward the sky; his eyes looked at no one but the back of his own neck. His hands trembled as if playing a piano without rhythm, while his son's anguish, screaming his name, only made that man want to express with his hands notes never heard… notes without sound.
"Dad… what happened to the man?"
"Son, don't look. Look the other way, please."
The father feared they would take him to a concentration camp. He thought:
"All camps are hell, but as long as it's not that one…"
The father's thoughts screamed from his eardrums. The train was stopping, leaving the uncertainty of what place this was, where they had arrived, and how that angelic song heard, after opening the gates of heaven with a trumpet, had its arrival trumpet here too.
"Auschwitz noooo, nooooo… Jesus Christ… Auschwitz!"
The family's blood ran cold as they saw the destination they had reached. Nuriel said:
"Dad, what is Ausch…?"
They arrived in the morning at Auschwitz on July 25th, 1942.
Opening the gates of destiny to a land, they realized that it only took a step to welcome those fortunate enough to know the mercy of the merciless. The whistle of a soldier forced them to get down in lines, and in the distance, a soldier could be seen in the middle of the grounds, signaling with his right hand. No one understood why that man was making those signs, and like a blow to the heart, to see the person you love the most being taken away from you, not knowing why.
In the distance, a man shouted:
"Be more careful, that's my wife! Let her go!"
A guard responded as a demon from hell would; the words were exchanged with lead, his wife had a fountain coming from her forehead. Watching his beloved fade into the abyss of the sky, in his arms, a story that would never have a witness, because that man fell, as the gun wanted to spit a second bullet.
Marco and Hanna looked at each other in pain, for the thread of love was breaking, because it is not made of strands of straw.
In the chaos, Hanna reunited with a friend, who had been deported from the Majdanek camp in 1941.
"Hanna… you don't know how glad I am to see a familiar face."
"Doroti… where are they taking us?"
"I don't know, they separated me too…"
Nuriel didn't understand anything. He only saw his fragile mother, his sisters trembling with fear, and very hungry.
They were forced to sleep in what seemed to be a warehouse, but it was full of people, with faces resembling someone resisting going to the grave.
"Mom, what is this place?"
"Son… we are in Auschwitz."
"Don't worry, your mom is here. Just do as I say: look at the ground and obey… everything they tell you. Okay?"
But two days passed and, as if it were the arrival of spring, the crows sing when they see seeds in the fields. These crows told them to undress:
"They are of great use for the interest of our homeland; you will take a shower and we will assign you to your new work posts!"
They separated the twins before going to the showers; tears ran down their faces, on their pink cheeks tears of the girls… because they were scared… Their mother was their calm… which was taken from them on a whim, because that's how the crows wanted it.
"Mom! Mom!"
Sending them to the experimentation blocks, Hanna, unable to hide her sickness, was violently taken away.
"No, please. My daughters! My daughters!"
"Shut up, ma'am. Your daughters will only go for a medical check, it's protocol. Undress! You have two minutes!"
This woman was stripped of her clothes, her hair, and her daughters, not understanding the purpose, nor guessing it.
Already undressed, she saw that corridor; it was like seeing Sheol; the sheep, stripped of their wool, entered a room with hundreds of sheep.Hanna didn't know why she was there, nor why she obeyed; she only felt the suffocating heat, plus the rubbing and the skin of every sheep, rough, dirty. It lasted only a moment; she could catch the air above the sheep's necks and felt that her hands were hooves, and her face was covered in wool. Looking up at the ceiling, she saw, through a gap of light, the answer to her doubt.
And the sheep cried, it hurt them to breathe, and she cried too, because it hurt to breathe. The doors of the room slammed as if trying to break them, but her hooves weren't made to break the distance, only to leave the mark that sheep had been in that room.
Nuriel was assigned to forced labor, building a watchtower.Marco knew where his son was and, through smuggling, managed to send him food. For that, he depended on Friederike, a female prisoner who had to distribute what Marco sent. But she kept most of it, giving Nuriel only what she felt like giving him.
—Mrs. Friederike told me my father was sending me food. But I think she kept it. Well, maybe she was hungry… I don't know… her daughters bother me a lot… I don't like them… the other day they took my bread… because Olenka was hungry… and what about me?— I never understood why they kept cigarettes if nobody smoked. I guess they traded them. I got half a bread or half a potato… while others had more.
Over time, he stopped crying so the kapos wouldn't hit him more than necessary. Nuriel was a strong boy, but at night he felt pains in his stomach; it felt like his stomach was eating him, to the point he couldn't sleep, especially on the hard planks. He didn't know whether to sleep on his side or on his back; on his side, his neck hurt, and on his back, his hips hurt.
Until he learned how to exist in this captivity and obey, cracks began to appear in his heart, from not knowing where his mother or sisters were. He could only cry, but a very charismatic old man, who had arrived a few days before, befriended the boy. This man taught him to hold onto hope through poetry, for that man—perhaps mad—was a visionary in love, as he was in love with the sea, which he described as a beautiful woman who gave him food and salt to season his dishes. May God bless the sea, from which come the most delicious foods in all the lands of the world.
Nuriel learned to imitate this man and adopted his manner. However, while he was thinking of a prose for the moon, as an essay or challenge from the old man, he saw a woman dragged from the bunks, screaming:
—No, p-please! Nooo!
Nuriel saw the scene: it was Mrs. Friederike, and he saw her daughters far from their mother, distressed by what had already been decided.
—Listen carefully, Jewish rats! Bring the girls too!—No, please, not them!—Listen! You want more food, earn it! Don't steal it! Because this happens to the rats that steal! Damn Jews!
The crow, instead of killing the mother, killed the girls. Only a scream could be heard, one that would tear the larynx of anyone; it broke under the tension of the forces. The lambs died falling into a pit, like rags, they didn't move, didn't feel; the purest act of creation was taken from them: life.
The mother cried inconsolably, and the soldier, instead of killing her, broke her arms trying to hang her on a beam as if she were a hanger. The lady only cried, feeling the pain of being hung with her gaze forward and arms back. In front of the trench where that sheep could see her lambs, they were lying there, dead.
Nuriel saw this and, seeing the woman's crying, felt a deep sadness. He said:
—If the lady… was so hungry… I would have given her my bread.
It took the lady three days to die.
After some time, Nuriel saw how every day people he sympathized with died; the old man who made him laugh was next to him, and he could only see that he could no longer hold on.
—Sir, are you okay?The man, yes he was okay, better than anyone else in that camp.
—Oh my queen… my beloved… my reason to return home… my home… is there… in your arms… I promise I will get out of here… and I will kiss your salty lips… and love you as no… other sailor rises over your waves… entering… the family I lost… and maybe kiss again… when Elohim… tells me I can cross your shores… and kiss my longings, that yearn for you… my beloved… when will you return the kisses I lack!
The old man said it with such intensity that he broke down crying and understood that his time had come. A crow grew irritated seeing so much force in an old man and drew from its belt his sister, who, seeing the old man, spat the lead from her cartridge.
Nuriel could only look at the floor and say nothing.
Nuriel was in his room, dejected, feeling that everything he valued died too quickly. The passing months felt like eternity, as if it were a divine punishment.
An order was given, a medical inspection, and as if it were a gift from heaven, he saw her and understood the old man; he understood the reason for his madness, for the old man loved the sea, but Nuriel fell in love at first sight with another kind of sea, for this sea has a name and breasts, with an angelic garment, white as the sky and beautiful as spring.
By then, several months had passed. It was October 24, 1943.
—Listen, I'm going to give you an inspection… but don't worry, I'll help you through it… What's your name?
That white sea smiled at him, asking his name. Not knowing what to say, the boy got very nervous.
—Nuriel Alessandro Graziani Szymanski! …sorry… it's just that you're so beautiful.
This sea in a dress couldn't help laughing; after so long, she could genuinely laugh, but covered her mouth to avoid trouble with the crows.
—Forgive me, I also think you're very handsome.—What… is… your name?—Calm down, I am still a lady, my name is Élodie Montclair… but for such a handsome boy, I'll give you the privilege of calling me Élodie.