Selected Detective
1944 HITLER ERA

Yitzhak Edelstein felt fatigue all over his body and blew his hands that had already turned purple from the cold.

While leaning forward, he tried to observe the back of the truck he was riding. But all he could see was a little under the bottom of the canvas cover, in addition to road asphalt, tree trunks and the back of the truck. He turned his head and pressed his face against the torn part on the edge of the canvas, glancing at the high, tree-covered plain, snow-covered white, before the shotgun hit his heel.

“Facing to face. Sit still!” He straightened his body and looked at his feet, without socks, getting into his boots, simply protecting them from the freezing winter air. Next to him, a Rabbi began to cough again, his body trembling as if someone was shaking him. Yitzhak grabbed the old man's hand and clasped it between his hands, trying to divide the warmth.

“Release!” snapped guard.

“But he...”.

“You're deaf huh? I said, release!” He pointed his gun at Yitzhak.The old man hurriedly pulled his hand.

“Don't worry about me, young buddy. We rabbis are much tougher than you guys imagined.” He smiled weakly and went back into silence, eyes on the floor, shivering, swinging here and there as the truck turned here and there.

There were all six men, not including two guards: four Jews, one homosexual, and another communist. Since then they have been carried around, east and south, Yitzhak thought, although he is uncertain. Initially the ground was flat and wet, walking straight. However, over the past four hours, they had been moving forward steadily, the grasslands and forests gradually turning into snow-covered whites. There was another truck in the back of their truck, with one driver and one other person in it. There were no captives in the rear cabin, as far as Yitzhak had expected.

He rubbed his hands on his shaved head even after four years he was still not used to it then clenched his hands on his thighs and frowned his shoulders, trying to let his mind flow, fight the cold and hunger with thoughts of warmer and better times.Family dinner at their home in Dresden; mishnah who studied in the old yeshiva; the joy of the Holy Days, especially hanukkah, the festival of light, the celebration he likes the most. And of course Rivka, the beautiful Rivka, his little sister. “Yitzy, schmitzy, itzy, bitzy!” he used to sing and wag his PE’ot, and pull the end of his tallit katan rope. “Yitzy, witzy, mitzy, ditzy!” How cute is he with his black hair and sparkling eyes! How ugly and ugly! “You all pigs!” he shouted as they pulled the father into the street and cut off his curly hair. “You dirty pigs, slovenly!” That's why they pulled the young girl's hair, threw her against the wall and shot her.

Thirteen years old and very beautiful. Poor little rivka.

Poor little rivka.

The truck crashed into a former wheel and surged violently, bringing it back to the present. Looking back, he saw that they had passed through a large village. He stuck out his head and, through a tear on a canvas cloth, saw a road sign on the side of the road: “Berchtersgaden”. The name sounded familiar, though he could not recognize it.

“Facing forward!” snapped the guard, furious. “I won't repeat.” They're driving for another 30 minutes. The road was getting uphill, the bends were getting pointed, until finally the sharp horns of the truck behind him, and they stopped.

“Out!” the guards' orders, knocking them over with the tip of the rifle.

They scrambled down from the truck, air bubbles coming out of their mouths.they were in the middle of a dense pine forest, stopping on the side of an old stone building with empty windows and a hollow roof. Far down there, among the snow-covered branches, was a field of earth with green pastures, with several houses around it, small as toys, rolls of smoke coming out of its chimney. Above, the dense slopes with trees were rising, disappearing behind the fog and clouds, and the darkness within showed the presence of high mountains. Very calm, very, very cold. Yitzhak jerked his feet to avoid getting numb.

The second truck stopped in the back of their truck. While protruding from the window, a man in the passenger seat, who was wearing a high-collared leather coat and seemed to be in full charge, was, said something to one of the guards, signing with his hand.

“Good,” shouted the guard. “From all!” They were driven to the back of the second truck. The canvas curtain fluttered upwards, revealing a large wooden crate.

“Out! Come fast!” Yitzhak and the communist, the, a thin middle-aged man with a red triangle stitched on his trousers Yitzhak wore a yellow triangle to show that he was a Jew climbing a truck and holding the sides of a crate. The crate was so heavy that it was necessary to exert both of them just to slide onto the metal floor and make it parallel to the end of the truck floor. The others then propped up and slowly moved the thing onto the snowy road.

“No, no, no!” shouted the man wearing a coat, peeking from the car window. “they took him. To there.” He pointed to the ruins of the former building, to which a new snow-covered narrow path extended to the above-tree, apparently a kind of small road or route.

“This will be a catastrophe,” grumbled the communist. “There will be something really bad!”

They moved into the forest, with their feet sinking in the snow to their calves. Guards and men wearing leather coats followed behind, although Yitzhak dared not look around for fear of losing his balance. In front of him the rabbi coughed loudly.

“Let me lift,” whispered Yitzhak. “I'm strong. It's easy for me.”

“You lied, Yitzhak,” said the old man in a raucous voice. “And bad in that.”

“Shut!” a guard was behind them.

“No one speaks!” They staggered to exert all their energy. Their skin froze in the cold. The road, which had originally followed the folds on the ground and was slightly uphill, now began to rise sharply, winding through the forest and then back to normal, with the snow deepening. On certain parts of the plain, the homo lost its balance and staggered, causing the crate to slide forward and hit the tree trunk, its upper left corner cracking and splitting.

“Idiot!” snapped at the man wearing a leather coat!

“Wake him!” The guards stepped forward and helped the man stand up again, forcing him to carry the crate again on his shoulder.

“My shoes,” he begged, pointing at his left shoe that had somehow slipped off and half of it was covered in snow. The guards laughed and slapped the shoes, then ordered them to walk again.

“God helped him,” whispered the rabbi. “God help poor boy.” They walked uphill, higher and higher, while moaning and moaning. Each step seemed to suck out a little more of their lives, until finally, at the point when Yitzhak felt he must have fallen and died, the small path suddenly flattened and they emerged from the forest facing something that looked like a derelict mining on the inner side of the hillside. At the same time, the clouds above them moved to reveal a large, high mountain with, far to its right, a small building on the edge of a cliff. This scene lasted only a few seconds, then was covered again by a thick fog, disappearing quickly, making Yitzhak wonder if he was not imagining himself because of fatigue and despair.

“Away there,” shouted men in leather coats. “entrance to mining!” At the back of the mining area stood a vertical rock in the middle of which was a door, wide and black, like a screaming mouth.they stumbled towards him, stumbling towards him, passing through piles of snow-covered rocks and ores, broken crane tools as well as open carriage with rusty single wheels, walked cautiously on the uneven ground. As soon as they reached the mouth of the tunnel, Yitzhak caught the word GLUCK AUF roughly etched into the rock above its frame and underneath it with white paint, no larger than the size of half a thumb, legend SW16.

“Street continues. go inside!” They did as they were told, bending their knees and backs slightly so that the wooden crate would not hit the low ceiling. One of the guards took out a lamp and highlighted it into the darkness. Seen before them, a long corridor led back to the hillside, with a number of wooden support posts within a regular distance.

Iron rails lay along the flat stone floor; the walls were rough and uneven, and the, accentuate the coarse gray stone with thick stains here and there from the orange and pink crystals that create cracks in the rock like lightning branching in the dark sky. The equipment left behind was scattered on the ground floor of the rusty oil lamp, the axe head, the old tin bucket, making the place feel so scary.

They walked for about fifty meters, to the point when the rail was forked, a set of leads continued forward, to the point when the rail was forked, the other turned right towards another passage perpendicular to the main tunnel, on its wall attached rows of box shelves and crates. A carriage was parked near the door to the side of the tunnel, and they were ordered to put the crates they had brought on it.

“Ya, so. Enough!” shouted a voice that emerged from the darkness behind them. “Out! Out all!” They turned around and walked towards the previous direction, breathing heavily, feeling relieved that the torment they were going through seemed to be coming to an end. One of the Jews helped the faggot whose bare feet had turned black. A conversation was heard behind them, and then a guard came up to them. Men wearing leather coats remained in the mines.

“Ke over there!” said the guard, when they got outside. “There, near the stone pile.” they obey what they are told, walk towards the stone pile and turn around. The guard then pointed his weapon at them.

“Oy vey,” whispered Yitzhak, suddenly realized what was going to happen. “oh Lord!”

The guard laughed loudly, then the silence of winter was solved by the sound of gun eruptions blaring.