~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
Oskar came out to the kitchen the next morning, and found Flora already awake, making toast and honey. She was praying as she prepared the food, lips moving silently. Oskar was glad to see it. He was wondering how good a job he had done, raising her as a Christian, given the likely challenges they’d be going through, one way or another. Her stand in front of her teachers, and fellow students had made him so proud.
“Breakfast.” Flora said unnecessarily when she noticed him. “There was a report on the wireless that eggs and dairy are under rationing for now. Apparently, trade is slowing down, given the new travel guidelines. A delivery truck driver doesn’t have his papers sorted yet, and the whole truck gets confiscated. It’s going to take a while.”
Oskar nodded. “Something we didn’t expect to worry about this morning.”
Flora flushed. “I woke up in my own bed, and I forgot what happened last night entirely. When I woke up, I thought: ‘I have to get ready for school’.”
Oskar grinned. “Thankfully, my next shift isn’t until tomorrow.” He admitted. “So I have some time to think about things too.” He sat down at the table and his daughter put a pot of hot tea in front of him. “Should we try for the border again today?”
“I’ve heard on the wireless that the border checkpoint is still closed to civilians.” His daughter reported. Her face faltered, just a little. Anyone else would have missed it, but her father could see how scared she was. “What’s going to happen to us, dad?”
“In the short term, I don’t know.” Oskar admitted. “But how is that different from any other day?”
There was a heavy silence. Oskar took his daughter’s hand and prayed over their breakfast.
“I’ve been thinking.” Flora said finally. “We don’t have work, or school today. We should go out in field service.”
Oskar gave her a look over his teacup. “Oh?” He said neutrally. “You know it’s getting risky out there; for that sort of thing.”
“Yes, I do.” She agreed. “I’ve been reading the articles in the Watchtower about what’s happening to our brothers and sisters in Germany. They do that to people like us because they don’t like what we say when we knock on doors. You can’t go back to work, and I got thrown out of school for the same reason. So if we stop saying those things now… Well, doesn’t that mean they’re right? Doesn’t that mean it worked?”
Oskar was stunned into silence. The whole night he’d been praying for protection and courage, and now his young daughter had just given him the more important lesson. Jesus was right. The Kingdom of heaven belongs to those with the faith of a child.
Unaware of what was going through her father’s mind, Flora spread her hands wide. “Doesn’t that mean we have to go out today, more than ever?”
“...you bet it does.” Oskar agreed finally.
~~/*\~~
And so they went out for morning field service. When they joined the group at the Hall, they were surprised to see so many of the Congregation had the same idea. All of them looked worried, but resolute.
But they were almost all sisters. Most of the brothers would be at work during this time. It took Oskar a moment to realize that as the eldest baptized brother present, it was on him to lead the group. He looked around. “Where’s brother Ignaz?”
“Not here.” Hilde, one of the elder sisters said gravely. “Apparently, he had a prior commitment.”
Oskar nodded, not wanting to unpack that too much. “Well. We should get started.” He said finally.
Everyone looked at him, hoping for direction.
Silently praying for the right words, he began. “I’m sure you’ve all been following current events. Specifically, local events.” He saw them nod. “My own employer suggested that I take a week off, right now. My daughter has already shown her courage in the face of opposition. Looking around, I’m guessing a few of you had the same idea she had: That the ‘events of the day’ require us to preach boldly, now more than ever.”
There was a murmur at that. Oskar felt like a coward. If he’d had his way, he would be over the border with his daughter now, and these people would be on their own. Flora is a braver Christian than I am.
“I have spent most of last night in prayer. Most of this morning reading my bible.” Oskar said earnestly. “I came across Jeremiah chapter 8.” He opened his Bible and began reading. “The wise men are ashamed, they are dismayed and taken: lo, they have rejected the word of the Lord; and what wisdom is in them?” He looked up at everyone, and saw their reactions. “For someone who has the truth in their hearts, it is harder to not be a Witness than it is to pretend otherwise. If we were willing to pretend we don’t have the ‘wisdom’ in us, that we don’t know ‘the word of the lord’? If we were willing to pretend that we weren’t… who we are, then none of us would be here.”
It worked. Everyone’s eyes were a little brighter, their backs a little straighter.
“The world is full of scared people right now.” Oskar summed up. “What do you say we tell them how to have hope for the future?”
~~/*\~~
As they left the Hall, Flora prodded him subtly. “There’s someone watching us across the street.”
“I know.” Oskar said quietly, not looking. “We’re going to have to change up our meeting locations.”
~~/*\~~
They avoided houses with the German flag already displayed. Nobody forced the Salute. Not on day one. But most people wanted to talk. They were scared, shaken by the events of the world overtaking them. One or two were too scared to open the door to others, feeling the weight of danger wherever they went.
Even so, they had more conversations that day than they’d ever had before.
As they walked, Sister Hilde came closer and mentioned that there was a police car at the end of the street. “Someone made a call.”
Oskar nodded. “Let’s finish here and meet up at the Park. There were warnings to the Congregations, but I never saw the new procedures.”
“Matheo would know.” Hilde murmured as she headed off to tell the others.
Oskar felt a spike twist in his guts. Matheo, where are you now? What are they doing to you? Do they even have you, or did you escape?
In its way, not knowing was the most terrifying part.
~~/*\~~
The ministry continued that way for much of the next month. Ignaz returned after the first few days, and Oskar briefed him on the events of the ministry in his absence, and they made their plans accordingly. The groups were smaller, and met in private homes, or isolated places on the edge of town.
Once they started their preaching, the police would always arrive eventually, but kept a discreet distance, and didn’t really follow the group once they were apparently leaving. So they disbanded immediately, and started up again on a different street once they were unobserved. It was time consuming, but nobody wanted to stop.
Some of the older ones couldn’t keep up the pace of always going further and further between conversations, even to avoid trouble, and had to head home. They promised to write letters, if anonymously; and arrangements were made to distribute them with some literature, so that they wouldn’t have to risk facing the householders.
The Hall had been watched for weeks, until it was clear that the meetings weren’t continuing there. Then one morning Hilde arrived for service, with tears rolling down her face. She reported that the Hall had been burned down to nothing.
Brother Matheo, their Congregation Elder, was still missing. Elders from other nearby congregations came to help with his tasks. Literature was harder to come by. The local printer had been seized and put under government control. The other congregations were still able to get deliveries, but everyone took steps to avoid being caught with their usual booklets and magazines. Such things were hidden carefully in Witness homes. They needed the spiritual food too.
And they needed it desperately, to maintain their courage and conviction. After his week of paid leave, Oskar had returned to the bank. As before, he’d refused the salute, and he’d been immediately fired. His Manager wasn’t there to even try and protect him. Apparently, he had been replaced, at the order of the local District Leader. Nobody knew where he was now either.
Money started to grow tight, as any job interview was impossible. Nobody could work without a party membership card. Every public space needed a picture of Adolph Hitler on display. Flora was being homeschooled. Their town wasn’t that big, and there weren’t many other Witness children her age. Most of them were much younger than her, or already working. She helped a few sisters as a teaching assistant, studying on her own while teaching the younger children how to read and write, and do their sums.
The border reopened, but there was no chance of getting through. You needed official written permission to cross the border, even for routine deliveries. There was no chance of getting such papers anymore. Not for them.
The Witnesses had to keep to themselves when not in the preaching work. Every transaction, every bit of business, began with a Seig Heil salute. There were people making a living by informing on their neighbors, and collecting rewards. It became a constant game of avoidance, recognizing the people who would force the issue, and demand they salute. Avoiding them without drawing attention was a skill they had to learn quickly. There was no chance of forgetting about the invaders presence, even for an hour. Every indulgence, like theatre or music recitals, were nothing but patriotic songs, or national anthems. The swastika hung everywhere, over every home, except for the few who refused. Now and then, someone would come by and hang one up without telling them. The Witnesses who lived there would take it down, which was enough to get you arrested.
Arrest loomed over everything that they did, everything that they experienced. It wasn’t just the Witnesses that faced this fear. Everyone in town knew at least one friend or family member that had been taken in for questioning. Usually over little things, like having out of date papers. But sometimes the police would have to put on a good show for the Gestapo, who had a presence everywhere now. Someone would be picked as an ‘example’ for the rest of the population.
There was an awful feeling of everything creeping along, waiting for something to break the stalemate. Then, a few months after Flora had been expelled from school, she met a familiar face in the ministry.
~~/*\~~
They’d been working informally during the day; going street by street, but not in any predictable pattern, just in case someone reported they were preaching.
They were about to turn a corner when a voice called out to them. “Flora!”
They turned, and saw a boy about Flora’s age running to them from the street they were about to enter. Flora recognized him. “Tobias!” She called back.
Tobias reached the corner and pulled Flora back around it into the other street. “Don’t go this way. Meet me at the park in ten minutes.”
Tobias took off immediately, apparently in a hurry. He hadn’t stopped moving during the entire exchange.
~~/*\~~
They took the advice as a warning and passed by Tobias’s street without even looking down it. They walked on to the park, and waited. Tobias came into the park a few minutes behind them. When Flora had called his name, he nearly jumped out of his skin, but seemed relieved when he saw it was her. He came in their direction, catching his breath. “Good to see you, Flora. I lost track of you after school.”
Flora’s smile faltered. “What did you hear?”
“That one of the teachers threw you out for your ‘disobedience’, and you probably wouldn’t be back.” He lowered his voice. “I know better, of course.”
Flora’s head tilted. “What do you mean?”
“Things at the school… did not go well after you left. Not for me, anyway.” Tobias admitted. “Everything’s changed there.”
Oskar looked interested. “How so?”
“It took less than a week.” Tobias scorned. “The science classes are all about natural selection and ‘superior breeding’. The History classes were revised to talk about the history of Germany, instead of anything else. There are flags and pictures of the Fuhrer in every room, every class begins with-”
“I think I can guess.” Flora interrupted. “How about you, Tobias? How are you handling it?”
“I’m educated at home now.” Tobias reported grimly. “He says that men in suits have been asking questions about everyone who attends, everyone we do business with… They’ve been talking to our neighbors constantly.”
Oskar understood swiftly. “That’s why you told us not to come down your street?”
“I think the house is being watched.” Tobias nodded. “I heard you talking to someone on the next street…”
“Does your father know you warned us?” Oskar asked.
Tobias nodded. “He says if Flora got kicked out of school, then your name is probably on a list somewhere, just like ours. If they find out you came to our house, or talked to any of us…”
“Then they’ll decide to call it a ‘conspiracy’ and take a much closer look.” Oskar agreed. “You did a brave thing, coming to warn us, Tobias. Thank you.”
“Even before all this, being Jewish wasn’t the easiest thing.” Tobias said quietly. “Neither is being a Bible Student, or whatever you call yourselves now.”
“As a result, we became friends.” Flora reported to her father, before turning back to the boy. “I have missed talking to you, Tobias.” She confessed. “I missed knowing we’d get to talk. And what we’d talk about.” She gestured at her father. “My dad was the one who taught me to care about the Bible. Nobody else in school cared. Knowing there was someone I could…” She broke off. “Sorry.”
Tobias looked heartsick too. With an awkward glance at Oskar, he stepped forward and gave her a quick hug. “I told my father about our ‘debates’. He was impressed. When he found out you got kicked out of school, he was worried who I’d been spending time with without his knowledge. When he figured out why…”
Oskar, who had been watching all this with interest, spoke up. “Flora and I have a theory that at least one of her teachers was trying to get her away from the school before anything became ‘official’. What do you think?”
“I think that’s exactly what happened.” Tobias nodded. “Nobody did it for me. There are a few other kids at the school who are constantly under pressure now. One or two of the teachers have made it their personal mission to get every student saluting, and singing the patriotic songs. Every. Single. Day.” He looked haunted. “When I refused, the teacher dragged me from one classroom to the next by my hair, making sure everyone in school knew I was a ‘filthy traitor’.” He shook it off. “That’s when Dad took me out of school.”
Flora scowled. “I think I can guess which teacher.”
Oskar looked at Flora, imagining her being the target of that kind of attention, from the teachers, let alone the other students. His opinion that her expulsion was really a protection solidified. “I’m sorry you had to go through that yourself, son.”
Flora spoke up, suddenly hopeful. “Just because we don’t meet at the schoolyard anymore doesn’t mean we can’t still study together. Our days are free.”
Tobias hesitated. “I’m not sure what my father would say.”
Flora looked at her father, who nodded and spoke up, seeing an opportunity. “Ask him. If he’s worried or curious, tell him that he’s more than welcome to come along. One advantage to being so ‘disreputable’? He can be sure we’re not working with the government.”
~~/*\~~
“Well. I think that went well.” Oskar offered as they headed off towards home.
“I was glad to hear about what was going on at the school.” Flora nodded. “My friends there… they don’t talk to me anymore. They know I’m ‘too dangerous.’ That was the first time I heard about what’s been going on in the classrooms since I was thrown out.”
“When he told us how he’d been treated, I decided you were actually very lucky. Protected, even.”
His daughter nodded, unable to argue with that. “Tobias’s father is a Cantor at their temple. Or he was, before the temple closed.” Flora said seriously. “I hear they’re treated worse than we are.”
“Mm.” Oskar nodded. “I’ve heard the same. But, he’s a man educated in the scriptures. We should do a little research first. Prepare a few thoughts.”
“About that…” Flora turned her witnessing bag upside down, and showed her father her meaning. She had no literature left. They always carried little of it, hidden in the lining of the bag, making sure they didn’t have much to lose if they were stopped.
“Yeah, we’ll have to make a run to the… the place.” Oskar agreed. He glanced around automatically, looking to see if anyone was watching. He watched for people at every window now. “Let’s go home. I’ll go at dinnertime. Less likely there’ll be anyone watching out their windows, but I won’t have to put a light on to get there.”
“I’m going with you.” She said immediately.
“Yes, you will. Tomorrow. When we talk to your friend and his father, you’ll be there.” Oskar said seriously. “For tonight, I want you to stay in. Besides, it’s a one person job. I’ll collect some literature and make deliveries around to the rest of the group. It’ll be easier to go unnoticed if I go alone.”
“Easier to get caught, too.” Flora grumbled.
“And then, we’re going to have a conversation about the future.” Oskar said grimly to Flora. “How do you feel about Sister Hilde?”
Flora blinked. “She’s a little old for you, dad.”
Oskar almost laughed. “Not that.” He said. “With the new laws in place, it’s all but impossible to find a decent job. Some farmers and such are willing to take on laborers without Party membership, because they’ve figured out they can pay us… well, a pittance. After all, what can we do without Papers?”
Flora’s face changed in understanding. “We have to move out of the house, don’t we?”
“We can’t afford it anymore.” Oskar nodded, face burning. “Sister Hilde has agreed to take us in. Truthfully, we won’t be the only ones before this is over.”
Flora had tears in her eyes. “I know it’s not your fault but… It’s not fair.”
‘No. No it isn’t.”
~~/*\~~
Jehovah God, my lord in heaven… Oskar prayed. It’s not fair.
He was riding his bicycle in the dark. It was as silent as possible, while going fast. The night seemed full of predators now. The bicycle was fast, but he didn’t dare shine a light. If there was so much as a bump in the road, he’d go flying. But if he rode too slow, someone watching would have plenty of time to wonder about him.
Father, I raised my daughter in that house. Raising her alone, while paying off that house, tending to every squeak and scratch in the paint… It was hard work. As much as I miss her mother, Flora is fantastic. Smart, loyal, faithful, good sense. I’m proud of her. Raising her and giving her a home was good work. It’s the work a man is meant to do, providing home and safety for his child. I was proud of it. Almost as proud as I am of being Your servant.
He reached the right road. No sign of anyone around, but in the dark, nothing was certain.
And now it’s being taken away from me. That’s the worst part. The relentless certainty of it. It wasn’t anything I did wrong. It wasn’t a blunder, or a personal weakness. Nobody’s even picked a fight. I just woke up one morning and there were no choices left. It’s like someone locked all the doors. And it’s only a matter of time before that becomes literal.
Matheo's house was still empty. Whoever had taken him had trashed the place on their way out. While it was becoming common for the nicer homes to be given to German Soldiers or party members, nobody had made the effort to clean up this place. Since it was abandoned, it had been used by the Witnesses as a drop point, to leave literature hidden for people to collect as needed. Behind the house was Matheo’s compost bin. It was empty. He’d only just added it to his garden when he’d vanished, but in the weeks that followed, it was overgrown with weeds, so it seemed well used. The only thing inside was boxes of Bible literature. How it got delivered here, Oskar didn’t know, nor would he ever ask. But he took enough to fill his pack, and he began the task of bicycling to the homes of others in his congregation.
Jehovah, lord of peace and war, I beg you to protect my daughter when I cannot. I beg you to protect me as well. I will honor You in whatever way I can, but I feel like I’m standing against the ocean, and the tide is coming in. The Lion that has enslaved my country is nothing to You.
Some of the pamphlets, Oskar put in their letterboxes in ordinary envelopes. Everyone had turned in their ‘legitimate’ mail, and Flora had opened the envelopes carefully, filled them with pamphlets, and resealed them with candle wax.
The larger magazines, which couldn’t fit in envelopes, were rolled between the pages of newspapers. Poldi, one of the Brothers in an adjacent congregation, owned a newsstand, and he sold his brothers and sisters newspapers with the ‘extra’ information tightly folded.
Oskar took his collected literature and delivered it to Poldi’s house quietly, as the sun was just starting to rise. He stepped up to the front door and knocked. There was no answer. Poldi was meant to be ready and waiting for him, so there’d be no chance of lingering.
Oskar heard the slightest crunch of something moving on gravel, somewhere behind him, and he turned, startled. He couldn’t see anyone. He knocked again, a little louder this time. The hairs on the back of his neck were at full attention.
Still no answer.
Spooked, Oskar decided to run for it.
As soon as he started moving quickly, the sound of someone moving on gravel got louder and suddenly there was a bright light in his face. “DOWN! GET ON THE GROUND!”
The sudden explosion of light and noise was like a grenade going off in his face, and Oskar froze, paralyzed by the sudden sensory overload. Before he could even blink, he felt his legs get kicked out hard, and he slammed to the ground, face first. The gravel bit deep into his face, and he let out a roar of pain, which was cut off instantly as someone bigger than he was landed on his back.
Father, into Your hands, I entrust my spirit, Amen.
~~/*\~~ Leahe ~~/*\~~
Leahe couldn’t bring herself to approach anyone for weeks after their son was born. She had no family left beyond her own tent. They had named him Emet, and done all the proper things. The traditions of Israel were different from those of Egypt, but Takarut said nothing to counter them. He knew that his entire past was being discarded. He’d lost any connection to his family because of the sins of his nation, and he’d never see anything of his homeland again.
After Moses had pronounced that none of their generation would ever get any homeland at all, there had been an outpouring of horror, which faded quickly enough. After that there was only numb silence. Everyone had spent the trek through the wasteland talking about what they would do when they got to their new home. Now the dream was dead.
The Pillar of Fire and Smoke was a Miracle. So was the water. So was the Manna. But even Miracles became routine when they never changed. The Manna could be charted like a calendar. The days were all the same.
And once the novelty wore off, other things began. “Forty years of this?” The older people would say it in disbelief.
Takarut had to admit, he felt a little guilty that he seemed to be suffering with the ‘sentence’ less than others. His ‘profession’ was unchanged. In fact, he was thriving. He had a loyal class of regular children, and he was training them in reading, writing, and math.
Children were being born, so there were always younger ones just joining the ‘class’. Most young ones were taught by their parents, but a lot of the adult Israelites had never known anything but slavery. Learning was a luxury, until they were freed. As a result, Takarut and the other educated adults were teaching other adults too, who later passed on the skills.
His own son was his best student. Good enough, that Takarut was training him in taking over ‘the business’. The most familiar skills were the ones that Israel had needed to stay alive in Goshen, so that was what most people were taught, but for once they had time to learn a wider array of things. Some of which, even Takarut was learning as he went.
The children were glad to play games and sing songs and tell each other stories. But as the children started to grow older, they were hungry for new stories, and new challenges; but nobody had any. The same food. The same stories. The games had lost their appeal, but the younger ones hadn’t gotten bored yet.
“Forty years of this?” The older people would say with worry.
The parents had no stories to tell except for their lives in Egypt. Stories they hated to tell their children. And as the wilderness had nothing except snakes and roaches, there were no stories to tell from the world around them.
Years had passed, and the routine had settled. Nobody was happy about it. It was a punishment, after all; but they knew how to live with discomfort, and whatever they said in the heat of the moment, it was better than their lives as slaves in Egypt.
Moses had reminded everyone, via the Chieftains, that they were no longer slaves. That they would never feel the whip, or the pain of hunger and thirst again. Their children would never be taken away, and would inherit the Promised Land.
Nobody said it was unfair, exactly. But it was clear that having the Dream taken away was heartbreaking. “Forty years of this.” The older people would say with hopeless resignation.
~~/*\~~
“Jehovah has established His Law in the house of Jacob.” Hilkiah intoned to the congregation. “He has commanded you to make all these things known to your children. Even the ones that are yet to be born. Tell them, so they can tell the next generation after them. All our descendants will put their faith in their Creator, and not forget His works.”
There was a murmur of understanding among those listening, but it wasn’t like the hopeful anticipation that came during the time of the Plagues, or even during the days of slavery.
“Which is why I’m disturbed to hear some of the gossip among the Assembly.” Hilkiah continued. “Everyone’s been talking about how good they had it back in Egypt? About the fresh salads and fish we caught?” He shook his head. “If any of the Egyptian Foremen ever offered extra rations for us to inform on each other, we’d refuse.”
There was a sound of agreement to that. Informers had been despised, no matter that they always acted out of desperation.
“We’ve done it before, remembering the good moments, and putting away the memory of suffering.” Hilkiah conceded. “We had to. Harder than stone was our whole lives. As long as they held the whip, we had to find a way to make the stone move. But even in exile. Even in our shame. Even in punishment, we get to live out our whole lifetimes without ever feeling the whip again.”
~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
Where’s Poldi? They caught me on his doorstep. Did he turn? Do I ask about my daughter? Will that get her caught? By now she knows I’m not coming back as scheduled. She knows where to go. Should I play dumb? Try to buy her time to get away?
The questions went rolling through his mind, over and over.
They fingerprinted him. They took his picture.
He didn’t have to fill out nearly as much paperwork as he expected. They already had his name, address… They’d clearly been onto him for a while. They kept him in a holding cell for hours, letting him sweat. The sun had risen outside. He spent the whole time praying for Flora.
It felt like a million years. It felt like a few seconds. But eventually, they hauled him out of holding, and took him to an interrogation room.
God, they’re just… too big. Too much.
He felt surrounded. There were only three of them, but the room was small enough that it felt full of people, which made him surrounded from all sides. The guards were looming over him, making sure he didn’t so much as twitch.
The interrogator was in civilian clothes. He could have been anyone at all.
He had been preparing himself for questions about his activities. There weren’t any. All they wanted to know about was who he was spending time with. They wanted names, addresses, information about the people who performed tasks in the Congregation, like hiding the literature, and translating it into other languages...
Oskar said nothing. He wanted to pretend it was defiance, but in truth he had no idea what to say. All his preparation had flown out of his head.
“I thought your religion had a few words to say about honesty.” The interrogator said finally.
“A few more about ‘love’ for brothers.” Oskar heard himself drawl with a confidence he didn’t really feel. “Somehow, I don’t think giving you anyone’s name will be an act of love.”
“How about law? Or basic survival, come to that?” The nameless man on the other side of the desk said evenly. His voice was… unrushed. He was so certain, like the interrogation was a delicious meal he was savouring. He had guards behind him, ramrod straight at attention, looking sharp and untouchable in their uniforms.
“Is all this really worth it?” His interrogator asked finally. “I mean, it’s all the same Bible, right? Catholic, Protestant… you. It’s all the same, right?”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do.” Oskar returned.
“No, I don’t. I don’t claim to be a believer in any of that.” The Interrogator said. “They’re good stories. So are all the fairy tales. You told Flora all about ‘Red Riding Hood’ and such, I’m sure. Tales with morals and important lessons?”
He was so easygoing in tone that Oskar almost didn’t notice it at first. They know her name. “Where is my daughter?!” Oskar demanded aloud.
“Your daughter… is safe. In time, she will be placed with a good family.”
Oskar felt his heart stop. “I’m her family.”
“Parental Custody is suspended if a child is found guilty of immoral or dishonourable behaviour. My information says she’s been suspended from school already, due to your… teachings. I’m given to understand that people of your sect always try to raise the children in the ‘family tradition’. Obviously, this is not possible anymore.”
It’s so easy for him. So certain. So… routine. Oskar thought bleakly. I’m nothing next to this. How did I ever think I could keep going in the face of this?
“Your refusal to cooperate has been noted. It will be taken into account during your trial.” The Interrogator said. “Take him away.”
~~/*\~~
He was put in a holding cell with a hundred other men. All of them had the same shellshocked, panicked look on their faces. The smell of adrenaline, sweat, and enclosed bodies was thick enough that Oskar was gasping. He would come to know it as the scent of fear; and he would know it well for the rest of his life.
(Author’s Note: I’m pushing the timeline. On an individual level, brothers could be ostracized quickly, but imprisonment wasn’t instantaneous. A history book is meant to tell you what happened, but a novel is meant to tell you what it felt like. I’m building a comparison between two very distant generations of believers. Being intimidated by an enemy is part of that, so Oskar’s experience is meant to show his fear, more than a closely detailed rendition of the historical period. Several Witnesses who lived through this time have made their life stories available, if you’d like a more detailed account.)
The Nazi’s were efficient. They left them there, crowded in enough that there was nowhere to stand, but took them out one by one. There were always new people being thrown in, so there was no room made, but it was clear they were being shuffled through like an orderly assembly line.
Eventually, it was Oskar’s turn, and he was escorted at a quick march before a Judge. Oskar barely remembered the trial. It seemed to be over in a matter of minutes. He would later understand that the trial was a formality, since there were hundreds of trials going on right away. The new Governors of their town were weeding out the ‘undesirables’ from public life as quickly as possible. In a week, they would have total control, with everyone else gone.
Are they just going to take us all away and shoot us?
~~/*\~~ Takarut ~~/*\~~
Some tried to make the best of it. A few who had tended to the crops in Goshen had brought seeds, and tried to plant small gardens, to give their food a little variety at least, but the Wilderness was unsuitable for farming. The ground was too sour to grow anything.
And there was no prospect of farming anyway, since the Camp kept moving. At first, everyone was fine with that, happy to leave the site of their failure behind, put some distance between themselves and the failed battle at the edge of the Promised Land, but as one patch of wasteland had little to offer over any other, the change wasn’t exactly a novelty.
Takarut had been invited to work as a Scribe for Moses and Aaron. He had shared his fear that Israel would ‘revise’ their history on behalf of Moses, as the Egyptians had done for Pharaoh. Apparently, word had spread up the chain of command, and Takarut had been summoned to Moses’ tent, to help Moses keep the official record. Takarut had been stunned to learn that the history Moses was keeping went back a great deal further than the Plagues of Egypt.
~~/*\~~
“What are you thinking?” Aaron asked him one night.
Takarut was so attentive to the scroll that he almost didn’t hear. “I came with Israel, because the Plagues convinced me that Egypt was worshipping statues, while Moses was speaking to God. I mean, a real God. One who could turn off the sun for three days, or turn back a river the size of the Nile.” He gestured outside the tent, where the Pillar of Smoke would be. “Every day is a reminder that Jehovah is real.” He tapped the scroll. “Leahe told me stories of Eden and the Serpent. Egypt has creation stories too. As an Egyptian Scribe, I met officials from dozens of other lands, and they all have their own stories about how it all started.”
Aaron nodded, knowing where this was going. “And now?”
“Moses is writing out the history, as told to him by Jehovah directly. I’m transcribing a copy, as told by Moses, to make sure there’s no errors in the telling.” He shuddered. “I’m holding direct testimony, from the Creator of the Universe, as to how the universe began, and what happened next.” He shuddered again, hard enough to send a twitch through the scroll in his hand. “The origin of all things. How it started, how it went wrong… A million different stories out there, and I’m holding the first ever copy of the Truth. The fact that God would deign to tell us is incredible. That Pillar of Smoke and Fire is proof of so much more than where we camp for the night.”
Aaron nodded. “Humbling, isn’t it?”
Takarut fought back tears. “‘Humbled’ is not a big enough word for what I feel right now.”
~~/*\~~
And through it all, they kept moving.
As they ate their evening Manna, Takarut raised an issue that had been on his mind for a while, easing into it gently. “I understand Reba is expecting another child.”
“I’ve heard the same.” His wife nodded. “Too soon to announce it, though.”
“Tell that to her husband. He’s strutting around telling every person he meets.” Takarut remarked. “Still, it doesn’t come as a surprise. I’m told that Hebrew families are traditionally pretty large.”
Leahe said nothing.
“It’s not like there’s much else to do, after all.” Takarut smiled, keeping it light.
Leahe still wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she rose suddenly. “I told Odeda that I’d help her tan some of the goat and sheep hides. The animals don’t live as long as we do, and while we have the numbers to keep breeding replacements, we shouldn’t waste anything.”
Takarut rose, glanced at their son, who hadn’t noticed their change in mood, and he stopped her at the tent flap. “Leahe, we need to talk about this.”
She stopped, lowering her voice. “About what?”
“You really want to pretend you don’t know what I mean?” He said gently. “I’m not angry, I’m just confused. Most families are on their third or fourth child by now. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that-” His eyes flicked to Emet, still munching on the manna. “-you’re taking steps to ensure you don’t get pregnant again. Is there a reason I don’t know about?”
Leahe lowered her voice. “There’s nothing. It’s just… timing. But would it be so bad, if we didn’t have another kid?”
Takarut licked his lips, knowing whatever he said next was going to either start a major fight, or prevent one. But Leahe knew that too, and was already hurrying off towards the tanners.
~~/*\~~
“I feel like a coward. I straight up ran away from my own husband, rather than talk to him.” Leahe said miserably a few minutes later. “How could I do that?”
Reba hugged her tightly. “It will work out.” She soothed. “It will be alright.”
Leahe sniffed for a few minutes, wiping her eyes. “He’s right, though. I’m trying to avoid getting pregnant again. Emet is one of the few children around with no brothers or sisters. For that matter, so am I.”
“Nobody would blame you.” Reba promised. “Everyone knows what happened to your own mother. It’s only natural you’d be worried about it happening to you.”
Leahe winced. She had no memory of her mother, who had died in childbirth. “That’s not what it is.” She admitted. “Takarut probably thinks so, but that’s not it.”
Reba’s head tilted. “No? What then? Or… shouldn’t I ask?”
Leahe bit her lip. “Promise not to tell anyone?” At her nod, Leahe confessed. “My father didn’t survive the Golden Calf. And then Deror didn’t survive the hoarding of the Quail… And then Ohad-Ittai decided he’d rather die fighting his way into the Promised Land, and then, and then, and then.”
Reba shivered hard. “I know. I’ve lost people too.”
“We all have. And our whole generation will go at some point.” Leahe lowered her voice. “What if we just… never make it? What if none of us, including Emet, make it to the Promised Land? What if attacks from outside, and judgements from above, and who knows what else just wear us all down, a few at a time, until attrition wipes us all out?”
Reba hugged her again. Leahe clutched tightly back at her.
“You should know…” Reba whispered in her ear. “You aren’t the only one afraid of that. People are seeing a trend forming. Clearly, this isn’t what we expected when we left Egypt. It definitely wasn’t what we were promised.”
“You think not?” Leahe scoffed sarcastically. “If memory serves, you voted to turn back.”
“Exactly.” Reba nodded. “Except we aren’t going back. We aren’t going forward. We aren’t going anywhere, and we never stop moving.”
“You just described the human race in one sentence.” Leahe retorted.
Reba chuckled. “All I’m saying is, our people know they’ve made a mistake. We’ve made many mistakes in our lives. Moses keeps saying being ‘imperfect’ is inevitable for us right now; but for some reason God won’t forgive us this time. Moses was chosen to lead us out of Egypt, and now he’s done that. Being in charge of us until we all die of old age? That’s not even close to what he was meant to do.”
“People are blaming Moses?” Leahe wasn’t even surprised. “Of course. God forbid anyone blame themselves for making bad choices.”
“Nobody’s doing either.” Reba promised. “That’s what Egypt tried to do; put the sword to us, and blame us for it happening. And why? Because a slave is still a human being. So is an exile, out here in the wastelands.”
Leahe looked up at her. “So… what? What’s the plan?”
“Right now, there isn’t one. I just wanted you to know, you aren’t the only one with these questions. These fears.” Reba hugged her tightly again. “You aren’t alone.”
~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
The Camp was… cold. The barracks looked like they had been put together in a day, and the ground was torn up by hundreds of tire tracks until only mud remained. They pushed him off the truck and he sank into the mud. There were at least thirty other prisoners in the truck with him, and he had to keep moving, because the guards weren’t letting them out gently.
“Oskar!” A familiar voice called.
Oskar spun towards the wire fence, looking into the camp. “Matheo!” He said the name like he’d been holding his breath for a hundred years. “You’re alive!”
The guards had already hauled him away to the main gate for processing.
~~/*\~~
His clothes had been taken. They’d searched him thoroughly enough that the memory of how would give him nightmares. They’d hit him with delousing powder and a heavy blast of cold water, all with the same clinical detachment. The guards were talking about what they expected to have for lunch, while he was shouting for air.
But eventually, the processing was done, and he was let into the Camp. Matheo was waiting for him with a big smile.
Eyes red, limbs shaking, and brain reeling, Oskar wasn’t even sure it was really happening.
Matheo was solid as a rock, embracing him immediately. “You feel like you just got thrown out of an aeroplane?” He greeted warmly.
“And I haven’t even hit the ground yet.” Oskar admitted. “We had no idea what happened to you.”
“Sorry you had to find out this way.”
~~/*\~~
Everything in the camp felt rough, and dirty, and cold. It was like the sun had forgotten how to shine here. The walls were thin, rough wood. It felt like sandpaper to the touch, and so did the uniforms.
“You get used to it.” Matheo said plainly. “I’ve been here for a while now, and for Witnesses, the routine is usually the same.”
“The routine?”
“Witnesses all have the same sentence.” Matheo said seriously. “We’re free, as long as we agree to follow the rules they give us when we go.”
Oskar blinked. “Isn’t that how every prison sentence works?”
Through this conversation, Matheo had led him to a free bunk in the prisoner’s barracks. There were several men there, most of them sleeping. “Yes.” He said softly. “But Witnesses are given an option to cut their sentence short.”
“You know, every time I hear you tell a new guy about this, it just sounds like you’re in here because you want to be.” The man on the next bed said lightly, mindful of people sleeping.
Matheo made introductions. “Oskar, this is Johan. He's here for ‘organizing a demonstration’ against the change in leadership.”
“Someone had to say something.” Johan said sullenly, but Oskar couldn’t tell if he was regretting his choice or just angry at the unfairness of the world.
Matheo turned back to Oskar. “Anyway, here it is: They’ll let the labor soften you up for a while, and then they’ll give you The Choice.” He gestured at the Commander's office. “He’ll let you leave if you sign a written pledge that you’re no longer one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, and you recognize the current leadership as…” He waved a hand. “Basically, just kiss the ring and ask forgiveness.”
“Anyone taken that deal yet?”
“Not one.” Matheo said proudly. “But what’s really interesting is that so far, none of the other groups in here have been offered a similar deal.” Matheo let that thought linger. “What does that tell you?”
“It tells me you’re all idiots.” Johan said seriously. “It’s an empty, symbolic gesture that only matters because you pretend it does.”
“So is saluting a flag.” Matheo returned to him. “If there’s no real meaning, why are you here for protesting it?”
“I get it. I have my ‘holy cause’, and you have yours.” Johan sighed. “Still… No cop in the world has offered to call it even in exchange for an apology. You have any idea how many guys in a prison cell would happily promise ‘never to do it again’ if they could just go home?”
“And all we have to do is promise that we don’t believe that God has authority over Hitler.” Matheo returned. “All we have to do is surrender, and tell the world, in writing, that our faith isn’t real. See, that’s the point: Faith is like Hope. You can’t steal it from someone. They have to give it up.”
Johan wasn’t moved. “It’s not much.”
“That’s because you think of faith and hope like something nebulous, like a mist. But Faith is a warrior. Hope has blood on its face and dirt between its teeth.” Matheo returned. “It keeps getting up again, no matter what knocks it down.” He gave Johan a look. “I would think that you would understand that as much as I do.”
And despite himself, Johan stood a little straighter. “I know that the Cause matters more than the man. It’s just galling to know that you could leave any time for your ‘mission’, and I can’t.” He scowled. “What makes you so special?”
~~/*\~~ Takarut ~~/*\~~
“What makes Moses so special?”
“Not now.” Odeda groused as she walked. She was carrying a yoke across her shoulders, with two lage waterskins. “I’m working.”
“No, I’m serious.” Tivon countered. He was carrying an identical yoke over his own shoulders, keeping it balanced with one hand, while another led their donkey, loaded with water jugs. “I understand why God would turn to someone who lived outside Egypt when it was about challenging Pharaoh. But things have changed now. Moses was our General, preparing us for battle. Now he’s in charge of millions of people. We even have a Tribal structure, a Tribe of Priests, a hierarchy to delegate responsibility-”
“All of which was put in place by Moses.” Odeda told him, grunting under the load.
“Granted, but that’s my point. Moses was never meant to be in charge this long. He was meant to lead us to the Promised Land, and then-”
“And then we don’t know what would have happened. We never got the chance to find out.”
“I can’t believe the nation was meant to be led by a man who hadn’t been part of it for forty years.”
“We’ve heard this kind of talk before. This is what people were saying when Moses’ wife joined the Assembly.” Odeda cut him off. “Miriam, of all people, Moses’ own sister was leading the ‘questions’ back then, and it didn’t turn out well.”
“I remember.” Tivon agreed. “But this is a totally different situation. God had clearly put Moses in charge for the trek to the Promised Land. Now, it seems we’re not going. Moses was to be our leader during the time of transition, from Slaves to Free Men in our own land. What would have happened if we’d made it?”
“I don’t know. As I recall, not going was your idea.” His wife commented archly.
“Mine and a million others.” He defended. “And when are you going to stop saying ‘I-told-you-so’ about that?”
“When I can stop hauling water!” Odeda finally erupted. “My mother spent her whole life doing nothing but carrying water up and down the ropelines all day and night. I spent my whole life carrying water for the sheep! Then Moses came, and told us about a land flowing with milk and honey. Except I’m apparently never going to see it!” She gripped the yoke tightly enough her fingers seized for a moment. “Forty more years, hauling water for the sheep, until I die. Just like Egypt.” She wanted to cry, but had no tears left for this topic. “At least back in Egypt, we had the Nile.”
(Author’s Note: This conversation brings up two points I wanted to mention. Firstly, the Bible record says that ‘Israel’ refused entry to the Promised Land. How they made that wish known is unclear. There is no report of a vote taken, or how many spoke up. Given that some of their people tried to fight, even without God’s blessing, it stood to reason that some of the assembly, even if only a minority, still wanted to go. There’s nothing in scripture about any future disagreements between the two factions; so this is all my own invention.
Secondly, the question of food and water for the animals, since it doesn’t appear that the animals ate Manna. The October 2023 Study Edition of the Watchtower says that 3,500 years ago, “the water supply in Arabia was to some extent superior to what it is at the present time. The existence of many deep dry wadis, or valleys, which were once riverbeds, gives evidence that at some time in the past there was sufficient rainfall to produce streams of water. Even so, the wilderness was a barren and fearsome place. Without the water that Jehovah miraculously provided, both the Israelites and their animals would surely have perished.”)
~~/*\~~
Moses took a sip of water. “Read that last part back to me?”
Takarut, who had transcribed Moses’ words carefully, read back the story. “Then Abraham approached and said: ‘Will you really sweep away the righteous with the wicked? Suppose there are fifty righteous men within the city. Will you, then, sweep them away and not pardon the place for the sake of the fifty righteous who are inside it? It is unthinkable that you would act in this manner by putting the righteous man to death with the wicked one so that the outcome for the righteous man and the wicked is the same! It is unthinkable of you. Will the Judge of all the earth not do what is right?’”
“Good.” Moses nodded, clearing his throat, sipping again. He’d been dictating for a while.
“How do you know this?” Emet piped up. He’d been practicing his writing, making sure it was neat; but he heard every word.
Takarut smiled. His son had come out and asked the question directly, as only a small child could. “Emet, we have a special situation here. As long as that Pillar of Smoke and Fire is going outside, we know that Jehovah is giving us His attention. And even if nobody alive was there for Eden, or the Flood, or any one of a hundred things after, Jehovah was there for all of it. He tells Moses, and Moses tells us.”
Emet looked at Moses, his head tilted. “Why not just tell my dad directly? His handwriting is neater.”
Takarut’s eyes bulged at that, but Moses burst out laughing.
~~/*\~~
Hours later, Emet was snoring in the corner of the tent, while Takarut and Moses packed up the scrolls and stylus’ for another night. “I want to apologize for my son, my lord. He wasn’t being insubordinate…”
“He was being a child. Children only understand direct questions. They haven’t learned any of the things that make adults afraid of direct answers.” Moses waved it off. “And the question of ‘why me?’ is one I’ve asked for years now.”
Takarut decided to take a chance. “Your record of your first interactions with Jehovah is… not particularly flattering to you. Back in Egypt, I was a Scribe. Rewriting things to be more ‘approving’ of certain people was just part of the job. After the Plagues, I wondered if we’d be doing the same about you, simply out of the people’s appreciation for you as their liberator.”
“And now that we’re out here, you think history is going to be less ‘flattering’?” Moses quipped.
“The scrolls we’re keeping of current events? That’s just a new nation keeping records.” Takarut shrugged. “But the history records we’ve been writing about Eden, and Noah, and Lot… This was all centuries before any of us were born. I don’t doubt Jehovah is telling you the truth, and if you were telling us half the truth in turn, then I think God would have made that clear to someone by now… But why record things that far back?”
Moses nodded. “Why do you think Jehovah carved the Ten Commandments into stone tablets? I could have committed them to memory, and just said them aloud. Putting them in writing, on stone? It’s a powerful statement. Egypt knew that too. It’s why they made private homes of clay bricks, but Temples were made of stone.”
“Something meant to stand forever.” Takarut nodded.
“Something everyone could refer to without the message being altered by multiple storytellers.” Moses agreed. “God wants people to know Him. He wants people to know what He did, and how it happened, and how people reacted to it.” He gave a grandfatherly smile to a snoring Emet. “Writing is our one great weapon against time. It would have been impossible for any record made before Egypt to survive the years of slavery. But even in exile, out here in the Wilderness, we are a free people who can keep the history safe. Jehovah has blessed me with certainty enough that these words are true. Everything that comes after, now? We have a past to compare to. Something that lasts longer than stories our grandfathers tell us. Something certain. Something that doesn't get rewritten to be ‘more acceptable’.”
Takarut smiled a bit. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you, for letting me work as a Scribe again. It’s nice to have work that I’m suited for, and trained to do.” He scooped up his son, saying his goodbyes for the night. “And it’s good to have a trade I can pass on to my son.”
~~/*\~~
On the way back to his tent, the sun set, and Takarut paused to watch the Pillar of Smoke transition into a Pillar of Fire. It was a beacon that lit up the wilderness in every direction, standing guard over the whole Camp.
Jehovah God, Takarut prayed as he walked. My talent as a Scribe has failed, for I could never put into words the spectacle of Your glory over us every day. In my weaker moments, I fear I am not needed at all. After all, what history is there to keep out here in the Wilderness? We keep moving, but we’re all just… waiting. What history is there in that?
~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
It was easier than he thought to hold on to his faith. Matheo had devoted himself to keeping the Witnesses’ spirits up, and their faith strong. There was a study session every day. The guards didn’t allow it, but they also couldn’t stop it. Matheo assigned everyone into ‘study groups’, often made up of just two or three. Matheo would have them recite a favorite scripture, and have the group talk about it.
But those studies happened at night. During the day, there was work.
The guards had come in at dawn, loaded a few dozen prisoners into trucks, and taken them out to a worksite. There, they started work, under constant supervision of men with guns. Oskar’s first day on the work parties was felling trees and hauling the logs to be loaded onto trucks. There were no machines beyond hand tools. The only option was brute force.
Instinct had made him work hard. He put his energy into the work, and tried to get the job done quickly and efficiently. After the first day, he realized that was the wrong way to go about the task. The Nazi’s weren’t trying to get a job done. If the work was finished early, they’d find more work. The Guards didn’t even feed them.
Oskar woke up in his bunk at the camp the next morning, feeling all his limbs on fire. As he hauled himself upright, he noticed the people in the camp with fresh eyes. They weren’t young, strong men. Half of the Jewish Prisoners were straight-up elderly. If Oskar was exhausted, he couldn’t imagine how they must feel.
“Remember.” Matheo told him quietly as they were organized into different work parties. “Today’s going to be harder, given how yesterday pulverised you. Steady pace. Don’t overwork it. Save your reserves for… after.”
“After? What happens after?” Oskar asked, surprised.
Before Matheo could elaborate, the guards came and started dragging people out of the barracks, towards the trucks. They made as much noise as possible, shouting, looming, getting right in the prisoner’s faces, leading with their guns.
They’re too big… Oskar thought, still cowed by the barely restrained death at every turn. Please, Jehovah God, why am I still so scared?!
~~/*\~~
The second day of hard labor was digging ditches. A totally different kind of labor to the day before. Whole new muscles were being worked, which meant there was no chance of loosening up, or getting used to it.
Working slower to conserve his strength was decided by his aches. He simply couldn’t move faster. But even after moving slower, he felt even more exhausted. Matheo had told them all to stay patient, and wait for relief to come. But patience was impossible after the third hour of hard labor. Being at the start of another day meant he knew what was coming. Hours and hours of pain, under threat of beatings to keep him going.
One of the older men, who wasn’t a Witness, couldn’t keep going after an hour. He was pushing a wheelbarrow full of dirt, and collapsed across the handles. The wheelbarrow didn’t shift, because the load in it was heavier than the prisoner himself. The guards came over, yelling for him to get back to work. When there was no response, they started hitting him with the butt of their rifles before someone came running to help move the load.
Oskar stared in shock at the blatant brutality. Even after the fear of arrest had sunk deep into his bones, the totally unnecessary violence was something new.
And then someone put a boot into the small of his back and roared for him to stop gawking and get back to work.
~~/*\~~
The sun was setting when they were all trucked back to the barracks. Oskar trudged in the direction of his bed, when two of the guards grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him in the opposite direction. His feet were barely touching the ground, and in an odd way, he was relieved. It was the first time he’d been off his feet in hours.
“A word of warning.” One of the regular guards snarled in his ear. “Use your brain in there. You never know when you might not get another chance.”
Oskar was too tired to try and be clever, so he said nothing. They dragged him into the commander’s office, and dumped him into a chair before the desk. Commander Gerhardt was sitting there, reading a file, not even looking at him. After a few moments of making him wait, the Commander stood, and faced his guest, throwing an arm up in salute. “Heil Hitler.”
Konstantin, the guard that had dragged him in, returned it immediately.
Oskar didn’t move. “Good evening, Commander.” He said politely.
He was expecting a punch. It didn’t come.
Gerhardt was reading the papers in front of him. “You have no criminal record, Prisoner. Interviews with your… neighbors suggest that you were a model citizen. Your daughter…” He flipped a few pages. “Flora? She’s been expelled from school for ‘dishonorable conduct’, but interviews with her teachers say that she was a model student, in all areas except this one.” He looked up at Oskar. “Look, there’s no mystery to solve here. We know that your people are honest citizens, but refuse to show fealty to the Fuhrer.” He looked down at his notes again. “And even that isn’t an act of rebellion. Neutrality, according to the leadership. A major part of your worship?”
He sounded so reasonable. Oskar was caught off guard by it. The Commander was calling him an honest man? “Under our religion… acts of devotion belong exclusively to God.” He said carefully, trying to dredge up enough energy to think. “With all due respect to the current leader of the country… I do not credit him with the creation of the universe.”
The Commander actually laughed. “I will concede that point.” He settled into a polite smile. “Politics is what it is, but this is a labor camp. We don’t put honest citizens in here. That’s just common sense. More than that, it’s efficient. After all, there are plenty of dangerous criminals out there. Shouldn’t they be in here, while honest citizens are out there, working and raising their families?”
Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it…
“So, here’s what we’re going to do.” Gerhardt said grandly, and pulled a sheet of crisp white paper out of his folder and placed it before Oskar. “Sign that, and you’ll be a free man.”
Oskar leaned forward and started to read.
~~/*\~~
I have come to realize that the doctrine spread by the International Bible Students Association is heretical and that it’s aims, which are pursued under the guide of religious activity, and purely seditious.
I have therefore disassociated myself entirely from this organization, and have also freed my mind from the teachings of this sect.
I hereby declare that I will never again perform any work on behalf of the International Bible Students Association. I will report immediately any person who tries to persuade me to adopt the heresy spread by the Bible Students or reveals himself to be a Bible Student in any way whatsoever. If the Bible Students send me any literature, I will hand it in at the nearest Police Station without delay.
I undertake to respect state laws and to integrate myself fully into the community in future.
I confirm that I have been informed that I must expect to be rearrested immediately, in the event of my violating this declaration.
~~/*\~~
(Author’s Note: This scene is set in an unimportant labor camp; specifically to stay out of history’s way. The above was a direct quotation of a document that was offered to Jehovah’s Witnesses at the Buchenwald Concentration Camp. The text was available in a book called ‘Unbroken Will’, by Bernhard Rammerstorfer.)
He read it twice and leaned away. “...I can’t sign this.” Oskar rasped.
Gerhardt didn’t even blink. “Now think hard about this, prisoner. We don’t make this offer to anyone else.”
Oskar blinked, feeling a sudden rush of energy flow into his brain. “You don’t?” He heard himself say.
“No.” The Commander said knowingly, holding out a pen. “I’m giving you this option because I’m allowed to. I want you to take it so that I can get a free spot in my labor camp. You’ve spent the day working like a prisoner. Aren’t there people far more deserving of that than you?”
“I’m here because of my faith, sir. How can I sign it away now?”
“Faith is a language of the heart, Prisoner. Your heart is your own business.” The Commander said. “Who are we to say what’s in your heart? How many people obey the law while wishing they didn’t have to? Probably most people. This? It’s paperwork. A gesture.”
A gesture of obedience. “I… I can’t.” Oskar rasped. Even in pain, he was so exhausted he was falling asleep in the chair, mid-conversation.
POW! Konstantin hit him in the side, just below the ribs. The sudden shock of pain made him gasp, frozen still as his body tried to recover.
“You could have saved yourself the pain if you’d just saluted properly, like a good, honest citizen.” The Commander said. “See how that works? You do the right thing, you get a reward. You do the wrong thing, you get punished. It’s the same way we train donkeys.” The Commander was still smiling grandly. “You’re smarter than a mule, aren’t you?”
Oskar said nothing, but there were tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I guess not.” Gerhardt sighed, as though personally disappointed. “You know, I’ve had this conversation with a few of your people now.” He admitted. “They’ve all said the same. I suppose I should respect your integrity. In truth, I just don’t understand it. Every time I have this conversation, it sounds like you’d rather be in here.”
“Given the choice, I’d much rather go home.” Oskar rasped.
“Sign this piece of paper, and you’ll be home by dinner time.”
“Respectfully, I cannot do that.”
The Commander smiled broadly at Konstantin. “I love that they’re all so polite about it.” He said, sharing a private joke, before turning back to Oskar. “Can I ask you something? Why are you bothering? Seriously, what are you holding out for?”
“I…” Oskar had rehearsed this a hundred times in his head, and suddenly he had no idea what to say. “I can’t sign it, because it’s not true. I do believe in the teachings, and we are not seditious.”
“Really.” The Commander said, fighting a laugh. “So… You really believe that? A talking snake and a naked lady in a garden?” He actually laughed. “A big flood and all the Earth’s Creatures, two by two on one big boat? That we’re all descended from inbreeding one family? Anyone can tell you that’s a fairy tale. Is it really worth dying over?”
Why not? You seem to think it’s worth killing over. Oskar thought, but he didn’t say anything. His silence felt like cowardice.
The Commander rose, and left the room. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”
“Yessir.” Konstantin said, as though he was tasting some delicious delicacy.
As soon as they were left alone, Konstantin caught a fistful of Oskar’s hair, and kicked the chair out from under him. Oskar felt an agonizing wrench along his neck and scalp, followed by a blinding pain as the desk met his face with a violent bang.
Trying to brace himself for the next hit, Oskar squeezed his eyes shut.
The next blow never came. Instead, he was hauled upright, and dragged out of the room.
~~/*\~~
Konstantin gave him a few more lumps before tossing him back in the barracks.
His limbs refused to move. His body was frozen. Somewhere deep inside, he recognized the prey response. Your body is freezing up to hide from predators, trying not to be noticed.
Others came along and helped him upright, guiding him to his cot. He didn’t even see who it was. Soon enough he was horizontal. With a groan of pain, Oskar started to pray, but the words were incoherent. There was a shuffling beside him, and suddenly Matheo was sitting on the edge of his cot. He started speaking as if they were midway through a conversation.
“Before he met my mother, my father was planning to become a priest. When I became a Bible Student, he was appalled.” Matheo said with a smile. “We spent months arguing obscure points of the Bible back and forth.”
“Sounds awkward.” Oskar croaked.
“It made every single exchange a loaded debate.” Matheo nodded. “But after every debate, I pulled out my bible, and I checked every word. I posed questions, and I backed them up with scripture. I made sure every point had two or three verses to back each other up.”
Oskar still hadn’t moved. Barely kept his eyes open, staying as still as possible against his bruises. “How did your father take that?”
“My father, rest his soul, couldn’t argue with me after a while, because he didn’t prepare nearly as much as I did.” Matheo admitted. “Those debates became the reason for my faith. I was essentially studying with my father so much more than I ever was with the brother teaching me. My opinions, my inclinations… the things I was learning became solid because I had to defend them from the attacks of my father. Opposition either creates strength, or shows weaknesses.”
“I’ve been… reliving this moment I had with one of the guards.” Oskar confessed. “He repeated the Garden of Eden story, and the… the amusement in his voice, like it was so silly. And the thing is, if any other religion had a talking snake in their creation myth, we’d call it crazy too.” His voice lowered. “I said nothing. He made it seem like a joke, and I couldn’t help but look away.”
“Don’t mistake that for a legitimate chance to defend your faith, Oskar.” Matheo told him gently. “It’s not like if we convert one of the guards, they’ll just open the door and let us leave.”
“I guess that’s true.” He admitted. “So what can we do?”
“Endure.” Matheo said with grim certainty.
The bruises pulsed with a beat of pure agony at the thought. “Is that really the best we can hope for?”
“I know, it sounds like surrender, but really, it’s just another version of what we always do. We’re waiting for God to decide it’s time for this system to end. Maybe it’ll be today, and maybe it’ll be tomorrow. But when we were in our own homes, with our own jobs, and our own lives; we were still waiting for That Day to come. Now, we’re just waiting while we're here.”
Oskar considered that, but it was clear he wasn’t convinced.
“When I was debating with my father, I had to defend my beliefs to another. Right now, we are prisoners. But we’re also free. Free from distractions. Free from ‘shades of grey’. It’s all black and white now. The only people we need to build up are each other. The only people we need to convince are ourselves.” Matheo seemed steadfast. “In debate, we have to get the Truth into our heads. To hold on while under oppression? It’s about keeping the Truth in our hearts.”
Oskar couldn’t feel anything but the aches. The bruises came on top of hard labor, and the humiliation from their jeers and laughter was another layer on top. “I hope it’s enough.” He rasped, and passed out before he heard the answer.
~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~
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