~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
The car came for Oskar the next afternoon. As a parting gift, Juliette had sewn hiding places into the lining of his prison uniform, and he was able to take the pages back to the camp; even after being searched by the guards. He didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone. He knew the speed of his removal was deliberate. A way to keep him from passing a message, or colluding with anyone before he left.
And Oskar was back in his rough prison uniform again, being driven away. Please, Jehovah God… I never knew how to pray for mercy, but I do now. Don’t let them take me to one of those death camps. Wherever I’m going, let it be better than that.
He prayed the same thing, over and over, for the entire ride, until he started to recognize landmarks. He was going back to the scene of his nightmares. Back to the labor camp.
I never thought I could be relieved to go back there.
He kept praying the whole way back.
~~/*\~~
He’d been expecting flashbacks, or some kind of breakdown when he saw the barbed wire again, but it didn’t come. His time at the house felt like a vacation from reality.
This isn’t reality. He reminded himself. Don’t ever think this kind of life is normal. Remember what normal is.
The weather didn’t change at all, but when his feet hit the mud of the camp, he suddenly felt colder, like the sun couldn’t reach them properly.
Ignaz was the first to meet him in the courtyard, walking him back to the barracks slowly. “You’re alive.” He remarked with a grin. “Looks like they even fed you.”
“A little.” Oskar admitted. Ignaz looked thinner, his bones a little more pronounced than they had been. “Did I miss much?”
“There was an… incident, a few days ago.” Ignaz told him. “One of the new prisoners smuggled in a few handwritten copies of foreign newspapers. News about what was really happening in the war. Defeats that the Nazi’s would never admit to. The guards found out about it and started making examples. Some got a firing squad. None of our people, thankfully.”
Oskar let out a breath between his teeth. “I’ve got some news about what they’re doing out there too. Things that aren’t public knowledge. Or at least, not publicly admitted.”
“Anything good?”
“Let me put it this way. I’ll tell you all about it when the war is over, and we’re all safe.” Oskar drawled. “Until then, you’ll be happier not knowing.” He shivered. “Still, if they lost a few laborers, I guess it explains why I was sent here instead of Buchenwald.”
“Where?”
“Never mind.” Oskar sighed. “It was nice to see… well, outside the Camp. Even a garden with flowers felt like a dream. Colorful. Cheerful. Something different. Something beautiful. Something new.”
~~/*\~~
Oskar noticed someone who looked familiar, when he and Ignaz entered the Barracks. He wasn’t a brother, but Oskar was certain that he’d seen the man before. His weight and posture suggested he was new in the Camp, which meant he wasn’t one of the ‘undesirables’ that the Nazi’s had rounded up immediately. He pictured the man without the beard, and suddenly realized. “Eugen!” He blurted.
Eugen jumped at the sound of his name and looked over. “I know you. You were one of my customers, right?”
“I was.” Oskar made introductions to Ignaz. “Eugen ran the hardware store, back before the Anschluss.” His head tilted. “In fact, you were one of the most vocal supporters, weren’t you?”
Eugen said nothing. He looked sick.
“In fact, if memory serves, there was a time when Clemens’ grocery store was vandalized. I remember some of the people who knew Clemens was Jewish figured the paint must have come from you. The only store in town flying the swastika?”
Eugen broke down sobbing. “I did everything right! Why doesn’t that matter?!”
“What are you in for?” Ignaz asked, sympathetically. “What was the charge?”
“Possession of stolen goods.” Eugen wiped his eyes furiously. “I was holding the goods for some German soldiers. They had seized some ration books, and told me to keep a few bags of sugar in my storeroom, but…”
“But when it came down to it, they turned you in before they got themselves caught.” Ignaz said, unsurprised. “This is the trap of the fascist rule. Loyalty only goes one way, and your years of service mean nothing.”
“I supported them! They were supposed to fix things!” Eugen wept. “It’s not fair!”
~~/*\~~
There was a meeting that night. The faces hadn’t changed, and Oskar was grateful. He’d wondered if any of these brothers might have died while he was gone.
“Alright. I think it’s Lenz’s turn.” Ignaz spoke quietly. “Do you recall a verse that gives you comfort?”
“Brother, I recall dozens.” Lenz said with a wan smile. “But I will admit that I’m having trouble thinking of a scripture we haven’t used a hundred times already.”
“There’s nothing wrong with repetition.” Ignaz said seriously. “Besides, sharing the same thought in a group still leads to new insights, if only through different perspectives.” He gestured around the circle, sitting hunched together on the cots. “For example, if anyone remembers a verse, but can’t place the notation, or the precise phrase, speak up anyway. The rest of us can help.”
As the others started reciting scriptures, trying to recall the exact wording from memory, Oskar smiled like a magician performing his best trick, and reached down the hem of his uniform, producing the pages Hans had slipped him. “Maybe these can help.”
There was a low cry of delighted shock. He’d just conjured an unspeakable treasure.
“Where did you get that?!” Ignaz hissed, eyes bulging.
There were almost enough pages to share among the entire group. A few pages from the Psalms. A few from Genesis. One or two from the Gospels. Hans had clearly been in a hurry. Not all the rips were clean. Some pages had sentences missing; but it was more than they’d seen in years.
“We’ll have to keep these hidden.” Oskar whispered to the group. “Don’t take them out unless you’re very sure you’re not being observed. And keep them moving. Let everyone read them all. Read your page, and swap with someone. Again, don’t let anyone see you do that.”
“Better yet, memorize it.” Ignaz told them. “Memorize what you can, and destroy the pages before you’re caught with them. They’re thin enough that you can eat them if you want. I know I’m hungry enough.”
“Wait. Don’t do that.” A voice said from the next row of cots.
Oskar looked, and saw Josef, suddenly very interested in their meeting. “Do you have anything from the Tor- uh, the ‘old testament’?”
Oskar smiled, suddenly seeing an opportunity to preach to one of the other inmates. He looked to Ignaz, who was taking the page from Psalms over to him. “You know what’ll happen if you’re caught with this. They were willing to shoot people over a newspaper article. The hammer that’ll come down on us if we’re caught with these…”
“I know. Believe me, I know.” Josef rasped, taking the page eagerly, reading it carefully.
“I remember reading this page at one of our meetings, before the war started.” Oskar said. “A long time ago, I remember my daughter said she liked it when I read the bible to her, even after she knew how to read it herself. I asked her why. She said God always referred to himself as our ‘father’. So instead of imagining these words as a carved stone tablet, or a booming voice from the sky, she always tried to think of it as something her father says to her directly.” He smiled, tearing up a bit. “I thought that was a good way to think about it. Because Jehovah is my father too.”
Josef nodded. “I remember the Rabbi told us that when I was young. God has titles like ‘Almighty’ and ‘Ancient of Days’, but the one He describes Himself as most? Father.”
Oskar turned the page in Josef’s hand, and turned it to face him. “So, if your father promised you this; and you knew He could deliver… ‘And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.’”
~~/*\~~
The meetings happened every night, and they were revitalized by the addition of the pages. Everyone had a new scripture to quote, and having them in writing meant you could check context, and be sure of the wording. Even half-starved, exhausted from labor, and in constant pain; the accuracy of the scriptures they quoted was absolutely certain for the first time in months.
The Bible was a large book. Even the most devout student didn’t have it all committed to memory. Finding new lines to speak about brought new insights. For a while, it was like they were having studies in their own homes, rather than under any threat.
Which is why Oskar was surprised that Ignaz was so worried.
“We have to get rid of them.” Ignaz whispered as they took a quick turn around the compound. “Tell the others to pass them on to other prisoners.”
“Ignaz, we have to keep them. I know, sooner or later they’ll be found, but the longer we have with them the better, surely?”
“They’ll shoot to kill over newspaper articles.” Ignaz hissed. “What do you think Konstantin will do to us if he finds those pages?”
“Same thing he’ll do if he gets bored one day and flips a coin.” Oskar retorted. “The ones that’ll shoot us don’t need a reason, and the ones that don’t want to aren’t going to care about Bible pages, as long as we’re discreet.”
“Even so, best to get the contraband out of our hands.”
Oskar looked over. “Ignaz, you know that I’ll follow your direction, but those pages are doing more good for our people than anything else we’ve gotten hold of since we walked into this lion’s pit.”
“Oskar, I’ve only got one priority in this Camp: To get our brothers through all of this alive.” Ignaz said seriously. “We both know this war can’t last forever. Anything that can get us killed is… how shall I put this? A bad idea.”
Oskar couldn’t help the chuckle. “Sounds reasonable. For what it’s worth, everyone knows the safest place for information is in our memories.”
~~/*\~~
“I’ve been thinking lately about… death.” One of the brothers said in the barracks that night. His opening set off a murmur. “Not that way.” He assured them with a smirk.
Nightly worship had become a therapy session too, everyone telling their own perspectives on scriptures. Everyone had to think about what to say, with no talks from ‘outside’ coming in. They were pouring their hearts out to each other, and to God.
“I’ve been thinking about causes that people think are worth giving their lives for. Some of our late cellmates thought that fighting back for freedom was a cause worth their life. At least some of the Nazi’s thought that the lunatic dreams of some insane leader was worth dying for. Jehovah promises eternal life. I remember that there was a talk where they were telling us that survival isn’t the only reason, or at least not the primary reason why someone serves Jehovah, but rather love of God. I didn’t fully appreciate how we could do that until I came here. Because the cause that Jesus thought was worth dying for was… us. Yes, all humanity; but that includes us, here in this room. Then I thought about 1st Corinthians 15:26. That death itself will be destroyed. And when I hear reports of people… so many people… So very many people dying… The idea that Jesus gave his life so that death itself would die-”
The door flew open, and a handful of guards boiled in. Oskar barely flinched. Shock tactics were standard procedure. And after seeing the same faces so many times, Oskar didn’t find their speed and noise to be so big and intimidating anymore. It was a deliberate tactic on their part to make it seem like there were more of them than there actually were. Once he’d gotten used to it, he saw through it.
But this wasn’t a bed check, or a snap inspection. Konstantin came in, with a cruel smile on his face, and he went straight to Oskar. “Take off your clothes.”
Oskar hesitated. What is this?
Pow! Konstantin slugged him in the gut, bending him double.
Oskar fell to the floor and dry-retched, before struggling out of his prison uniform. Once he was naked, the guards made a quick, efficient search of his clothing, inside and out, with others went to his cot and began searching, looking through the spaces between the slats, the frame, the thin mattress itself…
The search produced some of the Bible pages he had smuggled in.
Konstantin took them, and held them up in view of everyone. “These are contraband!” He barked. “Nobody eats tonight.”
There wasn’t so much a groan from those assembled. Withholding food was the most basic of their punishments. It happened when one of the guards had a bad night’s sleep, let alone a real reason.
Konstantin continued. “The whole barracks, and all prisoners will be searched for more contraband. Anyone hiding it will be punished. Hand it in now, and you will be shown mercy.” Konstantin said to Oskar. “ And you? You go in the Box.”
~~/*\~~
The Box was their Solitary Confinement Cell. It was a cubicle for one person, too narrow to sit down in, but too wide to lean comfortably against a wall without sliding into uncomfortable positions. It had narrow air holes around the base, which let you breathe, but kept the interior in total darkness, until they let you out.
“I was punished with this myself once.” Konstantin said conversationally to Oskar. “I didn’t care for it. Three days or so, for you? Maybe four. I don't know, I get forgetful.”
Oskar said nothing. Such taunts were a fact of life.
“And while you’re in there…” Konstantin said with delicious amusement. “Consider for a moment that it’s all your choice. You could have just signed. On day one. Or right now, for that matter. If you can’t give me a reason why you don’t, then I have to assume that you’re only here because you’d rather get punched in the kidneys, over and over.”
Oskar was about to say something, when he suddenly realized what that meant. “-wait!”
“Ohyes.” The Guard smiled broadly. “I thought we forgot something.”
Wham! Oskar bent double again as a swift punch hit him, just below the ribs. Then another. Then another. Oskar was just about to howl in pain, the sudden shock stealing his breath away. He sucked in air, just in tiny sips, when he was hurled into the box. The door slammed behind him, sending him into darkness. Ohgod, please don’t let me puke again. I don’t wanna be in the box with that…
Konstantin walked away from the box with a laugh, as Oskar gained enough breath to sob.
~~/*\~~
Every night a truck would drive away, carrying bodies. The ‘workers’ were driven to death. There were always more to replace them. Which is why it was always an event to have more Brothers arriving. But nobody expected to see Brother Matheo return.
It wasn’t like the first time. It was clear their Elder hadn’t been fed in days. The Brothers came quickly, giving him bites of the food they’d kept hidden for themselves. Ignaz noticed that other groups in the Camp were hoarding their stash, or asking if the new prisoners had anything to offer.
“Such is the way of survival.” Matheo rasped to the generosity of his brothers, weaker than Ignaz had ever seen him. “It’s something to be proud of in our faith. Everything we do to protect each other.”
Ignaz winced imperceptibly.
“Well.” Matheo said grandly, voice strengthening. “I haven’t been able to speak with a congregation in any form for quite some time. When’s your next meeting scheduled?”
“It started the second you walked in.” Georg said with a grin, and everyone laughed.
~~/*\~~ Leahe ~~/*\~~
A few days passed, and the Camp was still quiet. Conversations were done in whispers. All told, the losses had been in the thousands. Less than there would have been. Enough that everyone knew someone who had been lost. Even more who had been tempted.
But what was more frightening, was the worry for the next generation. It was the first time that they had faced something new. People from beyond the Camp. A culture other than their own. Something other than an attacking army. People that offered them something instead of threatening them. A test that thousands had failed, so quickly.
While collecting the Manna, Leahe decided that she’d withdrawn from her friends too much. Isolating herself was her natural instinct when she was hurting, but her family was intact after the Moabite’s subtle attack; and she was ashamed to note that she hadn’t checked on her friends. “Ledah.”
The other woman looked up sharply, jarred from her thoughts. “Leahe.” She nodded. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to follow up with you a few days ago.”
“Neither of us did.” Leahe said gently. “To be honest, I’ve been afraid to ask.” She gestured at her tent. “You know my boys are okay because they’re always here. Your sons moved out into tents of their own when… well-”
“When my aunts and uncles ‘aged out’ and made room.” Ledah said bluntly. “We usually have a thick skin about these things.”
“Not this week.” Leahe admitted. “But… your family?”
“A cousin. A few of my in-laws.” Ledah admitted softly. “My sons are okay.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Leahe nodded in relief. “I mean, not glad, but…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you about it as soon as it happened, but I didn’t know what to say. That’s new for me. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always known what to say. A hundred of us died on the ropelines every day, under one whip or another. We’ve all gotten used to expressing condolences. This feels entirely different.”
“The Moabites knew exactly how to hit us.” Ledah agreed. “This wasn’t an Egyptian with a whip. This one came from us. There’s just no easy way to comfort someone who lost a loved one to their own sin.” She waved off at the next row of tents. “Odeda lost her husband, and a son. She and her daughter-in-law can’t even mourn them. They’re so furious about the infidelity, they can’t feel sad about losing their husbands.”
Leahe let out a breath harshly. “Just a bad week all around.” She agreed. “Emet lost a few good friends. People you’d never expect to fall for this sort of thing.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t like to talk about it. I keep telling him he has to let it out, one way or another…”
“Different generations. Our fathers knew how to deal with loss and emotional grief. They had to. Slavery was as much humiliation as it was violence.” Ledah agreed. “Our sons don’t know what it means to deal with this kind of thing. Even with a forty year sentence, we haven’t felt the whip in almost a full generation.”
“Makes me feel old.” Leahe admitted. “My son doesn’t understand my whole life before this Camp. And I don’t know how to prepare him for life after this Camp, in a home I’ll never see.” She gestured at her eyes. “Not that I’d see it that well, anyway. Not any more.” She almost smiled sadly. “One advantage to the wilderness. The view never changes.”
Ledah looked to the border of the Camp, barely visible at that distance. The bodies of the ringleaders were strung up there, lined up and visible to the Camp. Leahe wouldn’t be able to make them out, with her eyes growing weaker by the day.
There were rumors that the Moabites were observing the Camp, weighing the damage their attack had done, probing for any sign of further weakness. There were other rumors about who had taken the lead in Baal worship among the Israelites. Having their bodies on display ended that rumor completely. The truth was surprising enough to most.
Ledah plastered a smile on her face, and turned deliberately away from the bodies, facing towards Leahe. “You’re right. The view never changes out here.”
~~/*\~~
“They gave me Hilkiah’s position.” Sha'al said by way of greeting.
Emet looked up from his prayers in surprise as his friend came over. “They did?”
“Surprised me too. I’m pretty young for that kind of leadership role.”
“They’re not expecting anyone over the age of sixty to make it to the Promised Land, and we’re getting closer all the time.” Emet said dryly. “When we move into our new land, people your age will be the old men.”
“What a horrifying thought.” Sha'al scoffed. “Other than that… how are you holding up? You lost a few friends this week.”
“Did I? I can’t help but think that if they were really my friends, I would have tried harder to get them out of there when I left.”
“You were getting a bad feeling. It wasn’t like they were telling you what they planned to do.” Sha'al offered. “Instinct saved you. The others would have had to make a choice when the time came.”
“Would I have made the choice? Instinct made me leave when nobody was asking me to stay. And if I’m honest… You saw some of those women. Women like that could convince Angels to abandon heaven.” Emet shuddered. “If one of those women had gotten right up close and asked me to stay with her a little longer… I don’t know if I would have made the right choice.”
“Then it’s a good thing you avoided the whole situation before you could be compromised that way.” Sha'al said blandly. “Easiest way to survive a battle is to avoid it, kid.”
“Kid? Did you just call me ‘kid’?” Emet retorted. “You’re not that much older than me, ‘old man’.”
“Well, I’ve gone quite mad with power since being promoted as a Chieftain.” Sha'al returned lightly.
They both chuckled, and the emotion settled into something familiar and comfortable, even with the situation weighing heavily on them.
“My mother is terrified that our generation can’t be prepared for what we’ll face out there, once we get to our new home.” Emet offered. “We’ve never faced anyone outside ourselves, unless they were attacking us. Not until this week. And it didn’t go well.” He spread his hands wide. “And if I’m honest… I don’t see any real need to go to the Promised Land.” He winced, glancing back at the Pillar of Fire in the middle of the Camp, waiting to be struck down for saying it.
“I’ve heard that from others.” Sha'al admitted. “Staying in the wilderness, living off manna… it’s the easiest way. But we’re not living the way people should, out here. Jehovah has demonstrated that He’ll always feed us, always protect us. But He’s also demonstrated that He’ll keep us on the path he’s laid out for us. He doesn’t want us to stay out here.”
“I know, but… This Camp is all I know.”
“And Egypt was all our father’s knew.” Sha'al offered. “God makes manna and water, and lights up the nighttime for us out here. In the Promised land? Who knows what He’ll make for us? But I’m willing to bet it’ll be better.”
“Are you sure about that?” Emet winced. “Because I’ve got some compelling evidence that we’re skilled at messing up a good thing.”
“That’s less of an issue than you think. God doesn’t deal out summary executions on people who haven’t transgressed. Admittedly, thousands of our people made bad choices. But we aren’t among them. We never have been. There are still millions more of us just waiting to cross over into our Inheritance.” Sha'al took it in stride. “The histories that Moses is writing? My favorite story was when Jacob wrestled all night with an angel, just for a blessing. Our people are at their most faithful when their life depends on it.”
~~/*\~~ Oskar ~~/*\~~
The Box was situated in an open space. Nobody could approach it without being seen, so there was no chance at contact from the outside. Oskar was sweating from the cramped, stagnant air; the walls pressed in on him from all sides. He had never been claustrophobic before, but the immobility would make anyone panic.
Pressing back against the walls, trying to breathe slowly, praying for calm, his hands scraped against the hard cement in every direction. Everything was rough. Everything hurt to the touch.
~~/*\~~
As the meeting wrapped up, Matheo produced a tiny book from somewhere. It was the size of a teabag, and the writing within was small enough to make reading it a spectacle, but it was unquestionably a Bible, to some degree.
Ignaz shifted to be between Matheo and the rest of the prisoners, outside their little meeting. “There was a search just yesterday. They found contraband pages of the Bible. There were… reprisals.”
“Then it’s perfect timing on God’s part.” Matheo said lightly. “The second our spiritual food is taken away, a new supply comes in. They won’t be searching the same hiding places again for a while.” Matheo passed the book across to the others, who started reading quickly, while others kept watch. “What’s his story?” Matheo asked, gestring towards Eugen with his chin. “He’s new here, but I feel like I’ve seen him before.”
“He ran the hardware store in your town, before Germany took over. Word is, he was ‘their man’, before the takeover was official.” Ignaz reported.
“Plenty of people can say the same.” Matheo said reasonably. “He wouldn’t be the only one to get suckered by political speeches.”
“Yeah, but he wasn’t just a ‘civilian’.” Ignaz explained. “Word is, he made trouble for people who opposed it, and ratted on his neighbors at every opportunity… Then, of course, there was nobody to protect him when the inevitable happened. Now he’s here. And nobody seems inclined to forgive him for the part he played.”
Matheo let out a breath. “We pay so much for the mistakes we make. Forgiveness absolves you of sin, but not of consequences.”
“He still can’t believe they turned on him so completely.”
“Mm. Such is the way of the system. True Loyalty is hard to come by.” Matheo looked around. “Where’s Oskar? I thought you said we hadn’t lost anyone.”
Ignaz winced again. This time, Matheo noticed.
~~/*\~~
Oskar had been in the box long enough that his limbs had all gone numb. The box was holding him upright at this point, without room to fall down.
But mentally, he was somewhere else entirely. The only thing he could hear was his breathing, and the slight metallic sounds of the box expanding and contracting as the sun and cold took turns warming and cooling the metal around him. It had the effect of sensory-deprivation, giving his mind more freedom to move.
His prayers had become more earnest, more passionate. And they were working, giving him something to focus on. As Matheo had taught him: If prayer brings no peace, then just keep praying until it does.
Father, he prayed; having a conversation with the only person he still had with him. I’ve been thinking about what Eugen said, about how he ‘did everything right’. He supported them because he wanted the world to change. I can understand that, but even if they hadn’t put him in here, it would have been the wrong choice.
Every human rule has gotten worse one way or another. Even those that do good never make things better for everyone at the same time.
And even the most benevolent human ruler couldn’t bring my wife back from the dead.
~~/*\~~
Matheo looked around the Camp. “New guards.”
“A few.” Ignaz agreed. “Some of the guards you know were rotated to the front. The new ones… They’re young.” He gestured at one patrolling the fence. “Oskar pointed that one out to me when they first arrived. Emil. I’m told he ran the ‘socialist’ groups in school, where they were recruiting kids. Apparently, he was making trouble for Flora.”
Matheo shook his head slowly. “Oskar doesn’t even know if his daughter is alive. For all we’re going through, that’s something we don’t have to worry about.”
Ignaz said nothing.
“Too bad he’s in the Box. I’d offer him whatever comfort I could.” Matheo said easily, not looking at Ignaz. “How did his mood seem, last time you saw him?”
“Better than mine.” Ignaz offered, feeling a knife-edge of worry.
“The others tell me that when he was caught with those pages, it wasn’t exactly a raid, or a spot check.” Matheo said casually. “They came in and went straight to Oskar. They knew what they were looking for, and where to find it.”
Ignaz said nothing for a long moment. When he did, his tone was casual too. “Those Bible pages made their way around to most of us at some point. Even some of the prisoners who aren’t part of our little ‘congregation’ in here were asking to borrow them.”
“You didn’t.” Matheo commented. “Everyone agreed on that point, oddly enough; including the non-witnesses. The only one who didn’t want to hold onto ‘contraband’ pages, even for a few minutes, was you.”
Ignaz started to speak, but he couldn’t. He tried again. Couldn’t get there. Finally, he croaked out the words. “I’m sorry.” Once he said them, he couldn't stop saying them. “I’m sorry, Matheo. I’m so sorry.”
Matheo didn’t look angry. Anger took more energy than he could spare. “Why, Ignaz?” He asked, but he already knew the answer.
“Why?! Because they were going to find out sooner or later. Those pages were making the rounds. I either turn Oskar in, and have it stop there, or I roll the dice on them summarily executing half our brothers.” He lowered his voice fearfully. “I really was trying to protect our people, Matheo.”
Matheo gave him a steady look. “Well, you’re right. They could shoot us if they think we’re hiding something. They can also shoot us if we try to escape. Or fight back. Or talk back to them. Or any time they decide they just want something to do.” His look turned pointed. “We’ve never been ‘protected’ by our obedience to these people. Even before the War, our protection came from something far, far above them.”
Ignaz said nothing for a long time. “They’re… they’re just too big.” He whispered. “I saw what they did to-”
“You don’t have to tell me. I’ve seen it too.” Matheo nodded. “But that’s the point. David was so young when he fought lions, bears, and giants. He didn’t care how big Goliath was, because he knew how big Jehovah was.”
Ignaz seemed to shrink further into himself. “I know.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, brother. I’m asking you: When facing your giant, implacable, intimidating foe? What are you going to do? Because David knew what to do. And we’re all here, because we knew what to do.”
And look where it got us. The thought came to Ignaz and Matheo at the same moment. Matheo pushed it away instantly. Ignaz didn’t. They didn’t know it, but the thought came to them both from the same source.
“So. Now you’re here.” Matheo said gamely, trying to build him up. “In a way, we’re very lucky. We have a straight choice, between good and evil. And we either bow to them, or we don’t. Rarely does Satan offer us such a direct decision. Always, he comes disguised as something we want, or something harmless. Today, he’s obvious. Which makes our response equally obvious.” He looked at Ignaz. “So. What are you going to do with this choice, now that it’s been offered to you?”
~~/*\~~
Hours after curfew, the Labor Camp somehow looked more haunted, more evil, cloaked by the night. The spotlights moved constantly from the guard towers. Ignaz felt his breath mist the air in front of him, but it was too dark to see it.
What are you doing, idiot? Turn around, and go back inside.
Even as he said this to himself, over and over, he kept putting one foot in front of the other through the mud. He lost track of where he was instantly, and his steps slowed. The spotlight passed the compound, giving him direction, and enough light to see, and he sped up again.
And every step of the way, he kept telling himself to stop.
A flashlight came on and hit him in the face. Ignaz froze, putting his hands up.
It was Konstantin, and the grin on his face was purely demonic.
~~/*\~~
Konstantin opened the door and shoved Ignaz in. “Well. Looks like I lost the bet.” He commented to the Commander. “I thought for sure he’d chicken out.”
Gerhardt smiled like a shark. “He is chickening out. Still, this is an occasion. It’s the first time we’ve actually needed one of these forms.”
Ignaz said nothing. Where’s the praise? Where’s the approval? Where’s the noble talk about ‘law-abiding citizens’ and ‘honest men’?
As if reading his mind, the Commander shoved the form in front of him. “I expected this to happen a lot, back when this whole thing began. But none of your people gave in. As annoying as it is to report an unsuccessful policy to my superiors, I've heard that it’s the same with all such Camps.” Gerhardt wasn’t talking to Ignaz. He was talking to Konstantin. “You know what I heard the General say? He said we’d have won the war already if our soldiers had the same resolve as this lot.” He finally looked at Ignaz, who was signing the form. “Well. Other than you, that is.”
Ignaz realized suddenly he’d made a mistake. But the form was signed. The deal was done.
“Well, we should get this ‘honest man’ out of here. This is a camp for prisoners, after all.” The Commander was already done. His tone was disdainful.
Konstantin hauled him upright, out of the chair. “Can’t really call you an honest man. I know you still despise us.” Konstantin commented as he marched Ignaz through the administration building. “Can’t really call you a ‘man of good character’, as you’ve spent the whole war in a Prison Camp. Can’t really consider you a ‘man of principle’ anymore either.” Konstantin laughed cruelly. “Which makes you nothing at all.”
They reached the next room, and one of the clerks was already looking through his records. “Um… we don’t have them anymore.” He reported to Konstantin. “His personal effects? They were all seized for the materials.”
Konstantin looked Ignaz up and down exactly once. “Well, he can go home in what he’s wearing, then.”
(Author’s Note: Thousands of Jehovah’s Witnesses were placed in the infamous camps during the war. All of them were given the offer to renounce their faith. Almost none of them surrendered and took that offer. Normally, I wouldn’t have any of my characters do so, but the purpose of this story is to contrast and compare the time during the war with the forty years of exile in the wilderness. The Israelites there faced defections and attacks from within, as well as without. Ignaz is my example for the ‘attack from within’. Obviously: the camp, and all the people involved are my own invention.)
~~/*\~~
Josef had seen Ignaz leave the barracks in the middle of the night. They all knew he wasn’t on a work party. He wasn’t in the Box, as it was still occupied. He wasn’t working anywhere the prisoners could see.
Matheo wasn’t surprised. That night, without ever mentioning anyone’s name, Matheo gave the group a short talk on the quality of ‘endurance’.
“Endurance is one of the most important qualities of faith.” Matheo said serenely. “Our endurance brings honor to Jehovah, showing Him, and the world that we don’t quit when things get tough. It builds Endurance in our brothers, helping them to ‘hold on’. And above all, by showing endurance we gain God’s approval. After all, some of the giants of our faith had to hold on for decades, in the face of injustice. And at all those points, Jehovah never lightened their load… He gave them bigger, stronger shoulders to carry on with.” Matheo paused his talk there, and sent a glance outside, where ‘the Box’ was visible. “Pray for the endurance of our brother, Oskar. He knows better than most right now, that when you’re at your weakest point, your quality of endurance shines most brightly.”
~~/*\~~
It was impossible to get comfortable enough to sleep in the Box. He’d seen a man put in here during the summer months, where the sun had turned the small metal cubicle into an oven. Some of the prisoners had gone mad from heat and thirst. At this time of year it was cooler, but no less exhausting.
By the end of Day One, he couldn’t stand. He slid down the wall of the Box until his knees wedged his rear against the opposite wall. He lasted five minutes before he knew that pose would break something.
By Day Two, every limb going through agonizing muscle spasms, he feared he’d break. He was praying non-stop. He slept in catnaps, which lasted only a few moments, as he fell against the walls every time he dozed off.
Please, God. Please, please, please…
And then, after he’d lost all concept of how much time had passed, he’d fallen into a kind of waking dream, where he was vividly aware of his body not moving, but his brain was rolling on. There was just enough awareness to keep his body still, but not enough for him to open his eyes. The waking dream had him; playing out before his eyelids.
~~/*\~~
He was dreaming of a meeting he’d attended. Flora was beside him, holding his hand. His wife was next to her, smiling back at him, as Matheo read the announcement.
“...from this day, we are no longer ‘the Bible Students Association’.” Matheo read aloud. “We shall now be known across the world, as ‘Jehovah’s Witnesses’.”
The audience applauded, including his family.
Matheo had set aside the letter after reading it in full, and he began to address his congregation. “It took a while for this message to spread to all congregations across the globe. But it’s an appropriate name. First of all, Isaiah 43:10 says ‘Ye are my witnesses, saith the Lord, and my servant whom I have chosen: that ye may know and believe me, and understand that I am he: before me there was no God formed, neither shall there be after me.’ And yet other religions have gone out of their way to prevent The Name ever being spoken, or used in scripture. Since all this System is built around the question of God’s Sovereignty, it’s right that a True Religion identifies itself with His Divine Name.”
Oskar glanced at Flora, making sure his daughter was following all of this.
“Secondly, being one of ‘Jehovah’s Witnesses’ is more than just a letterhead. It’s our mandate.” Matheo told them. “When someone asks what makes us so superior to other churches, other religions, remember our name when you answer. We don’t judge. We don’t prosecute. We bear Witness. We bear witness to Jehovah, about how His message is being received, and we bear witness to the world, about what the Bible says, and what God really promises for the future. God’s name has been slandered, and we are the Witnesses for His defence.”
Another round of applause sprung up spontaneously at that.
Matheo paused long enough for it to pass. “And remember, that as we bear our own Witness, Jehovah does too. He has commissioned us as His servants with a great Preaching work, and He is taking note of all that we do in that work… as well as all that is done against us by the world. During the Great War, when our brothers were prosecuted for refusing to fight, all the world turned their back on our brothers. But God did not. He bore Witness to us.”
And then the dreamscape shifted, as Matheo looked to Oskar from the stage, and all the audience vanished between them. “I have declared, and have saved, and I have shewed, when there was no strange god among you: therefore ye are my witnesses, saith the Lord, that I am God. Yea, before the day was I am he; and there is none that can deliver out of my hand: I will work, and who shall let it?”
The dream was fading. Oskar could feel himself leaving the peaceful place between sleep and awake. Matheo’s voice went with him. “Always, He takes note of us. A people chosen by Him, for His Name.”
~~/*\~~
Oskar woke up fully with a gasp, his forehead bouncing off the metal walls around him as he jerked awake. His muscles rebelled at the movement, but the pain felt far away.
So did the fear. He was suddenly so calm, so steady that he could have waited in the Box for another fifty years, if it meant this feeling could continue. He stayed steady in that feeling for a long time.
“Jehovah God, my father…” He rasped into the darkness. “Thank you for showing me Your light.”
And then the door in front of him swung open, and he scowled at the bright sunlight shining in against his eyes. After days in the dark, it was blinding. He squeezed his eyes shut as the guards hauled him out of the box, dragging him through the compound.
~~/*\~~
They didn’t take him back to the Barracks. Instead they dragged him to the guardhouse. It was easy for them to do so. He must have lost half his original bodyweight by now.
They pushed him into a kneeling position on the ground in front of the steps. Sitting on the steps to the administration building, calmly slicing a sausage apart with his knife, was Konstantin, eating it slice by slice. “So. How’d you enjoy your time in the Box?”
Oskar said nothing.
Konstantin kept eating for a moment, before putting his knife away, and tossing the rest of the sausage over the fence to the guard dogs. Out of his pocket, he pulled a familiar form. “Things happened while you were in there.” He said conversationally. “One of your holy brothers saw sense and signed.”
Oskar said nothing. He could remember a time when the uncertainty would have hit him like a sledgehammer, the questions eating him up inside. Now, he didn’t even wonder if it was true, or who it had been. These questions would be answered in time, and didn’t change anything for himself.
“The Commander is pleased. It’s the first sign that any of you fanatics still have a brain to reach.” He unfolded the paper, and took out a pen. “You understand, if you don’t sign, you’re going to die in here?”
“Yes.” Oskar said, more tranquil than he had ever been.
“Do you want to die?”
“I do not.”
“Are you sure?” Konstantin seemed genuinely curious. “I thought about it for a while, and wondered if it was part of your religion. The more defiant your death, the bigger your reward in heaven, or something like that.”
“No sir. That is not what we believe.” Oskar said, still so calm even he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. The ‘Peace of God’ that had eluded him for so long was with him now.
Konstantin held out a pen. “Sign here, and you can go home.”
Oskar actually felt relaxed. “No, sir.”
~~/*\~~
They tossed him back into the barracks, and the other prisoners quickly jumped out, wanting to rush to him, but staying back from the guards.
“By the way, I figured it out.” Oskar called to Konstantin, who was on his way out. “That ‘all important reason why’.”
There was a sudden silence in the barracks. And despite himself, Konstantin looked back. “Oh?”
“There are several reasons. But to you, I only need one.” Oskar said, still laying prone on the floor. “I’m saying ‘no’, because sometimes you have to say ‘no’. Not because you’ll win, or because it’ll make the slightest difference. I have to say ‘no’, because I have to be able to look in the mirror and say ‘I said no’.” His voice strengthened. “I am, and will remain a believer in Jehovah God. And I have to be able to speak to Him and say: ‘I chose to obey Your word, even when the whole world told me not to’.”
“...That’s the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard.” Konstantin responded.
“You think so?” Oskar said, looking up with a beatific calm. “When this war ends, we are going to spend the rest of our lives looking back on what we did while it raged across the world. When children ask what you did during the War, what will you tell them?”
That landed. The guard looked at him harder than ever, not saying anything for a long, long time. Finally, he spoke. “‘The Rest of Your Life’?” He repeated. “It may not be as long as you think.”
The barracks door slammed.
Immediately, he was surrounded by brothers, bringing him water and whatever food they’d hoarded. They lifted him up and carried him to his cot. He heard Matheo praying soothingly over him. He heard other brothers talking, congratulating him, praising his courageous ‘showdown’ with the guard.
With a peaceful smile on his face, Oskar was already asleep. I have nothing to do but wait.
Then his eyes opened again. “Matheo? Are you really here, or am I still dreaming?”
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