The Writers' Circle

The Killing of Gentle People             Written by Michel Henri


Abraham Golden tries to come to terms with his experiences of

the Holocaust, but this is not a Holocaust chronicle, film or play.

This is the narrative of one mans personal fight within himself

for moral ethics, the sinful over he virtuous. 

But does he get it right?

Does Abraham Golden do just that? This story will explain the 

emotional journey he has to take and the bitter sweet ending of 

his life times work..

The story starts in an old train carriage, from which his dear

mother, father and little sister, are taken away and gassed to

death, in a room full of naked strangers.

When the death camp is evacuated by the allied troops, Abraham

Golden's story 'The Killing of Gentle People' starts and ends.

Only after reading this story does the author allow the reader his

or her own personal moral evaluation.  

Please take Abraham Golden's journey yourself..  

Introduction: May 1940.
Our stinking contaminated and over crowded train carriage at last arrived at 
its destination, the monsters podium 'The Ramp' 
Our journey was full of 'people silence' plus the 'spirit and smell of death'
I have to ask you a question or two,
'Have you ever heard of the 'Ramp'?
'Do you know what the 'Ramp' is or where it is'?
Have you any idea why people of a certain age and piety have arctic shivers just at the thought of it? and why they conjure up such drastically negative emotions for the people who were touched by its very existence?.
Spoken word uttered by children to their parents, or the last breath and sigh
echoing from the throats of the old striving to survive, but failing and slowly
sinking to their knees. Then to continue face down into the human fesses
which covered the floor of the carriage. We could not, and would not want 
to imagine a journey of such degradation and hopelessness. But some 
people did, good gentle people. 
Some survived and reached their destination, a destination which offered 
for the fortunate, a quick death and a cremation.
But for the others a short torturous future, and an insight into the Devils
design into the living hell on earth.   
The Ramp
The 'Ramp' was built by concentration camp prisoners, for the Nazis, it was a special welcoming place to unload the death trains. These trains were filled with gentle people mothers and fathers with their children, who knew not what was to befall them after they fell or were thrown physically from the carriages and onto the ground. The ground under their feet was the 'Ramp'
The brick archway the train rumbled under in order to arrive at the 'Ramp' was built by the children of the camp chosen by some hard case guards to die of hard labour and not gassed with their parents. 
Most children who died building the archway were left to rot where they fell. Others had their tender young bodies dug into the brick works of the 'Ramp' itself. So becoming a monument not just to their fortitude but at the same time an iconic picture of depravity and evil. 
The living dead on the trains would not be aware of what has now become one of the most photographed of all Nazi memorabilia. But the moment the trains stopped at the 'Ramp' now that was different, as the real hell for its cattle cargo were about to be well-educated.
Should you know nothing of the 'Ramp' l feel sorry for you, please look into your history books or type 'The Ramp' into your computer search engines then inwardly digest what you find to read. 
If you do know about it and you experienced it, well my humble verbal skills will not be able to express my personal grief and outrage at the most malicious of the devils work. The world and its entire populace should hang their heads in shame at the very thought, that a catastrophe like the Holocaust could ever have been contemplated.
The world said, 'Never Again, Six Million Times To Late'

In the old wooden railway carriages which were used for taking cattle to the slaughterhouses, the carriages were now taking different forms of cattle to a different kind of slaughterhouse.
My mother, father, little sister and myself, along with many other families travelled stuffed like sardines into the carriage. With no room to move, no food to eat and no water to drink. We travelled hour after hour, day after day to our unknown designation. 
Sometimes our destination would be whispered to us by sympathizers as the train stopped briefly at railway crossings. At this moment they would throw bits of bread into the carriages and try to pass water to us. Some were shot dead for their kindness by the rough SS guards at the crossings. 
Other people, not so kind, l think they must have been anti-Semitic, these people were happy to shout out. 
'You are going to the Ramp at the Auschwitz death camp. You will never return, it's a one way trip to die you dirty Jewish bastards' 
They would urinate and spit through the small gaps in the wooden carriage. 
For the entire journey of five days and five nights, my father with new found strength, carried me high above the bodies of our friends who had died. They were trodden to death by the rest of us, because the carriage was full to over flowing. In order to get air to breath we had to stand on each other, so my father held me high in order for me to breathe what air there was. 
My mother did the same for my little sister in order to keep her away from the dead bodies and the human faeces, which was thick on the floor. 
My little sister died in my mother's arms, the good Lord taking her his own
way, without my mother knowing she had been taken. 
At last the train stopped. It stopped sharply with lots of banging and hissing, as though announcing its arrival. The suddenness of the stop sent us all falling and clutching at the wooden carriage walls. We had arrived at the Auschwitz death camp 'Ramp'. The carriage doors were immediately unlocked and most of us fell out onto the ground along with the dead. 
I can see my dear father catching my lovely mother in his arms in order to break her fall, so she wouldn't get hurt any more. The weight of her and my little sisters dead body in her arms, sending him falling to the ground.
An evil guard in black leather thrust his rifle barrel between them breaking 
their bodies apart. Then kicked, punched and pushed my mother and father
into the moving lines of gentle Jewish families, leaving my little sisters
lifeless body laying on the cold hard ground were she fell. 
The victorious 'Ramp' had taken yet another innocent soul.
An SS Nazi again dress in black leather and this one wielding a leather 
bullwhip, shouted and pointed at the families, then without hesitation and
with a smirk on his face, shouted hard and loud, laying his leather bullwhip
on the heads, necks and shoulders of the elderly who were confused as he
directed them.
'Left, left, left, right, left, left, left, right, right'
Everyone in the line of death walked submissively in the direction the guard ordered them, without question or thought of what would be the outcome.
This was the line of death and as my mother, father and l were nearing the front of the line, taking our turn in the gamble of life. One of the guards punched me, with great force to my head; this punch sent me crashing into the muddy ground. I landed at the feet of the guard in black leather who was the dealer in this life or death game.
'You little Jew bastard' he shouted,
'Stay down there in the filthy mud where you belong and don't move, that's where all you Jewish bastards should be'
The big guard laughed then stomped his muddy leather jackboot onto my neck, holding my face down into the mud while he continued his work. He shouted and hit out with his riding stick, hitting one and all, especially the old and infirm. At the same time the monster continued his commands.
'Right, left, left, left, right, left, left, right'
I didn't then, but now l know what going 'left' meant. Immediate death in the gas chambers. Going 'right' also meant death but these gentle souls died of hard labour, starvation, disease. Or maybe just being kicked to death, as this was one of the guard's favourite games especially when boredom of the death camp routine set in and the guards wanted some fun.
Looking up for my parents among the rows of the walking dead, l could see  no sight of them. They had gone, disappeared, which way, left or right, l had no idea. I wasn't terrified, my young senses had gone past that point, but my body was shaking, the mud and stinking water in my mouth was making me vomit. No, l wasn't terrified but l wanted my mother and father so badly, tears wouldn't stop falling from my eyes, but l was not crying, l just would not cry.
'So, little Jew bastard, what shall l do with you then. Maybe l will give you to the dogs to play with, but with your pretty Jewish face some of the guards would like you as their play thing, that would make them happy.
Then the guard took his big jackboot off my neck and kicked me in the chest with intent to hurt me. Bending down he shouted out.
'Get up little Jew boy and follow me, get up now'
Getting up l reluctantly did as he ordered me, following the dealer in the death game. As l stumbled forward in his long black shadow, l shouted.
'My name is Abraham Golden and l want my mother and father, l want them, what have you done to them? I want to see them, now, now'
I punched him repeatedly in his back with my little fists, still shouting, then kicking out with my legs and feet.
'Where are they, my mother and father, l want to see them now'
The monster in black leather suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. His face was evil and his mouth twisted.
'You little rat, you really want to see your dirty Jewish mommy and daddy, do you. And you really want to see them now'
'Yes, yes, yes' l shouted loudly, still hitting out and kicking.
'Then you shall little Jew boy, you most certainly shall' 
Laughing out loud he picked me up under his big arm as if l was a rag doll and carried me to a nearby building. There he lifted me up high and shouted 'Take a look Jew boy, look through the window' 
The small dirty window had bars and electric wire around it.
'Look then, you Jew boy, look closely you will see your filthy parents being gassed, then they will be off to hell fire'
Holding onto the window ledge with my blooded fingers from the wire, my eyes searched for my mother and father. I scanned the white tiled room full of naked men, women and children; at last l saw her, 'mother, mother,' l shouted and banged on the small barred window cutting my hands even more on the wicked wire. Mother was naked and standing close to my naked father, who was holding her tightly to his body stroking her hair. 
They were both crying and swaying slowly side to side as the gas took hold of them. 
Other people around mother and father were screaming and slowly falling onto the filthy floor. Some lay still, others were twitching and moving until the good Lord took them to his heart. Mother and father still holding each other close lay still in the pile of dead bodies and human excretion. At that moment the monster pulled my hands from the window and dropped me onto the stinking muddy ground. 
The monster leaned down covering me in his black shadow and shouted loud into my ear.
'Happy now you little Jewish bastard'
I covered my head for fear of his jackboot, then vowed, even as a twelve year old child that one day retribution would be mine. 
This story runs for 40.000 words.