Flies buzzed around my head as I sat on the seat of the train, trying to avoid looking at the dead body in front of me. Choking down my vomit, I turned to look away, trying to remember how I had gotten into this situation.
"Come with me," the Nazi jabbed me in the back with his gun. Stepping away from the factory machine, I eyed him carefully.
"Where am I going?" The man sneered at me but answered my question.
"A labor camp in the east. Now move it!"
Thus, I had been forced to board this train with hundreds of other deportees, all on our way to who- knows- where. The conditions were horrendous. We weren't given any food or water, so many deportees died long before arrival, their bodies festering on the ground for days before somebody bothered to remove them. The stale air reeked of urine and feces, and bodily wastes were strewn across the floor, as there were no toilets to be found. The guards wouldn't hesitate to shoot anyone who stepped out of line or tried to escape, each body adding to the list of families that would never be whole again.
After weeks, or maybe months – it was impossible to keep track of time on that train – we finally arrived at our destination. Two decrepit farmhouses stood in the middle of the field, looming over us as we slowly got off the train. Despite the fact that this place was supposed to be a labor camp, I saw no people aside from us. Something about the whole thing felt off, but I wasn't able to place it.
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