The Spoon | Teen Ink

The Spoon

May 30, 2013
By Abigail Klapper BRONZE, Bensalem, Pennsylvania
Abigail Klapper BRONZE, Bensalem, Pennsylvania
1 article 0 photos 1 comment

One spoon, that’s all it took. I had to make everything perfect or my life and the lives of everyone I loved would be over in an instant with the simple pull of trigger. I needed to set four places at the table: me, my two children, and most importantly the officer. I remember it like it was only a few days ago even though it was thirty years ago.

He banged on our door just before dawn one morning and demanded to be let in. I quickly threw on my robe and ran downstairs to open the door. The officer said they were rounding everybody up to take them East to live. I knew that was a lie. When I asked him why, he slapped me across the face, hard, spat on me and called me some not nice names and said we had one hour to be at the meeting place or we would be shot. I knew that one wasn’t a lie. I ran upstairs to wake my husband up but when I got into the room, he was sitting up in bed waiting eagerly for me to tell him what had just happened. I told him that a Nazi soldier had come into the house and said we had one hour to pack everything we own into one suitcase each and be at the meeting place to be “relocated” to the East.

“Bull s***, we’re not being relocated to the East! They’re going to put us into one of their ‘camps’ people have been talking about and from what I’m hearing, they’re not a place you want to be send to.”

“I know. Mrs. Stein said she was getting letters from one of her sons and the last one she received said he was being sent to the camp Auschwitz to work. That’s the last she ever heard from him. She was talking to Mrs. Green about it and she said Auschwitz was a death camp and he had probably been killed.”

“How awful!”

“I know. It must be awful to know that one of your children died and you can’t even bury them because you don’t know where their body is. What would you do if that happened to one of our children?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think I would want to know how I would react. All I know is I never want to have that reaction.”

“That’s true. We don’t have a lot of time. I will wake the kids; you get the six suitcases from the attic and start packing.”
I ran down the hall to our daughter’s room. Sarah was ten and Jane was eight.

“Sarah! Jane! You need to wake up right now! Grab all of your clothing and put it in your suitcase on my bed. Now!”

“Mama, what’s going on?!”

“Nothing you need to worry about. I just need you to grab all of the clothing you can fit into your suitcase and get dressed. Whatever you can’t fit into the suitcase put on. Quickly! We only have forty-five minutes to be at the meeting place. I will explain on the way there.”
“Yes, Mama.”
After waking my daughters up, I went to wake my sons Josh and Sam up. Josh was twelve and Sam was seven. When I got into their room, they were already up and gathering clothes.

“We heard you telling the girls.”
While everyone was packing, I went to the kitchen and packed food because I didn’t know how long the ride was going to be or where we were actually going but I knew it wasn’t close. After some time had passed, everybody was downstairs ready to walk out the door. We all looked like puffy, over-stuffed marshmallows but we didn’t have any other option.

“Is everybody ready to go?” I said to my family.

“Yes.”
I was the last one out the door. As I walked out, I took one look around because I had no idea if I would ever see my house or family again. We walked in silence to the gathering place. We were almost there when tragedy struck.
Jane asked where we were going and why we had to leave the house. One of the officers walking behind started to yell at her and in a fit of rage starting beating her. Before I got the chance to protest, he took his gun out of the holster and shot her. I was in shock and I couldn’t move. It was like my feet were stuck in cold, hard cement. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. My husband went to pick her body up but the officer said if he took one more step closer, all of us would be shot. My other children started to cry, especially Sam. The officer took the gun out again and said if he heard one more sound, he would shoot them. They stopped crying. One minute I had four children and in the blink of an eye, one was gone; shot and killed right in front of me. He took her twisted up body and threw it into a fire someone on the street was burning to keep warm. We walked in silence the rest of the way, too scared to make a sound. Even though I knew the streets I was walking on, it was hard to see through all the tears in my eyes.
After walking for what felt like an hour, we arrived at the gathering place. I’ve never seen that many people in one place at once. What chaos it was. As we got closer, there were signs that said men on one side and women on the other. At that point I was scared. I didn’t want to lose my husband or boys after losing one of my children just moments before.

“Whatever you do, don’t separate from the boys.” I said to my husband. “Do whatever you can to stay together. Please. We are going into this with three children, let’s come out with three.”

“If we come out.” He said solemnly. “Don’t worry; I have no intentions of splitting up from the boys. As soon as we get where we’re going, I will try and find you.”

“Hopefully we are going to the same place.”

Luckily, we didn’t. I had heard from a friend of mine that my husband was sent to Birkenau. The way it worked was you go to the camp via train and once you enter the gates there was another train waiting for certain people that lead right to the gas chambers. Luckily it was only my husband and not my sons. I found out later that Josh froze to death in the middle of the night. Somehow Sam survived.

“Women to the left, men to the right.” The officers were going around yelling. I kissed my husband and boys goodbye and told them to stay together. I took Sarah and went to the left side watching my husband and the boys get smaller and smaller until I couldn’t see them anymore.

They loaded us onto train cars that were so cramped, you couldn’t move without hitting someone else. The stench inside the train cars was unbearable. It was a mixture of unwashed bodied, dead bodies and waste. We finally got to the camp. Auschwitz. There was a sign above the gate “Arbeit Macht Frei.” My German wasn’t very good but I knew it meant work makes you free. The smell in the camp was almost as bad as the train cars. It smelled like rotting flesh and burning bodies. When we got through the gate, they made us get into two lines, men and women. When we got into the lines, there was this man who looked like a doctor. He had the bright white coat on and nice looking black shoes He said his name was Dr. Mengele. He divided the lines up again into “healthy” looking people and “sick” looking people like the elderly and young children. I found out later that the “sick” people went right to the gas chambers. Luckily Sarah and I got put into the “healthy” people line and took actual showers.

When we got into the changing rooms, they shaved our hair off and took all of our clothing and belongings. After our shower, we got assigned to barracks. I was lucky once again because I wasn’t separated from Sarah. When we walked into the barracks, I almost threw up. The smell was worse than the train cars. The “beds” we slept on were planks of wood with six people to a plank. It was me, Sarah and a woam we knew from the neighborhood and her daughter. We were one of the lucky ones who only had four people to a “bed” and as uncomfortable as the “bed” was, we were so tired that we feel asleep as soon as we lay down.

We were awoken at five a.m. to the sound of the bugle. We had to wake up and get outside of the barrack in a line for roll call. That was the worst part of it all. They would make us stand in a line, even the sick ones and if someone went out of line or leaned or made a slight movement or noise, they and the people on their left and right would be shot. Sometimes the rolecalls just went on and on. They would make us do silly thngs like put our hands on our head, rght hand, left hand. If we were off a beat, boom, shot dead. Luckily, this one was a normal role call. After roll call, we got our assignments where we would be working that day. Sarah and I were working in the factory to make airplanes for the Germans to use in the war. That’s what we did day in and day out for months straight. New shipments of people came everyday but one day I was particularly happy.

My son Sam was transferred from Birkenau to Auschwitz and he found his way to us. I asked him where Josh and his father were. He told me the awful truth, and that their bodies were burned. It took me a little bit of time to calm down from that news. I tried to feel something, but when they took Jane away from me, they took my emotions and sence of feeling away too; it was like a little piece of my heart was broken off. To have to watch the murder of one of your children is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone, not even my worst enimies. Not only did I lose one of my daughters on the journey, but I lost one of my sons and my husband. By that time, I was angry at the officers. I wanted to kill them like they killed my family, but I knew that wouldn’t make up for my loss. Even though they took a husband and father away from me, I wasn’t going to take one away from someone else. My anger still burned, but I swallowed it down every day to endure the officers wrath, and to keep myself and children alive. Night time in the camps was a different story.

At night the officers would go to the women’s barracks and take them. When I asked one of the women when she came back what happened, they said they had sex with the officers because if they didn’t, they would have shot her. I thought about it and one night, it hit me.
While the officers went around looking for women, I volunteered myself. My children were worried about me, but I told them not to worry because I knew what I was doing. The officer took me to his room in his barrack, which was a hotel compared to what we were sleeping in. He was incredibly drunk and I used that to my advantage. I was going to get my children and me out of there.

“Alright Jewish whore, let’s see what you can do.”

“Wait a second. I have a better idea.”

“What would that be?”

“I will make a meal for you. Tell me officer, do you miss a home cooked meal?”
It took him a mineute to answer but eventually he said, “Ok. Make me this meal.”

“I need to go to my house to make it because it needs to be made a certain way or it won’t work.”

“No. You’re lucky I’m even letting you do this. I have the power to shoot you right here right now. Would you like that better?”

“No. Please don’t shoot me. I promise I make a really good roasted chicken with potatoes and vegtables.”

“That’s my favoirte food. I haven’t had that in a while since I’m not allowed back in my home…. Ok fine you can make me this meal but only because it’s my faovirte food.”

“Thank you officer but I need two people to come and help me make it.”

“No, it’s you and you alone.

“Did I mention I know how to make hot apple pie too?”

“Fine. I will find two people to help you make it.”

“I would like to pick my own people if that’s alright.”

“Fine. This meal better be amazing or you and your helpers will be killed. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!”


“Find your helpers and bring them back here within fifteen minutes.”
He was so drunk; he didn’t know what he was saying, but that didn’t matter to me, I was leaving! I ran out of that building so fast, you would have thought it was on fire. I found Sarah and Sam, and told them to come with me. The three of us went back to the oficer’s barrack.

“Here we are,” I said.

“Good, let’s go. Where do you live?”

“Just outside of Krakow.”

“I will get a car ready and I will take you there. You will have two hours to have everything ready. If it’s not…”

I cut him off before he could say anything because I knew the end of the sentences before he even said it, “Yes sir.”

We got into the car and drove to the house. While in the car, I asked the officer why he agreed to this. He said the food they got was amazing compared to what we got, but he missed a good home cooked meal. He couldn’t go back home because his parents didn’t agree with what he was doing in the camp and told him they never wanted to see him again. I silently agreed with his parents. When we finally got back to the house, I was relieved to see it again. It was like nothing in the house changed. Before I stared to cook the dinner, I led the officer to the couch and I went upstairs. I started to cry when I got up the stairs. Going into my room was hard to see some of my husbands stuff still in the room; especially the clothing he would never wear again. Same with my children’s room. To see the dress I bought Jane for her eight birthday that she would never wear again or the tie I bought Josh for his Bar Mitzvah that he would never wear again. I went back downstair because I didn’t know how long the officer would stay asleep on the couch. I started to cook dinner and told my kids to set the table. Everything was going well, or so I thought.

“Mama, how many places should we set?”

“Four.”

While I cooked the dinner, the officer slept on the couch. When dinner was almost ready my son ran into the kitchen in a panic.

“Mama!”

“What’s wrong?”

“There aren’t enough spoons!”

“What do you mean there aren’t enough spoons?”

“I guess while we were gone, people came into the house and stole things. There are only three spoons! What are we going to do?”

“Calm down! Go next door and ask the neighbors to borrow one.”

He went next door to ask our neighbor for a spoon. Sam came back into the house with no spoon, crying.

“Why are you crying honey?”

“We knocked on the door and asked to borrow a spoon and she spat on us and called us pigs then slammed the door in our face.”

“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. We will all go over there. I will talk to the neighbor. While I am talking to her, sneak in through the back and grab a spoon. Do you understand?”

“Yes mama.”

We knocked on the door. I made small talk with the neighbor but she got angry very quickly and slammed the door in my face. When I went back to the house, Sam had a big grin on his face and the spoon in his hand. He set it on the table and I woke the officer up. We all sat down at the table and ate.

“How do you like it officer?”

“It’s the best meal I’ve ever had, almost better than my mother’s!”

“I’m glad you lik it.”

“When we are done eating, we must go back to the camp.”

“Are you sure officer, I thought we could play some boardgames or something, I have lots of them.”

“Yes, you stupid Jew! We are only here so you could make me a meal, that’s it. Do you understand?!”

He took the gun from his holster and pointed it at me so I shielded my children.

“Whatever you say officer, just please don’t shoot.”
He smiled and shoved me out of the way and shot my kids right in the head. They dropped to the ground with a thud. Everyone I loved was dead. Gone. Once I had a happy, healthy family. Now they were all gone. The rest of the night, I was silent, if only you could see the hatred in my eyes. I thought my eyes changed from brown to red.
I was only back at the camp for a little while because the Soviets came to the camp and saved everyone that was left; there weren’t many of us. I am glad I survived Auschwitz because so many people did not. If it weren’t for my son getting the spoon from my neighbor, I would have probably been killed too. All it took was one spoon to save my life and my children’s lives. What happened after that? A drunken officer and his loaded gun.


The author's comments:
I went on a trip called the March Of The Living this year and I went to Poland and Israel. While we were in Poland we went to the concentration camps. I've seen a lot of pictures of things that happened during the Holocaust but it was different to actually be where a lot of it actually happened.

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This article has 2 comments.


on Sep. 10 2013 at 5:51 pm
Abigail Klapper BRONZE, Bensalem, Pennsylvania
1 article 0 photos 1 comment
Thank you very much!  I don't really know what happened.  It started as an assignment in my short story writing class and then it just kind of grew and grew into the 10 page story that it is

rhea752 GOLD said...
on Jun. 6 2013 at 12:58 pm
rhea752 GOLD, Merritt Island, Florida
16 articles 1 photo 17 comments

Favorite Quote:
Maybe it's not about the happy ending, maybe it's about the story.

amazing, heartbreaking and poignant. full of emotion. This is one of the best stories i have read in a long time.