Alexander Altmann A10567 Read Online Free PDF

sister, but he didn’t know the right words – the Hebrew words.
    The sun rose in the sky and Alexander watched his shadow slip in front of him. He saw his bony arms swinging by his sides and his legs, like toothpicks, march in time to the music. He saw the silhouettes of the armed guards and their German shepherds straining at their leads and the dim outline of the birch trees that lined the entrance to the camp. When the inmates reached the main gate, the kapo shouted “
Mutzen ab!
” and the men pulled their caps from their heads and turned to face the right. Alexander copied them and turned to see an SS officer watching as they passed, a high-ranking officer with a dozen badges pinned to his coat. He had dark bushy eyebrows and cold green eyes. The men walked past the checkpoint, put their caps back on and turned in unison to face the front. Alexander was a beat behind them. He swung his head around and hoped no one noticed.
    Outside the camp, sparrows darted between the trees. Alexander watched them swoop between the branches and envied their freedom. He looked at the fields and the trees and the grass and the leaves, so green and so alive. His sister was dead but the sun was still shining.
    “You’ll be working for Herr Ziegler, Commander of the Horse Platoon.” The kapo left the front of the column to march beside Alexander and Isidor. “He’ll assign you a horse. The commander and the other officers pick up their horses most mornings. You’ll work five am till midday, then one till six pm, seven days a week. Every morning you’ll brush, feed and water your horse. You’ll do the same at night. In between you’ll clean the stable and prepare your horse’s feed. Don’t let the animal lose weight or condition.”
    Alexander could feel the kapo’s eyes boring into him, but he didn’t dare look up. “If I tell you that your officer requires his mount, saddle up his horse and be waiting outside for him when he arrives. Take your cap off and hold the stirrups for him. Once he’s comfortable on the horse, hand him the reins and move away fast or he’ll run you over.” Alexander turned to look at the kapo, to see if his words were meant as a warning or a taunt, but the man had moved back up the line, his long legs carrying him to the front of the column.
    Alexander wasn’t worried. He knew how to handle horses. And working seven days a week didn’t bother him. He was happy to escape Auschwitz for the stables. Back at home – before he was forced from the farm and taken to Birkenau – whenever he felt sad or confused he’d escape to the barn. If he couldn’t sleep at night, he’d slip out the back door and creep from the house with a carrot or an apple. Just opening the stable door and stepping into the warm barn made him feel better. He loved the sweet smell of hay and the crunch of it under his boots. And the horses. He loved all of them: the plough horse, the mare who pulled the milk cart, the spirited Arabian his father bought to help herd the cattle, and the copper-coloured pony his parents gave Lili on her fifth birthday. But there was one he loved more than the rest. Sari. His father had bought the horse as a yearling and Alexander and the filly had grown up together. They’d both started out timid and knock-kneed but had become strong. Whenever he wasn’t at school or doing chores, he’d lead her to the tall grass by the river or ride her out over the fields. He’d taught her to jump poles and fences and to come at his whistle. She came, not out of obedience, but because she wanted to be near him.
    “So, is this horse thing difficult?” Isidor interrupted his thoughts. Alexander swung around to look at him. “I mean, I’ve been to a farm …” Isidor quickened his pace, his breath warm on Alexander’s neck, “… on a school trip. I milked a cow. How hard can it be?”
    Alexander snapped his head forwards and clenched his fists. They were bookended by guards; the boy’s mouth would