The Fifth Oven

June 6th, 1944, Omaha Beach, Normandy

The wind blew hair onto my face as I sat on the side of the boat, counting down the minutes till we reached the shore. The ocean seemed like it was never coming to an end, like the incessant war we've been fighting.

“Asher?” Simon nudged me gently, and his eyes widened. He was always afraid of the sea, so I wasn't surprised he was turning green already. “All of the skippers are dropping them too far out; not many are going to make it!”

“We’ll be fine; let me talk to our skipper.” My eyes darted frantically at every soldier, noticing just about what we saw.

I walked to the ramp, where two Australian boys were fidgeting with some buttons. “Hey, can—” Before I could finish, the taller one interrupted.

“Yeah, I heard you and your friend talking.” He didn’t even look up. “We ain't gonna let none of you take a dip in the water. No joke.”

I jolted awake by what he said. It was exactly what Uncle Alvin told us when he took us fishing.

Uncle Alvin.

I could still remember the smell of the lake when he took me fishing. He used to tell me storms never lasted forever if you kept rowing. Then one night the fog came. The Germans called it Nacht und Nebel. They took him without a trace. No sign of a break-in, nothing touched. That’s exactly why we left before they started to prohibit jews from immigrating to other countries.

I tightened my grip around my rifle.

Today, someone else would also disappear. With the help of my rifle, of course.

“Hut hut,” Sergeant Miller said, “don’t stop ‘til ya drop, get through that seawall, find some shortcuts to push back ‘em Jerries, and might get yourselves some pretty purple hearts when you’re home.”

Cheers erupted through our boat, and the ramp went down. And sure enough, the Aussie skipper kept his word. All 51 of us soldiers made it to the sand of Omaha, and as soon as the ramp was down, all that was in sight were bodies littered all over the beach, and mortars exploding everywhere.

“Move already!” Sergeant Miller yelled, “Stayin’ here will only get you dead and gone.”

All of us rushed out, with a few men getting shot almost immediately, but we were ordered to leave the injured for the medics. I got my finger on the trigger of my rifle, but realized it was pretty much useless because the Krauts were too far and out of range. Where’s Simon? It hit me hard, the only friend I ever had, and I lost him in this deathfield just because I was too caught up with myself? If I ever want to see him again, then I’d have to survive first.

I ran towards a decent but battered tank moving slowly towards the seawall. Glory it was called. By the time I got there, I was face-to-face with four other soldiers.

“Where are you from?” Asked a soldier hiding in the sanctuary of Glory as well.

“America I replied, moving along with our shelter.

“A yank?”

“Whatever you call me… but really, Asher. Asher Benowitz. And I’m not really American, because I’m here for revenge. I’m a jew. ‘Bout you?”

“Winnipeg. Canada. Javier Watson.”

“Great. Nice meeting you, but I think we’d better get to that seawall soon. Doesn’t seem like Glory can hold machine gun fire or mortars any longer.”

BOOM!

“Makes sense,” Javier signaled the other three soldiers to follow him, “you comin’?”

“Don’t think so.” I looked around. “It may be too obvious if too many of us go at the same time, yes?”

“Suit yourself.” Javier shrugged.

They ran. A rain of bullets struck them as soon as they left Glory; only one lucky soldier made it to the seawall alive. It wasn’t Javier, but a redhead soldier with only one rifle like mine slung over his shoulder.

Wounded badly. But alive.

I decided to leave, too, because the people in Glory decided to abandon her, as she cannot go any further. Scanning my surroundings, I noticed a soldier looking over the seawall, taking in the situation. I immediately got my rifle.

BANG!

I missed. That was my one chance to avenge my family, but I didn’t. My hands trembled around the rifle. Every German uniform looked the same. Every helmet became the man who dragged Uncle Alvin away. They killed my people, and I couldn’t give them a taste of their own medicine. I ran with all my might towards the seawall. But…I felt like I couldn’t move; I just needed a little break, close my eyes for a while…

* * *

I woke up to see a medic tending to a wound on my ankle. “Oh,” he said, “you're finally awake!”

“What happened?” I rub my eyes groggily, noticing the iodine, morphine syringes, and other medical equipment laid out in front of me.

“Got shot on the left shoulder, bits of shrapnel in your ankle, and some dehydration. Oh, and you got hit by a piece of debris, causing you to black out.” He gave me a weak smile.

“I didn’t feel anything, though.” I was genuinely confused. One second I was shooting the enemy, next in a tent full of wounded men and medicine.

“Must’ve been the adrenaline. Now stay still; I need to apply some sulfa powder to prevent infection, and you’re good to go back out.”

He quickly bandaged me up and told me I’m good to go. So I grabbed my rifle and ran — with some limping, of course — towards the seawall. It was pretty safe because the Krauts were busy firing away at a new wave of assault coming from the South.

BOOM!

Someone blew a hole through the seawall! There was a swarm of soldiers from Great Britain, Canada, the US of A, and just about all of the allied countries surging to the other side of the wall, while some of them fell to the ground, shot by enemy bullets. I ran. I felt bullets whizz past me, and hot, sticky blood splattering on me as people were being shot. I didn’t really know: was it my blood, their blood, or both? I got to the other side and saw many GIs fighting the Jerries, some in hand-to-hand combat.

“Company I?” Someone yelled. “2nd Assault wave! 29th Infantry Division! Anyone?”

That was my flank. “Me!” I yelled back, running towards the direction of the voice, “Asher Benowitz!”

“Boy, am I glad to see you!” Simon patted me on the shoulder.

“Naw, I finally see a familiar face!” Then more and more soldiers from the same Higgins boat gathered together until there was a total of a dozen soldiers or so.

“Alright, boys!” Simon shouted, “Remember the plan! First, we finish these Krauts, then we find their camps and cut through them.”

We nodded and got ready to fight, joining the busy crowd of soldiers going towards a nearby bunker, and that’s when the mortar knocked me away. And everything went black. Again.

April 12th, 1945, Strasbourg Field Hospital

I’ve been in a coma for almost a year already, and awake for about a month, all thanks to the mortar that sent me flying. I sure was glad to be alive, but still wounded with some minor injuries. The bigger ones healed while I was asleep for a long time.

“Most of your injuries have healed, so you’ll be ready to resume your previous mission,” said a young, pretty nurse.

“Wait, are you saying we haven’t won the war yet?” It’s been so long, yet we were still playing our game?

“The Germans are looking to go East, but their defense and the West side aren’t too good.” Soleil shook her head.

“Well, it seems like I’m being called on the gameboard.” I was still oblivious to how intense it is to be on the “gameboard”.

“Alright, your new gear will be waiting in a large truck behind the hospital.” The nurse nodded towards a backdoor exit.

I got to the truck in a matter of a few minutes and was greeted by a couple of soldiers handing out sets of gear. “You better hurry your way to join the next unit leaving. They’re making their way to Thuringer. It’ll just be a few days to get there. I think another unit cleared Belgium and might be pushing them further.” A middle-aged soldier told me.

“Where’d they push the Jerries to?” I put on the heavy backpack.

“As far as Göttingen I hear, so you might be goin’ there instead.”

I sat down on one of the seats in another truck, closing my eyes for the journey that lay ahead.

April 9th, Dora-Mittelbau Concentration Camp

We made it to Göttingen, and our driver chose to drop us off near a seemingly abandoned industrial complex. “Alright, I was ordered to leave a unit here, as another has discovered this complex. They are already waiting behind that building.” Our driver pointed to a thick, yellow bunker a bit to the South.

Crouching, we made our way towards the yellow bunker until we saw 3 tank destroyers in sight.

“We meet again, brother.” I felt someone put a hand on my shoulder. It was Simon! He looks a bit older and has a bit of a goatee, too.

“I’m the one giving out the orders, so listen carefully. There are two towers with machine guns, and each of the tanks deals with one tower, while the last one busts through the front gate.” A smart-looking man explained.

I was assigned to scout the area inside the complex after the front gate was annihilated.

POW! POW!

The machine gunners were both killed, and the tank barged through the front gate. Our men got through the rubble to see 44 krauts surrendering, weapons on the floor, hands in the air.

Our commander ordered half of the unit to guard the Jerries and sent the rest of us to do the scouting. I went with a small group of four, including Simon.

“Hey,” Simon frowned, “The path splits here.”

“How about Simon and I go to the room on the left, and you two go to the one on the right?” I pointed to the other GIs. They nodded and disappeared into their room.

I opened the door of our room cautiously and… was surprised at what I saw.

“What are these… ovens?” Simon scrunched up his eyebrows.

“Wait,” I narrowed my eyes, “there might be some krauts hiding in here. Simon, get your M2 rifle ready while I open these ovens.”

There were 5 ovens, each with its doors shut.

Simon readied his rifle, and I opened the first one.

Ashes.

The second one. Also Ashes.

Third. Ashes.

Fourth. Ashes.

When I opened the fifth, a Jerry holding a Luger pistol was immediately killed, as Simon shot him 8 times before the enemy could react.

“Good job, pal,” I patted Simon on the back, “and he’s got some goodies here.”

Simon took the pistol and found a gold ring in the officer’s pocket.

“Let’s get going,” Simon turned around one last time, “who knows what the ovens were for?”

We met up with the other two GIs whose names I later learned were Kenny and Terrence. They told us they had found 5 ovens too, and two of them were hiding Krauts, which they killed.

“We should check that tiny building there.” Kenny pointed to a ratty-tatty building.

All four of us walked over to the building, and Terrence cautiously opened the door, and what we saw was just… inhumane. A nose-stinging stench. The odor of dead bodies and other waste. But it’s not just that, and there were prisoners—Jews— so emaciated that only a few could stand straight. Many of them were just in bed, covered in lice and sores.

“You guys are free now!” I said to a prisoner in perfect German.

“H-how do we know you won’t kill us as the others did?” He was trembling with fear.

I sighed and said, “I am a jew like you, so you can trust me.”

“Prove it!”

“I will lead you in the Mourner’s Kaddish. I promise. איך צוזאָג” I translated to Yiddish.

Many of the prisoners shed tears of joy and tried to walk out, but were too weak to do so.

“Stay put,” I said. “We’ll send soldiers to give you treatment and food. Wait here.”

We left the room and hurried to where we found 44 Krauts, still.

April 11th, 1945. It’s the day I avenged my family. I liberated my people. I liberated Mittelbau-Dora.