Post a comment on our Facebook Page acebook. Com booktv. And now the final portion of a threepart program. Authors, juniorjournalists, actors and other public figures complete a reading from elie wiesels night. The first two parts can be seen online at booktv. Org. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please check your cellphone and make sure it is set to silent mode. And now the Jewish Museum of heritage, present the conclusion of an International Tribute to elie wiesel, a Community Reading of night. An icy wind was blowing violently. But we marched without faltering. The ss made us increase our pace. Faster, you tramps, you flearidden dogs why not . Moving fast made us a little warmer. The blood flowed more readily in our veins. We had the feeling of being alive faster, you filthy dogs we were no longer marching, we were running. Like automatons. The ss were running as well, weapons in hand. We looked as though we were running from them. The night was pitchblack. From time to time, a shot exploded in the darkness. They had orders to shoot anyone who could not sustain the pace. Their fingers on the triggers, they did not deprive themselves of the pleasure. If one of us stopped for a second, a quick shot eliminated the filthy dog. I was putting one foot in front of the other, like a machine. I was dragging this emaciated body that was still such a weight. If only i could have shed it though i tried to put it out of my mind, i couldnt help thinking that there were two of us my body and i. And i hated that body. I kept repeating to myself dont think, dont stop, run near me, men were collapsing into the dirty snow. Gunshots. A young boy from poland was marching beside me. His name was zalman. He had worked in the electrical material depot in buna. People mocked him because he was forever praying or meditating on some talmudic question. For him, it was an escape from reality, from feeling the blows all of a sudden, he had terrible stomach cramps. My stomach aches, he whispered to me. He couldnt go on. He had to stop a moment. I begged him wait a little, zalman. Soon, we will all come to a halt. We cannot run like this to the end of the world. But, while running, he began to undo his buttons and yelled to me i cant go on. Make an effort i cant go on, he groaned. He lowered his pants and fell to the ground. That is the image i have of him. I dont believe that he was finished off by an ss, for nobody had noticed. He must have died, trampled under the feet of the thousands of men who followed us. I soon forgot him. I began to think of myself again. My foot was aching, i shivered with every step. Just a few more meters and it will be over. A small red flame a shot death enveloped me, it suffocated me. It stuck to me like glue. I felt i could touch it. The idea of dying, of ceasing to be, began to fascinate me. To no longer exist. To no longer feel the excruciating pain of my foot. Neither fatigue nor cold, nothing. To break rank, to let myself slide to the side of the road. My fathers presence was the only thing that stopped me. He was running next to me, out of breath, out of strength, desperate. I had no right to let myself die. What would he do without me . I was his sole support. These thoughts were going through my mind as i continued to run, not feeling my numb foot, not even realizing that i was still running, that i still owned a body that galloped down the road among thousands of others. When i became conscious of myself again, i tried to slow my pace somewhat. But there was no way. These human waves were rolling forward and would have crushed me like an ant. By now, i moved like a sleepwalker. I sometimes closed my eyes and it was like running while asleep. Now and then, someone kicked me violently from behind and i would wake up. The man in back of me was screaming, run faster. If you dont want to move, let us pass you. But all i had to do was close my eyes to see a whole world pass before me, to dream of another life. The road was endless. By the mob, to be swept away by blind fate. When the ss were tired, they were replaced. But no one replaced us. Chilled to the bone, our throats parched, famished, out of breath, we pressed on. We were the masters of nature, the masters of the world. We had transcended everythingdeath, fatigue, our natural needs. We were stronger than cold and hunger, stronger than the guns and the desire to die, doomed and rootless, nothing but numbers, we were the only men on earth. At last, the morning star appeared in the gray sky. A hesitant light began to hover on the horizon. We were exhausted, we had lost all strength, all illusion. The kommandant announced that we had already covered twenty kilometers since we left. Long since, we had exceeded the limits of fatigue. Our legs moved mechanically, in spite of us, without us. We came to an abandoned village. Not a living soul. Not a single bark. Houses with gaping windows. A few people slipped out of the ranks, hoping to hide in some abandoned building. One more hour of marching and, at last, the order to halt. As one man, we let ourselves sink into the snow. My father shook me. Not here, get up, a farther down. I had neither the desire nor the resolve to get up. Yet i obeyed. It was not really a shed, but a Brick Factory whose roof had fallen in. Its windowpanes were shattered, its walls covered in soot. It was not easy to get inside. Hundreds of prisoners jostled one another at the door. We finally succeeded in entering. Inside, too, the snow was thick. I let myself slide to the ground. Only now did i feel the full extent of my weakness. The snow seemed to me like a very soft, very warm carpet. I fell asleep. I dont know how long i slept. A few minutes or one hour. When i woke up, a frigid hand was tapping my cheeks. I tried to open my eyes it was my father. How he had aged since last night his body was completely twisted, shriveled up into himself. His eyes were glazed over, his lips parched, decayed. Everything about him expressed total exhaustion. His voice was damp from tears and snow. Dont let yourself be overcome by sleep, eliezer. Its dangerous to fall asleep in snow. One falls asleep forever. Come, my son, get up . How could i . How was i to leave this warm blanket . I was hearing my fathers words, but their meaning escaped me, as if he had asked me to carry the entire shed on my arms i got up, with clenched teeth. Holding on to me with one arm, he led me outside. It was not easy. It was as difficult to go out as to come in. Beneath our feet there lay men, crushed, trampled underfoot, dying. Nobody paid attention to them. We were outside. The icy wind whipped my face. I was constantly biting my lips so that they wouldnt freeze. All around me, what appeared to be a dance of death. My head was reeling. I was walking through a cemetery. Among the stiffened corpses, there were logs of wood. Not a sound of distress, not a plaintive cry, nothing but mass agony and silence. Nobody asked anyone for help. One died because one had to. No point in making trouble. I saw myself in every stiffened corpse. Soon i wouldnt even be seeing them anymore; i would be one of them. A matter of hours. Come, father, lets go back to the shed he didnt answer. He was not even looking at the dead. Come, father. Its better there. Youll be able to lie down. Well take turns. Ill watch over you and youll watch over me. We wont let each other fall asleep. Well look after each other. He accepted. After trampling over many bodies and corpses, we succeeded in getting inside. We let ourselves fall to the ground. Dont worry, son. Go to sleep. Ill watch over you. You first, father. Sleep. He refused. I stretched out and tried to sleep, to doze a little, but in vain. God knows what i would have given to be able to sleep a few moments. But deep inside, i knew that to sleep meant to die. And something in me rebelled against that death. Death, which was settling in all around me, silently, gently. It would seize upon a sleeping person, steal into him and devour him bit by bit. Next to me, someone was trying to awaken his neighbor, his brother, perhaps, or his comrade. Defeated he lay down too, next to the corpse, and also fell asleep. Who would wake him up . Reaching out with my arm, i touched him wake up. One mustnt fall asleep h e r e he half opened his eyes. No advice, he said, his voice a whisper. Im exhausted. Mind your business, leave me alone. My father too was gently dozing. I couldnt see his eyes his cap was covering his face. Wake up, i whispered in his ear. He awoke with a start. He sat up, bewildered, stunned, like an orphan. He looked all around him, taking it all in as if he had suddenly it all in as if he had suddenly decided to make an inventory of his universe, to determine where he was and how and why he was there. Then he smiled. I shall always remember that smile. What world did it come from . Heavy snow continued to fall over the corpses. The door of the shed opened. An old man appeared. His mustache was covered with ice, his lips were blue. It was rabbi eliahu, who had headed a small congregation in poland. A very kind man, beloved by everyone in the camp, even by the kapos and the blockalteste. Despite the ordeals and deprivations, his face continued to radiate his innocence. Innocence. He was the only rabbi whom nobody ever failed to address as rabbi in buna. He looked like one of those prophets of old, always in the midst of his people when they needed to be consoled. And, strangely, his words never provoked anyone. They did bring peace. As he entered the shed, his eyes, brighter than ever, seemed to be searching for someone. Perhaps someone here has seen my son . He had lost his son in the commotion. He had searched for him among the dying, to no avail. Then he had dug through the snow to find his body. In vain. For three years, they had stayed close to one another. Side by side, they had endured the suffering, the blows; they had waited for their ration of bread and they had prayed. Three years, from camp to camp, from selection to selection. And nowwhen the end seemed nearfate had separated them. When he came near me, rabbi eliahu whispered, it happened on the road. We lost sight of one another during the journey. I fell behind a little, at the rear of the column. I didnt have the strength to run anymore. And my son didnt notice. Thats all i know. Where has he disappeared . Where can i find him . Perhaps youve seen him somewhere . No, rabbi eliahu, i havent seen him. And so he left, as he had come a shadow swept away by the wind. He had already gone through the door when i remembered that i had noticed his son running beside me. I had forgotten and so had not mentioned it to rabbi eliahu but then i remembered Something Else his son had seen him losing ground, sliding back to the rear of the column. He had seen him. And he had continued to run in front, letting the distance between them become greater. A terrible thought crossed my mind what if he had wanted to be rid of his father . He had felt his father growing weaker and, believing that the end was near, had thought by this separation to free himself of a burden that could diminish his own chance for survival. It was good that i had forgotten all that. And i was glad that rabbi eliahu continued to search for his beloved son. And in spite of myself, a prayer formed inside me, a prayer to this god in whom i no longer believed. Oh god, master of the universe, give me the strength never to do what rabbi eliahus son has done. 91 there was shouting outside, in the courtyard. 91 there was shouting outside, in the courtyard. Night had fallen and the ss were ordering us to form ranks. We started to march once more. The dead remained in the yard, under the snow without even a marker, like fallen guards. No one recited kaddish over them. Sons abandoned the remains of their fathers without a tear. On the road, it snowed and snowed, it snowed endlessly. Were marching more slowly. Even the guards seemed tired. My wounded foot no longer hurt, probably frozen. I felt i had lost that foot. It had become detached from me like a wheel fallen off a car. Never mind. I had to accept the fact i would have to live with only one leg. The important thing was not to dwell on it. Especially now. Leave those thoughts for later. Our column had lost all appearance of discipline. Everyone walked as he wished, as he could. No more gunshots. Our guards surely were tired. But death hardly needed their help. The cold was conscientiously doing its work. At every step, somebody fell down and ceased to suffer. From time to time, ss officers on motorcycles drove the length of the column to shake off the growing apathy hold on were almost there courage just a few more hours were arriving in gleiwitz these words of encouragement, even coming as they did from the mouths of our assassins, were of great help. Nobody wanted to give up now, just before the end, so close to our destination. By now it was night. It had stopped snowing. We marched a few more hours before we arrived. We saw the camp only when we stood right in front of its gate. The kapos quickly settled us into the barrack. There was shoving and jostling as if this were the ultimate haven, the gateway to life. People trod over numbed bodies, trampled wounded faces. There were no cries, only a few moans. My father and i were thrown to the ground by this rolling tide. From beneath me came a desperate cry the voice was familiar. The same faint voice, the same cry i had heard somewhere before. This voice had spoken to me one day. When . Years ago . No, it must have been in the camp. Mercy knowing that i was crushing him, preventing him from breathing, i wanted to get up and disengage myself to allow him to breathe. But i myself was crushed under the weight of other bodies. I had difficulty breathing. I dug my nails into unknown faces. I was biting my way through, searching for air. No one cried out. Suddenly i remembered. Juliek the boy from warsaw who played the violin in the buna orchestra juliek, is that you . Eliezer the twentyfive whiplashes yes i remember. He fell silent. A long moment went by. Juliek can you hear me, juliek . Yes he said feebly. What do you want . He was not dead. Are you all right, juliek . I asked, less to know his answer than to hear him speak, to know he was alive. I thought hed lost his mind. His violin . Here . What about your violin . I could not answer him. Someone had lain down on top of me, smothering me. I couldnt breathe through my mouth or my nose. Sweat was running down my forehead and my back. This was it; the end of the road. A silent death, suffocation. No way to scream, to call for help. I tried to rid myself of my invisible assassin. My whole desire to live became concentrated in my nails. I scratched, i fought for a breath of air. I tore at decaying flesh that did not respond. I could not free myself of that mass weighing down my chest. Who knows . Was i struggling with a dead man . I shall never know. All i can say is that i prevailed. I succeeded in digging a hole in that wall of dead and dying people, a small hole through which i could drink a little air. Father, are you there . I asked as soon as i was able to utter a word. I knew that he could not be far from me. Yes a voice replied from far away, as if from another world. I am trying to sleep. He was trying to sleep. Could one fall asleep here . Wasnt it dangerous to lower ones guard, even for a moment, when death could strike at any time . Those were my thoughts when i heard the sound of a violin. A violin in a dark barrack where the dead were piled on top of the living . Who was this madman who played the violin 94 here, at the edge of his own grave . Or was it a hallucination . It had to be juliek. He was playing a fragment of a beethoven concerto. Never before had i heard such a beautiful sound. In such silence. How had he succeeded in disengaging himself . To slip out from under my body without my feeling it . The darkness enveloped us. All i could hear was the violin, and it was as if julieks soul had become his bow. He was playing his life. His whole being was gliding over the strings. His unfulfilled hopes. His charred past, his extinguished future. He played that which he would never play again. I shall never forget juliek. How could i forget this concert given before an audience of the dead and dying . Even today, when i hear that particular piece by beethoven, my eyes close and out of the darkness emerges the pale and melancholy face of my polish comrade bidding farewell to an audience of dying men. I dont know how long he played. I was overcome by sleep. When i awoke at daybreak, i saw juliek facing me, hunched over, dead. Next to him lay his violin, trampled, an eerily poignant little corpse. We stayed in gleiwitz for three days. Days without food or water. We were forbidden to leave the barrack. The door was guarded by the ss. I was hungry and thirsty. I must have been very dirty and disheveled, to judge by what the others looked like. The bread we had brought from buna had been devoured long since. And who knew when we would be given another ration . The front followed us. We could again hear the cannons very close by. But we no longer had the strength or the courage to think that the germans would run out of time, that the russians would reach us before we could be evacuated. We learned that we would be moved to the center of germany. On the third day, at dawn, we were driven out of the barrack. We threw blankets over our shoulders, like prayer shawls. We were directed to a gate that divided the camp in two. A group of ss officers stood waiting. A word flew through our ranks selection the ss officers were doing the selection the weak, to the left; those who walked well, to the right. My father was sent to the left. I ran after him. An ss officer shouted at my back come back i inched my way through the crowd. Several ss men rushed to find me, creating such confusion that a number of people were able to switch over to the rightamong them my father and i. Still, there were gunshots and some dead. We were led out of the camp. After a halfhour march, we arrived in the very middle of a field crossed by railroad tracks. This was where we were to wait for the trains arrival. Were given bread, the usual ration. We threw ourselves on it. Someone had the idea of quenching his thirst by eating snow. The ss men who were watching were greatly amused by the spectacle. The hours went by. Our eyes were tired from staring at the horizon, waiting for the liberating train to appear. It arrived only very late that evening. An infinitely long train, composed of roofless cattle cars. The ss shoved us inside, a hundred per car we were so skinny when everybody was on board, the convoy left. Pressed tightly against one another, in an effort to resist the cold, our heads empty and heavy, our brains a whirlwind of decaying memories. Our minds numb with indifference. Here or elsewhere, what did it matter . Die today or tomorrow, or later . The night was growing longer, neverending. When at last a grayish light appeared on the horizon, it revealed a tangle of human shapes, heads sunk deeply between the shoulders, crouching, piled one on top of the other, like a cemetery covered with snow. In the early dawn light, i tried to distinguish between the living and those who were no more. But there was barely a difference. My gaze remained fixed on someone who, eyes wide open, stared into space. His colorless face was covered with a layer of frost and