Sounds of a train rolling to a halt, a shrill whistle.
EXT. CAMP - DAY
UP ON the door of a weathered cattle car as a German
soldier steps into frame wearing that familiar gray of
the all-too familiar era.
He throws the door to reveal a mass of huddled and
frightened people inside.
The words are not necessary. The language is not ours
and the images say enough.
Men, women and children are herded off the train like
cattle toward a large open yard. There they huddle until
the Germans begin to shout and shove through the mob.
EXT. FENCE CORRIDOR - DAY
We are looking up at rows and rows of fences topped with
barbed wire all designed to create a separator for the
thousands of Jew who pour through each day.
Then we see the eyes themselves that look up at them.
A LITTLE BOY. A boy who will not die this day. A boy
who will live to see the end of the war and the world of
He stares at the metal wire with an unusual fascination.
The boy looks up at HIS WORRIED PARENTS - a sturdy-
looking couple who try to smile and comfort him.
The corridor comes to a junction where it splits in
several different directions.
Soldiers here push the mob using rifles as pikes,
screaming and terrorizing the lot of them. Suddenly it
is clear what they are doing. They are dividing the mob
into smaller groups.
Soon, the groups themselves become evident.
Men from women. Children from adults.
The family tries to stay together, clinging to one
another dearly, until finally, they are put upon by a
number of gray uniforms and pulled apart. The boy is
dragged screaming his feet no longer touching the ground.
Two soldiers carry him as they follow the back of a large
column of children being led through a gate of barbed
wire so dense, it resembles wool.
The gate closes and the boy looks back to see his parents
- along with many others - being restrained by a number
of soldiers. The screaming is deafening.
And the boy's can be heard above it all. The soldiers
seem to be having a hard time carrying such a frail
child. The farther they get from the fence, the heavier
he seems to get, until they are literally pulling him as
though he were anchored to something.
His outstretched fingers claw at the thin air and he
screams until the blood in his face is blue.
The soldiers are literally pulled back a step and they
begin to slip in the mud. They look at one another and
then over their shoulders as they hear a sound.
A groaning, creaking sound. And then the unmistakable
twang of wire stretched to snapping.
The fence. The gate that separates the parents. It bows
toward them like iron filings to a magnet, and several of
the strands of barbed wire have given way.
The boy continues to scream as all the other faces simply
freeze and wonder.
One of the soldiers pulls a wooden baton from his belt
and brains the boy violently.
He slumps and the soldiers carrying him spring forward as
through a rope that was holding them back has been cut.
They nearly fall, looking at one another with some
concern, some confusion....
Then they follow the line of children that has gotten
ahead of them.