For three days these eighty Jews of Sighet travel northwest standing up in hot, wretched, cramped quarters. They crave water and space to lie down; food runs low. At a stop at Kaschau, they realize that the train has entered Czechoslovakia. Germans claim control of the convoy and demand that deportees turn over any valuables or be shot. A similar fate awaits the entire carload if anyone escapes. Their attempts at rest are destroyed by the insane shrieks of Madame Schächter, who is torn by terrifying visions of burning. The others tie her in restraints, force a gag into her mouth, and beat her to control the hysteria.
On the third afternoon, the train halts at the depot of Auschwitz, Poland. Two deportees fetch water and return with false information: families will remain together; the young will work in factories; the elderly and invalids will work in the fields. A German officer promises medical care in the hospital car. Near midnight, the prisoners see flames leaping from a tall chimney. At Birkenau, the reception center for the Auschwitz compound, where the air, rent with flames, smells of incinerated flesh, attendants in striped uniforms, carrying police clubs, force everyone out of the railway boxcar.
