September 17, 2025

Stairway to Death
by Alice Baburek

Click here to listen to this story on the Kaidankai Podcast.


 
         Heinrich Klein could resist no longer. He was one of the many who had slipped away undetected—a new life and identity. He never faced his unwavering involvement in war crimes and atrocities committed against humanity.
            Many times, he had visited his fading memories of Mauthausen, which was one of the most horrific German Nazi concentration camps erected in Austria. He became a mere German camp guard at the ripe age of only fourteen. With his tall, lanky frame, no one questioned his intense longing to serve his Führer, Adolph Hitler. His Jewish ancestry had been traded for a German uniform.
            With no living relatives, he gladly welcomed the German invasion. Heinrich served under the direction of SS Captain Otto Schwartz—overseer of Mauthausen. He admired the exuded evil and sadist aurora surrounding the small but powerful captain.
            So when Heinrich was asked to help manage the prisoners for “the stairway of death,” he gladly accepted his newly ranked position.
             Now, more than half a century later, he shuffled slowly through the remains of what was left of the Mauthausen concentration camp. Memorials were erected for those who died at the hands of the German Nazis.
            Heinrich didn’t bother to read any of them. He was not interested in the suffering and pain inflicted upon thousands of innocents—no, he was interested in remembering his participation.
            As he finally rounded the corner of the collapsed prisoners’ barracks, he could see the immense stone block stairway leading up the hill in the distance. A wicked smile crept across his aged, wrinkled face. His fellow German soldiers nicknamed it “the stairway of death.”
            Many of the prisoners of Mauthausen were used to carry immense blocks of granite on their backs and walk the steps to the top of the hill. These huge stones were then used for the building of other German concentration camps. Very few prisoners survived the stairway of death. They would crumble and die under the intense weight. Some would drop the rocks behind, crushing their fellow prisoners who were climbing the steps behind. Others who dropped the stones were punished severely or shot dead on the spot.
            Heinrich lifted his hand to cover the sun as he gazed at the stone stairway. He could still see the thin, ravished men desperately trying to keep balance with an immense load of stone shifting on their shoulders.
            He chuckled. Memories flooded back to when SS Officer Wilhelm Klout allowed him to execute the weak and worthless for days on end. Often, it took only one bullet to the prisoner’s head.
            His chest swelled in pride by the abuse of power over human life and how he missed those precious days. Now, after all these years of living incognito, the former concentration camp had been dedicated to those inferior beings who had once dared to walk the sacred grounds of German territory.
            As he watched the visitors going up and down the stairway, a slight shiver ran down his bent spine. The air had grown dry. A wind unexpectedly swirled the dusty ground, and his throat felt parched. He closed his eyes from the beating sun. As quickly as the unusual weather emerged, it receded into silence.
            Heinrich opened his grainy eyes. He stood alone at the bottom of the stairway to death. His old heart skipped a beat. He glanced around at the emptiness. Where had everyone gone?
            “Du!” [you] shouted a man. Heinrich slowly turned to face the German. The SS Officer was moving quickly toward Heinrich. His rifle outstretched.  
            “Hebe den Stein auf!” [pick up the stone] yelled the SS Officer. Heinrich understood him even though the man spoke in German.
            “Me?” asked Heinrich. He pulled his head back. What was going on?
            “Beweg dich jetjt oder ich schieBe!” [move now, or I will shoot] The SS Officer closed in. Heinrich stumbled backward and fell. He noticed his clothes were striped, stained, and dirty. His stomach churned.
            “My name is Heinrich Klein! I am like you—a soldier of the Reich. I worked here a long time ago,” explained Heinrich in a shaky voice.
            Two others joined the SS Officer. He repeated what Heinrich had said. The three German soldiers laughed. Heinrich could barely swallow. What nightmare was this? 
            “Du bist ein Schwein!” [you are a swine] shouted the other German soldier.
            Heinrich’s heart raced. This can’t be happening! “I’m…I’m German…Ich bin…Ich bin.” The three looked at one another.
            “Ein deutsches Schwein, ja?” [a German swine, yes?] questioned the soldier. Heinrich’s German was a tad rusty.
            “Ja, ja” [yes, yes] replied Heinrich. His left hip began to ache from sitting on the hard ground.
            The original SS Officer had enough. He lifted his rifle once again. “Hebe den Stein auf, oder ich werde,” [pick up the stone or I will shoot] commanded the soldier.
            It took Heinrich a few seconds to figure out what the German said. The other soldiers gestured toward the giant rock pile near the base of the stairs. Suddenly, he realized the extent of the order.
            But before he could get up, two of the Nazis roughly pulled him to his feet. Pain seared up into his spine. The third Nazi aimed the rifle at Heinrich’s head.
            The old man held up his hands. “In Ordnung,” [alright]. Heinrich searched the massive pile for the smallest stone. As he struggled to pick it up, the soldiers talked amongst themselves. After several tries, he was able to lift the granite rock. One step at a time, Heinrich began climbing the “stairway to death.”
            With each step, his body protested. The pain radiated throughout his tired, old body. Sweat dripped down into his sagging face. The steps seemed endless. Finally, after what appeared to be a lifetime, he reached the grassy top.
            Another SS Officer was busy smoking a cigarette. He gestured for Heinrich to place the stone onto the pile. Heinrich dropped the rock only for it to land on his foot.
            “Ah!” screamed Heinrich. The weight of the granite crushed three of his toes. He fell to his knees. Tears filled his grainy eyes.
            The soldier tossed the lit ember to the ground. “Steh auf! Steh auf!” [get up, get up] he shouted.
            But Heinrich could not move. The pain was too intense. His body seized. He jerked and fell forward onto the ground. Dirt and gravel pushed into his contorted mouth.
            Suddenly, the SS Officer grabbed the back of Heinrich’s shirt and dragged him to the ledge overlooking the quarry nicknamed “parachute jump.”
            Heinrich, realizing his fate, tried to wiggle free. But it was no use. The German soldier was much too strong.
            “Springen!  Springen!” [jump swine] The words echoed inside Heinrich’s pounding head.
            “Please, please, don’t do this,” cried Heinrich. He struggled to his wobbly legs. And before he could say another word, the German soldier smiled as he pushed Heinrich over the edge.
Heinrich opened his grainy eyes. For a brief moment, his mind tried to focus. He stood alone at the bottom of the stairway to death. He closed his eyes again, hoping it was all just a nightmare.
            “Du!” [you] shouted a man. Heinrich’s heart raced. It can’t be! The SS Officer was moving quickly towards him with the outstretched rifle.
            “Hebe den Stein auf!” [pick up the stone] yelled the officer. Henrich could not believe it was happening again. How was any of this nightmare possible? Why can’t he wake up?
            “Beweg dich jetjt oder ich schieBe! [move now, or I will shoot] The officer lunged forward, causing Heinrich to stumble backward to the ground.
            “Please,” begged Heinrich. “This isn’t right…I don’t belong here…please, you’ve got to believe me,” sobbed Heinrich.
            The other two SS Officers strolled up. The one soldier pointed at Heinrich. “Du bist ein Schwein!” [you are a swine]. 
            Heinrich clasped his hands as if in prayer. “Don’t do this…I am German.” Tears streaked his filthy face.
            “Ein deutsches Schwein, ja?” [a German swine, yes?] laughed the officer. By now, Heinrich knew what came next. Either he lifted the stone and started the journey up the stairway to death or let the German soldier shoot him in the head. Would it finally stop the horrific nightmare?
            But for some odd reason, Heinrich was terrified of what would happen if he did choose death by rifle. Is this how the prisoners of Mauthausen felt each day? The tortures were beyond comprehension.
            “Steh auf! Steh auf!” [get up, get up] shouted the Nazi. Heinrich’s body screamed out in agony. He could barely lift the weighted granite. Once again, he took one step at a time.

                                                                        ***

The Austrian police taped off the area. Visitors gathered to glimpse the tragic accident. Several witnesses reported to police that an old man just jumped from the top of the stairway into the quarry below.
            As the medical technicians loaded the mangled and crushed corpse onto the gurney, one of them searched the deceased body for information on his identity. Inside, they found a faded identification card that bore the name Heinrich Klein – Mauthausen Guard and a faded photo with his rank, unit, birthdate, and a Nazi validation stamp.

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Alice Baburek is an avid reader, determined writer and animal lover. She lives with her female partner and four canine companions. Retired, she challenges herself to become an unforgettable emerging voice.