If this group of worthless trash wants to live through this experience, they will need someone to speak for them and take responsibility. Will that be you?

. . . Max glanced at the camp entrance, where the train came through. A gate marked the entrance. The sign read: “Arbeit macht frei” a German phrase meaning “work sets you free.” The sign was a cruel taunt, as this was certainly not a place where work set a person free.

Max stuck his head out the passenger side window and yelled, “Open the gate, you idiots!” in perfect German. “I’ve got to get this car to Himmler.” The stunned gatekeepers rushed to open the gate, and the five men drove through it to freedom and into the history books.

No one, and I mean no one escapes from this camp. Anyone who tries with be shot, along with many others, in order to teach a lesson no one will ever forget.

Such a stubborn yingele! Okay, okay, here is your story . . .

I love you too, my sweet boy. You will only know how much after you have had children and grandchildren of your own.

It may be condescending for me to say, but I am proud of you. I know your grandfather would be proud of you, too.

Did Max survive because he was brave? Perhaps. Lucky? Absolutely! Stupid? Undoubtedly so. But the number one reason Max sat in front of young Zachary Blake on the eve of the boy’s Bar Mitzvah was Max’s stubborn refusal to give up or give in.

A ramp was lowered, and the group was ordered to disembark from the car. Max was one of the first to exit—he looked left, then right, and saw that the train contained over twenty cares, filled with hundreds of prisoners, bound and chained, in a similar fashion to his group. All Jewish? He wondered.

Don’t leave me, Zayde. It’s too soon. I’m not a lawyer yet.