The brooding tale Over Here for the Gas Ladies and Gentlemen poignantly recounts the events of a typical day in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II . The author, Tadeusz Borowski, was a Polish survivor of the Holocaust at Auschwitz, the series of death camps responsible for the deaths of the largest number of European Jews. Told in the first person, the novel takes place at dawn as the unnamed narrator is having breakfast with a friend and fellow inmate, Henri. Henri is a member of Canada, the union group responsible for unloading Jewish transports when they arrive in the camps. They are interrupted by a call for Canada to report to the loading ramps. When the transport arrives, the narrator joins Henri to direct the prisoners either towards life, in the work camps, or towards death, in the gas chambers. In reality, the path is neither that of life nor that of death, but rather that of transporting the prisoners towards an inevitable or immediate death. No matter how many times he is asked, the narrator refuses to tell the prisoners what is happening to them and where they are being taken. This is the law of the camps, but the narrator also believes that it is charitable to “(deceive) them until the very end” (p. 115). Throughout the day, the narrator encounters a myriad of people, but one of them is described in great detail: a young woman, shown unscathed by the abomination that is transportation. She is neat and composed, unlike those around her. Calmly, she asks where she is being taken, like many before her, but in vain. Faced with the narrator's refusal to answer, she stoically gets into a truck bound for the gas chambers. By the end of the day and the novel, the camp had dealt with approximately fifteen thousand p...... middle of paper... survivors crawling towards me, clawing at my soul. The guilt of the world had literally been placed on my shoulders as I closed the book and reflected on the morbid events I had just read about. As the sun set that night, I found no joy in its vastness and splendor, for I was still blinded by the sins of those who had gone before me. The sound of my tears falling onto the icy floor lulled me to sleep. I'm kidding. But seriously, here's the rest. Reading the narrators brief excerpt of his experience, I was overwhelmed with empathy for both the victims and the persecutors. The everlasting effect of the Holocaust extends not only to those who lost families, friends, and 6 million people of their race, but also to the prisoner workers who were - and have been - relentlessly tormented by (the guilt of their actions) (their guilt). This (novel, story, event, etc.) will not soon be forgotten.