‘I’ve been looking for you,’ says Baretski. ‘We’ve got work to do at Auschwitz.’
•
Along the road to Auschwitz, Lale and Baretski pass work details, of a few men each, who must be being punished with this Sunday work. Several SS guarding them call out a greeting to Baretski, who ignores them. Something is very wrong with him today. Normally he’s quite the talker but today his whole body seems tense. Ahead, Lale sees three prisoners sitting on the ground, back to back, supporting each other, clearly exhausted. The prisoners look up at Lale and Baretski but make no attempt to move. Without breaking step, Baretski pulls his rifle from his back and fires at them repeatedly.
Lale freezes, his eyes locked on the dead men. Finally, looking back up at the retreating Baretski, Lale recalls the first time he saw such an unprovoked attack on defenceless men – sitting on a board in the dark. That first night he arrived at Birkenau flashes before him. Baretski is getting further away from him and Lale fears he will take his anger out on him next. He hurries to catch up to him, but remains a slight distance away. He knows Baretski knows he is there. Once more, they arrive at the gates into Auschwitz and Lale looks up at the words emblazoned above: ARBEIT MACHT FREI. He silently curses whatever god may be listening.
Chapter 9
March 1943
Lale reports to the administration office to get his instructions. The weather is improving slowly. There has been no snow for a week. On entering, he sweeps his eyes around the office to make sure Gita is where she should be. There she is, still seated beside Cilka. The two have become very close and Dana and Ivana seem to have welcomed Cilka fully into their little circle. His customary wink to the two of them is acknowledged with suppressed smiles. He approaches the Polish girl behind the counter.
‘Good morning, Bella. It’s a lovely day outside.’
‘Good morning, Lale,’ Bella responds. ‘I have your work here. I’ve been told to tell you that all the numbers today are to have the letter Z in front of them.’
Lale looks down at the list of numbers and sure enough each one is prefixed with the letter Z.
‘Do you know what this signifies?’
‘No, Lale, I’m not told anything. You know more than I do. I just follow instructions.’
‘As do I, Bella. Thanks, I’ll see you later.’
Holding the instructions, Lale heads out the door.
‘Lale,’ Bella calls out.
He turns back to her. With her head turned towards Gita, she asks, ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
Smiling at her, he turns to Gita and raises his eyebrows at her. Several girls hold a hand over their mouth, eyes on the lookout for the SS who oversee their work.
•
Leon is waiting for Lale outside. Lale fills him in as they walk to their workstation. Trucks are unloading their cargo nearby and the men do a double-take as they register there are children among those being helped down, along with older men and women. Children have never been seen before at Birkenau.
‘Surely we’re not marking kids. I’ll not do that,’ Leon pronounces.
‘Here comes Baretski. He’ll tell us what to do. Don’t say a word.’
Baretski strides up. ‘I see you’ve noticed something’s different today, Tätowierer. These are your new companions. You’re going to be sharing from now on, so you better be nice to them. They’ll outnumber you by quite a lot – a hell of a lot actually.’
Lale says nothing.
‘They’re the filth of Europe, even worse than you. They’re Gypsies, and for reasons I’ll never know, the Führer has decided they are to live here, with you. What do you say about that, Tätowierer?’
‘Are we to number the children?’
‘You’ll number anyone who hands you a number. I’ll leave you to your work. I’m going to be busy at the selection, so don’t make me have to come over here.’
As Baretski marches off, Leon stammers, ‘I won’t.’
‘Let’s just wait and see what comes our way.’
It doesn’t take long for males and females, from babes in arms to hunched-over elderly, to make their way to Lale and Leon, who are grateful to learn that the children are not to be numbered, though some presenting numbers seem too young to Lale. He does his job, offering smiles to children standing by as he numbers their parents, and telling the occasional mum holding an infant what a lovely baby she has. Baretski is well out of earshot. He struggles most in numbering the elderly women, who seem to be the walking dead: vacant eyes, perhaps aware of their imminent fate. To them he offers a ‘Sorry’. He knows they probably don’t understand.
•
In the administration building, Gita and Cilka are working at their desks. Two SS officers approach them with no warning. Cilka gasps as one of them grabs her by the arm, jerking her to her feet. Gita watches as Cilka is marched from the room, looking back with confused and pleading eyes. Gita doesn’t see the administrative SS officer approach until she is struck across the head by a hand, a clear message to get back to work.
Cilka tries to resist as she is dragged down a long corridor to an unknown part of the building. She is no match for the two men who, on stopping at a closed door, open it and literally throw her inside. Cilka picks herself up and looks around. A large four-poster bed dominates the room. There is also a dresser, and a bedside table with a lamp and a chair. Someone sits in the chair. Cilka recognises him: Lagerführer Schwarzhuber, the Senior Commandant of Birkenau. He is an imposing man, rarely seen in the camp. He sits tapping his tall leather boot with his swagger stick. From an expressionless face he stares at a space above Cilka’s head. Cilka backs up against the door. Her hand goes to the door handle. In a flash, the swagger stick hurtles through the air and strikes Cilka’s hand. She cries out in pain and slides down to the floor.
Schwarzhuber walks over to her and picks up his stick. He stands over her. His nostrils distend. He breathes heavily and glares at her. He takes off his hat and throws it across the room. With his other hand he continues to hit his leg firmly with his swagger stick. With every whack Cilka flinches, expecting to be struck. He uses the stick to push up her shirt. Realising what is expected, with shaking hands Cilka undoes the top two buttons. Schwarzhuber then places his stick under her chin and forces her to rise to her feet. She is dwarfed by the man. His eyes seem to see nothing; this is a man whose soul has died and whose body is waiting to catch up with it.
He holds out both his arms and she interprets this gesture as ‘undress me’. She takes a step closer, still at arm’s length, and begins undoing the many buttons on his jacket. A whack across her back with the stick hurries her up. Schwarzhuber is forced to drop the stick so she can slide his jacket off. Taking it from her, he throws it after his hat. He removes his own singlet. Cilka begins undoing his belt and zipper. Kneeling down, she pulls his trousers down to his ankles but can’t get them over his boots.