‘Nothing. We don’t ask. I don’t know how to help her.’
‘He’ll kill her himself if she rejects him in any way. I suspect Cilka’s already worked that out, otherwise she would have been dead long ago. Getting pregnant is the biggest worry.’
‘It’s all right, no one is going to get pregnant. You have to be, you know, having your monthly cycle for that to happen. Didn’t you know that?’
An embarrassed Lale says, ‘Well, yes, I knew that. It’s just that, it’s not something we’ve talked about. I guess I didn’t think.’
‘Neither you nor that sadistic bastard need to worry about Cilka or me having a baby. OK?’
‘Don’t compare me to him. Tell her I think she’s a hero and I’m proud to say I know her.’
‘What do you mean, hero? She’s not a hero,’ Gita says, with some annoyance. ‘She just wants to live.’
‘And that makes her a hero. You’re a hero too, my darling. That the two of you have chosen to survive is a type of resistance to these Nazi bastards. Choosing to live is an act of defiance, a form of heroism.’
‘In that case, what does it make you?’
‘I have been given the choice of participating in the destruction of our people, and I have chosen to do so in order to survive. I can only hope I am not one day judged as a perpetrator or a collaborator.’
Gita leans over and kisses him. ‘You are a hero to me.’
Time has run on and they are startled when other girls start returning to the block. They are fully clothed and so Lale’s exit is not as embarrassing as it might otherwise have been.
‘Hello. Hi. Dana, lovely to see you. Girls. Ladies,’ he says as he leaves.
The kapo, in her normal position at the entrance to the building, shakes her head at Lale.
‘You need to be out of here when the others return. OK, T?towierer?’
‘Sorry, won’t happen again.’
Lale moves around the compound with half a spring in his step. He is surprised when he hears his name and looks around to see who is calling him. It is Victor. He and the other Polish workers are heading out of the camp. Victor summons him over.
‘Hi Victor. Yuri. How are you doing?’
‘Not as good as you by the look of it. What’s going on?’
Lale waves his hand. ‘Nothing, nothing.’
‘We have supplies for you and thought we wouldn’t be able to hand them over. Have you got room in your bag?’
‘Absolutely. Sorry, I should’ve come and seen you sooner, but I, er, was busy.’
Lale opens his bag and both Victor and Yuri fill it. There is too much to fit in.
‘Do you want me to bring the rest back tomorrow?’ Victor asks.
‘No, I’ll take it, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow with payment.’
There is one girl, besides Cilka, among the tens of thousands in Birkenau, whom the SS have let keep her hair long. She is about Gita’s age. Lale has never spoken to her but he has seen her from time to time. She stands out, with her flowing blonde mane. Everybody else tries as best they can to hide their cropped heads beneath a scarf, often torn from their shirt. Lale had asked Baretski one day what the deal was with her. How is she permitted to keep her hair long?
‘On the day she came into the camp,’ Baretski answered, ‘Commandant Hoess was at the selections. He saw her, thought her quite beautiful and said her hair was not to be touched.’
Lale has often been astounded by the things he sees in both camps, but for Hoess to think only one girl is beautiful, out of the hundreds of thousands who have come through, truly confounds him.
As Lale hurries back to his room with a sausage shoved down his pants, he turns a corner and there she is, the only ‘beautiful’ girl in the camp, staring at him. He makes it back to his room in record time.
Chapter 18
Spring has chased away the bitterest demons of winter. The warmer weather offers a ray of hope to everyone who has survived the elements along with their captors’ cruel whims. Even Baretski is behaving less callously.
‘I know you can get things, T?towierer,’ he says, his voice lower than usual.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ says Lale.
‘Things. You can get them. I know you have contacts from the outside.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Look, I like you, OK? I haven’t shot you, have I?’
‘You’ve shot plenty of others.’
‘But not you. We’re like brothers, you and I. Haven’t I told you my secrets?’
Lale chooses not to challenge the brotherhood claim.
‘You talk. I listen,’ says Lale.
‘Sometimes you have given me advice, and I have listened. I’ve even tried writing nice things to my girlfriend.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Now you do,’ says Baretski, his expression earnest. ‘Now listen – there’s something I want you to try to get for me.’
Lale is nervous that someone might overhear this conversation.
‘I told you …’
‘It’s my girlfriend’s birthday soon and I want you to get me a pair of nylon stockings to send to her.’
Lale looks at Baretski in disbelief.
Baretski smiles at him. ‘Just get them for me and I won’t shoot you.’ He laughs.
‘I’ll see what I can do. It might take a few days.’
‘Just don’t take too long.’
‘Anything else I can do for you?’ Lale asks.
‘No, you’ve got the day off. You can go and spend time with Gita.’
Lale cringes. It is bad enough that Baretski knows Lale spends time with her, but how he hates hearing the bastard say her name.
Before doing what Baretski has suggested, Lale goes looking for Victor. He eventually finds Yuri, who tells him Victor is sick and not at work today. Lale says he is sorry to hear that and walks off.
‘Can I do something for you?’ Yuri asks.
Lale turns back. ‘I don’t know. I have a special request.’
Yuri raises an eyebrow. ‘I might be able to help.’
‘Nylon stockings. You know, the things girls wear on their legs.’
‘I’m not a kid, Lale. I know what nylons are.’
‘Could you get me a pair?’ Lale reveals two diamonds in his hand.
Yuri takes them. ‘Give me two days. I think I can help you.’
‘Thanks, Yuri. Send my best to your father. I hope he’s feeling better soon.’
?
Lale is crossing the compound to the women’s camp when he hears the sound of an aircraft. He looks up as a small plane flies low over the compound and begins to circle back. So low that Lale can identify the symbol of the United States Air Force.
A prisoner shouts out, ‘It’s the Americans! The Americans are here!’
Everyone looks up. A few people start jumping up and down, waving their arms in the air. Lale looks over at the towers surrounding the compound and notices the guards on full alert, training their rifles down into the compound where the men and women are making a commotion. Some of them are simply waving to get the attention of the pilot, many others are pointing towards the crematoria and screaming, ‘Drop the bombs. Drop the bombs!’ Lale considers joining in as the plane flies over a second time and circles for a third pass. Several prisoners run towards the crematoria, pointing, desperate to get their message across. ‘Drop the bombs. Drop the bombs!’
On its third pass over Birkenau the plane gains height and flies off. The prisoners continue to shout. Many drop to their knees, devastated that their cries have been ignored. Lale begins to back up against a nearby building. Only just in time. Bullets rain down from the towers onto those in the compound, hitting dozens of people too slow to move to safety.
Faced with the trigger-happy guards, Lale decides against organising to see Gita. Instead, he goes back to his block, where he is greeted by wailing and crying. The women cradle young boys and girls who have suffered bullet wounds.
‘They saw the plane and joined the other prisoners running around in the compound,’ says one of the men.
‘What can I do to help?’
‘Take the other children inside. They don’t need to see this.’
‘Sure.’