7.
Rudi Rosenberg strolls up to the fence that separates the quarantine camp, BIIa, where he has his office, from the hustle and bustle of the family camp. As registrar, he sent a message to Fredy Hirsch arranging a time to meet and chat across the wire fence. Rosenberg has a great deal of respect for the work the youth instructor is doing in Block 31. There is the odd malicious person who believes that Hirsch collaborates too enthusiastically with the camp commanders, but on the whole, people find him sympathetic and reliable. Schmulewski maintains, in that rasping voice of his, that “he’s as trustworthy as any person can be in Auschwitz.” Rosenberg has gradually become closer to Hirsch through fleeting conversations and the occasional favor with his lists. And not just because he likes him. Schmulewski has asked him to find out what he can about Hirsch discreetly. Information is far more valuable than gold.
What Rudi isn’t expecting this morning is that the head of Block 31 will meet him accompanied by a girl who, in spite of her long, dirty skirt and outsized woolen jacket, has the grace of a gazelle.
Fredy speaks of the problems he’s having with supplies for Block 31 and his attempts to get approval for further improvements to rations for the children.
“I’ve heard tell,” says Rosenberg in a neutral tone to suggest that the comment is trivial, “that the play you put on in Block Thirty-One to celebrate Hanukkah was a real success. They say the SS officers clapped enthusiastically. Apparently, Kommandant Schwarzhuber had a really good time.”
Hirsch is well aware that the Resistance still doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t trust the Resistance, either.
“Yes, they enjoyed it. I took advantage of Dr. Mengele’s good mood to ask them to assign us the warehouse next to the hut where they store clothing so we can use it as a day care center for the youngest children.”
“Dr. Mengele in a good mood?” Rosenberg’s eyes widen at the unlikely possibility that a person who sends hundreds of people to their death on a weekly basis without batting an eyelid could experience such a human emotion.
“The order arrived today with his authorization. It means the little kids can have their space and won’t distract the older children.”
Rosenberg nods and smiles. He doesn’t realize it, but he’s staring into the eyes of the girl standing silently a short distance away. Hirsch notices, and introduces her as Alice Munk, one of the young assistants who helps out in Block 31.
Rudi tries to focus on what Hirsch is telling him, but he can’t keep his eyes off the young assistant, who smiles back at him cheekily. Hirsch, who is able to stand motionless and fearless in the face of a battalion of SS officers, feels awkward at the sight of the flirting between the two teenagers. Love has been a source of endless problems for him from the time he reached adolescence. Since then, he’s tried to fill his time with tournaments and training, and organizing endless events, all to keep his mind occupied. Keeping busy has also allowed him to hide the fact that, despite being incredibly popular, he always ends up on his own.
In the end, Fredy tells the two youngsters he’s got something urgent to do. He slips away.
“I’m Rudi.”
“I know. And my name is Alice.”
As soon as they are on their own, Rudi attempts to demonstrate his finest seduction skills. They are limited; he’s never had a girlfriend. He’s never had sex. Other than freedom, you can buy and sell everything in Birkenau, including sex. But he’s never wanted—or maybe never dared—to try. Rudi rushes to fill the momentary silence. He wants more than anything for her to stay there forever, on the other side of the wire fence, and to smile at him with those pink lips, chapped by the cold, which he’d love to heal with a kiss.
“How’s the work in Block Thirty-One?”
“Pretty good. It’s our job as assistants to keep everything functioning. Some of us get the fire going when there’s coal or wood, which isn’t very often. Others help to feed the little ones. And we also sweep the floor. Right now, I’m in the pencils group.”
“Pencils?”
“There really aren’t a lot of pencils, and they’re kept for special occasions. So we make basic ones for everyday use.”
“And how do you make them?”
“First, using two stones, we file the edges of some teaspoons until they’re really sharp. Then, we use them to sharpen the ends of pieces of wood that can’t be used for anything else. I usually do the last bit: scorching the tips in the fire until they’re as black as coal. The children can write a few words with each of these, but it means you have to be sharpening the tips and scorching the ends of new bits of wood every day.”
“For all the kids you’ve got! Maybe I could get you some real pencils—”
“Could you?” Alice’s eyes sparkled, to Rudi’s delight. “But it would be really hard to get them into our camp.”
Her words please Rudi even more. This gives him a chance to shine a little.
“All I need is someone I can trust on the other side of the fence.… Maybe that could be you.”
Alice nods vehemently, happy to be even more useful to Hirsch. She admires Fredy deeply, like all the young assistants.
As soon as he’s said it, the registrar feels a stab of doubt. Things have gone well for him so far in Auschwitz, and he’s landed a privileged position because he’s played his cards well. He’s learned how to win over influential inmates, and he’s acquired the knack of risking only what is absolutely necessary, dealing in goods and services that are low-risk but highly beneficial to his standing. Acquiring pencils to hand over to a children’s hut is neither beneficial nor wise. But he looks at the smile and the sparkle in the girl’s black eyes, and forgets everything else.
“Three days from now. At this very spot in the fence, and at the same time.”
Alice nods her agreement and runs off nervously, as if she were suddenly in a great hurry. He watches her go, her hair ruffled by the cold afternoon breeze. He’ll have to break the rule for survival that has worked so well for him so far: Don’t ask for favors for which you don’t get any return. He’s made a bad deal with that girl and yet, incomprehensibly, he’s happy. As he makes his way back to his hut in camp BIIa, he feels weak, as if his legs were giving way. He never figured falling in love would feel so much like the flu.
*
Dita Adler’s legs are shaking, too. The children and their teachers enter the hut, noting that the librarian is on the other side of the chimney with a stack of books in front of her. They haven’t seen so many books in one place for months—not since Terezín. The teachers come up and read the spines of the books that are still legible, and then ask with their eyes if they can pick up the books. Dita agrees, but she doesn’t take her eyes off them. When one of the women opens the psychology book too forcefully, Dita asks her to be more careful.