And that was when she bumped into Fredy Hirsch again.
He was living in one of the buildings near the main clothing warehouse. But he was rarely to be found there. He was always on the go, organizing sports competitions or taking part in activities with the ghetto youth. Whenever Dita saw him heading toward the trolley, he was always neatly dressed and walking energetically, and he always greeted them with that faint smile of his, which was just enough to make you feel important. He was always on the lookout for songbooks and books of poetry to use during the gatherings he organized with the young people on Friday evenings to celebrate Shabbat. There’d be singing and storytelling, and Fredy would talk to them about the return to Palestine, where they would go after the war. On one occasion, he even tried to encourage Dita to join the group. She blushed as she told him that it might happen one day, but she felt really embarrassed and didn’t think her parents would let her go. Deep down, however, she would have loved to join the older boys and girls who sang, discussed things like adults, and even secretly exchanged kisses.
Dita now realizes how little she knows about Alfred Hirsch. And her life is in his hands. If he tells the German commanders that “inmate Dita Adler hides clandestine books under her clothing,” they’ll catch her in flagrante at the next inspection. But if he wanted to denounce her … why wouldn’t he have done it already? And why would Hirsch denounce himself if Block 31 is his initiative? It makes no sense. Dita thinks she’ll have to do some digging, but discreetly. Maybe Hirsch is somehow getting preferential treatment for the prisoners and she could ruin it all.
That must be it.
She wants to trust Hirsch.… But then why is the block chief afraid that they’ll find out about him and hate him?
9.
The quarantine camp is packed with newly arrived Russian prisoners. There’s little of their soldier’s honor left: Their heads have been shaved, and they’re wearing striped prison garb. They are an army of beggars now. They wait their turn, pacing up and down or sitting on the ground. There aren’t many groups in huddles, and it is deathly quiet. Some of them look through the wire fence at the Czech women in the family camp who still have their hair, and at the children chasing each other along the Lagerstrasse.
Rudi Rosenberg, in his role as the quarantine camp registrar, is working busily, drawing up lists of the new admissions. Rudi speaks Russian, as well as Polish and a little German, which as he well knows, makes life easier for the SS guards who are supervising the registration process. So far, this morning, he’s ensured that the three or four pencils at his disposal have made their way into his pockets. He’s now talking to a German corporal he’s gotten to know who’s even younger than he is. He often exchanges a few jokes with the soldier, frequently at the expense of the young women who arrive on the women’s transportation trains.
“Corporal Latteck, sir, we really are full to bursting today. You always seem to cop the really hard work!” The Germans always have to be addressed formally, even if they are only eighteen years old.
“True, enough, Rosenberg. You’ve noticed it, too. I do all the work. You’d think I was the only corporal in this section. That damn sergeant has it in for me. He’s a fucking hick from Bavaria, and he can’t stand people from Berlin. Let’s hope they finally grant me that transfer to the front.”
“Corporal, forgive me for troubling you, but I’ve run out of pencils.”
“I’ll send a soldier over to the guardroom to find one.”
“To make sure it’s not a wasted trip, since he’s going there, sir, could you perhaps tell him to bring back an entire box?”
The SS guard gives Rudi a long, hard look and then allows a smile to appear on his lips.
“A box, Rosenberg? Why the devil do you want so many pencils?”
Rudi realizes that the corporal isn’t as stupid as he seems, so he grins slyly, too, as if they were co-conspirators.
“Well, there’s a lot to note down here. And … there’s no question that if there are any pencils left over, the workers in the clothing area can always use a few to write down their information. Pencils are certainly hard to come by in the Lager. And if you provide those people with pencils, they can sometimes return the favor with some new socks.”
“And the occasional little Jewish whore!”
“Could be.”
“I get it.…”
The inquisitive look the SS man is giving Rudi signals danger. If Latteck reports him, Rudi is gone. He’s got to convince him quickly.
“You know, it’s only a matter of being a bit friendly to people. That way, they might be friendly toward you, too. There are friendly people who give me cigarettes.”
“Cigarettes?”
“Sometimes the odd pack of cigarettes is left in the pockets of the clothes that are sent to the laundry.… There’s even been the occasional packet of American tobacco.”
“American tobacco?”
“Absolutely!” He takes a cigarette out of his pocket. “Just like this one.”
“You’re a bastard, Rosenberg. A very smart bastard.” And the corporal smiles.
“They’re not that easy to find, but I might be able to get a few of these for you, sir.”
“I love American tobacco,” says the corporal, with a greedy glint in his eye.
“It certainly does taste different, sir. Nothing like the dark tobacco.”
“No.…”
“Light American tobacco is like a blond woman … superior quality.”
“No question.…”
The following day, Rudi heads for his rendezvous with Alice carrying two bundles of pencils in his pocket. He’ll have to do a few favors to get the corporal’s cigarettes, but he’s not too concerned. He knows how to go about it. As he walks toward the boundary fence, his thoughts turn yet again to the existence of the family camp. The Jews have never been allowed to stay together as families before. Why have the Nazis allowed it? The mystery is driving the Resistance mad. He wonders if Fredy Hirsch might know more about it than he’s letting on. Is Hirsch keeping something up his sleeve? But then, isn’t everyone? Rudi himself doesn’t tell Schmulewski about the good relationship he has with some of the SS, which enables him to traffic in small items. The Resistance might not approve, but it suits him. Schmulewski himself is never likely to show all his cards at once. After all, doesn’t he revel in the position of assistant to the German Kapo in his barrack?
He strides back and forth behind the barracks until he sees Alice approaching, and then he heads for the fence. If the guard on duty in the tower is one of the bad-tempered ones, he’ll blow his whistle any moment now and order them to move back. Alice is on the other side of the fence, a few meters away. Rudi has spent two days anticipating this moment, and when he sees her, his happiness makes him forget all the miseries.
“Sit down.”