Toward the end of February 1944, a high-level German delegation visited Auschwitz–Birkenau. It was headed by Lieutenant-Colonel Adolf Eichmann, the Obersturmbannfürher in charge of the Gestapo’s Jewish Department from 1941 to 1945. Their mission was to pick up, in person, a report requested from the Block?ltester of Block 31, Fredy Hirsch, on the operation of this experimental barrack, the only one set aside for children in the entire network of Auschwitz camps.
Hirsch has instructed Lichtenstern to ensure that all the children, no matter what age, are lined up in a perfect state for inspection. Fredy demands good hygiene. The children get up every day at seven a.m., and the assistants take them to the washrooms. In February, morning temperatures can be as low as ?25° Celsius, and there are days when the pipes are frozen.
When Hirsch turns up midmorning, perfectly groomed and shaved, the lines for roll call have already formed. His manner is even more military than usual, a sure sign of his stress. There is the sound of whistles blowing and the thud of boots. A short while later, a couple of SS soldiers clear the way for a group of officials whose chests are overloaded with metal insignias and decorations.
Fredy Hirsch comes to attention with a martial click of his heels. After requesting permission to speak, he starts to describe the functioning of Block 31. It’s clear that Hirsch is comfortable speaking in his native German; he’s not a natural in Czech.
Major Rudolf H?ss and Eichmann lead the retinue, which includes other members of the SS, among them Schwarzhuber, the Kommandant responsible for Auschwitz–Birkenau. Dr. Mengele is farther back, a bit off to the side. As a captain, he’s much lower in rank than the lieutenant-colonels heading up the visit, and some might think he’s stepped back out of respect for the hierarchy. But Dita watches him and thinks his expression shows an indifference verging on boredom. And she’s right. He is bored by this procession of authorities.
Mengele suddenly looks up. He stares at Dita. She pretends she’s looking straight ahead, but she feels Mengele watching her. What does he want from her?
Eichmann nods, and his stern expression does not conceal his air of condescension. He’s making it clear that he’s doing Hirsch an enormous favor by hearing him out. Half a meter is as close as any of the officials will come to the Jewish Block?ltester. Even though he’s wearing a clean shirt and not-too-wrinkled pants, Hirsch looks like a peasant amidst the pressed uniforms and shiny boots. Dita looks at him and, despite all her reservations, she can’t help feeling enormous admiration. They may despise him, but they listen. Dita believes in him. She desperately needs to believe in him.
As soon as the delegation moves off, two assistants arrive with the midday soup for the hut, and the normal routine is reestablished. The dented bowls and twisted spoons are pulled out, and the children beg God to let them find at least one small piece of carrot. Once the meal is over, the hut gradually empties. Only a few teachers remain, huddled around the stools at the back and talking about the visit. They would like to know what Hirsch thinks, but he’s disappeared into thin air precisely to avoid such questions.
*
There’s a gala lunch in the officers’ dining room: tomato soup, chicken, potatoes, red cabbage, oven-baked fish, vanilla ice cream, and beer. The waitresses, prisoners, are Jehovah’s Witnesses. H?ss prefers them because they never complain. They believe that if this is God’s will, they have to comply with it cheerfully.
“Look,” he says to his colleagues, getting up from the table without bothering to remove the napkin tucked into his chest.
He signals to one of the waitresses to come forward and pulls out his Luger. He places the barrel against her temple. The other Nazi chiefs have stopped eating and watch expectantly. A hush falls over the dining room. The prisoner, unperturbed, stands stock-still, holding some dirty plates, not looking at the pistol or at the person pointing it. She’s not looking anywhere in particular as she prays inaudibly. No complaint, no protest, not even a look of fear.
“She’s thanking God,” says H?ss with a guffaw.
The others laugh politely. Rudolf H?ss has recently been relieved of his position as commander of Auschwitz because the officers under him have been responsible for certain irregularities in the Lager’s accounts. Some members of the Gestapo’s high command don’t look on him as favorably as in the past. Eichmann returns to his soup without waiting for H?ss to resume his seat. These sorts of games seem out of place to him when you’re eating. Killing Jews is serious work as far as he’s concerned. That’s why, when he’s asked later on in 1944 by the head of the SS, Heinrich Himmler, to end the Final Solution in light of the inevitable defeat of the Germans, Eichmann will go on ordering massive exterminations right to the bitter end.
*
The rumor put out by Mrs. Turnovská—so rightly dubbed Radio Birkenau by Dita—that there’ll be a special meal of sausages for the prisoners, has turned out to be false. Yet again.
Dita heads off to see her parents, but as she makes her way through the crowd, she catches a glimpse of Mr. Tomá?ek and decides it is a perfect opportunity to talk to him. She sets off in his direction, but there’s such a crowd on the Lagerstrasse that she has trouble making headway. At times, she loses sight of him, but then she spots him again. He’s walking toward Block 31 and the hospital hut where there are fewer people. He moves quickly despite being about as old as her father, and Dita can’t catch up to him. She sees him skirting past Block 31 and walking on almost to the camp boundary where the clothing hut is located. It’s supervised by a regular German prisoner with the rank of Kapo rather than by a Jew. Dita has no idea what he’s planning to do there since Jewish prisoners aren’t allowed to enter that hut without permission. The Germans must think that the rags stored in there are very valuable. Mr. Tomá?ek is probably trying to get hold of some clothing for a needy prisoner. Her parents have explained to her that kindhearted Mr. Tomá?ek helps a lot of people, including finding clothes for them.
He strides into the hut before Dita can reach him, so she’ll have to wait till he comes out. The wide avenue through which you enter Auschwitz–Birkenau is on the other side of the family camp fence. They’re finishing construction of a railway line that will allow the train transports to run under the guard tower, which dominates everything at the main entrance, right to the very heart of the camp. She’s not too happy about staying there, in full sight of the guards at the main entrance, so she wanders down the side of the hut until she comes to a crack in the wooden wall. She walks up closer to it and hears Mr. Tomá?ek’s mild voice. He’s reciting some names and hut numbers. In German.
Intrigued, Dita sits down beside the wall.
An angry voice interrupts Mr. Tomá?ek’s report.
“We’ve told you many times already! We don’t want the names of retired socialists! We want the names of members of the Resistance.”
Dita recognizes the voice and the cold, hard way of speaking. It’s the Priest.
“It’s not easy. They hide. I try—”
“Try harder.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now go.”
“Yes, sir.”