A set decoration? Actors in a play? Nazi puppets? Their entire effort in Block 31 has been to benefit the Germans?
She has to put her hand against the side of the hut to steady herself because she feels dizzy. The entire family camp is a lie? None of it is real?
She begins to think that maybe it has to be so. Truth is put together by destiny; it’s nothing more than a whim of fate. A lie, on the other hand, is more human; it’s created by mankind and tailor-made to purpose.
Dita heads off in search of Miriam Edelstein. She finds her in her hut, sitting on her bunk. Her son, Arieh, is saying good-bye as he heads off to walk along the Lagerstrasse with some other boys before the evening crust of bread is handed out.
“Am I bothering you, Aunt Miriam?”
“Of course not.”
“You see…” Dita’s voice hesitates; Dita herself hesitates. Her legs are shaking again like pistons. “I’ve been talking to a man from the Resistance. He told me an incredible story: that the family camp is a cover-up for the Nazis in case observers from other countries come to investigate.…”
Miriam nods silently.
“So it’s true! You knew it!” whispers Dita. “So the only thing we’ve done all this time has been to serve the Nazis.”
“Not at all! They had a plan, but we’ve carried out our own plan. They wanted the children to be abandoned like junk in a warehouse, but we opened a school. They wanted them to be like cattle in a stable, but we’ve made them feel like people.”
“And what use has that been? All the children in the September transport have died.”
“It was worth it. Nothing has been in vain. Do you remember how they used to laugh? Do you remember how wide-eyed they were when they were singing ‘Alouette’ or listening to the stories of the living books? Do you remember how they jumped for joy when we put half a biscuit in their bowls? And the excitement with which they prepared their plays? They were happy, Edita.”
“But it lasted such a short time—”
“Life, any life, is very short. But if you’ve managed to be happy for at least an instant, it will have been worth living.”
“An instant! How short is that?”
“Very short. It’s enough to be happy for as long as it takes a match to be lit and go out.”
Dita is silent as she weighs up how many matches have been lit and gone out in her life—and there have been lots. Many brief moments in which a flame has shone, even in the midst of the deepest darkness. Some of those moments have occurred when, in the middle of some huge disaster, she has opened a book and buried herself in it. Her small library is a box of matches. As she thinks this, she smiles with a hint of sadness.
“And what will become of the children now? What will happen to all of us now? I’m scared, Aunt Miriam.”
“The Nazis can strip us of our homes, our belongings, our clothes, and even our hair, but no matter how much they take away from us, they can’t remove our hope. It’s ours. We can’t lose it. You hear more and more Allied air raids. The war won’t last forever, and we have to prepare ourselves for peace. The children have to keep learning, because they’re going to find a country and a world in ruins, and it will be they, and you, the teenagers, who will have to rebuild it.”
“But the fact that the children’s camp is a Nazi trick is awful. The international observers will come, the Germans will show this to them, they’ll hide the gas chambers, and the observers will see that children survive in Auschwitz, and they’ll go away deceived.”
“Or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“That will be our moment. We won’t let them leave without knowing the truth.”
Then Dita begins to recall the afternoon before the September transport left, when she came across Fredy on the Lagerstrasse.
“I’ve just been reminded of something Fredy said the last time I spoke with him. He made some comment about a moment when a crack would open. It would be the moment of truth, he said. And we had to take the risk. He said you had to shoot a goal in the final second when they were least expecting it, to earn the win.”
Miriam nods in agreement.
“That was the plan. He gave me some papers before he left. He was writing much more than reports for the camp command. He’d put together facts, dates, names, a complete dossier of what’s going on in Auschwitz, which he’d prepared to hand over to a neutral observer.”
“Fredy won’t be able to hand it over anymore.”
“No, he’s no longer here. But we’re not going to give up, are we?”
“Quit? No way. Count on me, for anything. No matter the cost.”
The deputy director of Block 31 smiles.
“But then why did he surrender at the last minute and commit suicide?” Dita persists. “The Resistance people say he got scared.”
Miriam Edelstein’s smile suddenly freezes.
“The man from the Resistance said that they asked him to lead a revolt, and he got cold feet. I told the man he had no idea what he was talking about, but he seemed so sure of himself.…”
“It’s true that they suggested he lead a revolt when they were already certain that the entire September transport was going to be sent to the gas chambers. I’ve been told that by a source I trust.”
“And he rejected the offer?”
“A revolt consisting of a contingent of families that included old people and children facing armed SS soldiers wasn’t exactly a terrific plan. He asked them for time to think it over.”
“And then he committed suicide.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Miriam Edelstein’s sigh leaves Dita feeling empty inside.
“We don’t always have an answer for everything.”
The woman takes Dita by the shoulder and draws her close. They remain together for a long moment, during which their silence unites them far more than any words they could say. Then they exchange a warm good-bye and Dita leaves the hut. She walks along, thinking that maybe there isn’t an answer for everything. But Fredy said to her, Don’t ever give up, and she’ll never give up on her desire to find that answer.