The murmur of the classes in Block 31 drags her away from her thoughts. Ota Keller’s group is just a few meters away. The children are following his explanations very attentively, and Dita pricks up her ears so she won’t lose the thread the Nazis have cut. She misses school. She would have liked to go on with her studies and maybe become a pilot like the woman she had seen in one of her mother’s illustrated magazines. The woman was called Amelia Earhart, and she appeared in photos getting down from a plane in a man’s leather jacket, with a pair of flying goggles on her forehead and a dreamy look in her eyes. Dita thinks you would have to study hard to become an aviator. The mixed murmurs of several teachers reach the spot where she’s sitting, and she isn’t able to pick out the lessons of any individual one of them.
She watches Ota Keller teaching. They say he’s a Communist. Ota is talking to his group about the speed of light and how there is nothing faster in the universe; the stars they see shining in the sky are the result of the light photons they emit reaching our pupils after traveling millions of kilometers at breakneck speed. He hypnotizes the children with his contagious enthusiasm, his eyebrows move constantly, and his index finger wiggles like the needle on a compass.
It suddenly occurs to Dita that compasses, like the ones in aircraft, are difficult to understand. Maybe she’d prefer to be an artist rather than a pilot. It sounds like a good idea. It would be a way of flying without having to rely on so much equipment. She’d paint the world as if she were flying over it.
Margit is waiting for her when she leaves Block 31; she’s with her sister Helga, who is even thinner than before. Margit whispers to Dita that she’s a bit concerned about how gaunt her sister looks. Helga has had the misfortune to be assigned to a drainage ditch brigade and, thanks to the constant spring rains, they spend all day removing the mud that accumulates.
There are lots of inmates like Helga, who seem to be so much thinner than others. It’s as if the piece of bread and soup went in and straight through their bodies without leaving any trace. Maybe they are just as thin as the others, but there is something in their downcast expressions and the defeat in their eyes that makes them seem more fragile. There’s constant talk of typhus and tuberculosis and pneumonia, but not so much is said about the depression sweeping through the Lager like a plague. It happened to Dita’s father, too: People suddenly begin to switch off. They are the ones who have given up.
Dita and Margit try to cheer up Helga by joking around.
“So, Helga, have you found any good-looking boys around here?”
Helga stands there with no idea how to answer, so Dita tosses the question to her sister.
“Well, Margit, have you found nothing worth a second look in the camp, either? We’ll have to ask camp command for a transfer.”
“Wait … I have seen one boy in Hut 12. He’s gorgeous!”
“Gorgeous? Did you hear that, Helga? What a prissy way of speaking.”
The three girls laugh.
“And have you said anything to this cute boy?” asks Dita, continuing the game.
“Not yet. He must be at least twenty-five.”
“Heavens. Far too old. If you went out with him, people would think you were his granddaughter.”
“And what about you, Dita?” Margit counterattacks. “Is there no assistant in this entire hut who’s worth the effort?”
“Assistants? Nooo. Who would be interested in a boy with a face full of pimples?”
“Well, there’s got to be some interesting boy!”
“Nooo.”
“Not one?”
“There is someone who’s different.”
“Different how?”
“He hasn’t got three legs, that’s for sure.” And then Dita stops joking. “He’s one of those people who seem very serious, but he knows how to tell stories. His name is Ota Keller.”
“One of those boring types, then.”
“Not at all!”
“Hmmm. What do you think, Helga? The scene as far as boys are concerned is pretty disastrous, isn’t it?”
Helga smiles in agreement. She’s embarrassed to talk about boys with her sister, who’s normally very serious. But when Dita is around, she makes everything seem less important.
That night, while Helga, Margit, Dita, and the rest of the camp sleep, a first officer of the SS enters the family camp without anyone noticing. He’s carrying a backpack.
He heads to the back of one of the huts and slides out the piece of wood that bars the door. Siegfried Lederer immediately emerges from the shadowy interior and silently changes his clothes. The beggar transforms into a sparkling SS officer. Pestek feels it’s preferable to wear a uniform with the insignia of a lieutenant because it’s less likely that anyone will dare to address the wearer.
They leave by the security checkpoint, where the two guards in the booth give them a respectful raised-arm salute. They walk toward the main entrance of the camp situated under the enormous guard tower, which looks like a sinister castle. Because it’s dark, the upper part of the tower, which contains the enclosed observation deck from which the guards keep watch, is lit up. Lederer is sweating inside his lieutenant’s uniform, but Pestek is walking confidently—he’s convinced they are going to pass through the control point without any difficulty.
They approach the checkpoint under the imposing tower. When the guards see the two soldiers coming, they—and their machine guns—swivel to face them. Pestek quietly tells Lederer to slow down so that he can go first, but to keep moving and, most importantly, to do so without hesitation. If Lederer looks assured, the guards won’t have any doubts. They won’t dare tell a lieutenant to stop.
With total self-confidence, Pestek walks a few steps ahead. He approaches the guards and, as if he were among friends and sharing a confidence, he lowers his voice and tells them that he’s going to take an officer recently transferred to Auschwitz for a stroll down to the brothel in Auschwitz I.
The guards don’t even have time to share a complicit laugh because the lieutenant, back ramrod straight, is already walking past. They all stand to attention, and the fake officer responds with a lazy nod of his head. Pestek joins his superior officer, and the two of them disappear into the night. The checkpoint guards think the two officers are lucky guys. And they are.
Pestek and Lederer head for O?wi?cim station. From there, they are to catch the train for Krakow that is due to leave in a few minutes. If all goes well, in Krakow they’ll take another train to Prague. They walk in silence, trying to ensure that they don’t look as if they’re in a hurry. Freedom is scratching Siegfried on the back, or maybe it’s the officer’s uniform.
23.
The morning roll call is never ending. When it’s done, there are SS whistles and shouts in German. A guard arrives and gives the order for the roll call to be repeated. Many of the Czech Jews speak German, so the order produces a murmur of frustration in the hut. Another hour on their feet.… They don’t know what’s going on, but something’s happening, because the guards are noticeably nervous. One word is muttered from one row to the next: escape.