She devotes time to gluing some of the loose spines carefully with gum arabic and to using a bit of saliva on a cloth to clean the odd cover stained with dirt from the hidey-hole. She mends their wounds, no doubt for the last time. When she can do no more to fix them, she runs her hand back and forth over the pages like an iron to remove some of the creases. She’s not just smoothing them; she’s caressing them.
When they’re lined up, the books form a tiny row, a modest display of veterans. But over these past few months, they’ve enabled hundreds of children to walk through the geography of the world, get close to history, and learn math. And also to become drawn into the intricacies of fiction and amplify their lives many times over. Not bad for a handful of old books.
27.
The workshops and Block 31 have already been shut down. Her mother is taking part in a conversation of the women led by Mrs. Turnovská. Dita sits at back of the hut, her back propped up against the wall. There are so many women that it’s hard to find a spot to lean against. Margit comes over to join her and settles herself as best she can on the tiny piece of blanket provided by Dita. She chews her lower lip, a sure sign she’s agitated.
“Do you really think they’re going to transfer us somewhere else?”
“You can count on it. I just hope it’s not to the other world.”
Margit fidgets nervously beside her. They hold hands.
“I’m frightened, Ditiňka.”
“We’re all frightened.”
“No, you are so calm. You even joke about the transfer. I’d like to be as brave as you, but I’m really afraid. I’m shaking all over. It’s hot, and I feel cold.”
“Once, when my legs were really shaking, Fredy Hirsch told me that the truly brave people are the ones who are afraid.”
“How can that be?”
“Because you have to be brave to feel fear and keep going. If you’re not frightened, what’s the advantage of choosing one thing over another?”
“I saw Mr. Hirsch going past along the Lagerstrasse a few times. He was really handsome! I would like to have known him.”
“He wasn’t someone you could get to know easily. He spent his life inside his cubicle. He did the Friday chats, organized sports activities, resolved problems if they came up—he was very friendly toward everyone … but then he would disappear into his cubicle. It was almost as if he wanted to keep himself apart.”
“Do you think he was happy?”
Dita turns toward her friend with a look of incredulity.
“What a question, Margit! Who would know that? I don’t know … but I think so. It wasn’t easy for him, but I suspect he liked challenges. And he never got cold feet.”
“You admired him, didn’t you?”
“How can you not admire someone who teaches you to be brave?”
“But…” Margit hunts for the right words, because she knows she’s going to say something that might offend. “But in the end, Hirsch did get cold feet. He didn’t hold up right to the end.”
Dita gives a deep sigh.
“I’ve thought a great deal about his death. They’ve told me this and that. But I still think there’s something missing, that there’s something in all of this that doesn’t fit. Hirsch giving up? No.”
“But the registrar, Rosenberg, saw him die.”
“Indeed.”
“Although I’ve also heard that you can’t always trust what Rosenberg says.”
“They say so many things. But I believe that on that afternoon of the eighth of March something happened that changed everything. The unfortunate thing is that we’ll never be able to ask him what it was.”
Dita stops talking, and Margit respects her silence for a few moments.
“And what will happen to us now, Ditiňka?”
“Who knows? There’s no point in worrying too much. You and I can’t do anything. If someone decides to organize a revolt, we’ll hear about it.”
“Do you think there’ll be a revolt?”
“No. If there wasn’t one with Fredy, without him it’s impossible.”
“Then we’ll have to pray.”
“Pray? To whom?”
“To God. Who else? You should pray, too.”
“Hundreds of thousands of Jews have been praying to him since 1939, and he hasn’t listened to them.”
“Maybe we haven’t prayed enough, or loudly enough so he’ll hear us.”
“Come on, Margit. God is capable of knowing that you’ve sewn a button on a shirt on the Sabbath and punishing you, but he hasn’t discovered that thousands of innocents are being killed and many other thousands are being held captive and being treated worse than dogs? Do you really believe he hasn’t found out?”
“I don’t know, Dita. It’s a sin to question why God does what he does.”
“Well then, I’m a sinner.”
“Don’t talk like that. God will punish you!”
“More?”
“You’ll go to hell.”
“Don’t be na?ve, Margit. We’re already in hell.”
Rumors continue to slither through the camp. There are those who say that the Germans are going to kill everyone. Others believe that they’ll set apart those suitable for work and kill the rest.
The Priest comes into the camp without warning, accompanied by two armed guards. People pretend they’re not watching him, but they don’t take their eyes off him. The three Germans come to a halt at the entrance to one of the huts, and the Kapo instantly appears.
She strolls anxiously around the immediate area and then points to a prisoner sitting along the side of the hut, a woman with a child resting his head in her lap. It’s Aunt Miriam and her son, Arieh. The sergeant informs her that he has direct orders from Kommandant Schwarzhuber: They’re going to transfer her and her son to be with her husband.
Eichmann had told her they’d soon be together. In this instance, he was telling the truth. But Eichmann’s truths are even worse than his lies.
They take Miriam and her son by jeep to Auschwitz I and escort them into a room where two guards are holding the handcuffed Yakub by the arms with a vise-like grip. Miriam has a hard time recognizing him inside his dirty striped suit and, even worse, inside the shredded skin barely sticking to his bones. It probably takes him a moment to recognize her, because he isn’t wearing his round glasses with their tortoiseshell frames. No doubt he lost them when he first arrived, and everything after that must have been a blur.
Miriam and Yakub Edelstein have sharp minds. They immediately understand why they have been reunited. No one can begin to imagine what must pass through their minds in this instant.
An SS corporal takes out his gun, points it at little Arieh, and shoots him on the spot. Then he shoots Miriam. By the time he shoots Yakub, he is surely already dead inside.
*
When the process to close camp BIIb is set in motion on July 11, 1944, it holds twelve thousand prisoners. Dr. Mengele organizes the selection, which takes three days. Out of all the huts, he chooses Block 31 for the process since, as it contains no bunks, it offers a brighter workspace. Mengele comments to his assistants that it is the only hut where the smell isn’t nauseating. Although he is a great fan of autopsies, Mengele is also a refined person who can’t stand bad smells.