The Darkest Canyon

by Roberta Kagan

  “How can the Jewish prisoners buy weapons from outside. We can’t get out of here, except for work details, and when the men are on slave-labor details; they are being watched very closely.”

  “I don’t expect them to buy weapons. I, along with a group of others are buying the weapons. Of course, if they have any way to buy weapons, it would be very helpful. But what I want is for you to organize a group of men who, once the command is given, are willing to storm the camp arsenal, take the guns and any other weapons they can find then attack the Ukrainian and German guards.”

  “How will we get in? It’s always locked.”

  “That’s true, Kaetzel. But . . . we have a key. One of the men in my group was a locksmith; he was able to make a key.”

  “Brilliant,” Eli said.

  “Oh yes, there is no lack of talent here in Treblinka. The prisoners here come from all walks of life.” He smiled wryly. “Sad, isn’t it? Each one of us has something to contribute to the world. Look around you, Kaetzel; there are doctors here, scientists too, teachers. You just name the profession, and they have been through the gates to this miserable place.”

  “Yes, I know,” Eli said.

  “Ah, well, there is nothing we can do except rise up against them. The Nazis don’t want the good things that we have to give. They’d rather see us all dead.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it didn’t matter, but his eyes said that it mattered to him more than he could ever express. Then in a sad voice he continued to speak. “Anyway, the signal to begin is a gunshot. Once this is sounded, a group of our men are scheduled to start all the buildings on fire. Of course, the Nazi bastards aren’t expecting this, so we will have the element of surprise. That was how the uprising in the Warsaw ghetto was so effective. The Nazi guards were completely unaware of what was coming. And I must tell you that it will give me such pleasure to see these bastards squirm. I hope we can kill them all. The Warsaw ghetto uprising proved one thing to us: that the Nazis are a lot tougher when the other side isn’t fighting back, yes?”

  Eli nodded. “Yes, Jankiel, we have been passive for too long; it’s time for us to fight back.”

  “And with luck, some of us will be able to escape into the forests. Others, I know, will die. But at least we will go down fighting. I would rather die watching this whole camp burn to the ground, than live as a prisoner here and shovel dead bodies like those.” He pointed to the pile of bodies waiting for Eli to shovel into the ovens.

  “Who else is involved in this? Are there any Jews?”

  “Yes, some. Others, not. It doesn’t matter here. We are all victims of the Nazis, Jews, not Jews. We must all work together. So what do you say? Are you in?”

  Eli thought for a moment. As a Hasidic he should refuse. But after all he’d seen and endured in this terrible place, he felt certain this man, Jankiel, had come to him with the message he’d been waiting for. This was his calling. He was to lead his people, not in the way he’d originally thought, but in a powerful and effective way, nonetheless. Men who might have died would escape, and live. They might have children and grandchildren, all because of his efforts. And even if the uprising only saved one life, it all would have been worth it. “Yes,” Eli said firmly. “Yes, you can count me in. Do you have a date set for this revolt?”

  “August second."

  “It’s June already. We don’t have much time.” Eli rubbed his chin as he considered this.

  “Then we’ll have to work fast,” Wiernik said, winking. “Welcome aboard, Eli.”

  CHAPTER 73

  Over the next month, Eli went to secret meetings with Wiernik. He met the others and learned that each of them wanted the same thing, to destroy Treblinka and all the misery it caused.

  Eli became active in every aspect of organization. Eli, who had never believed in stealing, who had to be pushed to the brink of starvation in order to take a few apples or a bunk of asparagus, a man who would never have stolen jewels or money for his own sake, was now taking everything he could from the suitcases of the newly arriving prisoners. If he were caught, it would mean death. But if he lived, he could sell the things he stole, and that would mean more guns, more ammunition, and a better defense for the prisoners against the guards.

  Eli had never believed it was up to him to decide if a man was worthy of life. He had been taught to leave that decision to Hashem. But now he felt certain that Hashem had chosen him to lead his people in this revolt, and when it came to the Nazis, he was prepared to shoot and to kill.

  At night, when Eli lay on the straw where he slept, the lice nipping at his skin, his thoughts would not allow him to sleep. He was haunted by memories of everyone in his past. He remembered his best friend Yossi’s wedding when he married Ruthie, whose Yiddish name was Rivka. And then came the children. Eli could still see Yossi’s face turn white when the mohel cut each of his little boys at their bris. All the old men had laughed at Yossi, but Eli understood his best friend and took him into the kitchen to get him a glass of sweet wine. As he lay there, thinking of Yossi, Eli whispered a prayer for him and his family and hoped they were safe. When he closed his eyes, he often saw the faces of his parents, and he was glad they had not lived to see this. The idea of his mother and father in a camp like Treblinka was horrific.

  He was filled with regret when he had recollections of the day he had married Rebecca. Not because he didn’t care for her—he did, very much—but because they had wasted so much time in the beginning of their marriage trying to fulfill other people’s dreams for them. If only they had been able to speak their minds and their hearts. Both of them knew from the beginning they were never meant to be husband and wife. But things did turn out all right for them. They became the best of friends, and he found that he often missed that friendship. He wondered where Rebecca was now and whispered a prayer that Hashem would keep Rebecca safe.

  Then came his deepest thoughts—his thoughts of Gretchen. These tender recollections came to him all day and all night. My love, my life, he thought. Gretchen is the woman in my heart. My bashert. The other half of my once searching soul. It was a blessing from God to be given a love so deep. Not every man will have such a gift. And although I might die in this uprising, my heart will be with her forever. This much I know. Oh, Gretchen, I wish I had one more opportunity to speak to you. Just one more moment to hold you in my arms. If I live through all of this, when it’s over I will find you and never let you go. You will never be unhappy, not for one day. Then he whispered a Hebrew prayer for Gretchen. And on many nights, his eyes began to close just as the morning bell rang for him to report to roll call and then to work.

  On a hot evening in early July, after working a twelve-hour day sweating over the hot ovens, Eli ate his watery soup quickly. Then he gathered several of the men who had also been working on the uprising.

  “I need to ask a favor of you,” he said. “It’s very important to me.”

  “What is it, Eli?” Joseph Goldstein asked.

  “If I should die during the uprising, and any of you survive, you must promise that you will find these two people and tell them what happened to me.”

  “Of course I will, if I survive,” Aaron Levin said.

  “Yes, I will do what I can as well,” Samuel Minowsky said.

  The others nodded. “Yes of course,” they voiced in unison.

  “Rebecca Kaetzel and Gretchen Schmidt. Please, remember these names. Do you promise me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “I promise.”

  “Tell them that they must go on with their lives, marry, have children . . .”

  The men were all nodding just as a guard walked over. He slammed his club against the table. “No talking,” he said.

  The men separated. But Eli felt a wave of relief pass over him. He had not been afraid to die before this. It if was Hashem’s will, then he accepted it. But now, he felt an even greater inner calm.

  CHAPTER 74

  July, Auschwitz

  E
ach week, Jan brought gifts when he came to see Rebecca. He brought clothing, food, and some children’s books for Anke, who ran into his arms hugging him whenever he arrived. She was a delight, but also a distraction. And there were times when Jan wanted to talk to Rebecca without disruption. So, one week in late July, when he came to see Rebecca, he brought a special gift for Anke.

  The little girl jumped into Jan’s arms as she always did. He kissed her forehead as the food and a package he’d brought dropped out of his hands.

  “Anke,” he said, and picking up the package, he handed it to her. “This is for you.”

  “For me?” she asked.

  “Yes, all for you. But there is a little catch.”

  “What does that mean, a catch?”

  “Well, it means that if you take my gift, you have to try to do as I ask.”

  She frowned. “What do I have to do?”

  “When I am here visiting, you can play with your gift, but only if you allow me and Becky to have some time to talk about adult things. Would that be all right?”

  “Can I talk too?”

  “No, you have to play while we talk. But before I leave, I will spend some time talking to you. Just to you. When it’s our time to talk, you will have all of my attention. Does that sound all right?”

  “I don’t know. Let me see the gift.”

  He laughed. “I think you’ll like it,” he said, handing her the package.

  Anke ripped the paper open and five fat crayons fell out. There was a thin block of paper as well. “What is this?” she asked.

  “Watch.” Jan winked at her. He set the paper and crayons on the table. Then he picked up a blue crayon and began to draw a little girl. Anke was fascinated. He drew red hair with another crayon.

  Rebecca watched Jan playing with Anke, and a wave of tenderness came over her. How can I feel this way? His father is a Nazi, an SS officer. He should be my enemy. Yet he is not. He has been my savior. I know a man is not responsible for his father’s crimes . . .

  “I promise to play with this while you and Rebecca talk. And I won’t bother you at all,” Anke said, picking up a green crayon.

  Jan winked at Rebecca and motioned for her to come to the other side of the room. They sat down on the floor.

  “Where did you get those?” she asked him.

  “The crayons? They were mine when I was a child. I thought she might like them.”

  “She loves them. That was so nice of you, Jan.”

  “I like her. She is a sweet little thing. And I enjoy doing nice things for her. But I must admit, bringing her a gift to keep her busy wasn’t all for her enjoyment. It was also so I could have a little time with you.”

  “I know that.” She smiled.

  He smiled back. “I like you, Rebecca. I like you a lot.” When he took her hand, she didn’t flinch. “I know we are from different worlds. And there is a sea of hatred between us, deep enough to drown the whole world. But my feelings for you are real. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

  She turned away for a few minutes to compose herself. Then she turned her head back to look in his eyes. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, either.” She hesitated for several minutes, while he gently massaged her hand with his thumb. Then she added, “I’ve been reading your manuscript. I know a lot about you. You aren’t like your father.”

  “That’s not entirely true. I am not like the Nazi in my father. But I am like the man I knew who was my father when I was a child: the man who took his son fishing because he knew his boy wanted to go, even though he had no idea how to fish.”

  “I read that part. I laughed. It was very sweet. He tried so hard.”

  “Yes, he did. And I can see myself in my father when he taught me to play soccer and to throw a ball. But this man who claims to be my father, the one who spends his time killing innocent people? I have nothing in common with that man. I don’t know where that man came from or how my father ever became that way.”

  “Look at my picture,” Anke came running over with a paper scribbled with color.

  “It’s lovely,” Rebecca said.

  “It’s for you.” Anke handed it to Jan.

  “Thank you.” He smiled. If my father would have had his way, little Anke would already be dead, he thought, and a shiver ran up his spine. And so would my sweet, beautiful Rebecca.

  CHAPTER 75

  Ravensbrück

  Ilsa kept her promise. She never interfered in Gretchen’s position as Hilde’s housekeeper either. Hilde was grateful to Ilsa, so she and the Valkyrie decided to put the plans to murder Ilsa on hold. Besides, Hilde could not be sure if she would ever need Ilsa again.

  Hilde went back to work at Ravensbrück. She stole jewelry and anything else she could find of value, all of which she gave to Ilsa. The SS officers were pulling in the reins at Ravensbrück. They had begun to watch the guards more closely. Hilde knew that if she were caught stealing from the Reich, she would be arrested for treason. The penalty was death, or worse to be imprisoned in the camp. She trembled when she thought of herself as one of the inmates sleeping beside those she’d once been guarding. And there was no doubt that if the prisoners could get their hands on her, they would make her suffer.

  Hilde had never been one to be so unselfish, but there was something about this child that made her feel complete. She’d never believed that motherhood could be an important part of her life, but now it was the most important thing in her life. And not only motherhood, but she truly treasured her friendship with Gretchen. Since Gretchen had come to Ravensbrück, and they were together every day, Hilde found less need to talk to the Valkyrie in the mirror. However, she still resorted to her childhood coping mechanism of making believe she had become invisible when she had to steal for Ilsa. So far, she’d been lucky the invisibility had worked. She had not been caught.

  CHAPTER 76

  August 2nd, 1943, Treblinka

  No wind filtered through the open windows in Eli’s block that night. There was nothing to break the oppressive heat, only the heavy, odorous air that hung over the room as the dirty, sweaty men tried to sleep.

  Eli couldn’t sleep a wink. Tomorrow was the day of the uprising. And he felt certain that no matter what happened, things would never be the same. He sucked in a deep breath of air and began to pray. Not for his own safety, but for clarity as to what God’s purpose for him was and the strength to carry it out. He prayed for his people and for an end to the Nazi oppression. Then he said a prayer for Rebecca. And then he thanked God for Gretchen and for the joy she’d brought to him even if it was only for a short time. Eli begged God to protect Gretchen. If he should die tomorrow, he asked that Gretchen be spared and that she be blessed with happiness with another man once this war ended. Everything was in place for tomorrow. Everyone knew what they were expected to do. He’d gone over the plan with his men more times than he could remember. It was simple. The signal to begin was a gunshot. They were to keep their ears open and listen closely for it. There had been construction work near the arsenal for the last several weeks. The chaos due to the construction had allowed the resistors to enter the arsenal unnoticed and steal twenty hand grenades, twenty rifles, and a few guns. The rest they would get on the day of the uprising. Each morning, one of the prisoners was assigned to spray the camp with disinfectant. He used a hose. Last night, two men removed the disinfectant and replaced it with gasoline that they siphoned out of one of the guards trucks. The guards would not know that the buildings were being sprayed with gasoline instead of disinfectant. Once all the buildings were doused with gasoline, Eli was to gather some of his men, and they were to move as quickly as possible, throwing grenades at the buildings to start them on fire, while others took the rest of the weapons from the arsenal. Eli went over the plan one more time in his head. Then he allowed himself the luxury of envisioning Gretchen. He remember the first day he saw her. How beautiful she was, with her hair like silky strands of rose gold blowing in the wind. He smil
ed at the thought as he lay quietly, waiting for dawn.

  The following day Eli could sense the nervous energy that was flowing through the camp. But he was relieved to see the guards remained oblivious to any of it.

  Two prisoners, who had been friends for several years, had plans of their own. They were a part of the resistance, but they wanted to ensure that if they survived they would have enough money to begin a new life. So, while the others were readying themselves for a fight, these two men stuffed their uniforms with stolen money that they’d stolen from the suitcases of incoming prisoners. This should not have been a problem except that one of the guards noticed the bulges in their pants. He called over another guard. They forced the prisoners to take off their clothes. When they found the stolen money, the guards began to beat the prisoners. From across a field, one of the resistors heard the prisoners crying out as they were beaten. He ran over to see what was happening. The two inmates were lying on the floor, and the guards were kicking them. The man who had come over to see what was happening was a part of the resistance. He was afraid that torturing prisoners would break them down, and they would tell the guards about the planned uprising. So to prevent the possibility of the prisoners revealing the plan, the man took a stolen gun out of his pants that he had been carrying and shot both prisoners.

  The shots rang out through the camp. But this was a mistake. It was too early. Still, the gunshots set everything into motion. Eli’s heart was thumping as they ran to get the grenades. He realized the gunshots had gone off earlier than expected, but everyone acted according to plan. However, no one knew what had happened. The man with the hose had not yet finished his morning spraying. He hurried to be sure the gasoline was distributed before the men came with the grenades. The buildings burst into flames as Eli and his group tossed the grenades at the lice-infested barracks, the ovens, the administration buildings.