“Where are we going?” asked Isaac. The truck bounced down the graveled road and he glanced out the rear opening. The castle was silhouetted against a gray sky. He was glad to see it slowly disappear.
“The boss man, Herr Schwartz, says that his company is opening a facility near Buchenwald in Germany. They are tasked with servicing medical equipment for the military hospitals.”
“Have you repaired medical equipment before?” Isaac was curious to learn if he was the only one who exaggerated his accomplishments.
Abraham chuckled, “Me? No, I repaired farm equipment. I figured that was no key to survival.”
Isaac said quietly, “We shall have to help each other if we are to survive. Tell me what kind of a man is Herr Schwartz?” The short, neatly dressed man was their key to living. He wore a black fedora, had a small mustache lined under a somewhat protruding upper lip, a receding chin and round, wire framed spectacles.
Abraham shrugged, “I do not know much about him. He selected me from a camp near Lodz, thanks be to God. He seems to be a recruiter for his firm, Krupp, the munitions maker, or one of their divisions.”
“Recruiter? I don’t understand,” said Isaac, frowning.
“He travels around to all camps and asks questions, interviews people. He doesn’t care if we are Jews, Poles, Rom; he just wants people who will work well for his company. But I don’t think we are to make munitions.”
“Why do you say that?” Isaac was very curious now.
Abraham leaned forward, forearms braced on his thighs. “Anyone can work in a munitions plant. I was in a Krupp factory once. They employ lots of women. Small hands, gentler in assembling bullets and the like. I asked him if there were women where we are going and he said no.” He scratched his shaven head. “I think, perhaps, something new, something medical. Maybe X-ray machines or metal detectors. I really don’t know.”
The day slipped into night. The truck stopped several time for petrol. Herr Schwartz just showed a paper to a civilian petrol station operator or once at a military base and they were given immediate assistance. Twice the truck stopped, and food was handed into the rear by a driver, a gray suited, dour looking man with thinning hair combed across his shining pate. This was not thin gruel. There was a fat loaf of dark bread, a pat of butter on a square of newspaper, fat sausages, and a tin of strong tea.
The second time they received some pastry with chocolate frosting, while the tea tin was refilled with milk. Abraham reached beneath his seat and pulled out some metal cups, and they shared the food equally. Isaac ate ravenously, as did Lon and Yuri.
Isaac asked Abraham, “Are you not hungry? You eat slowly. Is there something wrong with the food?” He looked at his cup suspiciously.
Abraham laughed, “No, my young friend. I have been with Herr Schwartz for two days longer and have eaten well. If this is the last food I will get, I would like to savor it.”
He clapped Isaac on the shoulder, “But you go right ahead, enjoy. I expect that when we get to our destination, we will not see such food again.”
Evening came and they crossed back into Germany. In a small town the truck pulled into a street lined with shops and gasthouses.
Mr. Schwartz stepped behind the truck and addressed the men. “I am going to stay for the night in this small hotel. They have a garage in back converted from a stable. I will instruct the innkeeper to bring you food and allow you to sleep there. My apologies, but I am not allowed to bring you inside into decent rooms.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Abraham said, bobbing his head.
The driver drove through an alley and swung behind the buildings. The men climbed out stiffly and stretched. They’d been seated in the rear of the truck for nearly eight hours. The driver opened the garage doors, swinging them wide. The light reached the farthest reaches of the spacious building. There was a stack of old mattresses against the wall on the right. Beside them was a box that contained blankets. Isaac lifted an eyebrow to the driver who nodded. “I would house you Jews in a pigpen if it was up to me, but Herr Schwartz must have a soft spot for you swine.” With that, he spun on his heel and stalked out.
Abraham said, “We must avoid that one. I am not sure, but I think he does not like us.”
The four men dragged mattresses out and Lon distributed the blankets. Later, a man from the hotel kitchen brought out a covered dish with bratwurst and boiled potatoes, and a large tin pot filled with beer.
The men slept well and were ordered back into the truck just past dawn. Herr Schwartz stood by while each man climbed into the rear, inquiring as to his health and comfort. Each man nodded and smiled.
All day long they traveled again, sometimes pulling over to allow heavily armed military convoys to pass. Finally they came to a group of large buildings surrounded by a high wire fence with soldiers guarding at the gate. They checked Herr Schwartz’s documents and waved the truck through.
They drove past the large buildings and around the rear to a smaller one. The truck halted and Herr Schwartz alighted and came to the rear once again. “You men will be billeted with the other workers. I have no control of that either. I have instructed the guards that they are not to harm you, but you must understand, I have no control of that also. I can only protect you when you are inside this building.” He swept his hand back and pointed. “Inside this building we are going to make history. Please do not allow yourselves to be killed or injured. Now, please follow me.”
He led them into the building, which was larger than it appeared from the front. Lon and Abraham followed Yuri into a smaller room in the rear. They passed rows of tables and shelves laden with all sorts of equipment, some of which Isaac recognized – microscopes, centrifuges, lots of beakers and test tubes and petri dishes. This place was a warehouse, as well as a repair facility.
“This is my office and workshop,” Dr. Schwartz said. He turned and said sternly, “You will only come in here by my invitation.” He closed the door and said in a low voice to the four men, “When military men or Gestapo or even some of my medical colleagues are here, you understand that I may have to speak harshly to you and call you names.” He looked uncomfortable, shifting his small frame from foot to foot.
Isaac put a hand on his shoulder, “We understand, sir. If you will help protect us, we will help you as best we can.” He waved a hand at the other three, “We are all capable of repairing the medical equipment, of course, with some training.”
“Ya, ya,” he replied.
“But Herr Doctor, why did you select us?” I was confused. “You must have your pick of any mechanics or repairmen in all of Germany. Why us?”
“I will tell you the truth. All the free mechanics have been appropriated by the war effort. Forgive me, but you men are now prisoners, unpaid workers. Those buildings out front? They are for fabricating aircraft parts, engines, wing sections, bombsights, and the like. I get you for nothing. You know that main camp at Buchenwald?”
The men nodded; they had heard rumors. The camp had existed since 1937 and was used to house first political prisoners, next homosexuals, then Jehovah’s Witnesses, ex-convicts, Jews, and anyone else the Party considered anti-Nazi.
At first these concentration camps were just large prisons, but soon the government considered feeding the prisoners a waste of money. They cut rations and began setting up workshops and then factories. The enemies of the state were worked long hours with little sustenance, housed in wretched quarters and speedily replaced when they died. Of course, many of the guards were cruel. They abused and killed prisoners for the least reason or for no reason at all. They had been taught for many years in the military, in schools, and in newspapers and radio that all Jews were sub- human. Since homosexuals could not produce Aryan children, they had to be eliminated, as well as Gypsies ̶ known as Roma – people who were openly anti-Nazi, and other “anti-social” personnel.
After Dr. Schwartz showed them around the warehouse and work areas, they were fed in a small kitchen area near his off
ice. It was only a stew with some bread, but there were vegetables and even pieces of meat. They drank water from one of the many taps over porcelain sinks.
“Tomorrow we will begin work. You, Isaac, number 5133890, will be instructed in the repair of some of the more delicate equipment. Lon and Abraham, you will be responsible for stocking the shelves when deliveries are made, and requests are issued from various surrounding buildings and companies for supplies, ya?” He looked all around and smiled.
“What about me, Herr Doctor?” asked Yuri. He was the quiet one, yet he was strong and fluent in Czech and Russian.
“You, Yuri, will make deliveries to these buildings. Always with a guard. You will also pick up broken equipment and take the orders from the people at the other factories.”
Yuri just nodded. Isaac could tell he didn’t like this. Herr Dr. Schwartz’s building was safe, he thought. Going out there was a risk. Yuri liked to avoid risks when he could.
“It is almost time for you to go to your sleeping barracks. I do not know what the conditions are like there. I have never been into those places. I hope you will be safe. I have heard that the food, what little there is of it, is horrible. I will attempt to obtain extra food for you, but it will not be easy.” Dr. Schwartz was clearly uncomfortable about what he was doing for and with them.
Later, Goff, the driver, made them walk to the workingman’s barracks. From the outside, it looked like it had been a garage. It smelled of old oil, diesel fuel, and urine. As they got closer the stench of urine began to overpower the other smells.
Goff opened the door and shoved them inside before slammed it closed. Isaac waited a few minutes for his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. Yuri, Lon and Abraham stood beside him. Finally, they were able to focus on the horrific scene before them.
The garage was filled with racks of pallets formed into cubes, three men to a cube. But could they still be called men? They were thin, malnourished, gaunt, and blank eyed. The nearest men looked up with only mild interest. It was an effort for them just to hold their heads up.
The four walked to the rear and found an empty cube. It seemed larger than the others and was waist high. Below them, three men reposed. To say they slept would have been an exaggeration. They lay as if dead, hollowed eyes open and mouths open. In the morning when Isaac climbed down he found the three were indeed dead.
It was just light, barely illuminating the grimy windows. Near his ear, a voice whispered, “Soon, they come.”
Isaac turned and asked, “Who?” He looked into another gaunt face. The man’s head was shaved and his ears stuck out. His smile held no teeth.
“The guards. Soldiers. Bad men.” Some drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth. “Soon you will look like us.” He cackled.
The door at the front flew open all the way and several large soldiers with rifles swarmed in, “Schnell! Schnell! Everyone up and out!’ They walked down the aisles banging sticks against the wooden cribs. When a man didn’t move quickly enough, he received the blunt end of the stick across his face, neck, back, or arm.
The men shuffled out, some holding others up, staggering under the weight. Isaac, Yuri, Lon and Abraham fell into line. A burly guard shoved Abraham who covered his head with his arms. This got him a thump on the shoulder, numbing it. Finally they were outside in the pre-dawn dampness, lining up shoulder to shoulder. The men formed into long ranks, five lines deep and the guards counted them. They came up seven short. One of the guards called from inside the stinking garage, “Five dead here. Two unable to walk.”
One uniformed guard, obviously the man in charge nodded at the one in the doorway. Two or three seconds later, two shots were heard.
Fortunately, the four newcomers had inserted themselves into the center of the lineup. Two guards dispatched seven men from the rear to return to the barracks. They came out a few minutes later dragging corpses, the guards screaming and striking at them. They were ordered to stack the bodies in front of the barracks ̶ someone would come for them later.
After standing in the morning gloom for more than an hour, they were herded into a small room with rough tables and benches. They were shoved into a line and shuffled past a cook with a large pot. He ladled a thin gruel into their tin bowls and they dipped their cups into a tub of water. This was to be their morning and evening meal. It was no wonder that the men looked like scarecrows. They were literally being worked to death.
A guard separated the four newcomers and escorted them to their work stations. He was not one of the more brutal guards, though he occasionally shoved one or the other of them. His attempts at roughness were half-hearted, though, more as if he were afraid someone was watching, than if he was being a tough soldier. They crowded into the building thye seem the night before. After getting a nod from Dr. Schwartz, the guard left them there.
That day, they were shown their duties. As trucks pulled up to a large set of garage doors, Lon and Abraham unloaded them, and were shown where to place the boxes after unpacking them. Later, they prepared shipments to be picked up. Dr. Schwartz walked through the rows of shelves indicating which items were to be packaged and where they were to be shipped. He showed them the packing slips and how to mark the boxes. Eventually they were just handed the slips of paper. Because they were bright and quick, they soon handled all of the shipping and receiving.
Most of the goods were medical supplies for the garrisons’ sick bays and hospitals. There was little if anything allocated for the prisoners.
Meanwhile, Dr. Schwartz showed Isaac how to disassemble some of the inoperative or damaged medical equipment. There were centrifuges, scales, the occasional X-ray machine, and various ventilators and other operating room machinery. Isaac caught on quickly and in a week, he was able to service the machinery with very few questions for the doctor.
Though the doctor was a good man, his driver, Goff, was a surly, mean individual. When the doctor was not in the building, he punched and berated the prisoners. When trucks came in, he ordered the guards to mistreat the Jews ̶ the vermin, as he called them. Some of the guards enjoyed this and considered it entertainment. Abraham, the larger and stockier of the two, tried to shield the slighter Lon. Naturally, this got him beaten more often.
Often Dr. Schwartz would berate Lon for talking back to the guards. “Can you not just unload the trucks without talking to the guards?”
Isaac tried to tell the doctor what Goff was doing and what he was like, but the doctor was adamant; “Goff has been with me for years. He couldn’t be like that. Now, get back to work, Jew.”
Later that night, while the four were in their crib, Isaac whispered, “We have to get rid of Goff or he will get us all killed.”
“Ya,” agreed Abraham. “I don’t know how many more beatings I can take for this mensch.” He clapped Lon on the shoulder.
Lon snorted, “If my wife knew I was sleeping with you each night, she’d kill me.”
That threw a pall over the conversation.
Abraham said, much subdued, “If we could get him in here, we could smother him and dress him in these rags. The guards don’t care. They would just dispose of him.”
“Let us work on that. If we can insure the doctor goes away for one day and night, we may be able to hatch a plan.”
The next morning, as was the custom, the men were aroused by the guards and mustered out in the courtyard. The dead were brought out and the count began. While the guards were counting, two scarecrow men slipped to their knees. Beside them, their companions attempted to raise them to their feet. One guard, a corporal named Herman, screamed at the men to leave them. He swiftly kicked them and shoved them back into place.
“Back! Back, Juden!” he screamed, and the spittle flew from his mouth. The two weak men slumped to the ground. Herman glanced at the officer in charge who nodded curtly. Without a moment’s hesitation, he drew a Walther P-38 pistol from his belt and shot both men in their heads. Pow, pow. Some of the men flinched, and Herman whirled to see whom he coul
d shoot next.
The officer waited for a count of ten, and then softly blew a whistle. “Enough, Herman.”
They were dismissed, and a young guard escorted them to their work. Isaac took a chance and asked the guard, “This corporal, Herman, he is from Munich, no?”
The guard frowned, “Ya, nearby, he says. His family runs an abattoir there. He says he loved the killing. He is a scary man.” He looked over his shoulder, “Do not fall down, Jude, or show weakness. He will kill you, and if the Captain orders any of us to do so, we will also.”
That day, during a lull in the repair work, Isaac picked up a pencil and, using the rear of a work order, sketched a picture of Dr. Schwartz. The thinning hair, small moustache and slightly double chin, which he minimized. He was engrossed and didn’t hear the Doctor come up behind him.
“Vas is los?” the doctor asked.
Isaac handed the sheet to him.
“You did this?”
“Yes, Herr Doktor. Do you like it?” Isaac actually liked the older man. He had been bringing the prisoners extra food to supplement the meager rations they received each morning and evening at the garage barracks. Because of the unique nature of the medical supply repair facility and warehouse, the doctor was not required to eat at the officer’s mess hall. He often did eat there but was allowed to take food with him, fruit, sandwiches, and even baked goods. Most of these he shared with his four workers and sometimes with Goff.
Goff resented every bite the four took. He was convinced that the Jews had ruined Germany after the Great War. He believed all the propaganda on the Reich’s radio, the posters plastered on walls, the speeches, and the actions of the military SS guards.
A week later, Dr. Schwartz was called to a military hospital at the SS base in Buchenwald. He informed the men that he would be gone for two or three days.
“You will continue your duties. I am leaving Goff in charge. He will bring you what food he can from the mess hall.”
Long Lost Brother Page 6