All God's Children

by Anna Schmidt

  “Stand here,” a guard said and led them to a spot off to one side of a platform where the SS officer who had met their truck now conferred with another man—the man in charge by the looks of things. Then another soldier turned on a phonograph, and the music of a Strauss waltz sounded throughout the compound.

  The train huffed its way slowly along the siding, stopping in front of a barricade that marked the end of the track. The railway detail that had stood at attention facing the track now went into action, unlatching and sliding open the doors to five cattle cars. Beth watched in horror as dozens of men, women, and children pressed forward, squinting into the sunlight and accepting the helping hands of the BK as they leapt to the ground. Some of the men wore business suits. Some of the women wore coats trimmed in fur and hats with feathers or in one case a fashionable half veil. Some adults carried or held hands with a child.

  They all spoke at once, calling out to one another as families separated during the journey were reunited. They were told to leave their luggage where it was—it would be delivered later. Immediately they were herded away from the train to an open assembly area outside the administration building. The soldier guarding Beth and Josef and those they had arrived with indicated that they should follow.

  They wound their way through a barracks where they were told to deposit any hand luggage, purses, wallets, or papers that they might be carrying. At first the order was delivered as a polite request, but when a few resisted or questioned, they were pulled from the line and struck by a guard’s fists or the handle of a whip.

  Outside they came to another open area where an SS officer stood on a balcony above one of the buildings. The music had stopped. The man stepped to a microphone and called for silence.

  He seemed genial enough. He even smiled as he addressed the new arrivals. “Wilkommen,” he shouted, and the din quieted as all eyes turned to him. “I am SS-Oberscharführer Hermann Michel, and I wish to apologize for any inconvenience you may have suffered in your journey. I assure you that it is our intent to see that you get the rest you have earned as quickly as possible.”

  He appeared to be sincerely concerned for their welfare, and around her Beth saw several people visibly relax. She wondered at her inability to trust this man who certainly looked and sounded like someone who had their best interests at heart.

  “However, I regret to inform you that there has been an outbreak of typhus recently in the area, and since your new home here was constructed on what was originally a swamp, we cannot take chances. For this reason we have asked you to abandon your belongings, but be assured that the porters will take care of delivering them to you after you have showered and been properly disinfected.”

  Murmurs through the crowd. A baby howled. The officer frowned. “Please, be quiet so that we can get this done in as orderly a manner as possible. The way to freedom lies in your ability to follow orders and work hard. If you do that, you will live in peace with your families until the war is won.”

  Next he asked them to separate into two groups—women and children on one side and men and boys over the age of fourteen on the other. Beth saw some of the men from the railroad detail pushing a couple of large wooden luggage carts through the compound. The guards began selecting people who were elderly or disabled or just unable to walk and helping them onto the carts. She saw one old woman gently pat the cheek of her helper. The guard brushed her hand away and turned to help the next person.

  It broke Beth’s heart to see the way people clung to family members as next the guards stepped in and began shoving and prodding and shouting at them to follow the officer’s order.

  “Excellent,” the man standing on the roof said once the new arrivals stood in separate areas. “Now before you go, we need some volunteers for special assignments. Seamstresses, tailors, shoemakers, goldsmiths, mechanics?”

  A few hands went up. Men in SS uniforms moved up and down the masses of people, questioning each volunteer and then choosing a few to stand apart as she and Josef were.

  “Sehr gut,” the speaker said. “If you please…” He indicated that the women and children should proceed through yet another set of gates and down a long shaded path. Several of the women turned and waved to one or more of the men and boys waiting for their orders. Some of the smallest children skipped along or paused to pick up a stone. The carts carrying the infirm rumbled by, and last came the men and boys.

  Beth studied their faces—some resigned, others lined with terror, and a few glancing around, their expressions seeming to say that they could do this—it would not be so bad.

  “This way,” a guard ordered as the gates closed behind the last of the male prisoners. Behind them the railway detail was now delivering luggage and other belongings to one of the buildings nearby.

  It occurred to Beth that if the others were to be showered and disinfected, then why not those pulled aside as volunteers. She would ask Josef about that as soon as she got the chance.

  Josef and Beth had traveled through the night to reach their assigned prison, and Josef was bone weary, thirsty, hungry, and determined to figure a way out of this place. As the others were led away, a bell sounded followed by the guards blowing whistles as, from every part of the compound, prisoners came running. Intent on gathering as much information as possible, Josef studied his fellow inmates. The women were all wearing dresses—the kind of housedress women wore at home when tending to the usual household chores. Some of them wore aprons and kerchiefs over their hair, but it was apparent that they still had their hair. The officer had told the women being sent for showers that—with apology—their hair would need to be cut for hygienic reasons.

  As he and the others standing with him were shoved into the ranks, a guard ordered a man down the row from Josef to stand separate from the others and undress.

  “Do not react,” a voice behind Josef warned quietly. “And do not look away or show revulsion.”

  Josef did as he was told, but when the guard struck the man across his face because he was not undressing fast enough to satisfy the guard, Josef clenched his fists and made an involuntary move forward.

  “You’ll be shot,” the voice said.

  “Ukrainian bastard,” another man next to him muttered.

  The comment confirmed what Josef had been able to observe. The camp was run by a small contingent of SS men in charge of a larger group of Ukrainian soldiers—widely known to be even more brutal than their SS counterparts. Supporting both was a contingent of Jewish prisoners who had been given special status and privileges for their assistance in managing their fellow inmates.

  Once the prisoner was undressed, he stood facing his tormentor, his hands at his sides, leaving his nakedness visible to everyone. “Stand there,” the SS man growled, and then he turned to the others. “This man is accused of the crime of speaking out against our beloved Führer. For the benefit of our newest arrivals, let me be very clear about the punishment for such a crime.” He turned around, pulled a sidearm from its holster, and shot the man at point-blank range.

  Josef heard Beth gasp.

  “Back to work,” the man on the balcony shouted, and everyone scattered, running to their posts in various places around the yard.

  A guard grabbed Josef’s arm, pulling him away from the group.

  “No!” Beth’s protest rang out above the sounds of the others racing to their posts. The guard turned on her and raised his hand. He surely would have struck her had a man of obviously higher rank not stepped forward and stopped him. “Herr Doktor Buch?”

  Josef came to attention, but he did not offer the Hitler salute.

  “Ich bin Kommandant Franz Reichleitner,” the man said. He spoke to Josef as if the two of them were alone. “I hope your father is well?”

  “Ja. Danke, Kommandant.”

  The commandant turned his attention to Beth. “And this is your wife? The American?” He spoke to Josef in German but kept his eyes on Beth.

  She stood a little straighter and met h
is stare directly. “I am,” she replied in perfect German before Josef could say anything.

  “Schön,” the commandant said even as he signaled one of the prisoners designated as a Kapo, or prisoner with privileges and responsibilities, to step forward. “Take Frau Buch for processing and then on to the sorting house.” He turned back to Josef and indicated that Josef should walk with him as they followed Beth and the Kapo through yet another set of gates into a third compound.

  Here the Kapo took Beth inside one of three identical buildings while Josef and the commandant continued across the yard toward a small building with a cross on it. “Unfortunately your predecessor made a serious error in judgment,” Reichleitner said as they walked together. “He attempted to escape and had to be shot. I trust that you—and your wife—will be more gracious and appreciative when it comes to accepting our hospitality.”

  Without waiting for Josef to reply, the man opened the door to the small building. “I wanted to show you this place. It is the last stop for those who are so infirm that they have no possibility of recovery.”

  Josef stepped inside, and instead of the chapel he had expected, thinking the commandant was saying this was where the funerals were held, he saw that the room had been stripped of anything resembling a house of worship. Indeed the walls were scarred with bullet holes, and the floor was stained with blood.

  “Now then,” Reichleitner said, indicating that Josef should leave the house of God turned house of horrors, “as to your assignment, permit me to show you the way to the dispensary.”

  Josef followed the commandant back across the compound outside the administration building, past the tallest watchtower, and through yet another set of gates surrounded by more barbed wire. Along the way Reichleitner kept up a running commentary on the camp’s facilities. “Shoemaker for the guards, residence for female prisoners, kitchen, two barracks for male prisoners, painters’ shop, latrine, carpentry shop, mechanic shop, tailor, carpentry shop, shoemaker and tailor for the officers, and finally the dispensary. Welcome to Lager One,” he said.

  “Such lovely hair you have,” the Kapo said as he twisted a lock of Beth’s hair around his forefinger and gave it a hard yank. They were standing inside a warehouse filled with clothing precisely organized by category—children’s clothing, men’s suits, men’s hats, women’s blouses, women’s skirts, sweaters, and on and on. One entire end of the large room was a wall of suitcases, stacked one on top of the other.

  Just then one of the Ukrainian soldiers entered the building. He stood to one side as a female prisoner following him wordlessly searched Beth from head to toe—even going so far as to probe the inside of her mouth and other orifices of her body. Apparently satisfied that she had not smuggled in anything of interest, the guard nodded to the female prisoner, who scurried from the building. “Wait here,” he ordered.

  “But my husband—”

  The slap came out of nowhere and was followed by the guard’s hand wrapped around her throat. “Do not question me,” he hissed and then tossed her easily against a floor-to-ceiling shelf filled with shoes. Without another word he and the Kapo left the building.

  Beth tasted the blood from her split lip and grimaced with pain as she struggled to her feet. After a few minutes, she heard the measured sound of boots—one pair, heavy, slow. The person was taking his time. How she wished that Josef were with her—just his presence calmed her fears, although she fully understood that he could do little to protect her.

  The commandant entered the building followed by the Kapo, and he was actually smiling until he saw Beth’s face. “Was ist los?” he demanded, stepping closer to examine the cuts.

  “I fell.” Beth kept her eyes lowered, certain that this would be what was expected. “I tripped.” She had little doubt that the commandant knew she was lying, but behind him she saw the Kapo regard her with something approaching respect.

  Reichleitner frowned but held the door for her to precede him outside before heading for the next building. “Here in Lager Two we have storerooms for clothing, shoes, luggage, and other belongings,” he said as he opened the door to the next building. Inside several women busily sorted through clothing. Others were seated at sewing machines. Although they all must have heard the door open and certainly heard the commandant’s voice as he conducted his tour, not one of them looked up from the work.

  “Will this do, Frau Buch?” Reichleitner prompted as if asking for Beth’s approval of her assignment.

  She nodded. Did she have a choice?

  Reichleitner moved to a long table that held a typewriter and a thick ledger. “Frau Buch, can you manage die Schreibmaschine?”

  “I can type,” Beth replied quietly.

  “Anja!” Reichleitner did not shout. Indeed he barely raised his voice, yet one of the women working at a sorting table immediately dropped what she was doing and scurried to his side.

  Beth thought she must be seeing things when her friend stepped fully into view, but something in the look Anja gave her before turning to face the commandant told Beth that it would be dangerous to acknowledge they knew each other.

  “I have brought you a new assistant. It would appear that you are overwhelmed already, and we have a new shipment being delivered nearly every day now.” He glanced at the enormous pile of clothing and smiled.

  “Nein,” Anja protested. “That is, we can manage if this woman is needed elsewhere.”

  Reichleitner frowned, and Anja stopped talking. “She will work here. Perhaps you will be so kind as to orient Frau Buch?”

  Beth cringed at the way the man dished out orders in the form of requests—as if Anja had a choice and could refuse or suggest an alternative plan.

  “Kommen Sie,” Anja said sternly, taking Beth by the arm and leading her away. “I will show you.”

  As soon as the door closed behind Reichleitner, Beth and Anja fell into each other’s arms.

  “How?” Anja whispered as she studied Beth’s face and ran a light hand over her hair.

  The events of the last several days hit Beth like a tidal wave. She had no words. She just stood there, shaking her head as she clung to her friend.

  “Never mind,” Anja said, leading Beth to a high stool and urging her to sit while another woman brought a damp rag to tend to her cut. “Thank you, Lena,” Anja said, and the woman nodded and went back to her sewing. “I’ll introduce you to everyone later,” Anja said softly when she saw Beth glancing around, taking it all in.

  “Benjamin?”

  Anja shook her head and stared at the floor as she drew in a heavy sigh, let it out, and then faced Beth once again.

  “The children?” Not the children, she prayed.

  “Rachel…they…” Again the shake of her head and the sucking in of her breath as if to steady herself.

  “And Daniel as well?”

  To her surprise Anja smiled. “No, not Daniel. Remember the woman in red?”

  Beth nodded. From outside came the sound of footsteps on gravel, and Anja glanced anxiously toward the door. “I’ll explain later. He is safe…for now.”

  She led Beth to a table on which stood the typewriter, a ledger, and a small lamp. Beth saw one of the other workers standing at a window. She nodded to Anja and then hurried back to her work. The door opened, and an SS officer that Beth had not seen before walked in.

  Anja opened the ledger, pointed to a recent entry, and began berating Beth for her stupidity. “Nein,” she shouted, coming right up so that she locked gazes with Beth as she spewed words into her face. “Nothing is to be open and on the surface unless you are at the desk. You do not leave anything lying around, do you understand?”

  “I do,” Beth replied. “I apologize.” She took a step back.

  Anja dogged her. “Well?” she practically screamed the single word, and over her shoulder Beth saw the officer smile. “Can you write, or must I teach you that as well?” Anja demanded, thrusting the ledger from the desk into Beth’s hands.

  “My little
tiger,” the officer said fondly as he stroked Anja’s cheek with his manicured forefinger. He took his time walking slowly up and down the long room, observing the women at work. “Carry on, Kapo,” he said, smiling at Anja as he left the building.

  Again one of the others ran immediately to the window and watched. Finally she nodded, and the others all visibly relaxed even as they continued to work.

  “You are…you have agreed to…” Beth did not know how to express the shock she was feeling that Anja would ever willingly be party to doing work for the Nazis.

  “What choice did she have?” An older woman looked at Beth over the tops of a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. “What choice do you have now that you are here?”

  Several other women murmured their agreement.

  “I volunteered,” Anja explained. “At least that way I can perhaps help the others.”

  “She brings us extra rations,” a woman with ruddy cheeks and a kind face said.

  “And sometimes lets us choose a special piece of clothing,” a girl of no more than fifteen added with a shy smile.

  “I know it must be difficult for you to accept….”

  “No. I expect that before this is over I will find myself doing things I could never have imagined.” Beth walked to the window and stared out into the gathering dusk. She felt her hands tighten into clenched fists, and a moment later she was pressing her flattened palms against the window. “We have to get out of here.”

  “Impossible,” Anja said flatly. She explained about the intense security—a system of so-called lagers that she described as jails inside of other jails. “You saw the central watchtower and the others? Those guards have orders to shoot without asking questions first,” she explained. “Come on. They have one thing right, and that is that the work will make the time pass. The work will keep you safe.”

  The other women continued with their assignments while Anja showed Beth the system for sorting, cataloguing, and storing the clothing.