My argument was that it would be a much more acceptable than the Lebensborn or Fount of Life initiated by the SS in 1935 with the goal of raising the birth rate of Ayran children of persons classified as racially pure and healthy. The regime encouraged anonymous births by unmarried women at their maternity homes and facilitated adoption of these children by SS members and their families. They could rightly say that the children were theirs. Clauberg’s answer came back as an enthusiastic ‘Yes’.
You may ask how Nadine remained hidden until the experiment. Well, we Jews have been hiding from the regime in a lot of cases right in front of their noses, dangerous but true. The first day, I put her in a nurse’s uniform that had become available. The previous owner of it befell what would undoubtedly become Nadine’s fate one day if I didn’t intervene. They were all ‘volunteers’ from the camp so no questions arose as they were potentially living on borrowed time.
Here I have to get technical about what I did, Jonny Wightman. I removed three of the eggs I’d taken during the autopsy from the liquid nitrogen storage and placed them under the microscope. I removed the nucleus from all three. I already suspected that genes were known to be the discrete units of heredity. They also generated the enzymes which controlled metabolic functions. I knew there was something else involved that made it all work but what I didn’t know then was that DNA was that elusive element.
It was me, Solomon Isaac, who took the massive leap into the dark, born of trust in my theories and the unusual wherewithal to carry them out.
On Clauberg’s orders, I had collected semen samples from SS Officers including the camp commandant, Lieutenant Colonel Rudolf Hoss. These were frozen until ready. Clauberg was totally unaware of the true nature of my experiment, but as others were involved at his insistence, I had to keep him fully appraised of the artificial insemination progress. Unusually, he had been very cooperative in making sure that Nadine and several other female volunteers, received a good healthy diet prior to the operation, but then, if it worked, he’d be receiving another plaudit from on high for his work.
I had been spending time on other matters for Mengele during this time most of them in the post-mortem chamber looking at grossly contorted faces from the nauseatingly unnecessary and for the recipients excruciatingly painful procedures. I was required to preserve and pack for dispatch to Berlin the organs for further research following the experiments. It was an awful experience and one I will never be able to erase from my mind, only time has blurred some of the images, Jonny Wightman.
I spent as much time as I could with Nadine. I came to cherish those moments. If I were honest, I think I began to fall in love with her. In some ways, she reminded me of Roberta Bron, especially as her eyes began to sparkle as her body started to recover. Nadine was very insecure and had told me what had happened to her parents and that she never wanted to return to Russia. You must remember, Jonny Wightman, that we both realised from the hushed words of new arrivals that the war was beginning to be lost by Germany but in the panic that would undoubtedly follow, where would we be?
Chapter 22
Auschwitz Poland
By January 1945, it became clear that the Nazi regime was being cleared from eastern Europe and retreating towards Germany. By the 17 January Mengele and his notes disappeared from Auschwitz. Panic set in and the German SS began a murder spree shooting the sick, blowing up the crematoria, the bath houses, and as much evidence of the holocaust as they could hide.
An unreal silence descended on Auschwitz. There was no chatter from the birds. They had flown years ago disgusted by the smoke and the smell. Inmates unused to the lack of barked orders were wondering heads down lost in their own misery.
As soon as I realised that me, Nadine and our baby were free, we wandered around stepping over skeletal bodies where life had once been, through the stench of blue smoke rising lazily from the smouldering ruins of former killing ovens now bent and twisted by the explosions that had taken place over the last few days. We carefully climbed the threshold of several huts and I searched the faces of bewildered men gaunt from hunger and too weak to smile. My father wasn’t where he should be. I panicked, pulling up the blankets as I raced along the hut. We’d been through so much, I could believe he hadn’t survived. Tears cascaded down my face. At the end of the first tier of bunks in the fourth hut, hidden under a lice-ridden blanket appeared a face, my father. I lowered my head and slowly lifted him, with the shallow embrace, his face lit up.
‘Solomon, my son.’ He was so very weak I thought the sight of me would kill him. I nodded and held him a little tighter, taking the bottle of water and sugar from my pocket and held it to his lips. Most of the liquid dribbled over his stubbled chin, but he revived a little and his shrunken eyes looked at Nadine and her blanket swaddling the little baby. A puzzled look crossed his face as Nadine showed him the baby’s face for the first time. He looked into the eyes of the child. It took him back to the first day he picked me up in the hospital In Munich.
‘Sorry, Dad, what did you say?’
His father mumbled again, ‘He looks like you, many years ago.’
‘Dad. He’s your grandson. This is his mother, my wife to be, Nadine.’
My father straightened up as if his heart had started to beat properly for the first time in years. More sugared water passed his lips as he held the bottle in his withered hands. His strength appeared to return. He held up his hands to Nadine’s face and stroked it gently and said very quietly, ‘Thank you, my dear.’
Over the next few hours, we all searched for my mother. We came across a group of women wandering around and in their midst, I saw my mother. A sign of recognition passed over her eyes and she stumbled forward from within the group and we all collapsed on the frozen ground that had witnessed so many deaths. There was no strength left to shed tears.
On the 27 January, into the compound rolled several Russian tanks and a convoy of trucks, what confronted them were seven thousand starving skeletons, dead bodies strewn for all to see and hundreds of thousands of women’s dresses, men’s suit and shoes of all sizes from little infants to grown men. Even I had never seen this side of the camp.
As I looked around me, it was becoming obvious that our ordeal had not ended with the opening of the gates.
Jonny put down the manuscript and rubbed his eyes. When was this meeting? He picked up the covering letter. Looked at the date and wondered when Solomon would contact him again. He had no idea where he was staying. I like the guy wherever he is, he thought to himself.
He retrieved the next page and started to read.
The phone rang. Jonny Wightman put down the papers under the footwell of his desk. He’d come back to them later…….
Chapter 23
Katowice Poland 1945
Jonny poured himself another coffee and picked up more pages of `Stealing the Staircase’ manuscript. Solomon was right when he said it needed Jonny’s writing skills as the writing moved from first to third person, every so often. Perhaps, Solomon moved from one to the other when things changed in his mind from being very personal to more about others. It didn’t matter at this point.
**
Just before the Russians liberated the camp, the Nazis rounded up as many of the fittest inmates as they could to take back to Germany to work, but with a camp this large and in such chaos it was easy for some to hide. The Isaacs had managed to evade the route march out of the camp towards Germany and watched helplessly as tens of thousands under SS guard disappeared through the gates. Once it was clear that there were no more SS soldiers around, he attended to the sick and infirm who remained within the barbed wire compounds. Some food, medicines and dressings remained and were made use of by tending those who clearly had a good chance of survival. They were all gathered together in one block and received extra food. They were suffering in the main from starvation, sickness, loss of body fat and severe weight loss.
This field hospital was within days supplemented by the Polish Red Cross
and many doctors and nurses from nearby Krakow. Solomon Isaacs continued to work helping the children whilst his parents became hospital volunteers, delivering water, washing patients, preparing meals and cleaned the rooms
On the cold grey morning of the 30 January when through the open gates of Auschwitz, shuffled the Isaacs family and Nadine Rekova carrying a grey blanket swaddling the baby. All were clutching blankets tightly around their skeletal frames. The wind from the East had died a little as they walked away from hell towards main highway out passed the piles of the frozen bodies of those who hadn’t survived.
The Isaacs had been checked by the Russian NKVD, as the KGB were formerly known, then given certificates of their captivity in the camp allowing them to travel. They also received papers from the local Polish administration. They had eaten well that morning as they headed west. They did not realise that, as the war was still ongoing in the central region, their next home was a transit camp in Katowice.
It was on the third day that two soldiers came looking for Solomon Isaacs. They found him sitting by a table scribbling furiously with a pencil, notes of his experiences of the past three years.
‘What is your name?’ barked one of the soldiers.
The sight of the British Army uniforms surprised but heartened Solomon. He stood up and bowed his head and told them.
‘Come with us and bring those notes.’
Solomon stumbled into line followed by the second soldier. He was led into a small drab room. Seated at the desk in front of him was an officer inspecting various photographs. Solomon was ordered to sit and hand over the papers. The officer, who had introduced himself as Captain Campbell, started to inspect them carefully. He obviously spoke and read German fluently. He looked up and his blue eyes pierced the air between them. Campbell scanned the scribbled notes again and instantly knew the man in front of him was `intelligence gold dust’.
‘So, you are Solomon Isaacs. You worked at Auschwitz for two and a half years in the medical centre and hospital.’
It was not a question but was said with some menace that Solomon could not understand.
‘Who are these men?’
Three photographs were being swivelled around so Solomon could see them, instantaneously Solomon recognised the camp Commandant, Rudolf Hoss, Dr Carl Clauberg and Medical Superintendent, Josef Mengele and told the Captain.
The interview continued for several hours. Solomon answered all the questions with rapid details that Captain Campbell found both astounding and disturbing.
‘I want you to go away and write everything you can remember with descriptions, times, dates. Anything,’ ordered the Captain.
‘Am I a prisoner again, Captain?’
‘Certainly not, you are helping the Allies and this British officer to bring these criminals to justice.’
‘May I make a request so that I can help without the worry of my family?’
The Captain was unused to being looked at so passionately. He nodded.
‘I would like better resting conditions for my family with better food if I am of help to you capture these criminals.’ He hesitated then continued and ‘I would like someone to listen to me and take notes more quickly than I can write. This may save you a great deal of time.’
Again, the Captain nodded. In the meantime, he would rearrange life for the Isaacs family that day. He would also order his counterpart in intelligence gathering in Munich to uncover as much information about Herr Isaacs and his family and particularly the son, Solomon.
Chapter 24
Katowice Poland 1945
Solomon Isaacs stood in front of the stenographer, his shoulders back and started to pace the room.
‘Ready?’
The stenographer nodded her head.
‘Mengele was fascinated with twins. His face came alive and the death mask gave way to a more animated expression. One day, he beckoned me over as he knew me from Munich University that I was fascinated with genetics. We became for a fleeting moment two doctors with a scientific goal. There was a tender touch to his hands that I had not seen before.
‘He became fanatical when he drew blood from both pairs. He told me he had found 14 pairs of Gypsy twins. In fact, they had been rounded up by the SS guards from all sections of the Auschwitz complex.
‘One morning when I returned from my barrack, I was intrigued to see that he had placed two of the identical twins on his polished marble table and had put the to sleep. There was a smell of chloroform in the air. They lay there peaceful in their ignorance, these gentle beings who had not even lived more than a few years and had trusted the gentle touch of Mengele and the luxury of a handful of sweets.
‘As he injected a large dose of chloroform into their hearts, I stood rigid. I was too shocked to utter any cry of pain as he began dissecting and meticulously noting each and every piece of the twins’ bodies.
The stenographer looked up at Solomon, horror in her eyes. He waited before describing experiments to change eye colour, artificially conjoining bodies to create Siamese twins. Almost all of the experiments ended with the disposal of the little corpses in the crematorium.
‘There was such a veil of secrecy that Mengele was able to carry out these crimes unchecked over the time I was in the camp.’
Solomon Isaacs held his hands to his head as he described some experiments he witnessed and gave detailed accounts to the stenographer. Tears streaming down her face. Graphic details of injection of lethal germs, sex change operations, incestuous impregnations, removal of limbs and organs, every experiment was logged over the next few days.
There was one subject and series of experiments that Solomon kept strictly to himself, hidden deep in the memory of himself and Nadine.
After the third day of dictation, Solomon was asked to attend a meeting of several officers from the armies of Britain, America, Soviet Union and Poland. His evidence had been distributed amongst the Intelligence corps of each army. An alert for the apprehension of Dr Josef Mengele was sent to all.
Solomon had seen Mengele leave Auschwitz disguised as a regular German infantryman. He told them that rumours had spread that he was travelling to the Gross-Rosen work camp. This was early February 1945. Unknown to those in Katowice, Mengele had been captured as a POW and held in Munich. He was then released by the allies as they had no idea that he was in their midst.
Solomon Isaacs remarkable ability to recall events and faces, led eventually to the capture and execution of ten members of the extermination camps at Auchzwich-Birkenau. Two of those identified by Solomon Isaacs were fellow Jews, Gurt and Elsie Heidmann, who were eventually detained by the British.
In return for his cooperation, Solomon, Nadine, baby Stewart and the Isaacs seniors were granted travelling visas to England. Solomon was to report in due course once Captain Campbell had finished his intelligence work in Europe at the University of London, Kings College, where Campbell had been a research doctor before he was seconded into military intelligence in 1939. In the meantime, they’d be looked after by the British Army refugee office.
Chapter 25
Pembrokeshire West Wales 1955
Olga stood by the window looking out at the green pastures beyond the small garden of her cottage lost in what might have been, had her brother survived the blitz. Avyar was now just thirteen years old and about to sit his common entrance exams for senior school. His adaptation to life in England had been easy, especially here away from the destruction in London and the massive clear up operation, he knew nothing else, but for Olga it was one of hurdle after hurdle as she struggled to deal life in England alone, save for him.
It had started when she realised that no-one had done anything to search 14 Lansdown Road and bury her brother and family. It’s a matter for the Council, Florrie had told her. You better go and talk to them.
With Florrie by her side as moral support and as translator if things got too technical, they sat in front of Mr Greenhurst. He explained that the Council staff were overworked and short o
n the ground and often relied on help for local residents and the Home Guard. He’d see what he could do. He also showed them both what Prime Minister Winston Churchill had said last year to the newspapers.
Florrie read the editorial headline out loud to Olga.
‘On the way back in my train I dictated a letter to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Kingsly Wood, laying down the principle that all damage from the fire of the enemy must be a charge upon the state and compensation be paid in full and at once. Thus, the burden would not fall alone on those whose homes or business premises were hit but would be borne evenly on the shoulders of the nation. Those so affected should make their claim to the Exchequer.’
‘Well that’s a start, eh, Olga.’
‘Any idea what the payment is Mr Greenhurst ‘cos this lady has nowt?’
‘Not really, we haven’t had much call in these parts. My boss said he thought it was somewhere around a hundred pounds.’
Two days later, Florrie and Olga stood in the road as an old flatbed lorry and four men assembled with two Home Guard volunteers in front of the ruins of number 14.
‘Better not stay here, luv. Maybe things you’d better not to see, when we start to look underneath this lot.’
It had started as a cloudy dull morning, but as the lorry filled with debris the sun came out as they looked on.
‘Florrie, you get back to the shop. I’ll be all right here. Can you thank Mrs Ogsby for looking after Avyar and tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
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