"What is his cabin?"
“C-112."
"We are two days from America. I say we take him tonight."
"I agree. What shall we do?"
The men made their plan. The only part needing special attention was the woman who would most likely be inside Vernich's cabin when they knocked on the door.
At two o'clock in the morning, Lodzi was still awake, and he found Rajski's pallet in the dark room and shook him awake.
"Quiet, it is time."
Together the two men silently left the room and stepped outside into the passageway. They passed beneath the dim lights down to the ladders. They climbed up one deck and entered the passageway to C deck. They crept along the dim hallway, squinting at the faded numbers on each door, until at last they located 112. Rajski unscrewed the light bulbs closest to the door so the men would be standing in the dark when the door was opened. Lodzi knocked softly on the door. A voice inside called out, “Go away! It's the middle of the night!"
"It's the steward," Lodzi growled through the door. "The captain has sent me to talk to you."
"That's nonsense, the captain doesn't even know I'm alive."
"I have something for you. It's a gift from the captain himself. All men from the camps are getting one."
A full minute ticked by. Then Lodzi and Rajski heard scratching at the door on the other side. The lock was being slid open, and then the handle turned. Lodzi put his shoulder to the door, and shoved inside. It was still dark in the room. There appeared to be two figures there, and the intruders had no doubt the one standing before them was Vernich himself. He was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else. The two men seized his arms and dragged him into the hallway.
"We’ll take him to the other end," said Rajski.
The men seized Vernich under the arms and dragged him down the passageway. At the far end, they pressed the button for the freight elevator. A minute later the doors slid open and they dragged Vernich inside. They ascended quickly and opened the doors at the main deck. All lights were off, and they easily dragged Vernich to the stern without being noticed. There, they stood him up in the moonlight. Now he could see their faces, and his eyes widened in fear.
"You!" Vernich cried.
"Did you really think no one would ever find you?" said Lodzi. "Did you really think you would not be recognized?"
"I have done nothing wrong," said Vernich. "What do you want with me?"
"You know why we have come for you, said Rajski.
"You collaborated with the SS," said Lodzi. "Because of you, Shemel Lieberman was taken away and murdered."
"You are wrong. Lieberman was my friend. I have no idea what you're talking about."
"And now you are a liar, too," said Rajski. "Why don't you just tell us the truth?"
Lodzi looked deep into Vernich's eyes. He saw the fear and he saw the guilt. The man's face was twisted in a silent scream. He knew what was coming, and he knew he was powerless against it.
"Please," said Lodzi. "Tell us why you did this."
Vernich's eyes clouded over and tears began running down.
"I was scared. I was afraid to die. I would do anything to live."
"We were all scared. We were all afraid to die. But there are certain things we wouldn't do. Collaborating with the SS was something none of us would dream of doing. Only you, Vernich, and for that you must pay."
He was sobbing now. "What are you going to do with me?"
"We think you know."
Lodzi and Rajski exchanged a look. Clearly they were in agreement. Without another word, they seized Vernich and lifted him above the railing.
"You confess that you collaborated?"
Vernich cried out, “By all that is holy, I swear I did not collaborate!"
"If you deny it, you will leave us no choice but to throw you overboard," said Lodzi.
"All right! All right! I'll do it! I confess that I collaborated with the Nazis!"
Suddenly Rajski released his grip on the squirming man's body. Now the man was dangling by the one arm Lodzi still grasped.
"No!" cried Lodzi. "Vengeance is not ours to have!"
"But you said we must kill him. It is too late."
"We were wrong! Please help me!"
Rajski took a step back. "Tell that to poor Shemel Lieberman."
"I am losing him! Please help me, Rajski," Lodzi pleaded. But Rajski moved further away.
Rajski spat, “I won't forgive. If it were up to me, I would have thrown him overboard when I first laid eyes on him."
Lodzi closed his eyes and pulled Vernich's arm with all the strength he had. But the year in the SS camp had drained away most of his strength.
"I can't do this. I am losing my grip."
Vernich was sweeping his arm, attempting to grab the stern rail. The harder he swung for it, the less firmly Lodzi clasped his arm. Finally, Lodzi pleaded with Rajski. But Rajski simply turned away. "Do what you will," he said, and began walking away.
At which point, Lodzi lost his grip and Vernich fell into the sea. He disappeared instantly. The prop wash dragged him under. In the inky black of the night, it was the last anyone saw of him. Lodzi was still leaning over the rail, his hand swiping at the air. Rajski returned and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Come away," Rajski said. "There was nothing you could do. He was a dead man the day he first cooperated with Heiss."
"I was wrong. We had no right to murder him. Now we are as bad as the SS."
"Nonsense. We didn't start this horror. We only fought back. And we are only just beginning."
Lodzi looked at his friend. He realized he was alone, there was no God to judge him. Still, deep down he believed it was wrong to kill. He would have been justified to kill the SS and Ukrainians when they were murdering his fellows, when they were being brutally whipped. But this was peacetime. There was no war upon which murder could be rationalized. He shuddered and felt the bumps rise along his arms and shoulders. He realized the Jews were not finished yet. They still had a failed Europe. As for Lodzi and Rajski, they still had the problem downstairs in Vernich's room.
"What about the woman?" said Lodzi. "She will tell the authorities."
"I will take care of her," said Rajski. "You return to your bed."
"I can't let you do that alone. It is my responsibility, too."
"No. This one is mine alone."
"What will you do with her?"
"I will make the problem go away," said Rajski.
Lodzi returned to his bed and instantly fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, they didn't speak of the woman. They would never speak of her again.
One day later, they were five miles off the coast of New York, when they spied land.
It was done. They had reached their new home. Now it was up to them, and them alone. The Germans and the camps were just a dream, and that dream was now behind them.
It was a new day and a new start.
Book 2
Chapter Ten
IMMIGRATION
Lodzi and Rajski strode down the platform connecting ship to dock. They were both smiling in the bright sunlight of the clear New York City morning, surrounded by hundreds of Jews just like them. Their belongings were very few; an entire family would have maybe two suitcases and those two would contain everything they owned. For Lodzi and Rajski, each man had a small sea bag, which contained all his earthly possessions.
Within minutes, the swarm of immigrants had moved off the platform and Lodzi felt his feet touch American soil. Without knowing he would do so, he fell to his knees and kissed the ground. Rajski stood apart from him watching with no small dismay.
"You are thinking this place is everything," said Rajski. "I sincerely hope you are not disappointed."
At water's edge, they found a man with a cart selling beef hot dogs. Neither man had ever eaten such a thing, and with a nod the two friends decided to splurge. The street vendor aligned the frankfurters on the long buns, and indicated the two men shou
ld help themselves to the condiments. They looked puzzled, and the vendor, who was accustomed to dealing with immigrants, showed them how to spread mayonnaise and mustard and relish and onions along the bun.
The men chewed slowly, savoring, and looked around.
Ellis Island was located in Upper New York Bay between New York and New Jersey, which was meaningless to Lodzi and Rajski, as they knew very little about New York, and knew even less about New Jersey. Before Ellis Island opened, over eight million immigrants arriving in New York had been processed through the Castle Garden Immigration Depot in lower Manhattan, just across the bay. That processing center was closed down and Ellis Island was fully operational when Lodzi and Rajski first set foot there.
The men paused outside the building with the other thousand Jews who had arrived that day, and surveyed what lay before them. They saw an inspection station designed in French Renaissance revival style and built of red brick with limestone trim. As they stood outside and waited their turn to be processed, the two friends watched a separate line, composed of men who were in handcuffs and leg chains. They would later find these were German merchant sailors who had been detained for suspicion of spying, sabotage, and other fifth column activity.
The two friends made their way inside the building. They immediately found themselves separated into two of eleven lines being processed by the United States Public Health Service. The staff was examining the immigrants.
The staff was uniformed, and for several minutes Lodzi flashed-back to the uniforms of the extermination camp. A cold sweat broke out on his body. But as he watched, he could see that the uniformed people were actually very courteous, smiling, and were treating the new arrivals quite differently than what he had seen in Poland.
The examination lasted all of six seconds. Symbols were chalked on the clothing of potentially sick immigrants and these were diverted into an area of more lengthy examination. The doctors would look at the immigrants climbing the stairs from the baggage area to the Great Hall. They were being studied for difficulties in getting up the staircase. Some immigrants were surreptitiously wiping chalk marks off as Lodzi watched, and some were even turning their clothes inside out. At the top of the stairs, Lodzi watched those who had done so become guided back into the main lines with him and the others that had not been found to be ill or medically needy. In such a way, many people who would otherwise have been rejected made their way into the United States.
After Lodzi had been processed through, he came to a door on the south side of the building, and pushed through. He found himself in a huge fenced enclosure, in the company of hundreds of other immigrants, many of whom had spread clothing and a blanket or two on the grass, and were now lying back enjoying the warm American sunshine. Lodzi set out to reconnect with Rajski. He circled the enclosure once, twice, and on the third trip around he found Rajski standing in a line at one of the many drinking fountains placed strategically around the inside of the enclosure. He walked up and tapped his friend on the back.
"I see you made it, too," said Lodzi.
"They listened to my chest and put a mark on my shirt that said TB. So I slipped into my coat and covered up the mark and was allowed to pass through."
"We probably all have TB," said Lodzi. "No one who stayed in the camps for any period of time made it out without serious medical ailments. TB is nothing."
* * *
Two weeks later the ferry came to Ellis Island and they loaded aboard. The ferry chugged across the bay to Manhattan.
They unloaded at the Manhattan wharf. The men and the hundred others climbing down from the ferry for the most part had no idea where they were, how to get a room, how to get a job, or how to speak English. By asking hundreds of questions of people they would stop on the sidewalks, they found their way to Greenpoint, the northernmost borough in Brooklyn. That area was known as Little Poland.
They arrived at noontime in Greenpoint, with noon rush-hour underway. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper. The two friends dodged in and out among the cars and cabs as they made their way from side to side, searching out a sign with a job waiting inside.
Storefronts were everywhere, and merchants sold everything from Polish delicacies to secondhand clothing to fake jewelry to Oriental rugs. The men strolled around, and were relieved to find the names of stores and inventory lettered in Polish. They had no idea where they were going, but walked until they found a restaurant with an open door and a sign in the window proclaiming the need for help. The men went inside.
They took a seat up front under the window and ordered fish sandwiches and hot tea. It was the first food they’d had all day and they ate without talking, stuffing their mouths. When they were done, they agreed to split a third sandwich.
The waitress was a woman in her early twenties. She had heavily made-up eyes and a pencil stuck in her hair. As she was clearing away their table, Lodzi reached and touched her gently on the wrist.
"What kind of help are they seeking?" he asked.
"Busboys. Are you busboys? Would you like to apply?"
"We are busboys," said Rajski, "and we are looking for work to start immediately."
"I will tell Mr. Wasieleski," said the waitress. "I'm sure he'll want to speak with you."
Within minutes the proprietor appeared and slipped into the chair beside Lodzi. He was a short man with pudgy hands and a happy face. He twisted his wedding band nervously, as he eyed the crowd for which he was responsible.
"Are you ready to start this minute?" He asked.
"We are ready to start immediately," said Lodzi.
"Very well," said the proprietor. "My name is Mr. Wasieleski you may call me Mr. W. Come in back and I will give you aprons."
Lodzi reached out and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "How much will you pay us?"
"You will work from four in the morning until one o'clock in the afternoon and I will pay you twenty dollars a week. Your friend will work from noon until nine o'clock at night, and I will pay him twenty dollars a week. Plus you will have your meals free. All-you-can-eat. Are you ready to start?"
Without a word, the two young Poles climbed to their feet and followed Mr. W to his office in the rear.
Much later that night, they found a hotel with a room they could afford. It had only one bed and it was a single, but that was good enough. These were men who had slept curled up together to keep from dying on the frozen earth for a year. Another night or two in the same bed would change nothing between them. They were best friends, they were survivors, and they were full of hot soup and sausage sandwiches. The room was paid two nights in advance. Now they had no money left, but they needed none. This was America, where, if you got up early and went to work on time and worked until you were drained, good things would happen.
They were ready for good things.
During that first night, Lodzi sat straight up from his wicked dreams, crying out three times and Rajski did the same thing twice. Someone in the next room thumped the wall and shouted something in English. They had no idea what the words meant, but they knew what was being said.
The men laughed and shut their eyes and fell back asleep.
Chapter Eleven
Three months went by like one hour. Both men worked seven days every week and together they saved every dime. When they had enough saved up, they approached Maya, the waitress they had met on their first day.
"We're going to Chicago," Lodzi told her over coffee that morning before Mr. W's opened for business. "What subway is that?"
"Chicago?" she said. "You mean the city of Chicago? In Illinois?"
"That's the one."
"That's not a subway. That's across the country. Maybe two thousand miles away."
"Three thousand kilometers," Rajski translated for his friend, in case he had forgotten the math.
"I know three thousand. I know that. Is there a train to take us there?"
"Sure. Lots of trains. And airplanes, too."
"We need a train. That costs less?"
"Yep. Train to Chicago is probably twenty-five dollars. How much do you fellows have saved now?"
"One hundred twenty dollars," Rajski said proudly. He was the treasurer and he was extremely proud of his thrift.
"That should get you there. But why Chicago?"
Lodzi's eyes brightened. "My uncle is there. He wrote me a letter and told me to come to him. He would take me in and help me."
"And me, as well," said Rajski.
"Of course. I wouldn't do it without you. How would I stay warm at night?"
The men laughed and Maya gave them a severe look. She decided she would let that go and not follow up.
Two days later they gave their notice to Mr. W and two days after that they were on the train, bound for Chicago. This time their belongings filled three bags. Things were definitely on the upswing, they said, and they laughed.
* * *
Lodzi's uncle Nadal lived in Barrington, Illinois, a northwest suburb of Chicago.
They arrived there on a blustery September morning after a twenty-five hour train ride from Grand Central Station in New York to Union Station in Chicago. The uncle lived on a twenty-acre tract, and owned a half-dozen quarter horses. Nadal tirelessly worked as a pediatrician and was in his fifties. This was the uncle who had left Poland before the war, bringing his wife and two daughters to safety in America. After working as an engineer he had returned to school and studied medicine. “America is about opportunity,” he told them. “Never forget it.”
Uncle Nadal met Lodzi and Rajski at the train station in Barrington. A joyous reunion followed and they enjoyed spaghetti at the local Riazzi's restaurant. The pediatrician was a slight man, thinning white hair, perfect teeth, and light blue eyes. His patients loved him for his gentle manner, easy smile, and quick laugh.
"So Lodzi, have you boys given any thought to what you might do here?"
"We had come to seek our fortune," said Rajski. The uncle laughed, and took a sip of tea.
"Well there is plenty of fortune to be made in Chicago, I can assure you," said the uncle.
Unspeakable Prayers: WW II to Present Day (Thaddeus Murfee Series of Legal Thrillers) Page 10