Cilka's Journey (ARC)
Page 25
‘That was our introduction to Auschwitz. They took my
small bag of belongings. They took my clothes. They took
my youth, my identity, and then they took my name and
gave me a number.’
‘How . . . how did you . . . ?’
‘Survive?’ Cilka begins shaking. ‘In a place that was
created for one reason only, to exterminate us? I’m not
sure I can tell you.’ She holds her arms around herself.
‘Cilka, it’s all right. You don’t have to tell me anything
you don’t want to.’
‘Thank you, Yelena Georgiyevna,’ Cilka says, and then
forces herself to ask something. ‘Do you know why I’m
here?’
‘No. I don’t. I don’t know why anyone is here, and I
have no need to ask. I’m sorry if that makes me sound
like a coward.’
Cilka clears her throat.
‘I am here because I slept with the enemy, or that is
what I was charged with. Sleeping with the enemy.
Working with the enemy. For me, there was no sleeping.
He – they – came into my bed and sometimes slept, after
they . . .’
‘Raped you?’
‘Is it rape if you don’t fight back, don’t say no?’
‘Did you want them to have sex with you?’
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‘No, no, of course not.’
‘Then it is rape. I take it these men had some kind of
power or control over you?’
Cilka laughs. Standing up she walks around the room.
‘They were senior officers.’
‘Oh. I see. This was in Auschwitz?’
‘Yes and no. It was another camp down the road from
Auschwitz but still part of it. It was called Birkenau.’
‘And . . . for three years?’
‘Two and a half. Yes . . . And I never said no, never
fought back.’
‘How could you fight a man? I’m sure they were bigger
than you.’
‘That’s an understatement. One of them, I didn’t even
come up to his chin, and there was, there was . . .’
‘Was what?’
‘The gas chambers, where everyone went. Went in alive
and came out the chimney. I-I saw them every day, every
day that was my future if I didn’t . . .’
‘So, you’re telling me you spent two and a half years
being raped by the men in charge of the camp in which
you were a prisoner, and for that you are now here?’
Cilka sits back down on the chair. Leaning forward, she
stares Yelena in the eyes.
‘I gave in.’
Yelena shakes her head.
There is more, Cilka thinks. Can she say it? Tell her all
of it? Telling her this much has already exhausted her.
Yelena reaches out and takes Cilka’s hands.
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‘The first day I saw you I felt there was something about you, a strength, a sense of self-knowledge that I rarely see.
And now, with the little you’ve told me, I don’t know
what to say other than that you are very brave. There is
nothing I can do to get you out of here, but I can look
out for you as best I can and try to keep you safe. You
have shown what a fighter you are. My God, how have
you done it?’
‘I just want to live. I need to feel the pain I wake up
with every morning, knowing I am alive, and my family
aren’t. This pain is my punishment for surviving and I
need to feel it, live it.’
‘Cilka, I don’t know what to say to you other than keep
living. Wake up each morning and breathe. You make a
huge difference here, and if you go with the ambulance
you will be helping keep patients alive. I truly believe you
will thrive in this role.’
‘All right, I’ll do it. I can be brave because of you.
You’re the most courageous of us all. I haven’t said that
before, but that is how I feel about you. So brave, being
here when you don’t have to be.’
‘You don’t have to say that. Yes, I choose to be here. I
am a physician; I always wanted to help people, and here,
well, here there are a lot of people who need the help I
can provide. But we’re not here to talk about me.’
Cilka smiles at Yelena.
‘Well, I really appreciate this, Yelena Georgiyevna, thank
you.’ Cilka stands, thinking of the solace of her bed, of
lying facing the wall.
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Yelena stands, too, and Cilka looks at her, grateful to see no pity on her face. ‘See you tomorrow then, Cilka.’
‘See you tomorrow.’
As she steps outside she glances over towards the
administration building. And today, he is there. Alexandr.
Standing under a spotlight in the snow. Raising his cigarette to his lips, closing his eyes. Shifting his shoulders up and
down for warmth. She holds the bright image in her mind
as she walks away.
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CHAPTER 20
All the next day, Cilka is on edge, distracted. She calls
a patient by the wrong name, fumbles giving medi-
cation. Her eyes shift constantly going to the door, waiting
for a head to pop round and announce that the ambulance
is going out.
It doesn’t happen, and she returns to the hut disap-
pointed. Her melancholic state was meant to improve
today, now she has released some of the burden and with
the prospect of something new to focus on. She wants an
instant fix to a problem she can’t articulate.
To make matters worse, Hannah has cornered her again,
saying that her supply has been cut off, and that Cilka
must procure the drugs for her again. So, it must have
been the trustie thug who died who was supplying Hannah
all this time. And despite her conversation with Yelena,
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when Cilka looks around at the women in the hut, she still doesn’t think she can face that moment when their
faces change to horror, pity, fear, maybe even hatred.
* * *
The following morning, she has to force herself to concen-
trate, get on with the job at hand. When the call comes,
‘Ambulance going out,’ Cilka misses it.
‘Cilka, you’re needed,’ Raisa calls out.
Cilka looks up at Raisa, to the door, and sees the man
waiting for someone to acknowledge him.
Grabbing her coat, hat, scarf and gloves, Cilka follows
him outside into the whirling snow and perpetual darkness
of the Arctic winter.
‘Hurry up people are dying out here while you take
your time putting your bloody layers on,’ the driver yells,
revving the engine impatiently.
The man Cilka followed opens the back door of the
modified truck, indicating for her to get in. The ambulance
takes off before the doors are closed, sending her flying.
The passenger in the front seat leans round, smiling as
Cilka tries to shove herself
up against the side, bracing
herself for more violent driving.
‘Haven’t seen you before. What’s your name?’
With her hands planted firmly on the floor, her legs
spread apart for support, Cilka checks him out. His friendly
grin reveals a few large crooked teeth. He is wiry and
olive-skinned, with heavy eyebrows framing bright eyes.
‘I’m Cilka. This is my first time out.’
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‘Hey, Pavel, it’s her first time,’ the gruff driver says. He is bulkier and broader than Pavel. ‘From what I saw of
her, it’ll probably be her last as well – look at the size of her.’
‘She may prove you wrong there, Kirill Grigorovich,’
says Pavel. The two men cackle away. Kirill winds down
his window as he nears the closed front gates, which are
lit up by the searchlights of the compound. Sticking his
head out the window, he screams at the sentry as he speeds
towards him.
‘Open the fucking gates, you moron! Can’t you see
we’re in a hurry?’
The gates are barely open when the ambulance races
through, and a torrent of abuse from the sentry follows.
Crunching the gears, Kirill winds up his window and
shakes the snow off his hat.
‘Excuse me,’ Cilka says loudly, ensuring she is heard
over the revving engine.
‘Find out what she wants,’ Kirill says.
Pavel leans back over the seat, staring at Cilka.
‘Pavel . . . is it? What can you tell me about where we’re
going? What kind of accident is it?’
‘Yes, I’m Pavel Sergeyevich. We’ll find out when we get
there.’
‘But surely you know if there is more than one patient?’
Kirill cackles away, his big shoulders shaking up and
down in his coarse pea coat. They are prisoners, she thinks.
Trusties with a good job, driving back and forth with
cigarette breaks in between.
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‘That you can be sure of, honey, when any part of a mine collapses, there will be more than one casualty.’
‘So, you do know what happened. Why couldn’t you
just say so?’
‘Well, well, what do we have here, Pavel? A nurse with
attitude. Listen, printsessa, you just do what you do when we get to the scene and we’ll transport them.’
Cilka looks around her in the back of the ambulance.
Two stretchers are stacked against the side of the truck,
and two containers slide around the floor. One comes to
rest against Cilka’s leg.
Cilka edges the top off the container to examine the
contents. An assortment of instruments bang against each
other. Rolls of bandages, bottles of medication. Cilka lifts
each one, identifying exactly what she has to work with.
Dragging the other container over she finds the equipment
for hanging a drip and two bottles of saline solution.
The road is pockmarked; the ambulance swerves round
boulders, bounces against snow piled at the side of the
road, visible in the headlights.
‘Time for action, honey, we’re here.’
The ambulance screeches to a halt, throwing Cilka
against the front seat.
Before she can steady herself, the back doors are thrown
open. Hands reach in and grab the stretchers. A hand is
held out for her to take and she is helped down. Cilka
notices the numbers roughly sewn on their jackets.
She takes a moment to have a quick glance around.
At first she can see nothing in the dusk and sleet. Then
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she begins to make out figures: men moving about aimlessly, some screaming orders. Cilka, Pavel and Kirill
make their way to the opening of the mine, towards the
ladder-like structure with the wheel on top. A guard
strides over.
‘An upper tunnel is caving in; we’re not sure when it’s
going to be safe to go down.’ The wheel above them creaks
to a stop as a lift cage full of soot-blackened men arrives
at the top. The men spill out.
‘There are still injured men down there,’ one of them
says, holding his hat in his hand.
‘We have to go and get them,’ Cilka yells.
‘Who’s this?’ the supervisor asks Pavel.
‘It’s the nurse they sent with us,’ Pavel answers.
‘Not much to her,’ the supervisor responds, looking
Cilka up and down.
Cilka rolls her eyes. ‘Let me go in and see if I can help,’
she says.
‘Didn’t you hear me, girl? The tunnel is still collapsing.
Do you have a desire to die?’
‘No.’ Cilka raises her chin.
She advances towards the now empty elevator cage,
looking back at the men.
‘If you want to go in, go, but I’m not coming with you,’
the supervisor says.
‘I can’t go alone. I don’t know how to operate this or
where to get off.’
‘I’ll come,’ Pavel says, without conviction.
‘I’ll take you to the level,’ the miner with the hat in his
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hand says. His teeth are chattering. Cold, or shock? Cilka wonders.
Wrapping her scarf over her mouth and nose, She steps
into the cage. Pavel follows, loading the equipment in too.
The miner clears his throat, then pushes a lever, and the
lift jolts into action, lowering slowly into dusty gloom.
Cilka checks the lamp Pavel handed her as they set off.
They go down, and down and down. Cilka tries to keep
her breathing steady.
The lift stops at a tunnel entrance. Cilka clears her
throat. She unlatches and pushes aside the lift cage door.
‘It’s a bit of a walk,’ the miner says, indicating he will
stay where he is. ‘Just keep to the left.’
Cilka and Pavel do as he says.
‘We’re here to help you,’ she begins to yell out. Debris
enters her lungs and she coughs. ‘Call out so we know
where you are.’
‘Here, over here,’ she eventually hears from somewhere
in front of her. The voice is weak, scared.
‘I’m coming, hold on. Keep talking.’
‘I’m here! Keep walking.’
By the light of her lamp, Cilka sees a hand waving at
her. Scanning the area she sees three other men, not
moving. She hurries to the man who had been calling out.
‘I’m Cilka Klein.’ She kneels and gently lays a hand on
his shoulder. ‘Are you trapped?’
‘My legs, I can’t move them.’
Cilka examines the man, seeing that his lower legs are
pinned by a large chunk of rock. She gently pushes him
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down flat and checks the pulse in his neck as Pavel arrives beside her, opening the container.
‘What’s your name?’ Cilka asks the injured man.
‘Mikhail Alexandrovich.’
‘Your legs are under a boulder, but I think we can move
it as it
’s not that big. You have a nasty cut on your head,
which we can wrap up to stop the bleeding. Mikhail
Alexandrovich, I need to go and see to the other men. Do
you know how many of you were in here when the collapse
began?’
‘Four of us. The others had gone for a break. We were
loading the last wagon.’
‘I can see three others,’ she says, waving her lamp around.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he says. ‘Check on the others.
I was calling their names but none of them answered.’
Cautiously, Cilka steps over the rubble covering the
floor of the mine tunnel. On reaching the first man she
checks for a pulse, finds one. Pulling back an eyelid, she
holds her lamp above his eyes – one reacts. Running the
lamp over his body she sees he is not pinned down, just
unconscious.
‘Pavel Sergeyevich, go back and convince that miner to
come and help us. Take this one first. He’s unconscious
but you can move him.’
‘Be right back,’ she hears as Pavel heads back to the lift.
Cilka finds a second man. Immediately she can see he
is trapped under fallen rock. She finds no pulse.
The third man groans as she holds her lamp above his
face.
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‘My name is Cilka Klein, I’m here to help. Can you tell me where you’re hurt?’
The man groans again.
‘It’s all right. I’m going to have a look and see if I can
find your injuries.’
She quickly identifies a badly broken arm, twisted in
an unnatural position. A large rock is pressed up against
his side. Gently, Cilka pushes on the man’s chest, from
side to side, then further down his abdomen. He cries out
in pain. With difficulty she pulls at his clothing, undoing
his coat so she can see. Pulling his shirt and undergarments
from his trousers causes him immense pain. Cilka sees the
crush injury below his ribcage.
She hears the crunch of footsteps in the tunnel and
Pavel is back with the miner, each carrying a stretcher.
She scrambles over to the unconscious man.
‘Load him up and get him out of here,’ she says. ‘And
then there’s another who can be taken out, but you need
to go carefully. He’s badly injured and in a lot of pain.
Get both of them out of here and I will tend to him in
the ambulance.’
As they take care of those two men, Cilka goes back to
the first man she spoke to, the one who is trapped.
‘I’m sorry – one of your friends is dead.’