Fires in the Dark

by Louise Doughty

  Anna stepped up to her. The old woman barely reached her chest.

  ‘You will go to the Commandant tomorrow,’ Anna said quietly and simply, ‘and you will plead with him, as if your life depended on it. You will tell him that Emil must be allowed to accompany you on the transport. You cannot manage without him. He is a good boy. He will help with the other old and sick people and when you get to the sanatorium he will become an orderly. You will refuse to leave the Commandant’s presence until this is granted. You will tell him Emil is your only child.’

  Pavliná Franzová’s eyes widened. ‘Anna Růžičková, I cannot say that. They will know I am lying. They have records.’ She began to wring her hands. The thought of even speaking to someone as godlike as the Camp Commandant was clearly having a shuddering effect.

  ‘Tell them the records are wrong,’ Anna said. ‘Tell them when we were picked up we said Emil was a Růžička because you thought he would be safer in a big family. Tell them whatever you can think of to tell them.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Pavliná’s voice became a harsh squeak. ‘These Czech police, they answer to the Germans. They may be running things here but it’s the Germans giving the orders. You don’t simply, you can’t …’

  ‘You can. If the Germans come to escort the transport then all the better. You are fluent. You know how to speak to them. It gets things done. I’ve seen it.’

  ‘No, no, you can’t tell a German their records are wrong. They have the identity papers. All they have to do is check. Whatever is written down is written down. I could plead until the moon drops out of the sky …’

  Anna grabbed Pavliná by the shoulders. If she had to frighten a weak old women to save Emil, she would do it. ‘You will go,’ she said, each word calm and clear. ‘You will go and do this thing. My daughter died alone, locked inside a stinking gadje prison hut. She gasped out. No one heard her. She was trapped. My Bobo will be next. Josef is ill already. Tekla. Who knows which of us will live or die? But I can save one, and I will save him. Emil will be on that transport with you. If he is not, I tell you, you will suffer the same fate as my daughter. You will die, trapped in a room, suffocating. Your ghost will wander forever amongst the gadje. Do you understand me, old woman? You will die trapped.’

  She let go of Pavliná and pushed her way back to her bunk. Behind her, the other women returned silently to theirs. Pavliná was superstitious and terrified of curses. Anna knew she had frightened the life out of her, and she knew that it had been in vain. Pavliná could no more convince the Commandant to change his mind than she could turn water into wine. Even if she tried, she would fail, and Anna doubted very much whether she would try.

  *

  The night before the transport was due to take place, an announcement was made, at roll-call. The following men were to line up at the gates the next morning, by the trucks: six names were called out. Emil was on the list, and Jan Malík, Marie’s father.

  Anna looked for Emil and Josef as they were dismissed but couldn’t find them in the dark. She was forced to trot back to the women’s block for lock-up, along with the others. In the crowded barrack, she forced her way to the back but Pavliná’s bunk was empty and her blanket gone. The block Elder was pushing around instructing everyone that nobody was to sleep in the vacated bunks. They would be allocated the next day. ‘Where are the women for the transport?’ Anna asked the Elder.

  ‘They’re in the new block for the night,’ the woman said shortly, ‘being discharged. They have to do the paperwork and check identities and all those gadje things that gadje do.’

  ‘Why did they call out those men’s names at roll-call?’

  The woman shrugged. ‘How should I know?’

  After lights out, in the pitch dark, there was time for a whispered conversation with Marie.

  ‘Marie, why was your father’s name called?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Does he have money, could he have bribed someone?’

  ‘No, he has nothing in here, unless my uncle is trying to get him out.’

  ‘The other men, you know of them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I do.’ It was Líba, Marie’s mother.

  ‘Who?’ Anna was surprised to hear the woman speak.

  ‘The other Růžička, not your son. My husband fought him, at the quarry. I’m not sure, but I think the others might have joined in. Two of them are in and out of the punishment block the whole time.’

  It didn’t make sense. Why would troublemakers be rewarded with a transport out of here? Afraid to talk further, Anna lay in the dark, listening to the scratching noise to her left. It was Ludmila, who had taken to picking bits of wood from the barrack wall at night, to chew on while she tried to sleep.

  *

  Dawn was breaking as Emil and the other men crossed the deserted Appell-platz. It was so cold that his toes began to freeze as they walked. His eyes watered.

  It was the first time Emil had had the opportunity to speak to Marie’s father, but the man was taciturn, his face closed. Hey, brother, I’ve been talking with your daughter. On the outside, such presumption would have earned a beating. Perhaps Jan Malík knew already: Emil had had nothing but black looks from him. But everyone got those. That was how Malík got in that fight at the quarry. Emil had missed it. It had been something, they said. Jan Malík and three others.

  They lined up as instructed, by the trucks, while the Old Ones shuffled over from the new block, each with a bundle. Pavliná was towards the front of the queue. She did not meet Emil’s gaze. Dr Steiner and the Commandant were waiting at the back of the first truck, and as the line approached, each old man or woman came forward to be examined.

  One of the men next to Emil said to his companion. ‘We’re here to take the place of anyone who isn’t fit, you’ll see.’

  Emil turned to speak to him, to ask, ‘But why us?’ At that moment, he felt a rough hand on his neck and was pulled backwards, out of the line, tumbling to the ground.

  ‘Not you, my boy!’ boomed a familiar voice. Emil was on all fours on the frozen mud. The ice burnt the palms of his hands. Čacko placed a boot on his backside and gave a shove that sent him sprawling face down on the freezing ground. ‘On your feet!’ Čacko laughed. ‘You’re going nowhere!’

  Emil lay sprawled on the ice and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of pure, cool despair. He had been first in the line. If just one of the old people turned out to be too sick to travel, then he would have got on the truck. That man is the Devil, O Beng himself, crouched on my back.

  Čacko lifted him with one hand and set him on his feet, then brushed down the front of his uniform. ‘Don’t look so despondent, boy. You could’ve gone, given your behaviour, but I explained to the Commandant, we need you!’ He shoved at Emil’s shoulder with his hand. ‘Go to the hut and get your drink, then come back and wait for me here.’

  When Emil returned from the hut, the process of loading up was almost complete. Two of the old people had been declared unfit and sent to the infirmary: there were only three men left in the line, Jan Malík amongst them.

  Emil stood with his shoulders hunched while the last of the Old Ones was helped up over the tailgate. Pavliná Franzová had already been swallowed by the truck. Emil was glad. He could not have watched her climb up without giving her the Evil Eye and his father always said that the Evil Eye came back to the sender, in the end.

  The last of the Old Ones, a skinny Ancient with a gummy smile, was given the nod by Dr Steiner and passed to two waiting guards who lifted him up bodily. As the doctor turned from the trucks, he saw Emil waiting and gave him a long, sad look.

  The Commandant was holding a ledger, open in his hands. He made a final mark on it, then slammed it shut with a satisfied sigh. The other guards turned away. The trucks’ engines ground into life.

  Jan Malík and the others were dismissed, but Emil had to stand waiting while Čacko chatted to two other guards, standing in a confidential huddle a
few metres away, until they were called to help open the gates.

  It was full light now, another white and freezing morning; above, a solid sky. A bitter wind blew the front of Emil’s uniform jacket flat against his chest. The cold made his upper jaw ache, above his damaged teeth. He bit at his lip in misery, shoulders still hunched and hands dug deep into his pockets. I want to die, he thought, as he watched the trucks trundle and bump from the camp, their huge wheels jumping and settling over the frozen, rutted mud. The trucks tipped down the hill, on to the road towards the village, their rear ends rising as if they were rabbits escaping down their holes.

  *

  Report on Reception Camp at Hodonín, near Kunštat in the German Protectorate of Moravia

  by

  Camp Commandant and Senior Administrative Clerk

  (first draft, typed and prepared for signing 15 December 1942)

  An examination of all camp inmates has now been completed by Camp Physician MUDr Steiner and the following results recorded. (For simplicity’s sake, the main figures are included here. For his comments and addendum, see Appendix I.)

  Total number of inmates at present: 1,273. Total sick as follows:

  Disease or condition No. of prisoners (adults)

  Trachoma 256

  Tuberculosis 21

  Syphilis 19

  (Eight of the syphilitics are in the advanced stages of the condition)

  Disease or condition No. of prisoners (children)

  Measles 272

  Whooping cough 8

  Chicken pox 16

  As the reader will see in Appendix I, 2 female prisoners have recently been sent to Brno County Hospital with suspected typhoid fever. Their removal from the camp was naturally of some urgency, and all infirmary patients will remain in isolation until further notice. Doctor Steiner appears to believe this may be the commencement of an epidemic. His prognosis may be unduly alarmist. He also estimates that by the New Year, only between 5 and 10 per cent of prisoners will be free of some disease or other. He is including pneumonia, scabies, scurvy and diarrhoea in his estimate. These illnesses are not included in the above figures.

  The results of the work parties continue to be satisfactory. The quarry manager at Štĕpánov n. Svratkou reports that earthworks and overhead works are proceeding with 20 men assigned on 10 hour shifts to the loading of narrow gauge pit cars and a further 20 assigned to the unloading and breaking of the stone on its arrival at the building site. We also have teams of women assigned to adapting subgrades under the banks, sodding the trenches and laying drains, while the girls and youths are clearing snow and assisting with the draining of the trenches.

  Other work parties assigned to other tasks are also performing satisfactorily. (See Appendix II.)

  The early onset of winter this year did not unduly affect production rates. This is due to the diligent organisational capacities of our Chief Purser. It is hoped that the quarry work will be able to continue until the end of January.

  As agreed with the Protectorate Road Haulage Company, prisoners are assigned a wage of 1.77 Czech Crowns per hour, which is paid into camp funds prior to the transfer of payment to Brno County Council on behalf of the Ministry of Internal Affairs for the Protectorate. First such payment was made at the end of November and totalled 415,017.40 Czech Crowns, such payment representing the work period from 2 August to 30 November 1942, a figure which will compare favourably with any other camp in the region, certainly with the Penal Workhouse in Brno, where prisoners are not subjected to such extreme weather conditions. (For a full financial statement see the attached report of the Chief Accountant, Appendix III.)

  The health of the prisoners requires close observation in view of the fact that gypsies seem particularly prone to lethargy. The general situation of imprisonment appears to have a particularly negative effect on them and many of them appear to be becoming quite indifferent to their surroundings. With the severest part of winter yet ahead of us, this will have a negative effect both on the rate of disease and upon the productivity of the work parties.

  Feeding costs per prisoner have remained steady at 4.20 Czech Crowns per day.

  The overcrowding problem mentioned in the previous report has been alleviated somewhat by the transportation of 75 prisoners (45 male and 30 female) to the Main Camp of Auschwitz I. Overcrowding in the sick-bay is likely to increase, however, and the situation generally remains far from ideal. Further admissions must be restricted until more transports can be arranged to Auschwitz-Birkenau or elsewhere within the General Government.

  CHAPTER 18

  Anna was crossing from her block to the workshop. As she looked down across the Appell-platz, she was just in time to see the last of the trucks descending the hill, and her heart twisted. Her son was free of this place; she might never see him again; she hadn’t even been able to bid him goodbye, to bless him. She had succeeded. She was heartbroken.

  Her gaze fell upon a small, thin figure being berated by Čacko, close to the gate. Her first thought was – so, that Evil One has already found another victim. The boy was partially obscured by Čacko’s bulk, and it was only as Čacko moved away, shouting and waving his arms, that Anna recognised the pitiable form as Emil. She stopped, then turned quickly, crossing her arms over her chest as she hurried to the workshop. Dear God. She was desolate that Emil was not on the transport – yet to see him again, just to glimpse him, when she thought he might be lost to her forever. Dear God – kill me, or turn my heart to stone.

  I understand now, she thought, how hatred can make you dull rather than keen – how it can weigh you down until it is impossible to feel any other emotion, until there is nothing else to be bothered about The hatred she felt toward that gadjo Čacko, towards all gadje, was like a solid lump in her chest, a great weighty rock. She had always wondered why men like Václav Winter were so heavy with their hatred, why their venom towards white people made than so solid and hard. Now, she understood. She hated Čacko so much he had ceased to be a person: she hated all of them. Show her a wooden hut full of pretty little white girls with plump cheeks and senseless smiles and she would pour kerosene over it and set light to them herself. It would do the whites good to watch their children being tortured for a change.

  In the workshop, the rest of her group was already seated. Eva and Ludmila were holding their work up dose to their faces. Eva’s sight was failing but she dared not admit it for fear of being sent to the quarry. They only had two more days on the sewing detail before their group was back to breaking stones for another fortnight. The weather was worsening every day.

  ‘Am I all right?’ Anna asked quietly, as she took her place on the bench next to Ludmila, meaning, Have I been missed?

  Before Ludmila could answer, the woman kapo sitting by the stove said, ‘And where have you been?’

  Anna disliked this particular kapo, a German Romni who was stupid and lazy. She thought nothing of sitting between them and the stove to keep herself warm, although she could just as easily sit on the other side and allow a little of its poor glow to reach them.

  Anna reached for the pile of cloth on the long table in front of them. It was a jumble of nightwear, striped pyjamas and flannelette nighties with ribbons, a great heap of it that stretched along the length of the row of tables filling the large block. Some of it had been expensive, once. Where had they got all this stuff? The women were assigned to groups; some tearing seams open; others stitching the pieces into jackets and trousers for the children.

  ‘My son, he almost got on the transport to the sanatorium,’ Anna replied matter-of-factly to the kapo, ‘but they pulled him off.’

  The woman stared at her. Anna selected a garment, a pair of men’s trousers, and began ripping up one leg. She sighed inwardly. Now she would get a reprimand for not speaking German. She was beyond caring. Why didn’t they just make up their minds what the rules were?

  The kapo did not reprimand her. She shook her head. ‘Golden God,’ she said quietly in Romani. ‘You
haven’t got a clue, have you?’

  Anna glanced at her fiercely. She was about to respond but the woman’s expression stopped her.

  Eva and Ludmila lifted their heads from their work. The woman kapo was giving them a strange, pitying stare. She was dark-eyed but fair-skinned, her eyes a light brown flecked with gold. Her voice was measured: the way she spoke, she sounded more like a gadji. ‘You think you’re suffering,’ she said simply, her eyes glazed. ‘You haven’t got a clue. You are like children. In Germany …’

  Anna rolled her eyes. The German Roma all went on and on about how tough things were in the Reich.

  The woman saw the action and her expression hardened. ‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ she said dully. She leaned back and folded her arms, giving a light snort through her nostrils. Her eyes had re-acquired their bored expression.

  Eva and Ludmila lowered their heads. Ludmila was having trouble ripping a cuff. Anna took it from her and wound her fingers around it, lifting her elbows and tensing the muscles in her arms to pull. The fine cloth dug into her joints and as she pulled she grimaced, wondering which might break first, her finger tendons or the cloth.

  Ludmila leant back on the bench, so as not to get an elbow in the eye as the cuff gave. Anna handed the pieces back to her sister and then returned to her own garment. We may well be like children, she thought, but at least none of us have co-operated with the gadje. These people are scum. They deserve everything they get.

  *

  That night, there was a scramble for the bunks which had been vacated by the transport. A fight broke out. Anna and the others kept out of it, although with Pavliná gone, they could have tried to claim her bunk as one of theirs. Anna had no intention of moving to the far end of the block and Eva and Ludmila would stick with her – they had moved to Tekla’s bunk while she was in the infirmary. Líba and Marie stayed in their bunk next to Anna, holding on to each other and watching the fight with wide eyes, until the block Elder strode past them, shouting at the women to break it up.