The Brothers of Auschwitz

by Malka Adler

  One evening I saw my hand scratching my belly and I felt pain. I lifted up my shirt and looked for a bandage. Didn’t find a bandage just scratches and a hurting navel. I didn’t understand how come a hurting navel got to my belly. Later, I heard a thin tss, tss, tss in my mind and fell asleep.

  Chapter 27

  Yitzhak: You drove me mad with your veins.

  Turning my hand up and down for hours.

  Dov: I didn’t know you, Yitzhak. I didn’t know if

  you were a danger to me. I was sure there was a difference

  between Jews and Christians.

  Yitzhak: Of course there’s a difference.

  Who did they build a ramp at Auschwitz for,

  who did they build a crematorium for, not for the Jews?

  Yitzhak

  When I sat next to my brother, I was more frightened than I’d been the entire war.

  The hospital was in the town of Neuberg von Wald in Germany. I sat next to Dov for a few minutes and ran outside. I’d only sat next to him for a little while and saw that I was already following him into madness and all because of the smell coming from the medications and the patients. There were patients there who wept as if they were coughing without stopping for a minute. There were patients there who wept as if they were vomiting every few minutes. There were some who wept as if they were trying to poop once a day but were crying for half the day as if they had diarrhea. Only four or five patients wept like ordinary people.

  There were times when my nerves just finished me, I’d approach the bed of a patient who was weeping next to us, lift him up with his bed and, trach, release it, it was the only way I’d get any peace for a while. If I had some peace from all the weeping I’d talk to Dov, even about silly things. I talked about home. About the rabbi who chased us with his belt to the shithouse and wouldn’t give up even when our trousers were down. I talked about the neighbor’s daughter. Dov liked to play catch with the goy girl. They’d run about the yard and around the house for hours, roaring with laughter. True or not?

  Dov fiddled with my hand as if I hadn’t spoken.

  Once I asked Doctor Spielman, does all the talking help him? Doctor Spielman said, don’t know, but it doesn’t do any harm, so go on talking.

  Sometimes I wanted to knock Dov’s head against the wall and sometimes I wanted to knock my own against the wall. I never hit his head – only my own. I’d sit on the floor next to him and put my head between my knees. In a moment there was a puddle there. I felt as if I was losing my family all over again. The nurses never left me. They’d bring me a bowl of soup and say, your brother is young, Yitzhak, he will get over it, have some hot soup, and then come to the office and we’ll make you some coffee. I didn’t want coffee in the office. The smell was there too. I wanted to breathe clean air, I wanted to count birds on the electricity wires. I wanted to see children kicking a ball and fighting over candy.

  Only my neighbor upstairs was normal, and he didn’t have a bad smell, maybe because of the chocolates. He’d always hold out a hand to me and say, eat, eat, it’s against the smell.

  I’d suck on chocolate and hang around the doctors. I followed them about all day. They rushed among the beds as if they had to save as many patients as possible. There were some patients who wouldn’t let anyone touch them, but the doctors and nurses wouldn’t give up, they’d thrust their hands into bodies, clean up leaks, bandage sores, stroke bald heads and move on. Nurses took care of them while they slept. It didn’t help. Bandages and plasters flew onto the floor when the patients woke up. A patient next to Dov with a respiratory problem would pull down his trousers and urinate in the bed whenever an American nurse went by. He’d howl like a miserable wet baby. He refused to let them touch him. They changed his sheets only at night. The smell of urine drove me mad. After a few days he disappeared but the smell remained.

  It was the dead that frightened me the most.

  Every hour or two there’d be a new death. There were patients who died in the middle of their tears, weeping, weeping, weeping, then hop, they were dead, and a moment later they’d fart. Sometimes two or three farts in several minutes and the stink of spoiled meat, or diarrhea. To this day, whenever I hear farts, I check to see if there are any dead, or whether it’s just a healthy fart after a good meal. Say, Shabbat cholent, or oranges fresh from the tree. The dead changed like travelers at a train station. The nurses would wrap the dead in a sheet and carry him out, to a refrigeration room. From there they took the dead in a truck. Don’t know where. Never went near the room of the dead, I’d already seen dead people that made trouble.

  In the meantime, nurses would turn over the mattress, put on a clean, sometimes torn or stained sheet, and bring a dying, barely breathing patient. And then this patient would last a day or two, stop breathing and die. I don’t remember anyone who actually remained alive. Patients died of typhus, dysentery, pneumonia. Died from the images scurrying about their minds. Died because they slit their wrists with a knife, sometimes with a fork. Some died because they no longer had the strength to breathe. I saw a dead person like this. He stopped breathing and didn’t move. After a minute he opened half an eye, closed it, opened half an eye again, waited a little with a half open eye, and that was that. He was swiftly removed and another brought in.

  I was afraid for Dov. Afraid he’d decide to play hands up hands down for the rest of his life.

  Dov didn’t get out of bed. The nurses would turn him belly, back, belly, back. They’d wash him in bed, and all the time he’d check the hands of every nurse. They gave him water with a teaspoon. Sometimes he’d drink. He didn’t want to eat. He’d take the bread they brought him on a food tray and hide it under his pillow. I think he ate his bread at night, alone. He relieved himself in bed. There was very little. He had a thick wad of fabric between his legs and it was enough. Dov’s body looked like well-arranged bones covered with transparent skin, no flesh. I could count the lines crisscrossing under the skin. They were blue, pink, rather crumpled. I was afraid my brother would die of hunger in a hospital full of food.

  All those days I slept at the hospital.

  The nurses kept a bed for me even when I was on my feet. I ate at the hospital, wore regular clothes that the nuns brought, I didn’t want to shower. Didn’t know what might come out of a shower I didn’t know. I’d stand at the sink and splash water on myself, in my underwear too, it was enough.

  I barely spoke to other patients.

  I spoke a little to the neighbor who gave me chocolate. We spoke mainly about Dov. One day he disappeared. I was sure they’d taken him in a sheet to the refrigeration room. The nurses spoke among themselves, said, no, no, he was sent to another hospital. I didn’t believe them and missed the chocolate. Most of the time I sat beside my brother, or ran after Doctor Spielman. I didn’t leave him alone.

  I constantly asked him what would be with my brother, give me an answer, Doctor Spielman, does he have a chance? I got no answers.

  At night I saw patients who could stand on their feet and get out of bed to steal food. They stole from other patients. Stole from the kitchen, from the office, stole from the dead who’d begun to fart. Beds became stores for food and it wasn’t enough for them. In their beds, they hid everything that came into the hospital. Coffee, sugar, medication, towels, soap, pajamas, bandages, bottles, plaster, cotton, forks, salt, powder. Piles of equipment. There were those who stole and hop, they died. Sometimes they’d die at night on the way to their beds with a bag of coffee in their hands. The nurses would discover the hiding place and ask them to stop. Didn’t help. There were patients who used their half-dead neighbors’ beds as a store and couldn’t fall asleep worrying about their property. The thieves weren’t the same every night. Sometimes they managed to steal, sometimes there were blows. Like the camps, when they fought over a potato peel. I realized that the war had ended in the world but not in people’s hearts. I knew, the war would never ever leave us. Just like putting a boiling iron with a number on the b
ody of a calf. The calf grows older, the number remains unchanged. I felt I was sinking into a black hole without a floor. I wanted to get out of that blackness and ran outside.

  I wandered about the town of Neuberg von Wald. It was spring outside. Afterwards came summer with a pleasant sun, and blue, and some white, shapeless clouds. Nonetheless, I felt as if a transparent glass was in front of me. Some of the gardens near the houses had flowers. Red. Purple. Yellow. A strong splash of orange. People walked close to the walls of the houses, or near the fence. They barely spoke to one another. They looked as if they were hurrying to finish some task before returning home to lock the door, the window, and stay inside until the following morning. Maybe they didn’t want a young Hitler either. There were few buyers in stores. I saw salespeople standing in doorways and playing with coins they had in their pockets.

  I walked slowly along the street, I was in no hurry to get anywhere. I always kept to the edge of the road. I left the sidewalks to the Germans. And the Germans left the road to me. Without my brother I felt as if I was the last Jew in the world and it was hard. I swallowed clean air and tapped on the trousers and shirt. The smell of the hospital remained.

  One day I passed a display window.

  There were trousers in there, a shirt, socks, a tie, and a rather large torch. I approached the window and then boom. In the window I see a familiar but strange figure. I looked round, I was alone. I shivered. Wanted to run away. Didn’t move. In the glass I saw a thin young man, weighing maybe forty kilos. Taller than I remembered. With gray trousers turned over at the waist under a shabby, colorless belt. The buckle was in the furthest hole. Shoulders grew under the pale shirt, the neck remained the same. Slowly, slowly I looked up, and lost my breath. I had a long, thin, sickly face. I had short hair. Cautiously I touched it, it was prickly. I had lines and tiny sores on my forehead. My nose was long, broad, like that of an adult. Above the nose shot out thick, unruly eyebrows, and I whispered, oy, what have they done to me, not even mother and father will recognize me. I gave myself a smack on the head, I forgot I had no mother and father. I thought, maybe because I’ve changed my brother won’t know me, what do I do, what do I do. I put my hand on my chest, my heart calmed down a little and then I began to smooth my forehead. My forehead became red, the lines remained, the sores too, and I could see that I had a smooth face, without any sign of a beard. I couldn’t understand why I had no beard, Avrum had a beard at my age and maybe I’d stay with the face of a girl because of the ice in the open trains? I opened the top button of the shirt. I found signs of hair. I said to myself, the beard will grow, in the end it will grow.

  My teeth were in place, just the color had changed. I pulled down the skin under my eye. It was pale with spots, same with the second eye, and then I saw the man in the store standing in front of me. He had the face of a giant. He held out a long arm to me and shouted Raus. Raus. I understood him. I’d also have been alarmed by me.

  Three months had gone by since I’d found Dov, I didn’t know what was to come. One day Doctor Spielman came to me and took me to a corner of the basement.

  I stood with my back to the wall. With one hand he held onto the wall and with the other he rubbed his bald head. Back and forth, back and forth, and then he fixed me with questioning eyes, thought and thought and thought, and finally said: Yitzhak, listen, I know what you went through in the camps, I was there myself. He had a thick voice I didn’t recognize.

  I tensed immediately, took my hands out of my pockets, where were you, doctor?

  He was silent and then, after a few minutes, he said, your brother’s case is a severe one. Very severe. I’ve decided to try something. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He took out a handkerchief, wiped it and said, if you can get hold of some strong drink maybe you can save your brother.

  I stamped my foot on the floor, asked, what strong drink, doctor.

  Doesn’t matter, cognac, vodka, whiskey, but most important, with alcohol.

  I asked, alcohol, like getting drunk?Yes. Yes. Go and look for it in town, you won’t find it in the stores, look for it in people’s homes. If you find a bottle, bring it to the hospital. We’ll come up with some invention for your brother, maybe it will work, but first find some.

  I didn’t understand a thing. I left the hospital at a run.

  It was hot and suffocating outside. I ran along the road. Passed cars, almost stepped on an old woman with a dog, and didn’t stop. I heard her curse, then spit, the dog barked, ruff-ruff, I was already far away, near a row of houses with dry gardens. I stopped at the first house and tried to breathe evenly. Knocked on the door and didn’t wait for an answer. Pressed down the handle. The door opened. I went in.

  In the living room sat a fat man in a vest, holding a book in his hand. Seeing me, he jumped to his feet. I saw he was missing an eye and half his forehead. He opened his mouth. I gave him a severe look, he closed it. Pushing his fists into his pockets, he followed me. I went over to the cabinet in the living room. Full of glasses. I opened side doors, opened drawers. There were plates, eating utensils, tablecloths, I didn’t find a bottle. I went to the kitchen. The man followed me, two steps behind. In the kitchen was a heavy smell of frying. A small table, four chairs and low cupboards. I opened cupboards, moved tins, packets, utensils, potatoes. I saw no bottle. Near the wall was a large box. I opened it. Nothing. I left the kitchen. A little girl, maybe six or seven, approached the man. He signaled to her to go and she disappeared from the room. I followed her. Peeped into a room. The girl stood next to a bed hugging a woolen teddy bear. I saw a closet, opened doors, only clothes. I passed into another room. There was a double bed and a closet. I lifted clothes, towels, stood on the bed and checked the closet, nothing.

  The girl stood at the door, saying in German, it’s forbidden to stand on the bed in shoes, sir, what are you looking for? I heard an irritable clap. The man stood next to the girl. Caught her by the arm, pressing with his nails. I got down from the bed. Looked at his hand. He let go of the girl, and she ran to her room. I went out into the yard. There was a storeroom there. A boy of about ten stood in the doorway. He began cursing. The man made a tzzzt, tzzzt sound, the boy didn’t stop cursing. I saw he had eyes like a Chinese person and his tongue fell to his chin. I approached the storeroom. They boy didn’t move, continued to curse. I went past him and stepped into the storeroom. I turned over boxes, looked in a barrel, there were empty bottles there. I went back to the living room. I saw stairs going down. The two children stood beside the man, he held their hands. His face was as white as the wall. I went down into the cellar, it was dark. A small window near the ceiling gave a little light. I waited a few seconds until I got used to the light. I heard the man upstairs talking quickly. He had a voice like a machine gun. I paid no attention. I opened boxes. Lifted a blanket off shelves. Checked the floor. Found no alcoholic beverages. I left and the door slammed. I heard the turn of a key. Saw movement at the curtain.

  I went to the second house, the third, fourth.

  I’d go straight to the living room without asking permission, without asking questions. I’d go in and search on my own, as if the house was empty. The occupants didn’t disturb me. Maybe they were afraid of me, don’t know. If I found a house with a locked door, I broke a window. Sometimes I climbed onto the roof, and hop, I jumped inside. Sometimes I broke down doors. Nothing stopped me. I walked through the house and left.

  In one of the houses, a grandmother in an apron and slippers followed me, she was crying. As if I was the master and she a dog. I didn’t say a word. I looked in her house too. But I gave up looking in the yard. She didn’t stop crying until I left the house. In one of the houses, a woman with an infant in her arms opened the door. She wore an old dress. She had a small face and rollers in her hair. I wanted to say, don’t worry lady, I won’t hurt you, but nothing came out. The woman sat down in a rocking chair, following me with her eyes. I approached her. I said, Trinken, Trinken, and I gestured with my thumb in the direction
of my mouth. She said, Nein. Nein. And slowly shook her head. I left her and went to the door.

  The woman jumped up from her chair and caught my shirt. She said in German, take me, please, sir, take me with you. I ran to the path.

  I went to a different part of the town.

  I knew it was hard to find alcoholic beverages after the war. People didn’t have enough food. But I made a decision, I, Yitzhak would not return to the hospital without a bottle of alcohol. Even if I had to go through the entire town. Even if I had to get on a train to another town. I continued to break into houses. I went from street to street. In one of the houses I entered, a group of cats came in after me. They followed me from room to room. As if we were together. An old hunchbacked woman with glasses came out of the toilet. Her glasses fell off. She grabbed a rag, swiped her dress and shouted meow kishta, meow kishta. I picked up her glasses and put them in her hand. I began opening cupboards, the cats after me. The old woman picked up a glass of water from the table, and threw it over us. I jumped aside and smiled at her. She shrieked, take your cats, and march outside.

  Just a moment, grandmother, I’m going. I quickly opened a small cupboard in the corner. The cupboard was full of smelly rags. I closed it. Went out into the yard. The cats after me. A medium sized dog on a chain began to bark. I jumped over the fence into the neighbor’s house.

  In my search, I never laid a hand on anything. If Doctor Spielman had told me to bring gold, bring jewelry, a silver dish, I’d have brought it. No one bothered me. I wasn’t interested in gold. I wasn’t interested in jewelry. I wanted to save my brother.

  Finally I found it. It was before evening and the house was empty. I broke the lock and went in. A few steps brought me to a large, dark living room. It had heavy curtains, a red carpet and a lamp with a glass shade. Above a heavy wooden sideboard with moldings was a magnificent cabinet. A white dancer had one leg in the air and wore a pleated skirt. At first I didn’t see anything because of the dress. I turned a small key and opened the cabinet. The good smell of strong alcohol tickled my nose. My heart jumped. And there they stood. Three beautiful, fat bottles on a glass shelf. I put the bottles into my shirt and held them tight. I couldn’t help myself and began to shout with joy. I shouted, Doctor Spielman, we have the alcohol for my brother, and he’ll get well, aah. Suddenly I heard shrieks. Oh. Oh. Oh. I almost fell flat on the floor. I turned round. On a chair in the corner stood a large cage of birds. Inside was a large multi-colored parrot. I approached it and screamed louder, oho. Oho. I wanted to kiss it. It didn’t stop shrieking until I left the house.