“What little girl?” he demanded sharply. He turned toward his men. “Guards, seize her!”
“Irena, what are you doing?” In the fog of her grief she heard Ala’s voice.
“I apologize,” said Ala to Klaus, rushing up to stand in front of Irena. She was wearing her official head nurse uniform. “Irena has been ill. She may have caught something.”
Klaus turned to the nurse. “Out of my way,” he ordered.
“Please, sir. Irena has typhus. She’s been exposed during one of her inspections. She wandered out of the hospital and must have walked here.”
Klaus took a step back. “She has typhus?”
“Yes, sir.”
Klaus hesitated. “You’d better get her out of here immediately. And yourself as well.”
“Jawohl, Herr Sturmbannführer.” She tugged on Irena, whispering in Polish. “We have to go right now. Your life depends on it.”
“I don’t care,” Irena whispered, half to herself. “Kaji is on that train.”
Ala tugged hard on Irena, pulling her to her feet. “You have to help me,” she said. “I can’t hold you like this much longer.”
Irena thought of charging the Germans and letting them shoot her. She wanted to join the train, or to just die. But Ala kept pulling her away. With an animal shriek she turned and stumbled away, allowing Ala to lead her down the block. They turned a corner and Irena collapsed, burying her face in the pavement. “They’ve taken my little girl. She’s gone. She’s gone forever.”
She felt a dizzy blackness overwhelming her, and soon there was only darkness.
Chapter 21
Tea in Hell
August 7, 1942
Treblinka, Poland
Klaus did his best to ignore the endless chatter from the engineer. His seat was uncomfortable, crammed into the space near the train’s driver. Peter sat next to him. The area was intensely hot, adding to the scorching heat of the August afternoon. The train shimmied and rattled. All of this was bad enough, but the engineer was an incessant chatterer, rambling on about his job and the importance of transportation to the war effort.
Klaus didn’t need to be here. He was beginning to regret his decision to come, but he wanted to see the entire process from beginning to end. He had learned long ago that understanding all aspects of an operation, not just the elements he was responsible for, helped him to improve efficiencies, and gave him an advantage over others in the same department, who were often not as thorough as he was.
The engineer continued. “You don’t know the troubles that we encounter,” the man said. “We are constantly called on by multiple departments for transportation at the same time. Everyone thinks their project should be first, and nobody is sure who is really in charge at the top. Besides the Führer, of course. So I’m stuck taking what I consider to be the most important projects. I was in Russia for a long time. But I didn’t like it. Different gauge of rail and everything. Did you know that? Damn train doesn’t feel natural on it. I was more than happy when a job came up in Poland. This is a milk run. Just seventy-five kilometers in and back. No bombers, no tanks, no attacks on my train. And we don’t even have to help unload it.”
“That’s quite enough,” said Klaus, reaching the end of his patience.
“Well, I see I have another high-and-mighty officer on board,” the man said, almost under his breath. “Never mind then, I’ll just do my job. Nobody appreciates us.”
“You heard the major,” said Peter. “Quiet your mouth.” He turned his head away from the man, giving Klaus a wink.
The engineer finally shut up and Klaus felt his pounding headache begin to dissipate slightly. He stared out at the countryside for a few minutes. The landscape was dotted with little farms, the houses a light yellow color with low thatched roofs. The structures were foreign to him, so different than the tidy farms near his home in Germany. The Poles lived so close to the fatherland, but they were so different. Perhaps that is why they had often been enemies.
“How much farther?” he asked.
“Oh, now you want to talk to me.”
“Just answer the question,” ordered Peter.
“Not too far now,” the engineer said, pointing. “See just ahead, we veer off on that rail line.”
The train slowed gradually and lurched as it shifted lines at a rail spur. A worn sign near the track said “Treblinka.” Once the train completed the shift, it picked up speed again.
“Not much longer now,” said the engineer after a few minutes. “Look ahead, there’s the camp coming up just past those trees.”
Klaus stood, holding on to a metal bar for balance. He leaned forward, straining his eyes. In the distance the forest parted, and he could make out a long rectangular wooden structure on the right. It was a train station with one tapering gable in the middle. The sign at the station said Obermajden in large letters and indicated that Białystok was the next stop and Walkowysk was the terminus.
The train slowed down, and it took another ten minutes before they were at a complete stop. Then Klaus and Peter stepped off the train. They were met by a delegation of SS in crisp dress uniforms, led by the camp commander, SS Ober-sturmführer Irmfried Eberl. The commander was perhaps a touch over thirty, with a handsome face and a short mustache clipped in the Hitler style.
“Guten Nachmittag, Herr Sturmbannführer,” he said, greeting Klaus in crisp German, albeit with an Austrian accent.
“Heil Hitler,” Klaus said in return, giving a salute.
“We’re excited to have you,” said the lieutenant. “We haven’t had many visitors yet.”
“Thank you for having us, Doctor,” he responded, remembering Eberl was a physician. “You’ve only been in operation for a couple of months, correct?”
“Less than that, actually,” said Eberl. “We’re still learning as we go. But I’m excited about the progress we’ve made. Would you like to have some refreshments now?”
“I’d like to see your operation,” Klaus said in response.
“Excellent.”
Eberl turned to one of his men and gave a command. The soldier turned and yelled toward a group of SS clustered a few meters away. They rushed forward, ripping open the cattle car doors. The cars were jam-packed with people, terrified expressions on their faces, huddled together with no room to move.
“Raus!” The scream came up and down the line, ordering the Jews to step out of the cars. Klaus noticed men running forward past the SS to assist them.
“Who are those people?” he asked.
“Jews,” said Eberl dismissively. “We use them to assist with the luggage and get everyone moving on their way.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Klaus. “With what they are witnessing?”
Eberl laughed. “Don’t worry about them. They don’t last long. Every couple of weeks we select a new group, and these ones go up the chimney. That way there are no tales to tell.”
The unloading took almost an hour. Klaus recognized Dr. Korczak amidst the crowd. He stepped down from the cattle car with a four- or five-year-old girl in a white dress in his arms. He turned to Eberl. “What’s next?” he asked. The unloading was lasting longer than he’d expected and his headache had returned with a vengeance.
“We have the processing center itself,” said Eberl. “I have set up some tables and chairs nearby, so we have a good view. Would you like to go there now, or watch the rest of the unloading?”
“Let’s go to the viewing area,” Klaus said. They started in that direction, moving past the long line of Jews already queued up and moving down a long narrow pathway with barbed wire. The path was well raked and the two-meter fencing on either side was covered in greenery.
“That’s the Himmelstrasse,” said Eberl. “The road to heaven! It’s a little joke, but they are under too much stress to understand the humor of it.”
Klaus heard an audible groan and he looked over at Peter. His assistant was green faced, and he was grimacing in obvious pain. “What are
you doing?” he whispered.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, sir. This is a lot to take in.”
“No stomach for this kind of thing, eh?” asked Eberl.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” said Peter.
“Why don’t you wait in the train,” said Klaus. “You don’t need to be here for all of this.”
Peter nodded gratefully and turned to leave, moving rapidly back toward the engine compartment.
“Not much of a man, is he?” said Eberl. “My boys handle this just fine.”
“He’s a good man,” snapped Klaus. “I don’t need your commentary about my staff. Just show me the process.”
“Yes, sir,” said Eberl, his face blanched. “It’s just this way.”
They stepped around the barbed wire trail and out into an open part of the camp. They walked for another hundred meters and approached a long set of portable tables with about twenty chairs, all facing a long barnlike structure about fifty meters distant. This structure was painted light brown on the lower half and the gable contained a large star of David. The table was set with a white cloth, china, and silverware. There were four silver tea sets and five trays laden with meats, cheeses, and bread.
Eberl gestured to a couple of seats in the middle of the table and Klaus sat down to his right. The rest of the officers and men in Eberl’s group took their seats and a group of servants hastened up, pouring tea and serving an afternoon meal. Klaus waived off any food, gesturing to his cup. A soldier poured some tea for him. “Sugar and milk?” the soldier asked.
“Just sugar,” Klaus said.
The soldier looked around on the table for a few moments. He moved up and down the line, finally returning to Klaus. “I’m sorry, sir, there doesn’t seem to be any sugar here. I can go get you some.”
“Yes please,” said Klaus in irritation.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Eberl asked.
“What’s next?” Klaus said, ignoring the question.
“I just want to make sure you are comfortable.”
“I am fine, Lieutenant. What is the next step in the process?”
“Look over to those buildings,” said Eberl, gesturing to some structures near the barn that looked like barracks. “Ah, here they come now.”
A line of Jews was being herded out of the barracks. They were naked, and even from here Klaus could see their fear and misery.
“Why bring them out naked in public?” he asked.
“Logistics,” said Eberl. “We have separate structures for undressing and processing. In fact, we don’t have room for the men to undress indoors. They disrobe in between the barracks.”
The male Jews moved quickly into the barnlike structure. In ten minutes, they were all inside and the doors were closed. An order from one of the men standing nearby rang out and he heard an engine rumble to life.
“That comes from a Russian tank,” Eberl explained. “They used to use truck engines, but they are too small.”
From the barn Klaus could hear screaming. The engine revved, partially drowning out the yelling. He checked his watch. Where was his sugar? Minutes passed and the sounds began to wane. Eventually he could hear nothing. He checked his watch again. Twenty-five minutes.
Klaus noticed a pile of bodies near the gas chamber. “What is that?” he asked, pointing toward the corpses.
“Just runoff,” said Eberl. “The limiting factor isn’t the chamber. The problem is disposing of the bodies.”
“And you leave them out there for anyone to see?”
“By the time they get this far, it doesn’t matter anymore,” said Eberl, laughing. “There’s no place to run.”
“What happens next?” Klaus asked.
“The Jew workers will remove the bodies and take them to the structure over there for burial.”
“How many can you handle a day?” Klaus asked.
“Three thousand,” said Eberl.
“But not without this mess?” he said, gesturing to the stacks of bodies outside.
“We are doing our best. Each week we come up with new procedures. Would you like to stay to watch the disposal process?”
“No, thank you,” said Klaus. He rose. “I’ve seen everything I need to see.”
Eberl stood with him, extending his hand. “I hope you will give my superiors a favorable report.”
“I certainly have much to tell them. Thank you again, Doctor, this has been an illuminating day.”
He turned to leave. The soldier/servant was just rushing up with a small cup, full of sugar. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I just found this and came right back. Can I bring you a cup for the train?”
“No, thank you,” said Klaus. “Don’t worry about it. You’re learning more every week.” He turned and walked back toward the train. Peter was there, sweating in his uniform, still looking ill.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “Please forgive me. I don’t know what got into me. I wasn’t expecting this.”
Klaus took his hand. “Don’t you worry, Peter. This is a regrettable process with a noble purpose.”
“Did you learn anything?” he asked.
“Yes. Eberl is a pig. This whole camp is a sloppy mess. I’ll be giving a full report immediately when we get back. This will be changed.”
“You’re going to shut down the camp?” said Peter.
“No. But the process will be made more efficient.” He took his friend’s hands. “The war will be over soon. All of this will be over.”
“If we win,” said Peter.
Klaus looked back at the camp. “We must win. If we lose, the world will make us pay.”
Chapter 22
The End
August 1942
Warsaw, Poland
“Irena?” She heard her mother’s voice through the fog of her mind. She didn’t react, didn’t move.
“Please, you have to answer me. You’ve been here for two days. At least drink a little water and eat something.”
She didn’t want to eat or drink. The searing burning in her throat could draw her away from her pain at least for a little while.
Kaji, Ewa, Dr. Korczak, the children. They were gone. All of them. Forever. She’d let it happen. She was a day too late. Why hadn’t she pushed them all faster? All she’d needed was a few hours. If Jan had worked a little harder. If Julian had pulled his resources together faster, they could have saved them all.
Kaji hurt the most of all. She was her little girl. Irena was going to adopt her. After the war Adam and she would marry, and Kaji would be the first child in their family. She would have raised her as a Jew, in honor of her murdered mother and father. In the socialist world Irena and Adam had dreamt of, religion wouldn’t matter.
All of that was gone now. Everything she’d worked for these many months was finished forever, and there was nothing she could do about it. All her bravery, her risks, the danger and the death, had come to nothing. The Germans had beaten her again. As they always did.
She’d done much of this for her own pride, she realized. She was going to show the fascists that socialism would prevail. That she would prevail. She’d done it for her friends and for the children, but perhaps even more so, she’d done it for herself. Since the Germans invaded, the only things she could control were operations with her job, in defiance of the Nazis.
Peter. She saw his smiling face again as he blocked their exit at the church. If he hadn’t been there, Kaji would have come out with her at the same moment as Adam. She would be alive. If it wasn’t for that bizarre coincidence, she would have saved her child.
“Irena.” She heard the words again, closer this time. She felt a hand on her back. “Please, dear, just have a little drink of water.”
“I can’t do it, Mother. I don’t want it.”
“You have to. Just a little.”
“No!” Irena screamed. She twisted hard in the bed and grabbed the glass out of her mother’s hand. She threw the cup against the wall and it shattered. Glass and water explode
d all over the wall. “Get out!” she screamed. “Get out, out, out!”
“You’re mad!” her mother shouted. “I’m going for help.”
Her mother left the room and Irena rolled back over, alone again with her agony. She closed her eyes and slept for a while, her only escape from hell.
She was awakened sometime later. She felt someone sitting by her on the bed, hands feeling her forehead. “I told you to leave me alone, Mother,” she whispered.
“I’m not your mother,” said a man’s voice.
She opened her eyes. A middle-aged gentleman sat over her, his kind eyes looking her over with deep concern. “You’re badly dehydrated,” he said. “I’m going to give you something for your hysteria,” he said. “Then I need to get you to the hospital. You need fluids immediately.”
“I’m not hysterical,” said Irena, starting to pull away. “I don’t need anything. Leave me alone.”
“This is a little shot,” he said. “Then you’ll relax.”
“I said I don’t want it!” she shouted, jerking her arm away.
“Hold her down,” the doctor said. She felt other hands on her, and in her weakened condition she couldn’t resist. She felt a painful stab in her arm, and then an overwhelming warmth washed over her before she fell unconscious.
She woke in a strange bed. There was an IV hooked up to her arm. She felt like her mind was surrounded by cotton. She couldn’t focus, but at least the terrible pain was gone. As the images around her came into sharper view, she saw a face materialize above her. It was her mother. She was smiling down at her in obvious relief.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“What time is it?” Irena asked.
“More accurately you should ask what day it is,” said a voice she recognized as the doctor from the apartment. She turned her head to the left and he was there, looking down at her again with his kind, understanding eyes. “You’ve been unconscious for three days. We’ve had quite a scare, young lady. Another few hours unattended and you might not have made it. But the worst is over now and you’re on the mend.”
Irena's War Page 24