“We take meals together since my parents are gone, don’t we?”
She nodded.
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Then come on, make up a plate for yourself.”
She quickly made up a plate for herself.
“Becky, sit down.” He motioned her to the table. She had been taking meals with him since his parents had gone on vacation, but she dared not presume that she was welcome to sit beside him. She was still afraid of him, and each day she waited to sit down until he asked her to join him. His parents would return in two days, and then all of this should stop. But until then, she enjoyed bathing each day, wearing the clean uniforms that Jan was able to secure from the camp, and eating at the table like a human being.
She was surprised to find that Jan still had not tried to seduce her or compromise her in any way. He was, as he’d promised, a gentleman in every way. And she had long since stopped noticing his missing leg. Each day he read a poem to her from the book of poetry that he wrote and promised that one day he would allow her to read his memories.
“Becky.” He loved calling her this name. Even though his parents must never hear him call her any name at all. “Do you remember I told you that I had an idea, a very special plan that would change everything?”
“I remember. How could I forget?” She nodded.
“Well, I’ve checked things through, and let me just say that I believe the plan will work.”
“How? In what way? I am confused. What do you mean?”
“All right, let me explain. Years ago, before I went off to fight, my father used to insist that I accompany him when he went to the neighboring farms. The Nazi Party always takes the lion’s share of their produce for the war effort.”
“Yes, go on.”
“Did you know that? Did you know that the Nazi Party took most of the harvest that the farms produced? So, even though the farmers had plenty of food, they were forced to give it to the fatherland, and consequently, they never had enough. Many of them stole food and hid it in their cellars, barns, or in the attics.”
“Hmmm, I never knew.”
“Anyway, my father would go from farm to farm to make the produce collections. When we arrived, he would have the trucks loaded while I was sent to look for any hidden stashes that the farmers might be trying to steal.”
“Oh dear. Did you find any?”
“Yes, I am ashamed to say, I did. I didn’t understand the repercussions at the time. But later I found out that the farmers were punished severely. They were imprisoned in a camp like this one for stealing from the party.”
“Oh no, Jan.”
“Yes, and I was wrong. So very wrong. I regret my part in it. But there is nothing I can do to change the past. The reason I am telling you about this is because once, when my father sent me off to look for hidden food, I found a secret room under the floor. I found it quite by accident. The cat scratched the rug, and when the rug was moved out of the way, I saw an opening, a sort of crawl space. And then peeking up at me through an opening in the floorboards was a child. But not just any child. It was a little girl who had the facial features of a mentally retarded person. I knew, of course, why the farmer and his wife had hidden her. Himmler had declared that all mentally handicapped people were to be sent away. And later we learned that they were destroyed. This little girl was looking up at me, and she was so innocent. A line of drool ran down her chin. I suddenly felt a wave of pity. I knew I wasn’t going to tell anyone about her. At that time, I didn’t know that the mentally deficient were being euthanized. But something told me to keep my mouth shut. So I quickly replaced the rug and moved the table over so that the cat couldn’t move the rug back again and reveal the opening. Then I went to my father and told him that I found nothing.”
“That was very kind of you. Did you ever see the child again?”
“Not until yesterday. Do you recall that I went out for a few hours yesterday afternoon?”
“Of course, you left right after lunch and returned right before I went back to my block.” She looked away.
“What is it?” he asked, reaching over and touching her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I was just thinking about something.”
“What?”
“Never mind. It’s not important.”
“Yes, it is. It’s important to me. Anything that could make your expression so dark is important to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”
“When you left yesterday, you were wearing an SS uniform. Have you joined the SS?”
He laughed.
She looked at him, puzzled. “I didn’t think that was funny.”
“I would never join. I thought you knew me better. It was my father’s uniform. I was wearing it to look intimidating.”
“You’re not making any sense. Where did you go?”
“I went to see that farmer. The one with the mentally deficient daughter.”
“Why?”
“To make a deal with him.”
“What kind of a deal? You don’t need any more food. You have all you could want, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course I do. You know that. But I need a place to hide you. A place where you will be safe. Becky, I have to get you out of Auschwitz. So I told the farmer that I knew about his daughter. At first he panicked, begging me to have mercy on the child.”
“Oh”—she sighed, her hand flying up to her throat—“the poor man.”
“I told him his daughter was safe as long as he would do as I asked. He agreed. He said he would do anything. I told him I wanted him to take you in and hide you under the floorboards with his daughter. I told him I would fix the opening in the slat so no one would be able to see that there was a room beneath the floor. He readily agreed. I promised him I would come at least once a week with extra food to be sure you had enough to eat.”
“Jan? Why? Why are you so kind to me?”
“Can’t you guess?”
She shook her head. He smiled and looked at her with a warmth she’d never seen in the eyes of any man before. “I care about you, Becky. I don’t believe all this nonsense about Jews being subhuman. You are the sweetest, gentlest creature I’ve ever seen, and well . . . you’ve stolen my heart.”
Rebecca looked down. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you care for me too.”
“I don’t know what I feel. I’ve stifled my feelings for so long and now, well, I don’t know. I am so afraid all the time, Jan.”
“No matter. We will have plenty of time to get to know each other. I will come to see you each week and we will talk, and eat, like we do now. And before you know it, all your fears will go away.”
“What will your parents say when I don’t come to work?
“I will tell my parents that you became ill while they were gone, and so rather than possibly catch something from you, I took another maid from the camp. My mother won’t care, and neither will my father.”
“What about when I don’t show up at roll call? They will send out dogs looking for me, won’t they?”
“They might. But who cares? You’ll be safe at the farm, and no one will ever know where you are.”
She looked at him. “You’ve arranged all of this for me?”
He nodded.
“Thank you,” she said. “How can I ever thank you?”
CHAPTER 70
Later that afternoon, before the evening roll call, Jan tucked Rebecca into the trunk of his father’s car. Then he passed the guards at the gate with a quick wave and headed toward the farm. Once they arrived, Jan pulled the car around the back. Then he helped Rebecca out of the trunk.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
She nodded. “Yes, I am all right.” But her back and legs ached from being confined in the small space. Jan and Rebecca went into the house, where the farmer’s wife was waiting. She looked at Jan skeptically, as he was not wearing the SS uni
form. The farmer’s wife moved the rug and then carefully opened the trapdoor. She led Rebecca and Jan into the secret room under the floor. There, huddled in a corner, was a small girl with chubby cheeks, a flat face, slanted eyes, and a worried look.
The farmer followed them all into the secret room and looked at Rebecca suspiciously.
“This is Rebecca,” Jan said, forcing a note of authority into his voice. “Why don’t you introduce yourselves to her?”
“I am Henryk, and this is my wife Felka. The little girl is Anke.”
“And now, tell her your surname.”
“Gorski,” the farmer said. “But, please, I do wish you would go away and not get us involved in this thing you are doing. You see, we are only humble people. We don’t want any trouble with the Nazis,” Henryk said, wringing his hands on the tail of his well-worn work shirt.
“But you must remember, Herr Gorski, you have already broken the law, now, haven’t you? You have been hiding a deformed child.”
“Yes, please, I beg you; don’t let any harm done to our little Anke. She is a harmless, sweet, little creature. And we love her so much. Anke was born this way. She can’t help it. I beg you . . .”
“I understand how you feel. You love your daughter. I care very deeply for my friend, Rebecca. So, if you want to keep Anke safe, then you will make sure that you don’t do anything foolish like turning my friend in to the Gestapo. Anke will be safe as long as you protect Rebecca as if she were your sister. Do you understand me?” Jan demanded an answer.
Rebecca had never heard him sound like this. She knew he was playing a role, but it scared her to see how easy it was for him to act like a Nazi.
“Yes,” the farmer nodded. “I understand. And believe me, we will not do anything foolish.”
“That’s very wise. Now, leave us alone. I would like to speak to Rebecca alone.”
The farmer nodded then took his wife’s arm. Turning back for a moment he said, “Must I take Anke out of here with us?”
“No, leave her. She’s fine,” Jan said.
After the farmer and his wife were gone, Jan turned to Rebecca. “Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see. Trust me, please.”
“I do,” she said. She was glad that he was no longer acting like a Nazi, and he was once again the caring and wonderful man she’d come to know.
“I will return tomorrow afternoon. I’ll bring you some regular clothing. I want you to change out of that uniform. I think it’s best. My mother has a bag of clothing she is preparing to donate. I’ll just take a couple of dresses from the bag. She’ll never notice that they are gone.”
Rebecca nodded.
“And I’ll bring enough food to carry you through the week. I wish I could stay with you, but I must go now. Please, don’t worry, everything will be fine,” he said, clumsily touching her shoulder. She knew he wanted to embrace her, but the child was watching, and it was an awkward moment.
After Jan left, Rebecca was alone with Anke.
“Hello, Anke,” she said.
Anke hid behind a chair, a trail of drool running from her lips to her chin.
“It’s all right, you don’t have to be afraid of me,” Rebecca continued. “My name is Rebecca. But you can call me Becky if you would like. My friend, Jan, that man who was just here? He calls me Becky.”
“Becky,” Anke said.
“Yes, Becky.” Rebecca smiled, then she continued. “I am going to be staying here, with you. I’ll tell you stories, and we can sing songs. Won’t that be fun?”
The little girl peeked her head out from behind the chair and smiled. When she smiled, Anke was beautiful. And her beauty touched Rebecca’s tender heart.
CHAPTER 71
It didn’t take long for Anke to warm up to Rebecca. By the time Jan returned the following evening, carrying clothing and food, Anke was lying with her head on Rebecca’s lap. He came down to the secret room without the Gorskis and put the pile of things he’d brought down, on a small table.
“It seems that the two of you are getting on well,” he said smiling at Rebecca.
“We are. She is a sweet little marvel. She has the beauty of a child’s innocence. Such a kind heart, she has.”
“I’m glad.”
“Did they send out a search for me?” Rebecca asked, worried.
“They didn’t bother. I am not questioning it. And I am certainly not complaining,” he said then added, “By the way, I brought you something.”
“Oh?”
He handed her a package wrapped with pretty paper and a bow. “This is for you,” he said, his voice husky.
She cocked her head. “You didn’t need to bring me anything, Jan. I am so grateful for all that you’ve done already.”
“Open it.”
She took the package and carefully removed the wrapping. Inside she found a thick, neatly arranged pile of papers. “What is it?” she asked, but she already had an idea.
“It’s my manuscript. I wrote about growing up with my father. I have never shown it to anyone before. But I would like you to read it. That is, if you want to.”
“Of course I want to.”
He looked down. “I hope you won’t find it too boring.”
She smiled at him and rubbed his lower arm. “I am sure I will find it very interesting.”
“And here. I brought you something else too.” He smiled broadly as he took a smaller package out of his pocket and handed it to her.
Rebecca took the package and opened it. “A toothbrush?” She held the toothbrush to her chest.
“I thought you might need one,” he said.
She put her arms around him and hugged him, as the tears ran down her cheeks.
CHAPTER 72
June, Treblinka
By the beginning of summer, Eli had seen enough at Treblinka to know that it truly was a man-made hell on earth. He’d witnessed the shooting of a child, the beating of an old man, and the constant smoke from the crematoriums. He’d heard grown men cry with fear, and even worse, he’d seen others who were too weak and dead inside to cry at all.
Eli’s job was shoveling dead bodies into the ovens. For each dead person he would recite a silent prayer. It took him over a week to get used to the smell. At first he retched and gagged all day. But he knew he had to keep working or he, too, would be dead, and someone would be shoveling him into an oven.
When Joseph Goldstein had introduced Eli to the other Jewish men in his block as the son of a great rebbe, Eli found that some of the men were desperately in search of miracles. They needed hope, something to grasp on to. They needed God, and they needed Eli to assure that there was a God. These men began to follow him. They asked him when this would all end. They asked him what to do. All he could do was tell them to pray.
And then there were others who were filled with anger. Sometimes they took their anger out on Eli. They would rage at him. Often they would shake him or strike him. Always demanding some explanation for why the Jews were suffering the way they were.
“I lost my family,” one said. “Why? If there is a God, why would he let this happen to me? My wife and I did nothing wrong. We were simple people. We never broke God’s commandments.”
Another man demanded, “I lost my wife. They separated us when we first got here. They tore her away from me. She tried to run back to me but they shot her. I watched her die. Why, Eli, son of a great rebbe? Why?”
A young man in his twenties said, “My child died on the transport. No air, no water. He was only a baby. What could he have done to offend your God? Then my wife was gassed. Why did this happen? What’s the explanation, Eli? I beg you, tell me?” The young man wept.
Eli hung his head and admitted to having no answers.
Then one night he was approached by a Polish engineer who was well respected even among the Jewish population.
“Katz, is it?” the engineer asked Eli if that was his name.
“Kaetzel,” Eli replied. “Eli Kaetzel.”
“Yo
u’re the one the Jews talk about, the man whose father was a rabbi?”
“A rebbe, but yes, I think I am the man you’re looking for.”
“Good. I’m glad I found you. I need to talk to you. Do you know who I am?”
“I have an idea. You work in the extermination area, don’t you?”
“Yes, my name is Wiernik, Jankiel Wiernik.”
“I’ve seen you around. Why do you want to talk to me?”
“I’ve been watching you for a while. I think it’s a good thing that you’re a man of God. That means you have a conscience.”
“You are a religious man?”
“No.” Jankiel laughed. “But I was a carpenter, just like Jesus, before I became a guest of the Nazi Party.”
“A guest, huh?” Eli smiled. “And . . . you have a good sense of humor.”
“You have to know how to laugh if you’re going to survive here.”
Eli nodded. “I suppose you’re right. You need a sense of humor and a lot of hope.”
“I’ll get right to the point. I, along with others, are trying to organize an uprising, here in the camp. It is our goal not only to disrupt this systematic murder going on here at Treblinka, but we are hoping that during the chaos some of the prisoners might escape.”
“And what is it you want from me?”
“I want the help of the Jewish prisoners. And most of them trust you. Most of them will follow you.”
“You want us involved in the uprising?” Eli studied the man.
“Yes. We recently lost a man. Did you know Chorazycki?”
“He was a doctor, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. He was trying to buy weapons outside the camp. The camp’s deputy commandant caught him, and rather than endure the torture he knew they’d put him through, he committed suicide. I believe he didn’t want to be forced to turn any of us in.”
“So you want the Jewish prisoners to help you buy weapons from outside?”
“Have you talked with any of the prisoners that have been coming in on the recent transports? The ones from the Warsaw ghetto? They staged an uprising there, in the ghetto, by buying weapons from the Poles. A handful of Jews held the Nazi bastards off for a month.”
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