CHAPTER 11
Caleb knew he could send Zelda or Ben on the next transport if he chose to. Or he could force her to give in to him if he wanted it that way. But sex with Zelda was not his goal. He didn’t need her to make love to him. He had plenty of girls who threw themselves at him in exchange for half a loaf of bread. No, that was not his goal with Zelda. His aim was to win her love, to take her away from Ben. He wanted her to choose him over Ben. And even though he had the power to put Ben on the next transport, that would have been a hollow victory. Caleb wanted Ben to see Zelda choose him. This was the only way Caleb could win the game he played in his head and finally smash that spoiled, educated, rich boy, the same way the rich boys had smashed him when he was younger. Even though Caleb didn’t realize what he was doing, this game he was playing was his way of escaping the reality of the horrors all around him. Caleb wasn’t sure how he was going to win Zelda, but he was enjoying the challenge and decided he would not send Ben away. Instead, he would wait until the right opportunity presented itself to him.
CHAPTER 12
Late August 1942
On her way home from work, Zelda noticed a poster had been put up on the wall next to the official ghetto calendar. It was an announcement that Rumkowski was going to be making another speech. The note warned that every person living in the ghetto was required to be present at this speech. It would take place in the open area that was located right in the middle of the square, the same place he gave all his speeches, early on Friday afternoon on the fourth of September. Shabbas, she thought. It’s bad enough we to have to listen to him. But why on Shabbas? Now I’ll have to hurry and get in line to buy my food for Shabbas dinner as soon as he is done rambling, otherwise we won’t be done eating before sunset. She eyed the familiar ghetto calendar which included Rumkowski’s five slogans, and she wanted to spit because she was sure that he spewed nothing but pure propaganda. She read Rumkowski’s slogans aloud and shook her head. 1. Work, 2. Bread, 3. Care for the sick, 4. Supervision for the children, 5. Peace in the ghetto. He pretends these things are important to him, but the only thing that’s really important to Chaim Rumkowski is himself.
Zelda Lipman hated Chaim Rumkowski. She, like many others, had to keep silent because he ran the ghetto like a dictator. But she felt sure that since he’d become the Judenrat in the ghetto, he was probably happier than he’d ever been in his life. Everyone in the ghetto knew that Rumkowski had gotten married the previous winter to a young and beautiful lawyer. The girl’s name was Regina Weinberger, and she could be seen walking through the ghetto now and then in her lovely new winter coat. Neither she nor her husband looked hungry like everyone else.
CHAPTER 13
The fourth of September was a brisk, icy, blue-skied day. A chilly wind gusted out of the north as all the ghetto’s inhabitants congregated in the square, pulling their coats tighter around their bony frames as they waited for Rumkowski to appear. They spoke to each other in whispers. Most were disappointed that they would be forced to forgo their soup lunch because they had not been able to work that morning. Others complained that they wished Rumkowski would arrive already so that they could leave and begin to prepare for the Sabbath.
Zelda and Ben stood side by side holding hands. Not far away, Sarah held her doll as she sat beside her brother, who was drawing in a pile of dirt with a stick.
Rumkowski arrived on time. He wore his gray-and-black wool coat with the Star of David on the right side of his chest. His white hair stood out on either side of his black hat. Squinting from behind his thick, black-rimmed glasses, Rumkowski smiled wryly out at the crowd of people who were talking among themselves. Then he waved to them, signaling them to quiet down.
Rumkowski removed his hat, then he stood with his head down looking very grave. He seemed to have aged since the last time Zelda saw him. She pulled her coat tighter around her as she felt the chill of the wind whip through her clothes and penetrate deep into her skin. She shivered. Something was wrong. She could see it in Rumkowski’s eyes. She felt it in the air. Zelda glanced over at Ben who looked frightened too. Then Rumkowski began to speak.
“A grievous blow has struck the ghetto. They are asking us to give up the best we possess—the children and the elderly. I was unworthy of having a child of my own, so I gave the best years of my life to children. I’ve lived and breathed with children. I never imagined I would be forced to deliver this sacrifice to the altar with my own hands. In my old age, I must stretch out my hands and beg: Brothers and sisters! Hand them over to me! Fathers and mothers: Give me your children!
"I had a suspicion something was going to befall us. I anticipated 'something' and was always like a watchman—on guard to prevent it. But I was unsuccessful because I did not know what was threatening us. The taking of the sick from the hospitals caught me completely by surprise. And I give you the best proof there is of this: I had my own nearest and dearest among them, and I could do nothing for them!
"I thought that would be the end of it, that after that, they’d leave us in peace, the peace for which I long so much, for which I’ve always worked, which has been my goal. But something else, it turned out, was destined for us. Such is the fate of the Jews: always more suffering and always worse suffering, especially in times of war.
"Yesterday afternoon, they gave me the order to send more than twenty thousand Jews out of the ghetto, and if not—'We will do it!' So the question became, ‘Should we take it upon ourselves, do it ourselves, or leave it to others to do?' Well, we—that is, I and my closest associates—thought first not about 'How many will perish?' but 'How many is it possible to save?' And we reached the conclusion that, however hard it would be for us, we should take the implementation of this order into our own hands.
"I must perform this difficult and bloody operation—I must cut off limbs in order to save the body itself. I must take children because, if not, others may be taken as well—God forbid.”
Zelda grabbed Ben’s hand and squeezed it tightly. She swayed as if she might faint.
Rumkowski continued, “I have no thought of consoling you today. Nor do I wish to calm you. I must lay bare your full anguish and pain. I come to you like a bandit, to take from you what you treasure most in your hearts! I have tried, using every possible means, to get the order revoked. I tried—when that proved to be impossible—to soften the order. Just yesterday, I ordered a list of children aged nine; I wanted at least to save this one age group, the nine-to-ten-year-olds. But I was not granted this concession. On only one point did I succeed: in saving the ten-year-olds and up. Let this be a consolation to our profound grief.
"There are, in the ghetto, many patients who can expect to live only a few days more, maybe a few weeks. I don’t know if the idea is diabolical or not, but I must say it: 'Give me the sick. In their place we can save the healthy.'
"I know how dear the sick are to any family and particularly to Jews. However, when cruel demands are made, one has to weigh and measure: who shall, can, and may be saved? And common sense dictates that the saved must be those who can be saved and those who have a chance of being rescued, not those who cannot be saved in any case . . .
"We live in the ghetto, mind you. We live with so much restriction that we do not have enough even for the healthy, let alone for the sick. Each of us feeds the sick at the expense of our own health: we give our bread to the sick. We give them our meager ration of sugar, our little piece of meat. And what’s the result? Not enough to cure the sick, and we ourselves become ill. Of course, such sacrifices are the most beautiful and noble. But there are times when one has to choose: sacrifice the sick, who haven’t the slightest chance of recovery and who also may make others ill, or rescue the healthy.
"I could not deliberate over this problem for long; I had to resolve it in favor of the healthy. In this spirit, I gave the appropriate instructions to the doctors, and they will be expected to deliver all incurable patients, so that the healthy, who want and are able to live, will be saved
in their place.
"I understand you, mothers; I see your tears, all right. I also feel what you feel in your hearts. You fathers who will have to go to work in the morning after your children have been taken from you, when just yesterday you were playing with your dear little ones. All this I know and feel. Since four o’clock yesterday, when I first found out about the order, I have been utterly broken. I share your pain. I suffer because of your anguish, and I don’t know how I’ll survive this—where I’ll find the strength to do so.
"I must tell you a secret: They requested twenty-four thousand victims, three thousand a day for eight days. I succeeded in reducing the number to twenty thousand, but only on the condition that these be children under the age of ten. Children ten and older are safe! Since the children and the aged together equals only some thirteen thousand souls, the gap will have to be filled with the sick.
"I can barely speak. I am exhausted; I only want to tell you what I am asking of you: Help me carry out this action! I am trembling. I am afraid that others, God forbid, will do it themselves.
"A broken Jew stands before you. Do not envy me. This is the most difficult of all orders I have ever had to carry out at any time. I reach out to you with my broken, trembling hands and beg: Give into my hands the victims! So that we can avoid having further victims, and a population of a hundred thousand Jews can be preserved! So they promised me: if we deliver our victims by ourselves, there will be peace!!!”
(At this point, there were shouts from the crowd about other options . . . some saying, “We will not let the children go alone—we will all go!!!”)
"These are empty phrases!!! I don’t have the strength to argue with you! If the authorities were to arrive, none of you would be shouting!
“I understand what it means to tear off a part of the body. Yesterday, I begged on my knees, but it did not work. From small villages with Jewish populations of seven thousand to eight thousand, barely one thousand arrived here. So which is better? What do you want? That eighty thousand to ninety thousand Jews remain, or God forbid, that the whole population be annihilated?
"You may judge as you please; my duty is to preserve the Jews who remain. I do not speak to hotheads! I speak to your reason and conscience. I have done and will continue doing everything possible to keep arms from appearing in the streets and blood from being shed. The order could not be undone; it could only be reduced.
"One needs the heart of a bandit to ask from you what I am asking. But put yourself in my place; think logically, and you’ll reach the conclusion that I cannot proceed any other way. The part that can be saved is much larger than the part that must be given away!”
At first Zelda could not believe what she’d heard. Was it possible that she had not heard him correctly? Her mouth hung open in shock. It was as if she were in the middle of a nightmare, and nothing seemed real. A woman in the crowd, just a few feet away from Zelda, fell to her knees on the pavement and began to weep, crying out, “Please, no. Please, take anything else. Take my life but not my babies. Rumkowski, how can you be so heartless? How can you take our children?”
Rumkowski left the podium. Someone cursed Rumkowski as he walked by. “Gut zol oyf im onshikn fin di tsen makes di beste.” God should visit on him the best of the ten plagues.
Another man called out, “Rumkowski, how can you expect this of us? How? Are you as inhuman as the Nazis? You are a monster. You should die a thousand deaths.”
A woman with a kerchief yelled, “Have the Nazis gotten under your skin and turned you into one of them? You bastard.”
A woman just a few feet away from Zelda, who was weeping, yelled, “Your time will come, Rumkowski, and when it does, no Jew will be standing at your side. The Nazis will destroy you; mark my words. Mark my words, you devil of a man.”
Zelda looked at Ben who was as pale as the silver sky. “What are we going to do? I can’t give him my children. I won’t give him my children.” She fell into Ben’s arms, her fists pounding into his side. “Help me, Ben. You must help me.”
Ben stared at Zelda blankly. There was nothing he could do to save the children and he knew it. Solomon and Sarah were still at play; they were such innocents, completely unaware of the cruel destiny life had in store for them. He thought of Moishe and said a silent prayer. Even though he had no idea where Moishe was or what had become of him, at least Lila had given him a chance at life by taking him away. A new respect for Lila came over him. She did what he could not. He felt such shame that he could not help the woman he loved.
“I’m sorry. Oh God! I am so sorry,” Ben said as he held Zelda in his arms. “Let’s go home.”
The children trailed behind singing together as Zelda and Ben walked silently back to the apartment. The crowd had been too large for Solomon and Sarah to see their mother weeping. Now Zelda wiped her face on the sleeve of her coat. She steeled herself with the knowledge that she had one chance to save her children. She knew only one person who might have the power to help her. She had never been courageous. But now that her children were in danger she was like a lioness: she would do anything for her babies.
When they got back to the apartment, Zelda went to work on making herself look attractive. She wet her hair then began to use her comb to define her natural finger waves. She used the black eyeliner that she saved for special occasions. She pricked her finger with a needle. Then she took a tiny drop of blood and rubbed it into her cheeks and lips to make them look red and healthy. Zelda didn’t have many dresses, but she put on her favorite and left the first two buttons open to reveal the lovely porcelain skin of her décolletage. Ben watched her suspiciously. He wanted to speak; he wanted to tell her he loved her and wished she wasn’t going to do what he believed she was planning. But he couldn’t say a word. How can I ask her not to do this when I know that I can’t help her? I am worthless to her. The only man who can help her is Rumkowski. Ben was so ashamed. He was convinced that Zelda was on her way to see Rumkowski, and from the way she was dressing, she was planning to offer him anything and everything she had if he would only find a way to spare her children.
Zelda couldn’t look at Ben; she couldn’t meet his eyes as she put on her coat and walked out the door. This is exactly the same thing that happened with Lila. I couldn’t save our son, and so she went to the man who could. Damn that bastard, Rumkowski. I hate myself because I am useless to every woman in my life. They share their bodies like whores in order to save their children, and all I can do is stand by and watch. I am less than a man. I don’t deserve to be loved. I don’t deserve anything worth having. I had two women in my life, and I lost them both in exactly the same way. The first one broke my pride, but this one . . . she broke my heart.
Zelda walked as fast as she could without breaking into a run. She was on her way to Caleb’s office. Her palms were sweaty, and she was sick to her stomach. But at least she’d never told Ben anything about Caleb. The last thing she wanted was for Ben to confront Caleb, and if he knew that Caleb had been pursuing her, he might have. That could have been disastrous. Ben didn’t ask her where she was going when she left the apartment, and she was glad he didn’t. But she knew he was upset about the children too.
Zelda pulled the heavy door to Caleb’s office building. It swung open, and Zelda walked inside. “I am here to see Caleb Ornstein,” she told the short woman at the desk.
“Is he expecting you?”
“No. I don’t have an appointment, but I think he’ll see me. At least I hope so.”
“Who shall I tell him is here?”
“Zelda Lipman.”
The receptionist slid off her chair, and as soon as she pulled herself up to her full height Zelda remembered that she was a dwarf. A wave of pity came over Zelda as she watched the woman go into the back offices. She returned a few minutes later and said, “Mr. Ornstein said he will see you.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way . . .”
“Yes?”
“There’s really no n
eed to feel sorry for me. I may not be tall or built normally. But I am very smart. That’s why Chaim keeps me in his employ.” The receptionist smiled.
Zelda was taken aback. How did the woman know what she was thinking? Am I that easy to read? she thought. Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Right now, nothing matters except my children. Zelda was trembling and twisting the handle of her purse as she walked toward Caleb’s office. She hoped that he had forgiven her. And it would be very helpful right now if he was still interested in her, at least interested enough to be willing to help her in trade for what she would now offer him.
Caleb’s feet were on the desk, and he was smoking a cigarette when Zelda walked into his office. A smile spread across his face as soon as he saw her.
“I won’t pretend I don’t know what brings you here,” he said.
She nodded looking down at the ground, ashamed of what she was about to do. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I am afraid for my children, Caleb. I believe you can help me. I think you have some influence over Rumkowski. All I ask is that he leave my children with me and not send them away.” Zelda twisted the fabric of her skirt as she spoke.
“And . . . why would you think I would help you? You rejected me. Why don’t you get your boyfriend to help you?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “He can’t. You know that. He’s not as powerful as you are.”
Caleb laughed. “So you finally realized that? He’s not as handsome either. But, of course, you didn’t say that. I did.”
“Yes, he’s not as handsome,” she added quickly. “You are powerful and handsome and desirable.”
“Hmmm. Interesting how I’ve suddenly become so desirable.”
She didn’t know what to say. Words failed her now. Her entire body and mind were filled with desperation. The faces of her children flashed through her mind’s eye as she began to unbutton her blouse. Standing before him exposed like a piece of meat, Zelda felt her stomach turn. She hoped to control the urge to vomit.
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