by Emma Fraser
Someone took her by the arm and hurried her along the short piece of open ground.
She strained to see through the darkness, her heart pounding so fiercely it was difficult to breathe. A dog barked and she froze as the sound of a man’s voice carried on the cold night air.
‘Come on,’ her companion urged, dragging her forward.
She stumbled along beside him, expecting at any moment to hear a voice ring out demanding they stop – or to feel the punch of a bullet. The Nazis were notorious for shooting without feeling the need to ask questions.
After what seemed like hours but could have been only a few minutes, they reached their destination. The door was flung open and she was ushered inside.
The room was lit only by two single candles and she had to squint to see. When her eyes adjusted she sucked in a breath. Normally the house would shelter no more than a family of six or so, but there had to be several times that number in it now: infants wrapped in their mother’s arms; young children staring listlessly; older men and women, with dull eyes and sunken, gaunt faces. Those who couldn’t find enough space to lie down, slept upright huddled into blankets.
Despite the number of people, the house was freezing, her breath visible as she exhaled.
This wasn’t good. Disease loved nothing better than conditions of overcrowding and poor ventilation.
The man who’d taken her by the arm pulled off his cap, revealing dark, curly hair and even white teeth.
‘I am Bernard,’ he said. ‘This is Feliks and Eugene.’ His companions were much older than him although they seemed to defer to him. Feliks had most of his front teeth missing, while the loose skin on Eugene’s ruddy jowls suggested that before the war he’d overindulged in vodka and good Polish country food. But there was something about their solidity, their calmness, that reassured her.
‘There shouldn’t be so many people in here,’ she murmured.
‘We have no choice,’ Bernard said. ‘There aren’t enough houses for everyone. They keep taking people away, but they bring others to take their place.’ He rubbed a hand across his face. ‘To them we are animals and can live like animals.’
‘When Dr Zumbach was still alive we had one house that we kept for the sick,’ Feliks said, his voice hoarse. ‘But when the bastards discovered it they took all the sick away. Now we hide the ill amongst the healthy. You say it’s not good. Don’t you think we know that?’
She clicked her tongue and rolled up her sleeves. ‘Who has my medical bag?’
Eugene lit another candle so she could see better before clearing a space on the single small table. Irena noticed a pile of small notebooks in one corner.
‘We try to keep the children up with their lessons,’ Bernard said, catching her look.
Her shock at the living conditions was replaced with admiration. They were doing the best they could in this hell-hole. If life outside the ghetto was hard, it must be near impossible here. All she could do was offer what medical assistance she could.
‘Who’s my first patient?’ she said.
Chapter 20
Over the next two months, Irena went behind the fence at least once a week. Going through the wire still frightened her, but less so every time. A person could only stay terrified for so long. Each time there were several missing faces and some new ones.
Bernard was always there. He’d explained that he, Feliks and Eugene, the leaders of the ghetto, hid under the floorboards whenever the soldiers came. The three men had been trapped in the ghetto right in the beginning before the Germans could complete a full record of who was who and had decided to stay. ‘They must think,’ he told Irena, ‘that we all escaped right at the beginning of the war. Some of the men did take their chances in the mountains, while the others —’ He pulled his lips against his teeth and shrugged.
Today she was testing some urine in the hospital’s small laboratory when Stanislaw threw open the door. ‘Where is Henryk?’ he asked. His normally pale face was flushed, his eyes so bright they looked almost feverish.
‘Over here,’ Henryk replied drily, glancing up from his microscope. ‘What the hell is up with you?’
‘My good friend Grzegorz has been admitted. They let him go from the work camp to come here. They have given him three days before he must return. But the stories he tells!’ Stanislaw shook his head. ‘People are dying every day in these camps. They work them into the ground without feeding them. When they can no longer work they just shoot them. He says it is slaughter.’
Irena and Henryk shared a look. The round-ups had become more frequent lately. Already at least half the population of their village and the ones nearby had been taken but they’d allowed themselves to hope that the Germans would look after them well enough so they could get the maximum work out of them. The largest number of Poles were labourers and used to tough conditions, but no one could work eighteen hours a day in sub-zero temperatures with almost no food and stay healthy. The occupiers’ behaviour didn’t make any sense.
‘Yet they let him return here for medical treatment?’ Henryk said. ‘Are you sure you can trust him?’
‘I’ve known him all my life. He wouldn’t lie to me. He says they let him come back because he was an engineer before all this happened and the Nazis need him fit enough to supervise the bridges they’re building. He thinks the bastards don’t have enough engineers in Poland for all the bridges and building work they are doing.’
‘Then he is lucky.’ Henryk’s smile was tight.
‘We have to stop them taking more people to these places,’ Stanislaw said, pacing the small laboratory. ‘It is a death sentence for everyone who ends up there.’
Henryk lifted his shoulders. ‘But what can we do? You know what happens when anyone refuses to go – the Germans just shoot them and others. Resisting is futile. At least at the work camps they have a chance. If they are shot by the Nazis, they have no chance at all.’
‘That’s just it! That’s what I have come to tell you! I have an idea. I’m not sure if it will work and if it does I am going to need your help and Irena’s. My friend has already agreed to act as a guinea pig.’
Henryk straightened, looking interested. ‘Go on.’
‘What are the Germans most scared of?’ Stanislaw asked.
‘They seem scared of very little.’
‘Disease,’ Irena said instantly. ‘That’s why they don’t bother with the hospital very much. They’re scared of catching whatever illnesses our patients have.’
Stanislaw grinned at her as if she were a pupil who had given the teacher the answer no one else knew. ‘And what disease in particular?’
‘Typhus,’ Henryk and Irena said together. It was true. The Germans hadn’t had an outbreak of typhus for years. Although they occasionally came to the hospital with sore throats or for treatment of venereal diseases, Irena hadn’t seen a single case of typhus among them.
‘Exactly! Typhus. Before the war one of my German colleagues wrote a paper in a medical journal about it. He claimed that it was evidence of German superiority. A load of rubbish, of course. The wealthier citizens and the officers get vaccinated against it, a fact they keep from their underlings. But their fear of the disease is something we can use to our advantage. And I have a plan how we can do that. A way to save hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives.’
‘And how precisely?’ Henryk asked, scepticism lacing his voice. He was the expert surgeon while the younger doctor was the diagnostician. Stanislaw had been heading for a professorship at Warsaw University before the invasion. He’d had madcap ideas before and none of them had come to anything.
‘I took a dead virus and injected it into my friend. I waited twenty-four hours, then drew a blood sample. I checked it last night and it works! It definitely showed evidence of precipitation.’
Henryk raised his eyebrows.
‘I can see that you don’t believe me,’ Stanislaw said, ‘So I’ll prove it to you. I have another blood sample here to test. Let me show you.
’ He held out the small tube of blood and crossed over to one of the benches. He took a pipette and dropped some anti-serum onto a slide. Irena and Henryk went to stand next to him. They waited the few minutes necessary for the blood to react with the anti-serum.
‘Now look. What do you observe?’
Stanislaw peered down the microscope than stood aside to let Irena take a look. The cells had clumped together, giving the sample a cloudy appearance – evidence of typhus.
‘But what makes you so sure you haven’t infected your friend, Stanislaw?’ Henryk said. ‘You could kill him.’
‘I told him there was a small risk that would happen. He wanted to take the chance, but just in case, I’ve kept him isolated. I saw him this morning. He is perfectly well. No fever. No joint pain. Nothing.’
‘I still don’t understand. How will this help?’ Irena asked.
Stanislaw turned to her, grinning widely. ‘You said it yourself. The Germans are terrified of typhus and they’ll do anything to avoid the risk of infection. So we use their fear against them. The beauty of this is that they will be giving us the diagnosis themselves when they test the blood samples we send them. We will tell them that we have to quarantine the streets in the villages where there is evidence of epidemic typhus. They won’t go near them.’
‘And what about the men and women you are intending to inject?’ Henryk said calmly, although Irena could see the rising excitement in his eyes. She felt the first stirring of optimism. If Stanislaw was right…
‘I will tell them I’m vaccinating them against disease and that they must keep to their homes until I say. Even if they wonder, they will be glad to be spared from the work camps.’
‘And we can do it for the people in the ghetto too!’ Irena said.
Stanislaw’s smile disappeared. ‘I thought about giving it to our friends in the ghetto. But I’ve heard rumours. If there is infectious disease amongst the Jews and the Germans hear about it, they take everyone out, shoot them and set fire to every building. We can’t risk it.’
‘But how can you be sure they won’t burn our homes and shoot us?’
‘The Germans need us for their work camps. I’m confident they’ll wait until the village is free from disease before they start taking people again.’
‘Won’t they get suspicious?’
‘Perhaps. But at the moment it’s all we can do. We have to try. Who knows, before they get too suspicious, we might be liberated.’
Irena doubted that. But he was right. They had to try. ‘You know I’ll help in any way I can,’ she said.
‘I know you will,’ Stanislaw said, his eyes soft. ‘We couldn’t manage without you, Irena. Now I’d better get on and vaccinate as many people as I can.’
He grinned and Henryk slapped him on the back. ‘You know, old friend, I think you might have something.’
Chapter 21
As they’d hoped, the Germans accepted the so-called typhus epidemic and allowed Stanislaw and Henryk to quarantine roughly half the homes in the village and those in the surrounding areas too, after which the SS all but abandoned Rozwadow, leaving only enough men to guard the ghetto and keep an eye on the villagers. Subsequently there were fewer raids. It seemed as if Stanislaw’s plan was working.
One afternoon, during her break, Irena left the hospital and went to sit on a bench in the square. It was cold but the wind had dropped and the sun was shining.
She wasn’t alone. Most of the benches were occupied, either by older women taking a rest on their way home with the shopping or by young mothers watching over their children as they played.
Almost everyone was underweight now. At least, unlike the Jews in the ghetto, they weren’t starving. With the smaller Nazi presence, farmers had returned to the village bringing the odd chicken or bunch of carrots to sell or trade in the square. Most of their produce was appropriated to feed the German army but what they didn’t take, the farmers sold.
She turned her face to the sun and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of drowsiness that swept over her. Perhaps they could find a way to survive this war after all?
When she heard the crunch of boots she didn’t pay any attention.
‘Good day, Fräulein.’ She opened her eyes to find the German SS major who had almost shot Nurse Honisz standing in front of her. Since that day she’d only seen glimpses of him as he’d led the round-ups or inspected his men guarding the ghetto.
She suppressed her fear and revulsion and forced a smile.
‘Good day, er, Oberführer Bilsen, isn’t it?’ she replied in German.
‘You remembered. I am flattered.’
Don’t be, she thought. I plan to remember every soldier’s name that has ever committed an atrocity. I plan to remember every action, every death, every cruel act, so that one day you will all be held to account for your actions.
‘You have fully recovered?’ she asked, getting to her feet.
‘Yes. Thanks to you and the other nurses.’
Irena didn’t want his thanks. She just wanted him to keep away from her. ‘Please, Fräulein,’ he added, ‘sit down. Don’t let me stop your enjoyment of the sun.’
‘I should go, really. I have work to do.’
‘I said sit down, Fräulein.’ He smiled but his eyes had lost their boyish glint. ‘Please.’
She had no choice but to do as he asked.
He wiped the space next to her with a handkerchief before taking a seat. She was aware of the eyes of the other women on her. One by one, careful not to attract too much notice, they gathered their shopping bags and their children and melted away.
Irena waited for him to speak.
‘You were brave that day, when you intervened for the nurse,’ he said finally.
Irena’s mind raced as she thought about what to say. ‘I remembered you from the ward. I knew from meeting you that German officers are civilised men. I was certain you didn’t want to shoot that sick man or his daughter. Not if you could help it.’ It was a lie, of course. Nothing over the last few months had led her to believe that the Nazis were anything but men who had lost their humanity. Nevertheless, he seemed pleased by her answer.
‘We do what is necessary to impose order,’ he said. ‘That is all. The sooner your people realise this, the better.’
She wanted to claw at his face. They could impose order without killing innocent people. She twisted her hands together as she struggled to keep her temper under control. He was a dangerous man.
‘This place is sick,’ he said after a long pause. At first she thought he was talking about the way the villagers were being treated, that somewhere hidden deep inside, he regretted his country’s actions.
‘So much illness,’ he continued. ‘Typhus. Strange that it should be so much here, don’t you think?’
Her heart banged against her ribs. Did he suspect? Suddenly she wished Henryk and Stanislaw hadn’t taken her into their confidence. She was sure guilt was written all over her face.
‘Typhus is like that.’ She was pleased that even to her own ears her words sounded casual, bored even. ‘When it takes a hold it can be difficult to eradicate as it spreads so rapidly from one person to the next. Isolation and simple nursing is all that can be done. It will disappear when it has run its course.’
‘Perhaps it is better to burn it out.’
Dear God, the man was a monster!
‘As I said, it will go soon enough. The men and women will recover and be fit for work again.’ She looked him in the eyes and forced herself to smile coquettishly at him. ‘Like dysentery, typhus is a disease of war.’
His cheeks reddened. ‘Let us not speak of war. Not today. Not when the sun is shining. No, today I prefer to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman and talk of other things. More pleasant things.’
More pleasant things!
‘Then let us talk about you. You are married?’
‘Ah, yes. My wife is back in Berlin with our children.’ He slipped a hand inside his jacket and brought
out several photographs and Irena was forced to exclaim over each of them. He had three children all with blond hair and blue eyes and his blond-haired blue-eyed wife was clearly their mother. Did she know what kind of monster she’d married? Did she even care? And did the man sitting next to her, regarding the photographs of his family with unmistakable pride, see no irony that only a few yards away, behind the barbed wire of the ghetto, children the same age as his were dying horribly and slowly from starvation?
‘And you? Are you married?’
‘No,’ she said softly. She didn’t tell him she was engaged – she didn’t want to share any part of her life with this man.
