“I already said I would go with you, but I don’t make any promises.”
“But…” Mindel looked at him, scared that Laszlo might abandon her. “I don’t want to stay there without you.”
He finally approached her and put an arm around her shoulders. “I won’t ever leave you, promise. Let’s go meet Mother Brinkmann, she might not be half-bad.”
A huge burden fell from Mindel’s shoulders. Everything would turn out just fine.
“Do you know where it is?” Mindel asked as they walked toward the far side of the compound.
“It’s right there. The last hut.”
Mindel reached for Laszlo’s hand, feeling less frightened when he squeezed it back. It took quite a while to cross the huge compound and her heart warmed when she saw a group of children playing next to the hut. The children ignored them, but as they approached, a tall, dark-haired woman stood up.
“Good morning, how can I help you?”
Mindel instantly liked her, because she didn’t shoo them away like the grown-ups usually did. But Mindel wasn’t brave enough to put forward her request, so she nudged Laszlo toward the woman.
He said in a defiant voice, “We only came here to have a look.”
Far from being offended, Mother Brinkmann smiled and waved her hand. “Go have a look around. We don’t have much, but the SS more or less leave us in peace.”
Laszlo strolled around, clearly indicating that he was less than interested in the woman and her children. He could be so stubborn at times. When Mindel saw the cantankerous expression on his face, she feared he’d mess up everything.
She fought off her shyness and stepped forward, “Mother Brinkmann, we came here to ask if we could live with you.” There, she’d said it. With bated breath she observed the woman’s face, bracing herself for a brush-off.
“Who sent you?”
“Some woman.” Mindel furrowed her brows, thinking hard. “She said you take in …children.” As much as she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to pronounce the word orphan. Her parents were alive – just not here.
“I do. What happened to your parents?”
Laszlo had returned and heard her question. With pouting lips, he said, “My mother died months ago, but I don’t need nobody to take care of me.”
Mother Brinkman seemed surprised, but she kept the pleasant expression on her face, as she addressed him. “What about your sister, does she need someone to take care of her?”
He looked confused for a moment, but then pointed toward Mindel. “She’s not my sister, and I’m taking care of her.”
“Do you have family in the camp?” Mother Brinkmann asked Mindel.
“No. My parents…I don’t know where they are. My older sister and I came here together, but…I believe she’s in the Women’s camp. I haven’t been able to find her.”
“So, it’s just the two of you, right? No adults watching over you?”
“We don’t need to be taken care of, we can do very well on our own.” Laszlo glared at the woman, but she wasn’t fazed in the least. Instead she looked at Mindel, who desperately willed Laszlo to keep his big mouth shut. Didn’t he see that it would be so much better to live here with this kind woman in charge?
“What’s your name?” the woman asked.
“Mindel, and he’s Laszlo.”
“Just Mindel?”
Mindel shrugged. It was too embarrassing to admit that she didn’t remember her last name.
Laszlo said, “I’m Laszlo Reisz. My father was Hungarian, and my mother German. And before you ask, I’m already seven. Old enough to take care of myself.”
“I never doubted that.” The woman smiled at him. “What about you, Mindel, how old are you?”
“Four.” Mindel gathered all her courage, made a curtsy and added, “And I would like very much to stay here with you.”
“My husband and I have already taken in twenty children in addition to our own, but we can certainly make room for two more.” Mother Brinkmann’s smile was so warm and friendly, Mindel almost broke out in tears.
She turned to Laszlo and begged him, “Can we stay? Please?”
He nodded with a dour face. Mindel hugged him before he could change his mind. Then she turned toward Mother Brinkmann, who pulled her in for another hug. Laszlo hung back, making sure to seem uninterested.
“Do you have any belongings? If so, go get them, come back here and we’ll get you settled in.”
Mindel nodded. She carried her most prized possession – Paula – around with her at all times, but they had a few more things stashed on their bunk. For example, their soup bowls, since Laszlo had taken to tying them to the bottom slat of the bunk bed so that they didn’t have to carry them around and that they wouldn’t get stolen. He’d tried to convince Mindel that she could leave Paula behind as well, but she refused. Whenever it wasn’t a good idea for Paula to be out in the open, Mindel simply tucked her inside her dress.
She grabbed Laszlo’s hand. He was still pouting, but just before reaching their hut, she couldn’t stand it any longer and said, “I like her.”
“She’s an adult, we don’t need her. You sure you don’t want to stay here?”
Mindel looked at the cramped barracks, the latrine that constantly made her gag, and nodded. “Their hut seems less crowded and much cleaner. And we would have other children to play with, now that Ruth is gone and Fabian is too sick to play.”
“It’s only a test. If I don’t like it over there, I’ll return here,” Laszlo said.
She climbed their bunk, and grabbed all their belongings: the blanket, several threads of wool, a sheet of paper, a shard of glass, chalk, two round pebbles, and several small sticks. She handed their valuables down to Laszlo, who stored them in the big pockets of his pants.
“Let’s go.”
Clara and Hanneli were waiting for them outside when they exited the hut a few moments later. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going to stay in the orphans’ barracks for a few days. But we can still visit each other every time we want,” Laszlo answered.
“Oh, you lucky ducks,” Clara squealed. “The SS rarely ventures down there, as long as Mother Brinkmann keeps her children out of trouble. I’ll certainly come and visit you.”
They made plans to see each other every day, and promised nothing would change, but Mindel somehow doubted that would work. After walking the long way twice this day, she was at the end of her strength, and only the prospect of a better place to live kept her on her feet. She certainly wouldn’t walk all the way up here every day.
Waving good-bye to her friends, she hurried to catch up with Laszlo, who’d already walked ahead.
“Laszlo, wait for me.”
He stopped for a moment and waited for her, but wouldn’t talk to her the entire time until they reached the orphans’ barracks.
There, Mother Brinkmann showed them the only vacant bunk bed. “I’m sorry that I don’t have a bunk for each of you.”
“You should see how crowded our old barracks are. This is actually great,” Laszlo said.
“I’ll introduce you to the other children.” Mother Brinkman motioned for them to follow her and then every child said her or his name. Mindel lost track after the third or fourth one, but they all seemed friendly enough and curious to meet them.
That evening, Mother Brinkmann gathered all of the children together and pulled out a dilapidated book with torn pages and faded images. “It’s the only book we have,” Mother Brinkmann said, “my children know the story by heart, but I still read it every night.”
A warm feeling swept through Mindel’s body and she crept nearer to Laszlo. She’d almost forgotten how it was when her mother or Rachel had read stories to her at nighttime. It felt so raw, she had to hold back her tears. Judging by the concentrated look on Laszlo’s face, he seemed to struggle with similar memories and she took his hand, whispering, “We’ll be fine.”
When Mother Brinkmann finished the book, the chil
dren began to beg her to tell them a story about Fluff.
“Who is Fluff?” Mindel asked, confused. She couldn’t remember any of the children being called by such a peculiar name.
Mother Brinkmann smiled and answered, “Fluff is a little dog. He loves all the children and always goes on adventures. Tonight, since you and Laszlo are new, you get to choose the adventure Fluff will embark upon.”
Mindel bit her lip while she thought about something exciting and fun for Fluff to experience. Laszlo leaned forward and whispered in her ear. It was a good idea. She said loudly, “I want Fluff and my doll Paula to climb a really tall tree.”
Mother Brinkmann nodded and began to talk, “Fluff and his new friend, Paula, are walking through the forest. They have been walking for quite some time, and it is getting late.
“Fluff looks up, trying to see the sky and the sun, but there are too many trees. He walks in a big circle, but realizes he can’t remember which way they have come or should be going. They are lost.
“Paula is very scared, and she sits down and begins to cry. Fluff walks over to her and licks her hand, telling her that he will find a way out for them.”
“How does he do it?” one of the boys asked.
Mother Brinkmann smiled. “Fluff has a hidden talent that not even his friend Paula knows about. He is an expert at climbing trees, but there is a problem: Fluff is scared of heights. He knows that he will be able to see the way out of the forest, if he reaches the top of the trees. But he has only ever climbed small trees, and these ones are really, really high.”
“It’s alright, Fluff. You can do it,” a little girl murmured.
“Yes, he can. Paula promises to go with him and she climbs onto his back. Fluff climbs the tree, jumping from one branch to another, while Paula holds her arms tight around his neck. It is very hard work, but soon he and Paula can see the blue sky overhead. When they reach the top of the tree, they can both see which direction will lead them out of the forest and back home.
“Paula is so happy, and Fluff too. They climb down and Paula rides on Fluff’s back as he walks them out of the forest. Once they are in the meadow, Paula hugs him and thanks Fluff for keeping her safe.”
The children all cheered and Mother Brinkmann said, much too soon, “Time for bed, children.”
They all lined up one by one, to receive a warm hug from the woman who had taken on the role of surrogate mother for them all. Mindel wrapped her small arms around her, and then watched as even Laszlo accepted a hug.
She crawled onto the mattress and for the first time since arriving at this camp, Mindel fell asleep feeling confident that tomorrow would be better than today.
14
Rachel’s throat was hurting worse than usual. Her hair had grown some more, and its orange hue was getting stronger. She coughed constantly and her eyes were stinging like hell. There was nothing she could do about it but take a couple of shallow breaths, relieved when the tickle in her throat subsided.
“You fine?” the woman working next to her asked.
“Is anyone working in here fine?” Rachel asked. The sentence was followed by another coughing fit. She wished for a bit of water to swallow down the irritation, but food or drinks were forbidden during work. She pondered whether she might ask the foreman if she were allowed to go to the latrine, just to inhale some fresh air. In here, it was so thick and dusty, she could barely breathe.
Suddenly, a brilliant light flashed and there was a sound like rushing wind through a narrow space, and before Rachel knew what had happened, she was engulfed in a torrent of pain and heat. She screamed at the top of her lungs and fell backward, breathing in the hot air and gasping as her throat was singed. Her hands and arms burned in a fiery sensation like she’d never experienced before.
From somewhere loud voices screamed and she felt people grabbing her, beating on her as she fought them. Her eyes were momentarily blinded by the flash of light, but as her vision returned, she realized her clothing had caught fire.
Apparently, the gunpowder had exploded, because dark smoke hung in the air and several other women were lying on the ground, smoldering. The guards yelled and shouted, although Rachel couldn’t make out the meaning of their words with her confused brain.
Someone lifted Rachel to her feet, half carrying and half dragging her to another part of the factory. Her left hand screamed with excruciating pain, pain that was a hundred times worse than anything she’d ever experienced before, including when she’d burned her hand with hot water as a child.
She whimpered and moaned, drifting in and out of consciousness. Every time she woke, the pain was so intense, she immediately sank back into the calming darkness engulfing her. Some kind soul brought a bowl of lukewarm water and told her to keep her hand in it.
Relief washed over her, as the water cooled the burns. When she finally dared to open her eyes, she saw burned black skin, raw flesh and blisters forming on her hand. The injury barely hurt in the water, but when she attempted to take her hand out of the bowl, the searing pain returned immediately making her dizzy and she quickly immersed her hand again.
The guards shouted at the women, “Leave the injured and get back to work. We have a war to win, lousy dimwits!”
Rachel was slumped against the wall, whimpering, when the factory medic came around to take a look at the casualties. He grabbed her hand from the water to inspect it and she screamed out in pain.
“Shut up, filthy Jew!” he said, dropping her hand back into the bowl, splashing precious cool water. “It’s just a burn. Clench your teeth and don’t be a crybaby.”
She would happily have stabbed a dart into his heart if she had one, but settled for glaring at him.
“This one can’t continue to work,” he said to the SS guard standing behind him.
“Alright, we’ll request a replacement and send her back.”
Rachel was hurting too much to grasp the meaning of his words, except that she didn’t have to finish her shift, which she was very grateful for. Despite the pain, exhaustion took over and she slept through the rest of the shift, until a guard kicked her with his boots.
“Get up, lazy-bones, it’s time to walk home!”
Home? For a short moment, Rachel believed he wanted to send her to the farm, but soon realized that home meant the Tannenberg camp.
She screamed when he took away the bowl of water, which earned her another kick in the midriff. In order not to infuriate him further, she did her best not to whimper as she used all her strength to get up. Without the cooling water, her hand felt like she was holding it in raging flames.
The image of medieval witches burning at the stake came to her mind and she all but vomited on the guard’s boots. Forcing the bile down, she staggered and stumbled to catch up with the rest of the women waiting for the injured to start the trek home, with aching ribs and singed clothes.
As she left the factory building, she caught a glimpse of several charred corpses and felt a twinge of jealousy. Those women had made it, they would suffer no more. Outside, the cold November air hit her body, causing her jaws to chatter, but at least it had the beneficial side effect of cooling her burned skin and easing the pain.
At the camp Rachel was immediately taken to the infirmary, where the Jewish doctor could do nothing for her but bandage her cracked ribs and put the hand in water again, until the SS came to put her on the next transport back to Bergen-Belsen. In her current condition she didn’t care either way.
She lived. She ached. And she was hungry.
Her hand was throbbing in rhythm with her heartbeat and the bumpy ride in the truck only added to the agony. When the truck stopped at the gates of Bergen-Belsen, she at once welcomed and feared getting off the truck.
Upon arrival they were inspected and most of the women were assigned to the barracks, but Rachel and two others were hauled to the infirmary in the Star camp. It was ironic, because she’d been wanting to come here all this time to look for Mindel, and when she finally reach
ed her goal, she was in no condition to walk around and ask about her sister.
“Here you go,” a kind Jewish doctor, who’d removed the dead skin and bandaged Rachel’s hand, said. “I’ll let you stay for three days, but I’m afraid then you’ll have to return to the Women’s camp. Make the most of your stay here and recoup your strength.”
Then she was gone and Rachel drifted back into her state of half-consciousness, not knowing whether the whimpering and moaning came from her own mouth or someone else’s.
During normal times, she would have considered this infirmary atrocious: unhygienic, dirty and crowded. But compared to the conditions in the main camp, it was paradise. Probably the best thing was that not even the SS guards peeked inside to harass the inmates; they were probably afraid of catching a disease.
The next day she questioned anyone who entered the hospital about Mindel, but nobody had seen or heard of her. As the nurse made the rounds in the afternoon, she asked her, too. “Please, I’m looking for my sister Mindel Epstein. She’s four…no, five…and I believe she’s here in the Star camp.” It occurred to her that Mindel had just recently had her fifth birthday, and her heart broke for the poor mite, who surely hadn’t been able to celebrate.
The nurse wrinkled her forehead and slowly said, “I believe…there was a cute little girl called Mindel. Brown hair, always carrying a ragged doll and with a slightly older boy in tow, probably her brother.”
Rachel’s heart beat fast with excitement. “That could be her. Where can I find her?”
The nurse’s expression became sad. “I haven’t seen her around in quite a while. You see, so many people die here, and the children especially don’t last for long.”
“I must find her.” Rachel jumped up from the bed, only to groan at the intense pain in her cracked ribs.
The nurse pressed her back onto the bunk. “You will go nowhere in your condition.” But as she noticed Rachel’s desperately pleading eyes, she relented with a sigh. “I will put out the word to ask around, but you must stay in bed. You won’t be of any use to your sister when you’re dead.”
The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII Page 7
