The few Rabbis in the group led some in prayers, but quietly, as the guards had said it was forbidden.
As more prisoners arrived, food rations grew smaller and the despair grew. Grown men fought over a crust of bread. Some stole from the sick. Heinz saw a man steal another’s shoes. When the thief caught Heinz looking at him, he pulled his finger across his throat. Heinz would not have ignored the threat but for his injuries.
Men wasted energy arguing over the most trivial things. The length of time they would be kept here. Who would be released first? They argued that it wasn’t sensible not to feed a workforce, for that is what they were, weren't they? Heinz didn’t argue with anyone. He noticed Papa kept silent too. The numbers of sick were increasing, despite Papa’s best efforts. Mr. Bernstein wasn’t well, that much was evident within a few days.
“He didn’t bring his medication with him. For his heart. They smashed the bottle on purpose.”
“I will ask for some.” Papa put in a request every day but nothing happened. Still, he kept asking. Heinz wished he wouldn’t bring attention to himself but Papa explained that a doctor always looked after his patients.
One morning, the doors were flung open.
“Out now. Schnell! Schnell! Into lines, all of you. You will have a new home this evening. Those of you who survive the trip.”
“Ignore them, Heinz, they like to brag. Wish I could get one of them on his own,” Izsak whispered, as he pretended to tie his shoelace. He stood on one side of Heinz, Gavriel on the other. “Walk like this, in time with us. We will help you.”
Heinz did as they bid, ignoring the wave of dizziness as he put all his weight on his foot. He would find a stick as soon as they were outside, to use as a crutch.
That thought fled as they marched and he saw crutches being kicked out from under those using them. If the men fell, the other prisoners were ordered not to help them. The men had to get to their feet alone, or they were shot.
“At least it’s a fast escape,” Gavriel growled, as another shot rang out behind them.
Heinz didn’t want to die. He was too young, and he hadn’t even kissed a girl. When they got a chance to rest, he closed his eyes and pictured Rachel’s face. Not that he told Gavriel and Izsak he dreamed of their sister.
They marched for a while until they reached a station. The train wasn’t a passenger one but one used for transporting livestock. The men took a seat where they stopped, figuring the Nazis wouldn’t shoot all of them. They were right.
“Dachau is near Munich, isn’t it? Always wanted to see that part of the country.”
Heinz appreciated Gavriel’s attempts at humor. He was trying to distract all of them but his father most of all. Mr. Bernstein wasn’t doing well and struggled to keep up with the march.
At a roar from the Nazis, they stood up and marched toward the train.
“They can’t be putting us in there?” Izsak commented.
“Looks like we are traveling first-class,” Gavriel replied, as the Jews were ordered into the cattle-cars. Nothing could have prepared them for the smell. The dirt of the animals had been left behind. They gagged but the Nazis just kept forcing them inside, using their weapons to club them over the head or back, whatever was closest.
Heinz held tight to his father with one hand and Gavriel with the other hoping they would end up in the same car. They did, with Izsak and Mr. Bernstein following behind. Then the door was slammed shut and locked. It was worse in the dark. They inched their way towards the side of the car to try to be near a gap. At least then, they would have fresh air. There was no water and only a bucket for the entire car to use.
A train journey between Berlin and Dachau should have taken, at the most, about five hours. Instead, it took them over a day-and-a-half, with the train constantly stopping to let other trains past. During these stoppages, nobody opened the cars to provide them with water or food.
Mr. Bernstein started raving the first night, finally slipping into a coma. Heinz was relieved at the silence, despite feeling guilty. His own thirst was the only thing he could concentrate on.
Disorientated and exhausted, most fell out of the carriage when the door was finally opened. Gavriel helped Heinz down before trying to return to help Izsak with their father but a club from a guard stopped him. Izsak couldn’t carry his father. Papa said he was dead but his sons hadn’t believed him. The body was kicked out of the car and the sound of it hitting the ground would remain with Heinz for a long time.
“Get in line. March.”
They staggered into a line, Papa and Heinz following Gavriel and Izsak. They stumbled along the route, passing a few curious onlookers who turned away in disgust.
“We should be there soon. I can see smoke up ahead.” Gavriel’s commentary was cut short by the uniformed men’s screams demanding silence.
Heinz forced his legs to move, despite the urge to give in to the pain and just take the easy way out. One foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right. He couldn’t even look up, just stared at his feet willing them to behave.
He walked into the person in front of them, when they were ordered to stop.
The guards saluted, as an officer made his way toward them. He introduced himself and told them he was there to make sure they behaved. If they did, they would be set free, eventually. If they didn’t, they would never see their homes again. The camp guards formed a guard of honor on each side of the group. Heinz didn’t have to wonder why, for long. As the Jews marched through, the line of guards struck them with whatever they held in their hands; truncheons, whips, gun handles. The victims screamed, which only seemed to increase the frenzy of the attacks. The Jews started to run as if by doing so they could get through the horror unscathed. A number fell over those already on the ground and they didn’t get a chance to get back up again. Papa staggered under the force of a blow and momentarily lost hold of Heinz. Heinz could do nothing, as he watched Papa try to stay upward but another belt sent him flying to the floor.
Heinz would have dropped too, only Gavriel put his arm through his elbow and dragged him through. He glanced behind him, catching a glimpse of Papa’s face, bloodied, holding his hands over his head in a bid to protect himself. His father opened his eyes and looked at him once. Heinz looked up in time to see a uniformed man, a distinctive scar running down one cheek, raise a club. “No,” he screamed, but the crowd surged forward, and he lost sight of Papa.
Gavriel put his arm under Heinz’s jacket and pulled him through the last couple of inches. Only then could they breathe. They were through. He hadn’t been hit once but Gavriel wasn’t as lucky as a whip had caught him across his shoulders, cutting through the fabric of his shirt. Only then did Heinz notice Gavriel’s jacket was missing. He’d given it to his father in an attempt to keep the man warm.
They waited for Papa and Izsak to make it through. Izsak arrived, his eye streaming from where a rifle butt had smashed into it. But there was no sign of Papa.
“Where’s Papa? Where is he?”
Izsak couldn’t look him in the eye. Gavriel’s hold on his arm tightened. Heinz fought to escape, trying to return the way they had come.
“No Heinz. You can’t go back there. Wait. He may yet turn up.”
Nothing Heinz did would release him from Gavriel’s iron grip. More guards arrived and escorted them to another building where they showered in cold water and had their bodies shaved. Then they were given some ragged clothes to wear. Heinz kept asking if anyone had seen his father, but nobody had. Most just shook their heads sadly. Some just stared at him as if they had lost all their reason.
They were fed watered-down soup, globs of fat congealing on the surface, and some rock-hard bread. Heinz refused to eat. Gavriel tried to persuade him, but he couldn’t.
The camp official appeared once more. The guards formed them into groups and called a roll. Papa’s name was read out, but nobody answered.
One man stepped forward to enquire after someone. Maybe his son or his fat
her, Heinz didn’t know. The guard answered him and then clubbed him to death. Nobody else moved forward.
When they finally reached their assigned barracks, they met some prisoners who had been there a few months. Heinz couldn’t believe the state of them. They looked like scarecrows and smelt to high heaven.
“Gavriel, Izsak, I would say it’s great to see you but…” The walking scarecrow looked around him and shrugged.
Heinz watched Gavriel’s reaction. Visibly shaken, with tears in his eyes, his friend put his arms around the man and hugged him. Izsak joined in.
“What happened to you, David? Mama said you disappeared from the university. Aunt Sophie tried to find out where you were but she couldn’t. We thought you were safe. Your father?”
“Don’t talk to me about him, I think he finally got rid of his Jewish son. He divorced Mama years ago,” the man spat out. “They came to the university, someone betrayed us. They took us all out to the courtyard. The leaders or the full Jews were shot – for resisting arrest. With their hands in the air! The rest of us arrived here, on October 1st.”
“But that is only…” Heinz’s brain caught up with his mouth and he shut up.
“I know it is a short time but believe me, in here, it is the equivalent of a thousand years of hell. Do I know you?” David asked.
Heinz shook his head.
“He is a neighbor from our building. Dr. Beck is his father.”
The man’s eyes opened wider. He recognized the name. Heinz moved closer. “You know Papa? He was with us when we arrived, but he disappeared before the showers.”
“He’s dead. We were part of the burial detail. You’re younger than the usual collection.”
Papa dead? He couldn’t be. He shouldn’t even be in the camp. Not with his war record. It was all his fault. He shouldn’t have hit that Nazi. If not for him, Papa would be at home now with Tomas. And that woman and her brat.”
“Heinz, don’t,” Gavriel spoke, his tone gentle. He put his arm around Heinz’s shoulders. “Heinz struck an officer who hit Mama after she went to Dr. Beck’s house for shelter. So, the story goes.”
David stared at Heinz for a couple of seconds, “You are either very brave or very foolish.”
“Heinz, David is our cousin on Mama’s side. We haven’t seen him in a while, as his mother married a Gentile. Once, he was nice and polite but today he has forgotten his manners.” Gavriel swiped at David’s head but Heinz knew he didn’t intend to hit the man. Even a gentle push and David would fall over.
“Sorry Heinz, forgive me. I’ve been here too long. Have you got your bunks? Sit down and let me give you some lessons on how to survive.”
Heinz only listened with half an ear, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his father. He lay down on his bunk and let the tears flow, under cover of darkness. The men kept whispering, as he reviewed images of his father, securing them deep in his memory. He vowed to make him proud, to live through this and in time, to avenge his death.
7
March 1939
“Looks like it’s your lucky day.”
Tempted to stare the guard in the face, Heinz had learnt not to. He stared at the ground instead.
“Your mother must love you a lot.” The guard poked Heinz with his stick. The other guards laughed, as his tormentor said some horrible things about Heinz’s mother.
Heinz knew he was being baited. After all, his mother was dead. Still, he had to count backward from a hundred so he wouldn’t react. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gavriel eyeing him with concern. Rachel’s brother had kept him sane in the months since their descent into hell. He’d done his best to keep Heinz out of trouble. Gavriel had arranged the best jobs for Heinz in the kitchens and away from the hard manual labor, most prisoners were subjected to. This gave Heinz the chance to heal, physically at least.
The prisoners were dismissed from roll call. Heinz went to follow them, but the guard stopped him.
“I told you, it’s your lucky day. You should show your appreciation. Get down on your knees and thank me for saving you.”
Heinz hesitated, but only for a second. His time would come for revenge but he wasn’t physically fit enough to take on the guard now. He got on his knees and thanked the guard.
“That’s better. Have a shower and get changed. Your papers are waiting.”
Heinz risked looking up. Was the guard serious? Was he really being released?
He got a belt on the shoulders. “Can’t leave marks on your pretty-boy face. Not when you will be seen in public. You will tell everyone you meet of the wonderful holiday you had in this camp. And if you are not out of Germany within eight weeks, I shall look forward to seeing you again.”
The guard fingered his stick. “Go on.”
Heinz almost fell, as he staggered toward his hut. Gavriel was waiting.
“What’s going on? Is it true? You’re being released?” Gavriel asked.
“I’ve no idea. That’s what Stucker said. I have my mother to thank, apparently. Only, she’s dead. Are you getting out too?”
He regretted the question the moment he asked.
His friend’s shoulders sagged. “Not today.”
“Gav, I swear, once I am outside, I’ll do everything I can to get you out.”
“Heinz, you have to get out of Germany. Don’t waste time trying to help lost causes. You have to live. For all of us. Tell the world what’s happening here. You promise.”
Heinz choked back the lump in his throat despite the gleam of tears in Gav’s eyes. They couldn’t lose control.
“Go to the showers. There are some others being released today. You know the drill; shower, shave, and a last, final beating. Mind your head, don’t let them hit you there. And your leg.”
“Gav, stop trying to protect me. I owe you my life. One day I will repay you.”
“Live, Heinz. Find Mama and tell her we are alive and well. Don’t tell her how it really is. You promise?”
Even now, Rachel’s brother was protecting his family.
“I swear.” Heinz embraced Gav. “I will see you again.”
“Not if I see you first,” Gav replied. He walked away without looking back.
With one last look around the hut that had been his home for the last three months, Heinz picked up his stuff and headed for the shower block.
Trudi waited in the village not far from the camp. She had walked near enough to see the watchtowers in the distance and the camp surrounded by electric fencing. She didn’t want to risk going closer in case they changed their minds about letting Heinz go. Herr Hoess had given her his word, but everyone knew how little that meant.
She chose a café near the train station. She wanted to be out of Dachau as soon as possible after Heinz was released. She’d heard too many stories about men being released and then re-arrested, as they took the train back to whatever city they lived in.
She stirred her coffee, wondering what they had used to make it. Still, it was warm, despite the unpleasant taste. She could feel people staring at her. She took her newspaper out of her bag, giving everyone a chance to see she was reading the Völkischer Beobachter. Not that she took notice of what she read; the pro-Nazi newspaper turned her stomach. But it was a form of protection recommended by some people she trusted. The same people who had helped her arrange for Heinz’s freedom.
Two hours passed. The owner of the café had asked her a few times if she wished to buy something else. She couldn’t afford to waste money, so she picked up her paper and walked outside. Should she walk in the direction of the camp? She didn’t have much of a choice, as Heinz didn’t know she was waiting for him.
She walked along, noting her surroundings looked just the same as any other Bavarian town. The townspeople walked about their business as if they weren’t aware of the horrible camp or its purpose, on their very doorstep. Yet they had to know. The Nazis had been using it since 1933.
She spotted a small group of people walking toward her, noting
their discomfort. None of them interacted with the townsfolk who also seemed to be ignoring their existence. She quickened her step. As she got closer, she had to squeeze her eyes closed a few times to stop the tears. They all looked as if they hadn’t eaten for weeks and had gotten dressed up in suits far too big for them. They shuffled rather than walked. She searched the faces until she found him. Their gaze locked and as he came to a sudden stop, the man behind him walked into him.
“You!”
Trudi tried to hide her shock, as the man called to her. He wasn’t a man, it was Heinz. A boy, not even fifteen-years-old, yet nobody would believe that to look at him now. He looked older than she did and not just because of the shaved head and eyes that looked too large for his face. She’d heard the rumors of how badly the prisoners were treated and she knew what Mrs. Bernstein had gone through. She wasn’t prepared for Heinz’s facial expression, though. It was as if the horror of the last few months was ingrained on his soul.
“Yes, Heinz.” She stepped closer to embrace him but he put his hands in front, to stop her.
“What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t that obvious? I came to collect you. To take you home to Berlin. Tomas and Liesl miss you. I miss you.”
Heinz glanced behind him. Surely, he wasn’t thinking of going back there. Did he really hate her so much?
“Heinz, the train to Munich leaves shortly. We must hurry.”
She begged him with her eyes to come quietly and not make a scene. The rest of his group had walked on and it was just the two of them, strangers among the townspeople. She didn’t want to risk a confrontation, feeling all too sure the local police would throw him back in Dachau. She didn’t let her mind dwell on her potential fate.
“Heinz Beck. Come on now. For your father’s sake.”
“You know he’s dead.”
Trudi nodded. “They told me. Please, Heinz. Tomas needs you. He hasn’t stopped crying since you left.”
Heinz glared at her. Yes, she had used his brother but given what this had cost her, she wasn’t above using anything. She tried to keep her anger in check. He wasn’t being ungrateful; he couldn’t know how much his release had cost. He was in shock and possibly in pain too.
The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII Page 91
