“What’s the matter with you? Don’t you even have enough respect for me to answer my question?” Hedy’s face was crimson. Her hands were shaking. She dropped the blouse she’d been folding and picked up a vase that had been her mother’s. Then in anger she threw it at him. He ducked before the vase hit him, and instead it smashed against the wall.
There were tears on her cheeks, and her voice was high pitched and loud. “You are a nobody, Ludwig. Just like my father said. You are a nothing, and you’ll always be a nothing. You don’t have any secret business that would keep you away from work for over for a week. You think I haven’t noticed that you have been coming over less and less. You work at a small-time job. You are not some important SS agent. You’re a guard in the ghetto; that’s all you are. And at this point you have lost that job too. And let's not forget that you only had that job because my father got it for you. If he hadn’t, you’d be a beggar on the street.”
“How dare you!” he said, feeling his lips peel back, baring his teeth like an angry dog.
“And, you stupid fool, had you been here in Lodz you would have known that the ghetto was being liquidated. Perhaps my father could have found you other work. But I suspect you were off staying with some low-class piece of trash woman that you got yourself involved with.” Her eyes glared at him.
“What do you mean the ghetto has been liquidated?”
“They sent the Jews away.”
“Where?”
“Who the hell knows or cares. All I know is that you have been cheating on me, and you are now an out-of-work lout.”
“You’re wrong. You usually are. You jump to conclusions. You don’t even give me a chance to speak. You want to know where I was?”
“Tell me. Go on, Ludwig. Tell me where were you?” She folded her arms over her chest. “Make up some good lie.”
“Why would you say that? Why won’t you just listen?”
“I’ve done nothing but try to help you. You were a nobody when I found you. My father said you were not in our class. But I told him I saw something in you. I begged him to help you because I wanted to marry you. My vati loves me. That’s why he helped you get that job. He and I both helped you in every way we could. I ignored your station in life. I ignored that you were born a gutter rat, and this is the thanks I get. I want to hear the story that you come up with. Go on . . . tell me . . . where were you, gutter rat?”
He wanted to strike her. At this moment in time he despised her. The red wart on her cheek looked uglier than usual. Her hair looked thinner and greasier than he remembered. And the wrinkle between her brow was even more pronounced. His hands were clenched into fists. He wanted to see that hideous face of hers covered in blood. But he dared not. If her father ever found out that he hit her, there would be hell to pay. And now that he was out of work, he didn’t dare burn any bridges. So he took a deep breath and forced himself to speak calmly. “While I was searching for those Jewish children, I found a group of partisans. I followed them for a while to see what they were up to. Then I turned them in to the Gestapo. You see, I found out that they were up to no good. They were on their way to France to meet with the Resistance. I probably saved a lot of German lives. I was even promised a promotion when I turned them in,” he snapped back.
“Yes, well, I suppose that’s admirable,” she said, her anger subsiding. “Of course, you know I can have my father verify if there is any truth to what you are claiming.”
“Why do you mistrust me?” he asked. “I would not lie to you.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and he saw the rigidness leave her body.
He walked over to her and touched her hand. She pulled her hand away. But when he touched her cheek, she let her eyes meet his.
Even though he still had not forgotten the cruelty of her words, he knew he must solidify the relationship just in case he needed her father’s help in the future. He raised her face to his and kissed her. Hedy’s body went rigid, but he kissed her again, and she surrendered to his touch. Taking her hand, he led her to the bedroom. But that night in order for his body to perform, he had to think of dominating Ewa.
The following morning he awoke to Hedy preparing his breakfast. She sat beside him.
“It looks good. Thank you,” he said, taking her hand.
He saw in her eyes that she melted with his touch.
“Do you think your father can help me find another job?” he said as sweetly as he could. “We are going to need the money when we get married.”
“I’ll talk to him,” she said, but then she added, “but I have heard some very concerning gossip. I’ve heard that Germany could be losing the war, and soon the other side is going to come marching in, then what are we going to do?”
“What everyone else does, I suppose.” He shook his head. “Besides, do you believe it? I don’t.”
“I am not sure,” she said.
Chapter 48
The truck rocked as it moved forward. Ewa glanced at the other women who were seated beside her. Their heads were all bowed. No one said a word. The male guard who held them at gunpoint looked like a child to Ewa. She decided he was probably about sixteen, and from the look in his eyes he was scared. She wondered if he was afraid he would have to shoot one of the women prisoners. Perhaps he had never killed anyone. Could he do it if he was commanded to? Was he capable? she asked herself. Perhaps this was a good time to take the risk of jumping out of the truck and trying to run away. He might not have the courage to shoot her. For a single moment, a brief second in time, her eyes met his. He truly was just a child. Her heart raced. As soon as the truck slowed down she was going to jump and attempt to escape. Ewa had made this decision only seconds before the truck pulled into another compound surrounded by a black wrought-iron fence. The metal door shut behind her. The moment to jump was lost. It was too late. Wherever the Nazis had planned to take her, whatever they had planned to do with her, she was at their mercy.
Before her stood a large two-story manor house that looked more like a hospital or school than a concentration camp.
The women were told to get off the truck and form a line.
“Welcome to Harmense. I am SS Rottenführer Xavier Eidenchinkt. I am in charge here,” a tall, well-built man with light hair and strong even features said. Then he continued, “Come inside.”
The guard with the gun urged the prisoners forward into the house. Ewa was among them. The house was large and looming and had an odor that Ewa did not recognize. The women were surrounded on all sides by armed guards whose guns were pointed at their heads.
The rottenführer turned to face the group of women and said, “You are the fortunate ones among your peers. You see, they have been sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau where they are working at very difficult, very physical jobs. Can you imagine? Think about this for a moment.” He smiled as if he were contemplating the score of a football game. “Only a couple of kilometers from here, the others who arrived on the very same transport with you will be struggling to survive. But you, on the other hand, have been chosen for much more important work. Here in this lovely little village that you see all around you, you will spend your days tending to the poultry and caring for a very special breed of rabbit . . . angora rabbits. They are quite beautiful.” He smiled. “Each of you will be given a list of jobs that you are to perform. You will be required to keep the coops clean, prepare the chicken feed as well as the rabbits' very special diet. You are required to treat these animals humanely. Should I hear of anyone treating them in a distasteful manner, that person will be immediately executed. If you do as you are told, you will find me to be fair. But if you don’t, I am afraid that you will find me to be a cruel and heartless man. Enough said. Now, follow me.”
He walked up the stairs. Ewa and the rest of the women followed behind. They were led into a large room set up with bunk beds. Once they were all inside, the rottenführer said, “Find an open bed.” Then he left the room. The rest of the guards followed. The door closed softly followed by
the sound of a key turning in the lock.
“We’re locked in here,” one of the women said, running to the door and trying to open it.
Several others tried. Ewa didn’t bother. She knew the door was locked. This was no time to try to escape. She planned to wait for a better opportunity.
Chapter 49
The next day one of the prisoners, who had been at the camp for a while, showed the others around, explaining what would be expected of them. Ewa was shocked to find that there were over two thousand hens, at least a thousand ducks, a hundred geese, and a hundred turkeys. There were endless rows of incubators and coops to clean. And special chicken feed to prepare. The livestock smelled and needed constant care. She didn’t mind. The poor creatures were at her mercy, and she did her best to treat them with kindness.
The poultry farm was hard work but not terrible. However, as soon as she was introduced to the angora rabbits everything changed for Ewa. She fell in love with the soft plush gentle creatures whose fur was the color of virgin snow. They were large for rabbits and had adorable little noses that twitched and tufts on the ends of their ears. It gave her a feeling of comfort to hold them in her arms and cuddle them, and in a strange way these tender, gentle beings offered some relief from the painful gap of being separated from the children, and in some small way holding their soft bodies close to her helped ease the pain of her grief at having lost her beloved Gunther.
Ewa preferred working with the rabbits to any of the other projects she was assigned to at the camp. She loved waking up early and going outside to the neatly arranged pens where the rabbits were kept. She’d been told by a prisoner who called herself Albina, that there were at least three thousand angora rabbits. “That was the last time we took a count. But they are reproducing very quickly,” Albina explained as she taught Ewa everything she would need to know to care for the rabbits.
“It certainly looks like there are more than three thousand. Just look at these pens,” Ewa exclaimed.
“I know. And the Nazis are having us breed them as fast as we can. At least they are not crammed into those pens. They have plenty of space. So far, that is. But if we keep breeding them as fast as we are, well, who knows. You see, this whole project is the reichsführer's idea: Himmler. You’ll meet him soon enough. He comes here to check on the progress we are making with the rabbits. He comes often enough. I have heard that he wants as much angora wool as he can get his hands on. When he is here, be sure that you treat the rabbits very well, or you will be executed. I saw it happen to several girls.”
“I would never hurt an animal if I didn’t have to.”
“Why would you have to?”
“Well, when I was a partisan, we had to hunt to eat. ”
“We don’t eat the rabbits.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I do like them. They are so pretty and soft and sweet.” Then she hesitated. “I suppose we are required to kill and skin them.”
“Not at all. We just shave them. We don’t kill them.”
Ewa smiled; she was glad. “By the way, how much wool does each rabbit provide?” Ewa asked.
“Not much. That’s the problem. That’s why we need so many,” Albina said.
At first Ewa tried not to allow herself to become too attached to the sweet creatures because she was certain the Nazis were going to demand that she and the others kill them for one reason or another. The very idea haunted her. Then one evening while she was in the main room dining with the other prisoners, the fate of the rabbits was discussed.
“What happens to the rabbits when they get old? Are they used for rabbit stew?” one of the inmates asked Albina who was sitting at the table.
“These are special rabbits. The Nazis never kill them, you fool. They never eat them because the rabbits never stop producing fur no matter how old they get. In the spring we will shave them. Their cages are heated so that they don’t suffer from losing their fur.”
“Funny, isn’t it? How kind these Nazi bastards are to animals but how cruel they are to humans,” one of the other prisoners stated.
“Quiet. If a guard hears you, you’ll be shot right here at the table. And I’d rather not have to clean up your blood right during my dinner.”
“What do they use the fur for?” Dyta the prisoner, who sat beside Ewa, asked.
“Angora fur is very luxurious. Right now the Nazis are using it to line the coats and boots of the army men, to keep them warm on the Eastern Front. By the way, have you ever seen an angora dress?”
“Not me,” Dyta said.
“Me neither,” Ewa offered.
“Well, let me tell you, it's heavenly. Very expensive. I’ve never owned one, but I would love to,” Albina said.
Ewa didn’t care about owning an angora dress, but she was relieved to know the rabbits were not destined to die horrible deaths. Their existence had taken on a special meaning for her, and she was glad to know they were to be bred and used for their fur. This she could tolerate.
The food at the camp was not plentiful, and although Ewa didn’t know this because she was never in any other camp, the rations at Harmense were far superior to those provided at Auschwitz. Sometimes there were even opportunities to get additional food. And if one was very hungry and cunning enough, there was always a bite or two of the food that was reserved for the animals.
When she first arrived at Harmense, Ewa kept to herself, but as the months passed she found she was lonely, and she began to make friends among the other prisoners. Ewa and several of the others grew up in the cities. But a few of the prisoners came from the countryside where they’d lived their entire lives on farms, and a few of them had never attended school. When Ewa learned they were illiterate, she offered to teach them to read and write. These women were excited by the possibility of learning, and although Ewa was tired at the end of her long workdays, she enjoyed teaching. She wanted to do something that made a difference. And so began nights of learning.
Dyta, an attractive young woman prisoner who worked in the office, had become sexually involved with one of the lower-ranking guards. And because of their relationship, he overlooked it when she stole paper and pencils as well as a few candles for light from the office supplies. Each night, once the women were locked into their sleeping area, Ewa began to give her classes.When Dyta asked her boyfriend for a copy of Mein Kampf, he gladly obliged. She told him that she wanted to learn more about the Nazi doctrine and about the great führer. He was impressed. She took the book back to her room and gave it to Ewa. “We can use this to help teach the others to read.”
“It is a book,” Ewa said, raising her eyebrows. “Not the best book, and certainly not my first choice, but we can do our best. It is in German though. I can speak and read German. But how are the other women ever going to learn to read and write in German when they can't even read and write in Polish?”
“I know. I can read in German and in Polish. But teaching the others another language will be very difficult,” Dyta said, then she continued, “Besides, I have no desire to read this trash.”
Another prisoner, Felicia, who was illiterate and had grown up on a farm, scoffed at Dyta. “We are doing just fine learning our letters from Ewa. We don’t need this disgusting Nazi book. And to be quite frank with you, Dyta, I don’t know how you have sex with that man. He’s one of them. One of the enemy.”
“Yes, don’t you think I know that. Don’t you think I realize it every time he enters my body? You criticize me, but when I bring extra food you are happy to have it, aren’t you?” Dyta said. “Besides, it’s not like I have a choice now, is it?”
“Ladies, please, fighting won’t do any of us any good. Stop acting like this. We all are here against our will. And anything that any of us can do to make our stay a little less horrible is greatly appreciated. So thank you, Dyta, for bringing the extra food when you can. And also thank you for bringing the book. It was a very kind gesture, and even if we can’t use it, I appreciate your trying to help,” Ewa said.
Chapter 50
One morning when Ewa went to care for the rabbits she found that one of the mother rabbits had died giving birth. There were several tiny dead bodies in the cage with her. Ewa sighed and shook her head. This happened sometimes. The other women who cared for the rabbits told her that it was often because of a mistake in breeding. It was important that the rabbits not be bred before they were six months old because their bodies were not developed enough. Ewa looked at the mother rabbit and reminded herself that she must not become emotionally involved with the animals. However, each time there was a death among the rabbits, the tiny dead bodies triggered something in Ewa, and she felt terribly depressed for the rest of the day. Perhaps it was their innocence. Perhaps it was their helplessness, the way they were at the mercy of those who were bigger and stronger than they were. Perhaps they reminded her in a strange way of Sarah and Solomon.
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to attack the job of cleaning out the cage to start over. Tears ran down her face as she disposed of the dead rabbits. Tears for the creatures and tears for her lost loved ones. I should be able to distance myself from this, but the soft fur and the tiny, helpless animals is so unnerving to me. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and began to clean out the cage more vigorously, trying to keep her attention on the job at hand and trying to ward off the feeling of hopelessness that was falling upon her like a black veil.
It was then that she found one of the little rabbits who was still alive. He was shaking in the back of the cage. Oh, little one. You are still fighting. Just look at you. Her hands trembled as she gently caressed the little white ball of fur. "Shhh, you’re all right," she whispered as she took him and gently placed him in the incubator. Every day as soon as she was free to begin her shift, she went to check on him to make sure that he drank his special milk. At first she put the milk on the tip of her finger and he licked it off. But soon he was eating on his own and growing bigger. I promised myself I would not name these rabbits. I promised myself I would not become attached to them, just in case the Germans decided to eat them. But as she looked into the rabbit’s sweet, expressive eyes, she couldn’t help but give him a name . . . Gunther the Second. I’ll name him for Gunther, she thought.
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