A Flicker of Light
Page 16
“Stop, or I will kill you!”
Aaron stopped.
“Where are your papers?”
“I don’t have them with me,” Aaron said.
“You are very suspicious. I think you look like a Jew.” Sunlight reflected off of the shiny death-head symbol in the center of the Nazi’s black hat. “We had a problem sometime back in this area concerning a Jew. Perhaps you are the culprit?” With the butt of his weapon, the officer pushed Aaron to the ground. Standing over Aaron as he lay there, the Nazi appeared grand in stature.
The other SS man got out the car and approached now.
“What is this?”
“I think we have found a Jew.” Kicking Aaron in the stomach for good measure, he smiled at his friend. That slut of a girl may have rejected him, but no one could consider him powerless, the Nazi thought smugly.
“Good, I believe we have been having some trouble in these parts. I recall a murder committed by a Jew just a few months ago. Perhaps this is him.”
“I remember that incident.” The other officer nodded in agreement with his friend.
“Filthy people, Look at him - they don’t keep themselves clean. They are less than animals.”
“Let’s take him back to headquarters. I am sure they will ship him out to a camp.”
Looking about wildly, Aaron realized that if he tried to run he would be shot immediately. Worse, Petra would find his body. That caused him the most distress of all.
Grabbing his arm, one of the Nazis pulled him to his feet and dragged him to the car. Handcuffing him, the SS man threw him in the back seat. The girl who sat there yelped in alarm.
“What is this?” The girl asked pointing at Aaron.
“A Jew.”
“I don’t want to sit with him!”
“Walk, like your friend did, then.”
The girl folded her arms across her chest and leaned into the window as they pulled away.
Aaron knew his chances for escape were minimal, and yet he thought only of Petra. She would be alarmed when she couldn’t find him, and he prayed she would not take any unnecessary chances. Even if he died, as long as she did nothing to alert the enemy, she would be safe with Siegland and Klaus. “Dear God,” he thought, “Please do not let Petra ever doubt my love for her. Please watch over her and keep her safe, and if I cannot return to her, please let her go on with her life and find a way to be happy without me.”
Chapter 29
T
he loud laughter of one of the men interrupted Aaron’s thoughts.
“What’s so funny?” the girl in the back seat glared at them angrily.
“Look, over there. It’s your friend. She’s walking like a fool on the dirt road in high heels. Do you think we should pick her up?”
“And then I am going to have to sit closer to this dirty Jew?”
The smell of the leather seats mingled with sex and a hint of cologne, while stale cigar smoke permeated the inside of the vehicle. Aaron tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs felt as if they had frozen. His breath came in short, painful gasps as he felt himself becoming lightheaded.
“Well, we could throw him back out onto the road,” the Nazi grinned.
Aaron’s heart took flight. Could he be this fortunate? From the window of the moving car, the world seemed to spin by. Dare he trust them? Could he allow himself to believe that he might live, that he might see Petra again? Petra, just the thought of Petra and how she would surely come looking for him stabbed him like a knife in the heart. Half-crazed with frustration that he could not protect her, he felt filled with shame that she had met him now, when the Nazis had reduced him to less than a man. It made him feel that he had to fight back, even if it meant he would almost surely die in the attempt.
Chapter 30
T
he girl, still angry, hobbled along the dirt road on her high heel pumps. As the automobile carrying Aaron, the Nazi officers and the other girl rode by, the driver brought the car to a sudden stop, jolting the passengers forward.
“Come on, Marlene, get back in. You can’t walk far in those shoes,” the Nazi said to his date.
Marlene turned to the SS officer and pouted, secretly glad that he’d stopped. “You did make me quite angry, you know.” The inviting look she gave him and her sultry tone of voice took the sting out of her words.
“So? I came back, didn’t I?” He gave her his most charming smile.
Crossing her arms in front of her, she tilted her head to one side and licked her lips. Her deep red lipstick glistened with the moisture from her tongue.
“And so you did,” Marlene smiled back.
Opening the door, Marlene eyed Aaron. She frowned as she quickly assessed his disheveled appearance. “What the hell?” She turned to her boyfriend in disgust.
“A Jew - we found him on the road.”
“Yeah, well, you do you want to have a good time, Wolfgang, don’t you? Get him out of here. Understand me? He stinks.”
Wolfgang looked at the swell of her breasts through her thin white cotton blouse. Undressing her in his mind, he decided that he much preferred an afternoon of fun to a day at headquarters filling out paperwork on a Jewish escapee.
“Get out,” Wolfgang said to Aaron.
The other officer drew his gun. “Lay down there in the grass.” He pointed his gun at a spot off of the road.
Aaron glared at him, certain they meant to kill him. He refused to follow the instructions.
“Please, let’s just go. Leave him here. I can’t stand the shooting, and the blood; it’s too much. Look, Helmut, it’s a beautiful day. Please don’t spoil our picnic on a Jew,” the other officer’s girl spoke up.
Helmut turned back to look at the girl who waited in the back seat, her skirt hiked up just above her shapely knee.
“Looks like today is your lucky day, Jew,” Helmut said to Aaron.
Getting back into the car, Helmut slammed the door. The vehicle sped off as dust from the road flew into Aaron’s face.
“I am alive,” Aaron marveled. “Thank you, God.” He smiled up to the sun, which shone down upon him brightly. “I am alive!”
Surrounded by open fields, he had nowhere to hide as he made his way back to the forest. It was a two-mile trek back to the coverage of the dense trees. Aaron’s hands and legs trembled. He feared he could not walk fast enough to get there safely. His eyes darted across the open fields, and his mind raced.
What if they were just toying with him? The Nazis had a reputation for doing that sort of thing. He’d heard stories. They could drive a little ways and then turn back. He would have no place to escape. Mouth dry and heart hammering, he began running. He ran so fast that he soon became short of breath. After spending so much time in the cellar without any exercise, he’d gotten out of shape. Already his side ached from exertion. He had to stop for a moment.
As he looked around, trying to catch his breath, he saw nothing but open countryside, heard nothing but the chirping of birds. How nice it would be to lie down and rest until the ache in his side subsided, but he dared not. Time had become his enemy; the sooner he got to the woods the better. Still bent at the waist, he moved with as much speed as he could muster. The scorching sun beat down upon him, and he felt very thirsty.
Finally when his throat was so dry that he could no longer bear it, he stopped at a farmhouse well and pumped some water. The cool liquid flowed clear and bright from the spout. He drank deeply, and his throat was soothed at last. Still pumping, he put his head under the stream of water and allowed it to refresh him. Looking up at the sky he estimated the time at noon. One more drink and he would be on his way. As he felt the water glide down his throat he heard the voice of a man. Panic ensued and he turned to run, but the farmer tackled him. Strong and hefty, the man pushed Aaron to the ground. Before he could rise, the farmer’s two sons dashed forward.
“Who are you? A criminal I think.”
“I am just a traveler.”
“A travele
r? So, where are your papers?”
Aaron wished he had falsified papers. He found it doubtful that these two could read. However, even if he had his real papers the Star of David would have given him away.
“I forgot them. I am on my way back from town. I live on a farm just a few miles away.”
“Very well, we can take you there. Yosef, hitch up the cart.”
Knowing very well he would never lead them to Petra or the family who had treated him with such humanity, he did the only thing he could do.
“I am a Jew,” Aaron said.
With narrowed eyes the three men looked at Aaron, glowering like wolves that had captured and cornered their prey.
“Ach, a Jew - probably with a price on his head. We’ll take him to town. Maybe we will get a reward.”
The younger man looked at their father and the taller one spoke, “I will hitch the wagon.”
The two boys held him as the father bound his hands and feet.
To fight would get him nowhere. Aaron realized. If he hit one, the other would shoot him. Even if he ran, they had guns, and only open space surrounded them.
Once the men had readied the wagon, the three pushed Aaron into the back, scraping his arms. The two younger men pointed guns at Aaron. Their father cracked his whip and the horses sprang forward.
“You think we’ll get a big reward for him?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“Father, let’s take him to that camp right outside of Munich, the one where they send the Jews. I think it’s called, Dachau.”
Chapter 31
Dachau Concentration Camp, Near Munich, Late 1944
T
he smell of burning flesh permeated the air long before they reached the building. Snow-like white ashes fell upon their shoulders. Aaron had heard rumors that a crematorium burned day and night in this camp of Dachau, to dispose of the bodies of those the Nazis deemed unfit to live. The ashes confirmed this.
At the gate, Aaron’s eyes beheld a great sign that said “Arbeit Macht Frei” – “Work Makes You Free.” The old farmer spoke to the guard. Then the guard pulled Aaron down onto the ground, and Aaron’s knee cracked loudly against the pavement. The gate opened and the farmer’s two sons pulled Aaron up by his arms, and pushed him forward into the camp. Aaron witnessed, for the first time, the true fate of those who suffered in the concentration camps.
Emaciated men in gray striped uniforms, with their cheekbones jutting against their thin skin, stood in a line in the courtyard. An SS officer in a black uniform, carrying a stick, walked in front of them. At one corner of the human line, Aaron could see a pile of dead bodies. Two other SS officers, who appeared to be of lower rank, held guns as the prisoners responded to the roll call. The unfortunate prisoners had lost most of their teeth, and the teeth that remained protruded from their faces, giving them a ghastly skeletal appearance. Aaron felt his skin prickle as the guard prodded him forward with his club.
“Herr Oberfuhrer, a farmer found this Jew pig wandering somewhere out in the highlands. He didn’t have the courage to just shoot him, so he brought him here, hoping for a reward, of course,” the lower-ranking officer addressed his superior.
The Oberfuhrer was a tall man with long, thin arms and legs, and a huge protruding stomach that gave him the appearance of a spider. He body was erect, statue-like, as he listened. He wore a thin, dark mustache and thick glasses. As he stood there, he caressed his thin chin with long, feminine-looking fingers.
“Hmmm, send him to the barracks and have him cleaned up. These vermin carry lice, you know, and the lice have infected most of the camp with typhoid,” the Oberfuhrer instructed as he grinned at Aaron. “We’ve had quite the epidemic.” His eyes glared with power as he laughed, slightly at first. Then, his mirth grew louder.
“Take him away. Get him to work. These lazy Jews should make themselves useful.” Now, obviously bored with the situation, the Obersfuhrer gestured to the guard who forced Aaron along.
Another prisoner shaved Aaron’s head, and then he was tossed into an icy cold shower. Despite the temperature, the water felt good on his body. It had been too long since he last felt clean. When he’d finished, another man handed him a pair of denim pants and a white shirt, which felt snug as he pulled them on. He received no undergarments, and on the pants leg he spotted two yellow triangles forming a Star of David. All of his original clothing, including his shoes, disappeared. Before he was even allowed to view the barracks, an officer led Aaron to the factory to work.
“Do you have any special talents, Jew?”
“I am doctor.”
“Ah, we have a doctor. Now, don’t be confused, Jew, you are nothing special here just because you are a doctor. Here you are just another Jew. We have camp doctors. But I think we will put you in the factory. Later, if the doctor wants you, he will find you. But if I were you, I would pray that he doesn’t,” the guard hooted, amused at his own humor.
Machines drummed, pounded and squeaked loudly as Aaron entered the factory. A large building filled with workers surrounded him. The slicing sound of metal-on-metal was deafening. SS guards with guns marched about proudly.
The officer guided Aaron to a large silver machine with a wheel on its side. Then the guard gripped the upper arm of the prisoner who had been at work on the controls.
“This man is new. Train him, and make sure that your own level of production does not go down, or you will suffer for it, Jew.”
Aaron studied the prisoner as the sweat gathered at his hairline.
“Watch what I do, and how I do it. I cannot stop to teach you. You must learn by observing.” The short man appeared to have once been stocky. Now his skin hung limply at his chin line as he glanced over at Aaron. His eyes darted about nervously. “You see, you turn this wheel, then help the metal through. But be careful or you will cut your hand off.”
“What are you making?” Aaron asked.
“Arms for the war effort.”
“This entire factory builds arms?”
“Yes. We defeat ourselves as we help the Germans to defeat the United States, Russia and Britain, and there is nothing we can do about it. If we try, we die. So to live another day is good. It is all we have,” the prisoner told Aaron.
“Shut up, Jew, and work,” the guard warned. “You don’t need to talk so much to teach him.”
Aaron learned the machine quickly. By day’s end he could work it alone.
Once the work stopped for the day, the prisoners lined up with bowls and spoons in hand. Aaron acquired his eating utensils. The kitchen help informed him that if he lost the utensils they would not be replaced. Each man stood in line to receive a single ladle of watery broth. The prisoner who had trained him in the factory motioned for Aaron to sit on the ground beside him.
“I’m Aaron.”
“I’m Saul.” The prisoner finally had a moment to introduce himself.
“Good to meet you.” Aaron began to devour his food.
Saul explained that the soup, almost all water except for a slice of potato and a handful of barley, would be served twice daily. He ripped a piece of bread from a small loaf he had in his pocket. “Here, we get a quarter of a loaf every three days. They gave us one this morning, so it’ll be another three days before we get another one. You will be hungry.”
“I’m already hungry,” Aaron gagged as he lifted his spoon to his mouth. A dead cockroach floated in the water. “Echhh, look at this. An insect is one thing, but this is the filthiest insect on earth. It harbors so many diseases. I can’t eat it.”
“You must. It is all there is. If you don’t eat, you will surely die,” Saul said.
“I can’t do it. Do you want this?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, sadly I am,” Aaron answered. Saul grabbed the bowl and poured it into his mouth as Aaron nibbled on the bread. He watched as Saul picked up the dead cockroach from the dirt where Aaron had thrown it and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing quickly.
The barracks were long buildings built of wood. Inside, there were large rooms filled with dirty straw that became saturated each time it rained, breeding lice at an alarming rate. The hay, now dry, stank, as it had turned green with mold. A crowd of men poured into the sleeping area, all of them worn out from the day’s work and inadequate food. Aaron lay his head down beside Saul, and to his surprise he found that, looking up, he could see a bit of sky and the light of a tiny star flickering through an opening in the wooden ceiling. As Saul snored beside him, Aaron prayed. He prayed for Petra, for her safety and for her happiness. Then he too drifted off to sleep.
Morning came all too soon, accompanied by bellows from the Kapos.
“These men they call Kapos, they’re the traitor prisoners who conspire with the Germans against the rest of us,” Saul explained, shaking his head in disgust.
“Come on you lazy, good-for-nothing pigs! Get up! Let’s go! It’s time for roll call!”
Aaron watched in horror as the prisoners carried out the dead bodies of those who had died during the night. They laid them in a pile at the side of the line. Each dead man would be marked off of a list and accounted for. Eight times per day the men would line up for roll call. Once the job had been completed that morning, the guards directed those who still lived to breakfast.
A long line formed rapidly as each man struggled to ensure he received his cup of barley water. On occasion, Saul told him, the soup ran out and those who had not been served did not eat. The food took some getting used to, but Aaron’s near starvation won out, and his disgust soon faded.