“They say she was the lover of an officer and that he’s moving heaven and earth to save her life, even though she’s got pneumonia and probably won’t survive anyway,” the doctor replied.
Amelia felt happy to know that Max had not abandoned her, that he was fighting for her life.
Little by little she recovered and adjusted to prison life. There were times when the prisoners were allowed out to walk around the yard, but they spent most of their time locked in their cells. She heard nothing from Max, but knew that she was alive thanks to him. They took someone away to be executed nearly every day. The condemned women would divide their meager possessions among the remaining prisoners before being taken away to the courtyard to be hanged.
As Amelia had been very sick when she was brought to the prison, it took some time before she was allowed out of her cell, which meant that at first she did not encounter Ewa, Grazyna’s cousin.
They saw each other the first time Amelia was able to walk by herself to the room that served as their dining hall. She didn’t recognize Ewa at first: They had cut her beautiful chestnut hair, and her blue eyes had darkened, and she walked with a limp.
“Ewa!”
“Good God, Amelia, you’re alive!”
They approached each other to embrace, but a guard hit them with a rubber truncheon.
“Stop it! None of that filth here!”
The two young women looked at each other fearfully, and held back from hugging each other, but at least no one stopped them from sitting next to each other at one of the tables where they were put to eat lumps of potato bobbing in a blackish liquid.
“What happened to Tomasz? And Piotr?” Amelia asked.
“They hanged Tomasz,” Amelia replied with a grimace of pain.
“Grazyna... I heard that Grazyna... ,” Amelia didn’t dare repeat what she had heard the doctor and the nurse say.
“They hanged her too, yes,” Ewa said.
“And Sister Maria?” Amelia asked.
“She couldn’t cope with the torture and the mistreatment,” Ewa said, lowering her voice because the guard had not taken her eyes off them.
“Poor thing... and you?”
“I don’t know how I’m still alive. I fainted every time they hit me... They did so many things to me... Have you seen my leg? They broke it in one of the interrogation sessions and it didn’t set properly... But I’m still alive. My parents spoke to some friends of theirs who are in well with the Germans, they sell them meat. I have been condemned to death and they went all the way to the Führer to ask for mercy, and I’m waiting for the answer from Berlin,” Ewa said.
“I think that I’m alive thanks to Max,” Amelia admitted.
“Your German lover?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure I will be saved,” Ewa said.
“I hope so,” Amelia replied.
It was not easy for them to be together, because the guards tried to separate them, but still they found moments when they could speak. The guards were too busy mistreating the political prisoners and attempting to impose a little order on the overcrowded area, so crammed that the women prisoners scarcely had room to stand up and walk a few paces.
“No plotting!” they said and hit them with rubber truncheons to make them sit far away from each other.
One morning Ewa and Amelia met in the yard. It was cold, it had rained all night, and the sky was a terrible color. The women shivered because they had very little clothing to cover themselves with, but they preferred to be cold rather than give up these moments of fresh air.
Ewa came up to Amelia. She seemed happy.
“Piotr is here,” she whispered.
“Where?”
“Here, in Pawiak.”
“How do you know?”
“They’ve just moved a woman to my cell. She’s called Justyna. She’s been in Section VIII, they took her there when they arrested her. Apparently some women are put in cells with men there. She saw Piotr, she told me that they went out for a while some years ago; she is a Communist, and Piotr was once as well, but he left the party, it seems.”
“I didn’t know that Piotr was a Communist...”
“Neither did I, I think Grazyna didn’t either. This woman, Justyna, says that Piotr left the party because of a falling-out with one of the bosses, but that this was a while ago. Piotr asked her to look for me or Grazyna, and if she found us she was to tell us that he was alright, and that some of the group managed to get away, but he didn’t say who. He has also been condemned to death. Apparently Countess Lublin has been to visit him a couple of times, and has brought clothes and food.”
“How can we let him know that we’re here?” Amelia asked.
“We can’t, I can’t think of a way...”
“Well, we’ll see him the day they hang us together.”
“Don’t say that, Amelia! I know that it’s difficult to get out of here, but I don’t want to lose hope, I... I’m a believer, and I pray to God that he won’t abandon me, that he won’t let them hang me.”
“I pray as well, Ewa, but I don’t know if I believe in God.”
“What things you say! Of course you believe in God! We need Him now more than ever!”
“We need Him, but does He need us?”
Ewa’s faith helped her to put up with all the suffering that she was subjected to in Pawiak prison. Amelia, for her part, put her trust in Max von Schumann’s ability to get her out of there.
To be close to each other was a help for Amelia and for Ewa. They had barely got to know each other during the time that they had secretly been going to the ghetto, because Grazyna had not encouraged personal relations. Amelia thought that Ewa was a wonderful person, full of good intentions, but that if she went to the ghetto, it was because she was following her cousin. She had not had the time to judge Ewa on her own merits, and it wasn’t until they met in Pawiak prison that Amelia discovered the moral heights of this young cake-maker. Whenever it was possible they met and exchanged confidences and desires. Amelia did not let herself plan for the future, but Ewa did not stop dreaming about what she would do when she left Pawiak.
“We have to put the group back together and carry on Grazyna’s fight. We cannot give in. I think about the children all the time, I’m sure that they’re missing my sweets.”
Months went by without Amelia hearing anything from Max. Not a single letter. Not a message. Nothing. She had been taken back to the infirmary on a couple of occasions. They gave her very little to eat. She suffered from anemia, and her cough was very bad, and she fainted regularly. At first her cellmates had called the guards to let them known that the Spanish girl had fainted again, but they soon stopped doing that. Before taking her to the infirmary, the guards would insult her and kick her.
“Get up, lazybones! Stop pretending to sleep! I’ll give you something to wake you up! Here’s a present for the fine lady!”
When she came to, her mouth tasted of blood. The guards liked very much kicking her in the face, it was as if they could not stand her beauty.
On more than one night, Amelia was woken by the shouts of the other prisoners.
“What’s going on?” she would ask her cellmates.
“Apparently there have been some new death sentences passed down. Who knows, it might be our turn tomorrow.”
Amelia sat up and pressed her head against the stone wall of the cell, murmuring a prayer that it would not be her door that would be opened. She heard footsteps coming and going, the screams of women being dragged to the courtyard, the cries of others, begging to be put in touch with their families, even as they knew it was impossible. Some women walked in silence, with their heads held high, trying to maintain their dignity in what they knew to be the last minutes of their life.
They executed dozens of prisoners every day in Smocza Street, alongside Pawiak. Men, women, adolescents... the Nazis didn’t care. The orders came to the prison and were carried out immediately; this hubbub, these footsteps, screams and
whispers... All of it affected the listener so much that eventually all they wanted was for this begging to end as soon as possible.
It was not until the end of May 1942 that Karl Kleist told Max von Schumann, who had become a colonel by that time, that all the efforts he was making on behalf of Amelia were about to bear fruit.
“I cannot guarantee you anything yet, but Oster’s people are about to free Fräulein Garayoa. It might only be a matter of days.”
“Thank God! I’ll always be in your debt, and that of Hans Oster and Admiral Canaris,” Max said.
“We are all in debt to Germany,” Karl Kleist replied.
There were still a couple of months to go until Amelia was to be freed. In the meantime, Max got permission to go to Berlin on leave: Ludovica had given birth to a boy three months ago.
To hold his baby son in his arms moved Max more than he would be prepared to admit.
Ludovica was resting, as if it had been a magnificent feat to give birth. She allowed herself to be spoiled by her family and her husband’s family, and could feel her influence in the family increasing after having managed to prolong the von Schumann lineage.
“Friedrich is beautiful, a pure Aryan,” Ludovica said to Max.
The baroness was reclining on a chaise longue next to the window, and was observing her husband’s emotions at handling the little pink-skinned baby with a touch of malice.
“Yes, he is beautiful,” Max agreed.
“Your aunts say he looks like you, and they’re right. I’m so happy you’re here. We will baptize our child in the style he deserves. We will have a huge party and invite Hitler, and Goebbels, and all our good friends.”
“We are at war, Amelia, and I don’t think we should make unnecessary shows. People are suffering, they’re losing their sons, their husbands, their brothers. We will baptize Friedrich, but we will only invite our closest family and friends.”
“Well, that shouldn’t stop us from inviting the Führer; I know he holds me in special affection, you can’t imagine how he looks at me whenever we meet. We could even ask him to be Friedrich’s godfather...”
“Never! No, I will not allow that. My son will not have that... that madman for a godfather.”
“Max! How dare you!”
“That’s enough, Ludovica! I am not going to argue about this. Forget about this... this insane idea. Don’t make me forbid you. My older sister will be Friedrich’s godmother, and the godfather can be one of your brothers.”
“But Max, you can’t prevent me from organizing a proper baptism for our son!”
“Friedrich will have the baptism he deserves, with his family and no one else.”
Ludovica did not insist. She knew that Friedrich was the cause that had prevented Max from leaving her, but she knew him too well, and was aware that if she pressured him, then he would just leave again.
“Alright, my darling, we’ll do as you wish. And now sit down next to me, I’ve got a lot of things to tell you.”
Max took advantage of his stay in Berlin to meet up again with his friends who were part of the resistance to the regime. Professor Schatzhauser was more pessimistic than ever, and was surprised that Max should ask after Amelia.
“She’s in Pawiak prison, in Warsaw. She was arrested by the Gestapo.”
“Poor thing! We had heard rumors...”
“I’m doing everything I can to get her out of there.”
“Yes, we’d heard about that as well. Be careful, Max, you have enemies.”
“I know, Professor.”
“Albert James, the American journalist, was in Berlin. He called me and came to see me; he asked after Amelia.”
“Well, you know that Amelia and Albert... They had a close relationship.”
“I told him the truth, that she had gone with you to Warsaw and that we hadn’t heard anything else about her, but that I thought she was probably alright.”
Max didn’t say anything. He was upset that the professor should have mentioned Amelia’s former lover. He didn’t blame him for anything, it was just that, although he didn’t care to admit it, he was jealous.
“Tell me about how things are here, if there’s any news about our group.”
“There aren’t very many of us, Max, and we are badly organized,” the doctor complained.
“Our problem,” Manfred Kasten, the former diplomat, added, “is that those of us who are opposed to the Reich are not able to unite our forces. The Communists do their thing, the Socialists do theirs, us Christians don’t agree on anything, and the army doesn’t realize that there is this great body of people willing them to do something.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Max said. “Also, it’s not that easy, it’s not even the case that those of us who are opposed to the regime can agree about what the best thing to do is.”
“Everything would be easier if the head of the Reich were to be removed,” Professor Schatzhauser insisted.
“The Führer insists that the army swear loyalty to him, and lots of soldiers feel bound by that oath,” Max said.
“You too?” Manfred Kasten asked.
“The army should be loyal to Germany,” Professor Schatzhauser said, without giving Max time to answer.
“Some of my friends have been arrested,” Pastor Ludwig Schmidt said. “The Gestapo arrests people and they disappear forever.”
“And you, Max, what do you think we should do?” Helga Kasten asked.
Max von Schumann had no answer to that question. All he could do was repeat that there were officers in the heart of the army who felt as he did, that something had to be done about Hitler and some of his brothers-in-arms had even said that the Third Reich would never fall if Hitler did not fall first, but had not said any more than that.
Four days before his return to the front, Max and Ludovica baptized Friedrich in a ceremony that was attended only by the immediate family. Ludovica had given in to her husband’s insistence, but was planning another celebration for when her husband returned to the front. She had decided to gather together her friends in the Nazi High Command to celebrate Friedrich’s birth and baptism.
Max had his own plans. He had arranged to pass through Warsaw before heading back to the Russian front. Karl Kleist, the officer who worked with Colonel Oster, had told him that Amelia was about to be set free and he wanted to be there when she was released, or at least he wanted to see her in Pawiak and explain what his plans were for when she would be set free.
What he did not know was that Amelia was ill. She coughed blood and was still suffering from anemia.
But the worst that Amelia had to face was not her fever, or the fleas that tormented her body, or the lice that made their homes in her shorn hair. The worst for Amelia was having to survive Ewa’s execution.
“Did you know that my parents came to see me?” Ewa said one morning while they were in the yard, breathing whatever fresh air it was that managed to get into the prison.
“Have you seen them?” Amelia asked.
“No, they haven’t let me see them, but I know that they were here because one of my cellmates told me; they use her to clean the commandant’s office every now and then. She’s a good woman and I trust her. You know, I think that they were bringing good news, I’m sure that I’m about to be pardoned. I’ve got a feeling.”
Ewa smiled happily, convinced of her good luck, and only frowned when she thought that this would mean she would have to leave Amelia behind her, still immured in Pawiak.
“When I leave, I promise I will find Max wherever he may be and make him do whatever it takes to get you out. Trust me.”
“If it had not been for you, then I don’t know how I would have endured so long...”
“But you are so much stronger than I am! And you have a son to live for. I will go to Spain with you one day.”
“Spain... my son... If I could only turn back time! I’m the only one to blame for what’s happened to me, and sometimes I think that I’m here because I need to pay
for all the bad things I’ve done to the people who love me: my son, my parents, my sister, my husband, my uncle and my aunt and my cousins, I’ve let them all down...”
“Don’t blame yourself, Amelia, You’ll get out of here and you’ll be able to go back to Spain and sort things out.”
“I can’t bring my parents back to life.”
“You’re not guilty of their deaths. They were victims of your civil war.”
“But I was not with them. I wasn’t there when they shot my father, and I wasn’t at my mother’s bedside when she lay dying. I am not looking after my sick sister now. I have always left my responsibilities in the hands of others, and now I’m leaving my sister in the hands of my aunt and uncle and my cousin Laura. And my son... I can’t feel sorry for myself for having become a stranger to my own little Javier. I abandoned him, and not a day goes past when I don’t regret having done so.”
“We will get out of here, you’ll see, and it will be very soon, trust me. I feel that my freedom is getting very close.”
That afternoon, like all afternoons, they were in their cells and heard the footsteps of the guards. They were going to read out the names of the condemned, who would be hanged at dawn.
Amelia had a temperature and could barely pay attention, so it took her a few seconds for her to realize what had happened, and to ask herself if it were really true.
“They’re going to hang that friend of yours. They’ve just read out her name. Poor kid,” one of her cellmates whispered in her ear.
Amelia’s scream could be heard all along the damp corridor that led to the cells. But then it was lost among the weeping and wailing of all the people whose executions had been announced for the next day. It was the same noise as every day, but today Amelia found it unbearable.
One of the guards came into the cell and hit her with a stick to make her shut up.
“Shut your mouth, you foreign piece of shit! I hope that the order comes for you to get hanged soon, so we won’t spend any more money on feeding you. Ungrateful bitch!”
Tell Me Who I Am Page 67
