The whole experience has heartened my confidence in the human race and shown that the proletariat are capable of working together in peace, as I have always known.
If Christmas can stop a war, then everyone should celebrate! It was the best Christmas present I could have ever wanted.
With all of my love,
Papa’
After she had read the letter, Meyer had asked her to open the present. It was a book by Erich Maria Remarque, ‘All quiet on the Western Front.’
Auschwitz, 24th July 1943
DEATH camp. Meyer tried to take in what Geller was telling him. How could this be? He had heard about the concentration camps. He knew about the deportations to the east and had never believed it was for resettlement. He had always thought that they would be labour camps. In fact, Klara and he had discussed this many times over the years. If you were arresting all of the people from a large ethnic community during a time of war then it made economic sense to put that population to work. Otherwise, not only would they be a drain on resources, but you would be removing a percentage of your skilled workforce from wartime production.
But to kill them? He could never have known. Never have guessed.
Meyer thought back to when he first got off the train. The old people were guided away. It seemed kind at the time. They had been on the train for a very long time and would need to be processed first, fed and given water.
The separation of the men from the women. At the time, Meyer thought it would be temporary. After all, they were in the same camp, which could not be so big that he would not be able to see his wife and girls. He knew that life would be hard in a concentration camp, but he thought that families would be allowed to stay together. Now Geller was telling him that he would never see his wife or children again. He pushed the images of Klara and the girls being led away from his mind.
When Meyer had begged Geller to tell him everything he knew about the camp, so that he might work out where his wife and children were, Geller had explained that there was a women’s camp and the children who had not been sent to the gas chambers were allowed to stay with their mothers. He also said that the men and women rarely saw each other. However, depending on the work group Meyer was put into, he might be able to get a message to his wife.
Meyer had had to ask Geller to repeat what he had said about what happened to those who had been selected for extermination, as he could not believe how organised the facilities were for the killing and disposal of such huge numbers of people.
Geller had nodded when Meyer had asked him to tell him again about the selection process and the fate of the prisoners, as determined by which group they belonged to. Geller knew it was difficult to take in, especially if you were German. Meyer had been shocked that such things could be done to anyone, but especially your own countrymen. Anton Geller ran through what he knew of the processes used on those arriving in Auschwitz.
First of all, the prisoners were split into those who would be capable of working and those who would not. The old, the infirm, the sick, and the very young were sent one way. As with the processing that Meyer had experienced, they were stripped and their possessions taken from them before being taken to large chambers which were filled with gas. The bodies were then taken to the crematoria and burned en mass. This work was carried out by the Sonderkommando; prisoners picked to work in the death machine.
Those who were fit enough to work were then split. The women were led off one way, the men the other way. Both groups would be worked until they died. It was all very simple, all very mechanical, all very industrial.
Meyer was exhausted. He wasn’t sure what time it was when he curled up on the hard board of the broken bunk, but he felt that his eyes had only just closed when he was being shaken awake. Geller was the one waking him.
“Come on, Manfred, we need to go outside for roll call,” he instructed.
Kapo Langer was making his way down the aisles between the bunks, shouting at everyone to get up and get out. He worked his way around to the wall where most of the new arrivals had spent the night, kicking those still on the floor of the hut, forcing them to their feet.
“Get outside and line up with the rest. This is roll call!” he shouted.
Anton Geller took Meyer and guided him out, through the door, into the yard outside, where the dark of the night was being chased away by a slowly emerging summer sun. They lined up with the other men from the hut and waited as the stream of inmates continued to line up in rows behind them.
“Thank you, Anton,” said Meyer.
“What for?” came the reply.
“For being kind in this place of unkindness.”
Anton Geller put his hand on Meyer’s back.
“Manfred, I was brought here in January and have survived the snow and the bitter cold while others died. I have survived the hard labour, the food, and the beatings, and I plan to survive the camp. If you feel the same way then we should survive together.”
Langer stood in front of the assembled men with a clipboard and started shouting out names. Beside him stood two men, both of whom carried the green triangle indicating the wearer as a criminal.
“Who are the other two?” asked Meyer in a whisper.
“That is Braun and Klein. They are Langer’s muscle,” replied Geller. He didn’t need to explain any further.
The names came slowly from Langer, with a ‘yes’ or ‘present’ coming in reply. Meyer waited for his name and replied with ‘present’. Two names shortly after Meyer’s did not come back with a reply. Both times Langer shouted the names a bit louder and again when there was no reply. Each time, Langer chatted to Braun and Klein and there was a nodding of heads. At the end of the roll call, Langer and his two deputies returned to the hut.
“They will be checking the hut to see if the two missing men are either dead or ill,” explained Geller, “Then they will do the roll call again.”
“What if the two missing men are not in the hut?” asked Meyer.
“You know, I have no idea. It has never happened,” laughed Geller, “I am not sure it is possible. Langer gets a fresh list of names each morning, with any new inmates included and anyone who has died the previous day removed.”
“Has no-one ever escaped from here?” asked Meyer.
“Not from the camp, although I have heard rumours of some people escaping during the confusion at the gas chambers but I am not sure if these stories are true. Some have made it away from the working parties into the forest, but if you are caught, you are shot on sight.”
Langer and his two men reappeared from the hut and the roll call of names started again, this time missing out the names of the two men who had not responded earlier. Once the list of names had been completed successfully, Langer left Braun and Klein in front of the assembled prisoners.
“What happens now?” whispered Meyer.
“Kapo Langer goes to the registration office and hands in his sheet. I suppose that they then take account of any missing prisoners. When he comes back he will be followed by a couple of SS guards. We then wait for the SS officers, the Blockführers, to arrive and we go through the same thing all over again. Until then we just wait here.”
The morning was cold but Meyer imagined how cold it must be in the snows of a Polish winter. As he was wondering about preparing himself for the coming winter, a white flake floated past his face. He thought he was imagining things until he saw another. His eyes turned to the sky above him. There were clouds tinged blood red and gold by the rising sun, but these could not be snow clouds, could they? Had all the death and misery of this place created its own weather? That just was not possible. Was it? He turned to Geller.
“Anton, snow in July? Am I imagining things?”
Geller shook his head.
“You are not seeing things Manfred, but it isn’t snow,” he whispered back.
“What is it?” asked Meyer, as he watched another flake float over the heads of the men in front.
“It�
�s from the crematorium chimneys,” came the answer, “The wind has changed and it is blowing the smoke and ash this way.”
Meyer swiped away a flake which had landed on his cheek and thought about the crowd of old people that he had watched being taken away, hundreds of them. It was hard to digest the fact that they were now all dead and their remains were being cremated at that very moment. At least they were free from this place of torture. Perhaps it was a blessing that they did not have to suffer this place. How long would they have survived for, anyway?
“I am not a religious man, Anton, but if there is a hell, then we are in it.”
After what seemed to Meyer like an hour, two SS Blockführers appeared with clipboards. They were immaculately dressed in field grey uniforms, peaked caps and shining black boots. Kapo Langer approached them and handed over some paperwork, but the two men barely acknowledged his presence and took their time smoking cigarettes until they started the roll call over again. Once again, the two names which had not had a reply were called out and once again at the end of the list of names, the Blockführers and Langer entered the hut.
“Why are they going through this again?” asked Meyer.
“It is the same every day. The Nazis are sticklers for paperwork and if they can repeat an administrative process to create even more paperwork then they will,” replied Geller.
The SS officers returned from the hut with Langer limping after them. There was some discussion between him and the officers, and then Langer went back into the hut. Once again, the roll call was made, this time with the two missing prisoners' names left out. This seemed to satisfy the Blockführers, and Braun was despatched with the clipboard to the registration office.
Before long, two inmates with a wheelbarrow appeared and also went into the hut. To Meyer, they looked like the same men he had seen the day before, who had been sent out to pick up the bodies of the two men who had died outside the gates of the camp.
The bodies that belonged to the two missing names were carried out one at a time and placed unceremoniously in the barrow. They had been stripped naked, and Klein had the uniforms hung over his arm and the clogs held against his chest. Klein and the two body removal men left together in the direction of the chimneys.
Langer had reappeared from the hut and, along with the Blockführers, started organising everyone into working parties. Using yet another list of names, he ordered the men to form up in groups.
Meyer hoped that he would be in the same working party as Geller.
“What group are you in?” he whispered.
“Forest group D. We are always the last to be called,” Geller replied.
It seemed that everyone from the previous day’s working parties were staying together. Langer called out the names of the groups, ‘Factory group A’ or ‘Road group B’ and had them move off one group at a time. An SS guard was given a list of the names of those in that group and yet another roll call was made. Only once everyone was accounted for on the list were any new names added. Considering the efforts made to account for everyone during the roll calls, this part of the process seemed a bit ad hoc to Meyer. Langer just called out a few names from a list he had of the new prisoners and they were added to the bottom of the list of the working party. This was repeated with each group until Langer called out, “Forest group D”.
Anton Geller made his way, with the last group, to the side of the hut, where the roll call for that group was taken by the guard. Only Meyer and three other men were left. Langer called out their names and indicated that they should join this last group. Meyer's name, along with those of the other new prisoners, was added in pencil to the bottom of the list, and they were ordered to follow the guard in ranks of two.
Meyer fell in beside Geller. He wasn’t sure what time they had been sent into the courtyard at, but it had taken around three hours before they had been able to march off after the SS guard. It was a relief to be moving again.
The guard took them to the registration office at the gate and heads were counted by another officer, who then checked his number count against the number of prisoners on the list.
“Where are the new prisoners?” he asked.
Meyer slowly put up his hand, turning to see that the other three men were also holding a hand up. The registration officer then counted the hands and checked that there were four new names in pencil at the bottom of his list. Then he announced, “You are in Forest group D. Your work will be the clearing of woodland. You are guarded at all times. You will be shot if you make any attempt to escape. In any case, there is nowhere for you to go.” Then, looking back at his list he waved them away as if swatting a fly.
They had now been joined by more armed SS guards and were led out of the camp towards that day’s work.
Meyer thought back over the last twenty-four hours. What had happened on his arrival, the separation from his family, and the truth of what this place actually was from Geller. The family had feared arrest in Berlin but only because they did not want to be relocated to the east; they did not want the danger of the family being split up and feared for the safety of the girls. But they had not known about the existence of death camps or gas chambers or massive crematoriums. Did anyone know the truth of this in Berlin? Did the people know about the lies?
He looked at the sign above the entrance gate as they trudged underneath. ‘Work makes you free’. Another lie.
Berlin, 24th December 1929
ANNA and Greta had been fed and set down for the night, with Frau Fischer sitting in front of the fire with her knitting. Before they left, she had made a fuss of Klara, making sure she was warm enough.
The snow had stopped by the time they had left the apartment building. There was a crisp crust to the snow on the pavements, and Meyer had Klara hold his arm to steady her as they walked to the tram stop.
“I have heard that the Bierwurst is excellent in the restaurant next to Clärchens Ballhaus,” said Meyer as they stood hand-in-hand at the tram stop, waiting for the Number 7 to Auguststrasse.
“Ah, but will it be as garlicky as the Bierwurst at Eden’s dancehall?” replied Klara, with a giggle.
“It didn’t matter how garlicky it was when I kissed you, because you ate much more Bierwurst than I did!” teased Meyer.
“It was a particular favourite there. The whole dancehall must have smelled of garlic,” she replied, and they both laughed at how the doors of the hall would open at the end of the night, and the dancers and the garlic smell would spill on to the street.
Soon there was the sound of the tram bell and the rattling of the tracks as the Number 7 made its way through the snow-covered streets. Meyer helped Klara aboard, and they took a seat at the back, on the bottom floor.
“It is a pity Karl couldn’t make it to Berlin for Christmas,” said Klara, “I haven’t seen him since we left Leipzig.”
“I am sure he is very busy, either with the electric company or busy trying to save us all from ourselves,” joked Meyer. Klara smiled but then looked out of the tram window, her gaze miles away, in Leipzig.
It had been on a tram to work in Leipzig that Meyer had met Klara’s brother Karl in his working clothes for the first time. He had been an apprentice electrician and wore blue overalls with big leather boots. He carried a box for his lunch and a toolbox.
“Hello, Karl, what are you doing on this tram?” asked Meyer, as he sat down next to him.
“Good morning, Manfred,” replied Karl, “I am working on Konigstrasse this week with the company. Is that near your office?”
“Not too far. I can show you what stop to get off at.”
Karl thanked him and they sat for a few moments without talking.
“I never really got a chance to thank you properly for looking after Klara that night,” said Karl.
Meyer smiled. He had not seen much of Klara since the night Karl had come home late. It had been three weeks before Klara’s mother had let either of them out at night. Then Meyer had had legal exams to study for
, and, although they missed each other dreadfully, Klara had insisted that he spent the time studying. It was only if he passed these exams that his future as a lawyer would be certain and they could start making plans to be married.
“I wasn’t sure what to make of you at first,” continued Karl, “with you being a lawyer, I mean.”
Meyer raised his eyebrows and was about to ask if Karl had something particular against lawyers, but he did not need to, as Karl continued his explanation.
“It’s a very bourgeois occupation. Your aspiration to join the bourgeoisie does not fit your background. Unless you are going to be defending the working man against the threats to his livelihood?”
Meyer stared at Karl Steinmann.
“I wasn’t aware that you were a communist, Karl,” he said.
Karl became very animated and leaned in closer to Meyer, as if he was about to tell him a great secret.
“It is the only way forward,” he said in a whisper. “The workers of Germany must unite and create a socialist state. You have seen the anarchy on the streets with the Freikorps. These are disillusioned workers being caught up in the flames of revolution.”
“And were you caught up in these flames the night I took Klara home?”
Karl turned and looked out of the tram window for a long time before answering, so long that Meyer was wondering if he had insulted him in some way and if the conversation was now over.
“You guessed that night that I hadn’t been an innocent bystander. But you must promise not to say anything to Klara, she will only worry.”
Meyer promised, and Karl began to tell him what had really happened that night.
“I am a member of the Communist Party of Leipzig. We were having a meeting in the beer cellar when those Brownshirt thugs from the National Socialist Party came in. I don’t think they knew we were going to be there, it was just coincidence. National Socialist Worker’s Party? Their name is a joke. There is not a decent socialist value in any of their policies. All they want to do is create chaos.
A Murder in Auschwitz Page 7
