Too Many Men

by Lily Brett

  “I know this,” Höss said.

  “You know that?” Ruth said. She felt a bit queasy. How much did Höss know about her? And how long had he known her? How long had he been watching her? Had he been watching her?

  “Of course,” Höss said. What was he replying to? Ruth thought. Her question or her thought? She had another drink of water. She felt quite sick. Höss always did this to her. He made her feel sick.

  “You were suffering from nausea brought on by stress long before you met me, were you not?” Höss said. Ruth nodded her head. “They have already closed twenty-three Goethe Institutes around the world,” Höss said. “By failing to spread the use of German, Germany is surrendering its influence on world affairs.”

  “That may not be so bad,” Ruth said. She suddenly felt a discomfort in Höss. She wasn’t sure how she could detect this. It was a small shift in something. Something slight. A slight pitch, a slight tone, a slight noise. A sound of discomfort, of disturbance, of disquiet.

  “I know where you are going,” Höss said.

  “I’m going back to the hotel,” Ruth said.

  “I know where you are going,” he said. “I know why you came here.”

  “Really?” she said. “I wish I did.”

  “This is not a time for humor,” Höss said.

  Höss didn’t sound well. His bravado had diminished. He sounded pan-icked. “You are going to Auschwitz,” he said.

  “Oh, so that’s what’s disturbing you,” she said.

  Höss coughed. “I am not at all disturbed,” he said.

  “At least you know that it’s a death camp and not a museum,” Ruth said.

  “Of course I know this,” Höss said. “I myself have corrected some inmates of Zweites Himmel’s Lager.”

  “I bet there are a lot of Poles up there with you using the term

  ‘Auschwitz Museum,’ ” Ruth said. “Are they the ones you have to correct the most?”

  “I would say that is correct,” Höss said. “Although quite a few others persist in making this mistake.”

  [ 3 2 0 ]

  L I L Y B R E T T

  Ruth sighed. It was depressing that even in death you encountered the same denial.

  “I was not the commandant of a museum,” Höss said.

  “That would feel like a demotion to you, wouldn’t it?” Ruth said.

  “Of course,” said Höss. Ruth thought she heard a faint humph after the

  “of course.”

  “Every German had to commit himself with all his heart in order for us to win the war,” Höss said.

  “Is that what you were doing?” Ruth said. “I thought you were murdering Jews.”

  “I was eliminating certain parts of the population,” Höss said. “That was my main aim. But it was also my job to ensure that this project contributed to the war. This was strictly in accordance with the directive of the Reichsführer-SS. He declared that everything had to be sacrificed in the interests of one goal. To win the war.”

  “You didn’t sacrifice anything on the prisoners,” Ruth said. “You sped up the death process and used up the residue of every Jew. Their hair, their teeth, and other bits and pieces. You fed them less, worked them harder, dispensed with them faster, looted their bodies when you had already remaindered their possessions. You cared less, if that was possible. Not a cent was to be squandered on any prisoner.”

  “You understand exactly what had to be done,” Höss said.

  “I understand?” said Ruth. “I’ll never understand.” She contemplated kicking Höss. Grinding her heel into the ground in a ferocious kick. But she couldn’t be bothered. She would have to kick till her feet dropped off if there was to be any retribution.

  “Himmler stated very clearly that the severe conditions in the camp were of secondary importance,” Höss said.

  “Secondary importance?” Ruth said. “Wouldn’t no importance be more accurate?”

  “Why do you insist on interrupting me?” Höss said. “I am trying to convey an extremely complex situation to you. In the summer of 1941 the Reichsführer-SS gave me firm orders to assemble whatever was needed to make Auschwitz capable of mass exterminations,” Höss said.

  “So it was all really Himmler’s fault?” Ruth said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  T O O M A N Y M E N

  [ 3 2 1 ]

  “The Reichsführer’s orders were not open for discussion,” Höss said.

  “They were orders. They were not negotiations. I had no idea of course of the outcome or the effect of these orders.”

  “I think we could agree that the obvious and apparent outcome would be a lot of dead people,” Ruth said.

  “I was not aware of the consequences at the time,” Höss said.

  “Consequences to whom?” Ruth said. “To you?”

  “Consequences in general,” Höss said.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit,” Ruth said. “You’re talking about consequences for yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, yes,” Höss said.

  “You’re going to be stuck here for years. Decades,” Ruth said. “I doubt if you’ll ever see those famed gates of Himmel.”

  “You are merely trying to upset me,” Höss said.

  “I’m not trying at all,” Ruth said. She moved her heel, slightly. She knew by a small sound, a tiny auditory wave, that Höss had twitched. He had felt her movement.

  “The order from the Reichsführer-SS was without question a deplorable and atrocious order,” Höss said.

  “Are you capitulating?” Ruth said. “Surely not.”

  “It was, as I said, certainly atrocious and deplorable,” Höss said. “And excessive. But nevertheless, the reasons behind the extermination program seemed to me to be sound.”

  “Thank God, you’re still yourself,” Ruth said. “For a minute I thought you had turned into a humanitarian.”

  Höss laughed. A thin, snakelike slither of a laugh. The laugh made Ruth shiver. Was Höss laughing at the image of himself as a humanitarian? Or was he laughing with pleasure at the steadfastness of his own views?

  “I suspect the reasons and premises behind the mass exterminations still seem right to you,” Ruth said. Höss stopped laughing.

  “Now, as then,” he said. “The question of whether this mass extermination of the Jews was essential or not was not something that I myself could address. I did not have the full facts at my disposal.”

  “Wow,” said Ruth. “You still feel there’s room for discussion about the merit of Hitler’s program?”

  [ 3 2 2 ]

  L I L Y B R E T T

  “The Reichsführer was the Führer’s representative,” Höss said. “It was for me exactly as if Hitler himself had given me this order.”

  “It would probably be in your interests to cover up some of that earnest rectitude,” Ruth said.

  Höss seemed not to understand. “The final solution to the Jewish question had to be addressed. For me to consider the merits of the Führer’s orders was out of the question,” he said.

  Ruth felt depressed. She didn’t want to hear any more.

  “I am the target of many people,” Höss said. “Even in Zweites Himmel’s Lager. I do not understand why. What I did was not so wrong. I was nationalistic. Many countries including democratic England have a concept of nationalism, ‘My country, right or wrong.’ Every patriotic Englishman adheres to this belief.”

  “I’m not sure you’ve correctly grasped the concept of patriotism,” Ruth said. “It could be a requirement for entry into Himmel.”

  “It is not,” Höss said. “Patriotism is discouraged. Humanism is what is encouraged.”

  “Then you’re in trouble,” Ruth said. “Humanism is not easily learned.”

  “There are many classes in humanity in Zweites Himmel’s Lager,”

  Höss said.

  “Have you been to any?” Ruth asked.

  “I cannot attend these classes,” Höss said. “One must pass the sensiti
vity-training class to qualify for attendance in a humanity class.”

  “It’s a prerequisite?” said Ruth.

  “Yes, unfortunately,” said Höss.

  “It’s not that unfortunate,” Ruth said. “If you’re having trouble with sensitivity, you’d really be in trouble with humanity.”

  Höss let out a sigh. A sigh long enough to have expelled every ounce of air from his lungs, if he still had lungs. “I need to pass these classes,” he said. “I am tired of Zweites Himmel’s Lager. I hear they have wonderful concerts in Himmel. Concerts performed by splendid musicians. We can hear faint strains of the music coming from Himmel, in Zweites Himmel’s Lager. We hear just enough to discern what is being played, but not enough to hear it.”

  Ruth wondered if Höss felt she should feel sorry for him. “Yesterday, Mario Lanza gave a concert in Himmel,” Höss said.

  T O O M A N Y M E N

  [ 3 2 3 ]

  “Mario Lanza?” Ruth said. She hadn’t heard anyone mention Mario Lanza for years. Her mother used to love Mario Lanza. Rooshka used to sing “Arrivederci Roma” sometimes while she was doing the dishes. Ruth always knew that her mother was feeling happy if she heard the refrain of

  “Arrivederci Roma” or “The Loveliest Night of the Year” coming from the kitchen.

  “Mario Lanza became popular after I passed away,” Höss said.

  “After you passed away?” said Ruth. “After you were executed, you mean. After you were burnt down to a fine ash. After you were completely cremated.”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Höss said. Why did she say completely cremated? Was it possible to be partially cremated? Probably. She couldn’t see why not.

  “Mario Lanza is giving concerts in Himmel, is he?” Ruth said.

  “Yes,” said Höss glumly.

  Ruth’s spirits rose. Maybe her mother was listening to Mario Lanza. She immediately felt foolish. Her mother was dead. Not listening to Mario Lanza sing “If You Were Mine,” despite what Höss said. Höss was probably making all of this up. She couldn’t trust Höss. How could you trust a presence? Especially an ex-Nazi presence. She corrected herself. There was nothing ex about Höss’s Nazi affiliations. They were well and firmly present.

  “I know what you are thinking,” Höss said. “I can assure you that you can trust me. It is not in my interests to lie to you. I feel better than I have felt in many years. I am, finally, on the right path.”

  “Where does the path lead to?” Ruth said.

  “Even I am not sure of that,” Höss said.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Ruth said to Höss. She surprised her -

  self by saying this. Höss seemed surprised, too.

  “I am surprised to hear this,” he said.

  “I am glad I can surprise you,” Ruth said. “I thought nothing could.”

  “I went to Mass yesterday,” Höss said. “This is something I have not done in over eighty years.”

  “You have Mass in Zweites Himmel’s Lager?” Ruth said.

  “Of course,” said Höss.

  “So you have priests up there?” said Ruth.

  “Many fine priests,” Höss said.

  [ 3 2 4 ]

  L I L Y B R E T T

  Ruth decided not to point out to Höss the discrepancy between his description of the priests as fine, and the fact that these priests were in hell.

  “We’re very close to the train tracks that led to Auschwitz, aren’t we?”

  Ruth said. She knew that the main railway station of Kraków was close to the heart of the city. Not far from where she was standing. She knew that some of the transports had been rerouted to avoid the city center. Höss hadn’t answered the question. “We’re close to the tracks that took people to your kingdom of evil, aren’t we?” she said.

  “Kingdom of evil?” Höss said. He laughed. “What do you know about evil?” he said. For the first time his laugh sounded vicious. Ruth shuddered. “You think that to blink one of your eyes five times will protect you from evil?” Höss said. “You have to be mad in order to think that five blinks could safeguard a person. If you could eliminate or make up for bad thoughts by blinking one eye, no one would be still in Zweites Himmel’s Lager.” He roared with laughter. Ruth could feel the earth beside her, in the Planty, rumble with Höss’s laugh. She decided to give up her habit of blinking either eye. She decided she didn’t need it anymore.

  “Are you nervous about the fact that I am going to Auschwitz?” Ruth said to Höss.

  “No, not at all,” he said. “You are, after all, going there voluntarily.”

  The question must have unnerved Höss, because he started coughing. He coughed and coughed. Ruth felt sure that her question had induced his coughing fit. “I am not nervous at all,” Höss spluttered.

  Ruth waited for Höss’s coughing to subside. He was probably right, she thought. He was probably not nervous. What was there for him to be nervous about? “Why should I be nervous?” Höss said when he stopped coughing.

  “I couldn’t even begin the answer to that question,” Ruth said. “It would take too long.” Höss ignored her.

  “It was my deputy Fritzsch, who first tried gas as a method of accomplishing the killings,” Höss said. “Fritzsch used a preparation of prussic acid called Zyklon B. We used this preparation in the camp as an insecti-cide. Fritzsch reported the success of the gas to me.”

  “Why are you talking about the gassings?” Ruth said to Höss.

  “You are the one who repeatedly brought up the subject of Auschwitz,”

  T O O M A N Y M E N

  [ 3 2 5 ]

  Höss said. “I myself was present at the next gassing in which Zyklon B was used. Of course, I wore a mask to protect myself.”

  “Of course,” Ruth said.

  “The gassing took place in the detention cells of Block 2,” Höss said.

  “The cells were very crowded. When the Zyklon B was thrown in, death was instantaneous. There were a series of quick, muffled, muted, almost sti-fled cries, and then the whole thing was over. There was not one more sound from these former occupants of Block 2.”

  Ruth thought that she must remember not to run early in the morning.

  Höss seemed to have particularly good access to her at that time.

  “I can get to you at any time of the day,” Höss said. “Or at any time of the night, for that matter.”

  “I can, it seems, get rid of you, whenever I please,” Ruth said, and dug her heel into the unpaved track of the Planty. Höss yelled. A gurgling noise came out of him while he was yelling. As though he might throw up at any moment. “Don’t vomit near me,” Ruth said. Höss appeared not to hear.

  She could hear him still gurgling. He was also whimpering.

  Why was she worried about Höss vomiting? she thought. He had already brought up more bile in her presence than any amount of vomit could contain. “I hope you feel sick,” she said to Höss. She felt ill.

  “I do not feel sick,” Höss said.

  “Liar,” Ruth said.

  “The experience of attending this gassing put my mind at ease,” Höss said. “The mass extermination of the Jews was about to start very soon and, to tell you the truth, neither Eichmann nor I were, until this moment, con-fident of precisely how the killings were to be carried out. We both knew that the method to be used would be gas, but as to which gas and exactly how to administer it, and how effective it would be, we were in the dark. To my great relief, I could now report that we had not only the gas but we had established the procedure to be used.”

  Ruth vomited. She moved her feet as far away from her head as she could. She didn’t want to throw up on her running shoes. She couldn’t believe the fury of her vomit. It was propelling itself out of her in almost ferocious blasts. She felt quite frightened by this internal upheaval. What was happening to her? She vomited and vomited until all she was bringing up was water. Even then she kept retching.

  [ 3 2 6 ]

  L I L Y B R E T T
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  She felt exhausted. She couldn’t believe that she was vomiting in public.

  Several people looked at her. No one stopped.

  “Your digestive system is not in order,” Höss said.

  “There is much more not in order than my digestive system,” she said weakly. Her mouth tasted foul. She sat up. At least she could breathe more easily now. She shook her head. She was shocked at what had just happened. It was as though her lungs and her stomach had refused to smother their reaction to what they were hearing. She wiped her face with her hands.

  Höss sighed. “I do feel very much better since I have established this discourse with you,” he said. Ruth pushed her hair away from her face. She hoped there wasn’t any vomit in her hair. “In Zweites Himmel’s Lager,”

  Höss said, “I am still not popular. Why cannot people see that whatever I did, I was not alone in my actions or thoughts? No Nazi was alone. We were supported by the German people. I think it is most unjust and unsatisfactory to lay the blame on the Nazis.” His voice had developed a whine.

  “It is an injustice,” Höss said.

  “It’s too hard to go around railing at Germans in general,” Ruth said.

  “It’s too abstract.”

  “But there is so much specific incriminating evidence,” Höss said.

  “There’s too much,” said Ruth. “Too much for people to take in. No one wants to acknowledge that their auntie or uncle or grandfather or grandmother could be a killer. No one wants to think of their mothers or fathers profiting from the murder of others. People can’t bear to think of people they know in that light.” She paused to catch her breath. “No one wants to think that anyone was capable of all of that,” she said. “All of that murder. All of that hate.”

  “But they were,” said Höss.

  “I know that,” Ruth said. She felt flushed. She had been walking around and around the perimeter of the Planty. The sun had come out. It was the pale sun of winter. Not a bold yellow sun. Ruth felt happy to see the sun. Life was strange, she thought. Here she was, in Poland, in Kraków, in agreement, in accord with Rudolf Höss. This was an astonishing occurrence, Ruth thought.