What was he saying? She didn’t know how to respond. She was delighted by the prospect of renewing the food distribution. There were tens of thousands who desperately needed sustenance. They would give her a free hand? She’d never had that with the Polish government. All the food she needed? She could do so much. But to work for the Germans? How could she agree? She would be a traitor to everything she believed, to her people, to her nation.
“I’m sorry, sir. I must refuse you. I appreciate your offer very much. But I cannot work for the Germans.”
She saw a flicker of anger across his otherwise serene features. A hint of frustration perhaps. The emotion was gone so quickly she wasn’t sure it had ever existed. He put his hands out as if in surrender. “You would not be working for the Germans, you would be working for Poland, the same as before. Certainly, we are here, and we will be from now on, but we want the Poles to run Poland.” He reached toward her. “I’m not asking you to do anything you didn’t do before. I’m asking you to do what you have always wanted to do. You can feed your people, but you can do it on your terms, and with German efficiency.” His voice assumed a tinge of the scolding schoolmaster. “Really, Frau Sendler, we aren’t going to go anywhere. Poland is part of Germany now, and always will be. If you want a voice in its future, if you want to work in your field, you will have to work with us. So, what will it be? Will you assume your old responsibilities?”
She did not know what to do. He was asking her to work with the fascists, something she abhorred more than anything in the world. Still, hadn’t the Polish government stood far to the right? Wasn’t there already anti-Semitism, anti-socialism, in every layer of the Polish system? Besides, if they were going to allow the Polish government systems to continue, wasn’t she really going to be working for Poland, not for Germany? She wasn’t sure. She was so tired, and her brain was clouded. She thought she would be tortured, perhaps killed. Instead, this man was offering her everything she’d wanted. A promotion to deal with food distribution for the poor all through Warsaw. On her terms, under her conditions. “I need some time to think about it,” she finally responded, still not sure what she should decide.
He slapped his hands down on his trousers. “Of course, Frau Sendler. That’s perfectly reasonable.” He reached into his pocket again and drew out a card. “Here is my information. Take the next day and think about things. I look forward to your answer.”
She stared at the card. Hauptmann Klaus Rein, Gestapo. She paused, not sure what to say. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I’m free to go?”
“Of course, you are.” He turned to the giant boy. “Peter. Take Frau Sendler home. Use my personal car.” The assistant stood, inclining his head slightly. “I look forward to your answer.” He turned and strolled out of the room, leaving her with this oversized child, who gazed down on her, grinning from ear to ear.
“Shall we go, Frau Sendler?” Even his voice was high-pitched, and he sprinted from syllable to syllable, as if his words raced each other.
“Yes, I’d like that.” She rose and started to walk, but her head was spinning. She stumbled and started to fall. His strong hands grasped her, pulling her up.
“Be careful, madam,” said Peter. “You’ve had quite a night. Let me help you.” He tucked his arm through hers and guided her slowly out of the room, leading her out of the building and toward the car. As she rose out of the basement her spirits soared. She was alive, unhurt. She’d survived. She had a decision in front of her, but what was that compared to life itself? It was morning now. The sun was climbing in the eastern sky. She felt the warmth on her face, she smelled the crisp air, took in the trees, the leaves, the soft pink and gray of the buildings. She breathed in her life. No matter what, she was still here, she was alive.
* * *
“You can’t say yes,” said Ala. Irena sat at an outdoor café on Senatorska Street with Ala and Ewa, sipping tea and munching on sauerkraut and a mushroom pierogi. The afternoon sun was warm on her back. The tables were full of diners, chatting away and enjoying themselves as if the world had not ended yesterday. As she looked around it felt almost as if nothing had changed, with one startling difference. Some of the patrons were German soldiers, in their gray uniforms and leather jackboots, laughing, jostling the waitresses, gulping down quantities of vodka as they joked in their harsh Germanic accents.
“What difference does it make?” responded Ewa. “Aren’t they the same jobs we had before?” Ewa had been contacted too, albeit in less dramatic fashion. She had simply received a notice, delivered to her flat, instructing her to return to work on October 2, the following Monday.
“There is every difference in the world,” said Ala. She absently ran her hand through a tangle of dark curls. “Last week you served Poland. Tomorrow, you would be serving the Nazis.”
“What will you do then?” asked Irena.
“I don’t know,” she said. “The hospital is supposed to be for all people. I will stay there. But I won’t work with them. No matter what. Not directly anyway.”
“And if they take over the hospital?” asked Ewa.
“Then I’ll quit and stay home with Rami.”
“Your words are admirable,” said Ewa. “But you can’t eat virtue. Pride won’t give you shelter or keep your child alive.”
“What about your husband?” asked Irena. “What does he say?”
“He’s gone.”
“What do you mean?” asked Irena.
“He left Warsaw. He won’t serve the Germans. He knows what they will do to us, to the Jews. He’s going to fight them. He headed into the forest with a few friends. He’s going to try to find a group out there to start a resistance. If I didn’t have Rami, I would have joined him. But I can’t take a five-year-old girl out into the forest.”
“That’s madness,” said Irena. “The war isn’t even officially over yet. There are Germans everywhere. They have all the guns, food, supplies.”
“Nonetheless, he’s going to resist them. There are others. Freedom fighters. They are going to keep the dream of Poland alive.” Ala looked intently across the table at Irena. “You should too.”
“Maybe she’s right,” said Ewa.
“What do you mean?”
Ewa shifted in her seat, not meeting Irena’s eyes. “Maybe we should refuse. Can we really work for the Germans?” Her face was flushed, and her eyes looked back and forth from Irena to Ala. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Irena turned on her friend. “So you’re going to starve, Ewa? Fine for yourself. What about all the people depending on us? I’m not doing this for the Germans, I’m not doing it for me. I’m doing it for the people.”
“Whose people?” asked Ala. “The Poles or the Jews? It’s easy for you to help the Germans. They aren’t after your skin. Ewa and I are different. They’ve made no secret of their plans for us.”
“How dare you say that to me?” Irena retorted, her voice rising. “Have I ever differentiated? One Poland, Jews and Poles alike. A workers-and-peasants Poland. That’s what we’ve dreamed about, isn’t it? What we’ve worked for?”
“The Russians ended that dream,” said Ala. “They’ve betrayed us to the butchers. Now we’ve nobody to protect us and nowhere to run. We have to fight.”
“That’s what I want to do,” said Irena.
“No, you want to serve them.”
Irena rose. “That’s enough.”
“Please sit down!” Ewa pleaded. “You’ll attract notice.”
Irena reached into her bag, pulling out a few zlotys. She dropped them on the table. “I won’t create an incident, since you two are so worried about your own skins. You can both do what you want. I’m serving the Germans, am I? I’m serving the people, like I always have. If you want to hide in your flats and take care of yourselves, that’s your choice. I’m going to feed our people, Poles and Jews alike!”
“Irena please,” implored Ewa.
But she’d had e
nough. Irena stormed off, weaving between the narrow tables, trying not to attract attention to herself. She battled to control her anger. How could they be so blind? What good would it do to bury their heads in the sand? She wasn’t surprised by Ala, but she hadn’t expected Ewa to turn on her. She counted on her friend for assistance. She was a critical component. She would have to bring Ewa around. That would be easier without Ala.
She hurried back through the streets. It was a few hours before darkness, but she didn’t want to brave the night again. She was exhausted. She’d forgone sleep so she could meet with her friends and run her plan past them. She’d expected some resistance, but not an outright refusal. She felt a moment of doubt. Was Ala right? Would she be serving the Germans? She shook her head. Ala’s resistance was just one form of fighting. She admired her friend, but she knew there was truth in her own words. Refusal wouldn’t feed the thousands of starving Poles. Resistance would land her without position, without means to survive herself. It might be more than that. She thought back to the barren room, the ropes, the screams. This was a new world. A reality where her life was threatened multiple times in one day. These were new masters, new rules. She was going to beat them, but in order to do so, she had to be in the game.
She reached her building a half hour later. She didn’t bother checking at her office. She knew the door would be barred to her, at least for now. She would not be admitted until she had responded to Klaus, the name on the card, the man in the room.
She hurried up the stairs. Her mother must be terrified, worried sick. She felt a nagging guilt that she hadn’t returned to take care of her when she was released. But she’d had too much to do. She had plans to make, and the meeting she’d set up with Ala and Ewa. She’d make it up to her mother tonight. She would make dinner, bathe her, sit and talk with her. She would stay up late and visit about the old days, about her father. Her mother would be satisfied, at least for a little while.
Irena stepped on the landing and turned toward the corridor. Her hand touched the handle to her door. She felt her body shaking. She fumbled with the keys, but she couldn’t calm the tremor in her hands enough to open the door. She fell to her knees, leaning her head against the door, tears streaming down her face. I almost died today. They could have killed me. They will kill me. After long minutes she pulled herself up, took a few deep breaths. I will survive. I will fight them. I will win. She wiped her tears, opened the lock, and returned to her home.
Chapter 4
A New Poland
September 29, 1939
Glówna Train Station, Warsaw
Klaus waited at the station platform, Peter at his side. He gazed above him at the art deco architecture and to his left and right at the shops and restaurants. Glówna was designed as one of the most modern stations in Europe, with every convenience. For all the good it did them. He glanced at his watch again. The train was a half hour late. “Check with the attendant and find out what’s going on,” he said.
“It’s just a delay, sir,” said Peter, shrugging. “There’s a war on. What can you expect?”
“I said check.”
“Yes, sir.”
Klaus thought he detected a hint of defiance in Peter’s voice. He would have to have another talk with him. The large boyish figure ambled off toward the station doors, a wrinkled shirttail poking out from the bottom of his tunic. Klaus shook his head. He’d have a talk with Peter about that as well.
He looked at his watch again. Thirty-two minutes late. How could they rule the world with this kind of inefficiency? he wondered. The platform was deserted except for a few soldiers guarding the doorways and an elderly couple, waiting nearby. Klaus wondered who they could be there for. Poles were strictly forbidden from train travel at the present time. The man said something to the woman. He spoke German. That explained it. They must be Volksdeutsch. Poles of German ethnicity. Perhaps their son was a soldier, coming in on the train.
Klaus lost interest in them as Peter returned. “Well, what did he have to say?”
“He doesn’t have any information,” said Peter. “Something about cut telephone wires.”
“Was that all?”
Peter hesitated.
“Well?”
“He said the train would arrive when it arrives, and to be patient.”
“He did, did he?” Klaus took a step toward the door. “Let’s have a chat with this gentleman.”
At that moment he heard a distant whistle. He took another step toward the door but changed his mind. What matter? He turned and looked down the rail line. He could see a train in the distance, charcoal smoke billowing out of the engine like some sort of mechanical dragon. The engine was slowing down, and it took ten more minutes before the first cars passed them and the entire vehicle ground to a lurching halt.
Klaus searched up and down the line of cars, scanning the windows, excitement coursing through him.
“Vater!” He heard the musical voice and turned to see his little girl, Anna, auburn curls bouncing, a blur of burgundy dress and lace that latched on to his legs, hugging him and giggling in delight. He reached down, lifting her over his head, turning her around and around as she squealed in joy.
“Don’t drop her, darling.” He lowered her gently, setting eager eyes on his wife, Briggita. She hurried to him, a delightful vision in a gray wool dress with blonde hair spilling out of a scarlet hat. Her sapphire eyes danced, and she rushed to him, kissing him with cherry lips. He held her closely. He hadn’t seen her in months. He felt the overwhelming joy of her touch. He kissed her again and then composed himself, withdrawing a handkerchief.
“I hope you didn’t get lipstick on my uniform.”
“She didn’t, but it’s all over your face,” said his assistant, laughing.
“Peter, so good to see you,” said Briggita, patting his mountainous arm. Klaus smiled at the contradiction. His wife barely reached the giant’s chest and couldn’t have weighed a third as much.
“Uncle Peter, do you have sweets for me?” asked Anna. Peter wasn’t really her uncle, but she’d known him for years.
Peter composed a look of confusion and sadness, making a great show of searching his uniform. Finally, he reached into a pocket and removed a hard candy.
“For me?” she asked.
“Just for you.”
She took the wrapper and greedily opened it, pulling the candy out and shoving it into her mouth. “Cinnamon!” she said. “My favorite.”
“Of course. I would never forget,” said Peter.
“Let’s leave this place,” said Klaus, looking around. “We’ve created enough of a storm.”
“There’s nobody here,” teased his wife.
“That is beside the point.”
Briggita sighed dramatically. “Always so serious, Klaus.” She looked over at his assistant. “Peter, can you help us with the bags?”
They left the platform and loaded everything up in Klaus’s car. While Peter drove them through the streets of Warsaw, Briggita regaled them with stories of the countryside they’d seen during the day-long train trip from Böhlen. She commented on the orderly farms of Germany, and the dramatic changes once they’d crossed the border into Poland. Vehicles still burned in the fields. Villages lay in ruins.
“And Mother kept shutting the shades for all the good parts,” protested Anna.
Klaus could imagine what the good parts were. There were still plenty of unburied bodies outside Warsaw. Well, that would be put to order shortly, like everything else. He was disturbed his daughter had seen any of these signs of war, but glad her spirits seemed undampened. Primarily he was satisfied to bask in the glow of his family’s presence here. Glad to be reunited with his loved ones.
The afternoon turned to evening as they arrived at their new home, a three-story townhouse. Peter squeezed out of the driver’s seat and lumbered back to the trunk, lugging the baggage out as they marched up to the front door. Klaus removed a key and brought them into the entryway.
&nbs
p; “Oh, mein Gott, Klaus, how can we afford this place?” said Briggita, looking in stunned surprise at the deep cherry walls and the marble-tiled entryway.
Klaus was pleased by his wife’s reaction. “Let me give you a tour,” he said. He led his wife through the downstairs sitting area, kitchen, and library. She whistled again when he led her into the dining room, a twelve-seat table already set with the finest china. He watched her face fill with awe as he introduced her to their cook, maid, and butler, all Poles who were employed in this household before. They bowed and smiled, fawning over Briggita and his daughter.
He led his family through the rest of the house as the butler and Peter carried the luggage up to their respective rooms. Briggita was delighted with the master bedroom, a massive space with a large four-poster bed and double doors leading to a balcony.
“Oh, Klaus, this is too much,” she said. “I’ve never dreamed of anything like this. And with servants. Really, darling, how can we afford this?”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” he assured her. “The department assigned this house to us, and the servants. We don’t have to pay a pfennig for it. It’s built into my new salary.”
“How wonderful,” she said. “I’m so proud of you, Klaus. Joining the Gestapo was the best decision you’ve ever made. Could you imagine if you’d stayed in your post as a city policeman? We’d still be in that little hovel of an apartment, and you’d probably be in the army by now.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad,” he said, his arms around her.
“It would be a catastrophe,” she said, pulling away. “You could be killed and then who would raise our wonderful Anna.” She laughed. “Besides, this is so much better. We will be together every day.” She turned to admire the room further, sitting on the bed and running her hands over the dressers. She pulled open a drawer. “Klaus,” she said, and he heard a tremor in her voice.
Irena's War Page 4
