Outcasts

by Susan M. Papp

  "I am the only one who has access to this railway car," Tibor said. He held up the key. "This is the only key. Berti Mecseri is the only other person in the world who knows about this. But we can trust him. He helped me. I couldn't have accomplished all this without him." Tibor turned to Hedy, placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "Come away with me, my darling. We will go together on this train to a place where no one knows us. This war will be over soon. Let's start anew in a brand new place. After all the destruction things will have to be rebuilt; there will always be work for an engineer." He pulled her close and she buried her face in his uniform shirt.

  Hedy said nothing. Her mind was a blur trying to absorb all that he was saying and she was trying to imagine how the plan might work. Her heart was ready to go away with him. The idea of never going back to that dirty, overcrowded, lice-infested place was very enticing. She had only been out for an hour or so and already felt so much calmer, so much more like a human. But the thought of what would happen to her father, her brother, and her sisters was nagging at another part of her brain.

  As if reading her mind, Tibor whispered, "There's nothing you can do for them by staying here. I've heard rumours that the Jews are going to be transported to a place called Waldsee. Once this nightmare war is over, we'll find them together, you and I. I promise you that you will be reunited with your family. Come with me, my darling."

  Hedy realized she couldn't possibly give him an answer right away. He would have to give her a few hours to decide. They sat down side by side on two apple crates and talked in whispers, laughing quietly and shedding a few tears. They talked about their lives together in this new place, a city where they would start life all over again as newlyweds. They talked about the mundane details that would make up their daily routine. As the hours passed, it became cool and Tibor pulled out a blanket and wrapped it around them. They grew silent, both of them finally feeling the emotional toll of this exhausting day. Tibor kissed the moistness left by the tears on her cheeks, then his kisses became more passionate. "Life is but a day, our lives are but a single kiss."

  It was two in the morning when Tibor departed. Hedy promised to spend the rest of the night in the hidden train compartment. In the morning, after a few hours rest, he would come back and they would finalize the details.

  Tibor left with a heavy heart. He knew he had to go through the motions of life as usual and couldn't let anyone in the house know that this might be his final night at home, that he was planning to disappear forever the next day. He pushed away thoughts of what his disappearance would mean to his mother, who had come to rely on her son more and more. He shut his mind to his family. He couldn't bear to think of anyone but Hedy.

  He hardly slept that night and no one was up yet when Tibor left the house the next morning. As fast as his feet could carry him, he went directly to the train car. It was empty. He dashed over to the station master's office but, before Tibor could ask anything, Berti Mecseri picked up a note from his desk and said, "She left this for you."

  "What?" Tibor stammered. "When?"

  "Around six in the morning. I had just arrived for my shift," Berti said. Tibor looked at his watch. It was just after seven. "Did she say anything? What direction did she go?"

  "She really didn't have to say anything. Her eyes were red from crying. She looked wracked with sorrow."

  Tibor mumbled something under his breath as he walked out of the station master's office in a daze, ripping open the letter.

  My dearest Tibor,

  Forgive me for writing you these lines. I do so because I could not bear to see the sadness in your eyes when I told you of my decision. I don't know if going back will make any difference to my family's future or, for that matter, our fate. All I know is that I have to go back and face that fate together with them. I cannot abandon my brother, my sisters, and my father now, in their hour of greatest need.

  Forgive me, my darling.

  Love,

  Hedy

  Tibor stood staring at the note, trying to let the message sink in. When it did, he came to the realization that he had been selfish in trying to save her. Since her mother's death, Hedy had become mother to her brother and younger sister - she was all they had. How could he not have seen the obvious?

  As Tibor headed back to his office, he thought about how he had worked to secure Hedy's safety. He had planned everything, right down to the smallest detail, but the only scenario he had imagined was the one where they would leave together. He had never thought she would decide to go back into the ghetto.

  chapter 15 | may 1944

  HEDY FELT CONFIDENT THEY wouldn't lay a hand on her. She had returned to the ghetto through the secret entrance and was on her way to her family when a guard recognized and stopped her. Dezso Horvath, the same guard Tibor had paid off to get her out of the ghetto, had a devilish look in his eyes.

  "Where do you think you are going?" he insinuated. But before Hedy could think of a possible answer, he continued. "We'll have to teach you not to sneak out again. There can be no waltzing in and out of here whenever you choose. Who do you think you are to assume you can break the rules?"

  Hedy was so exhausted she found these questions almost comical. Horvath had taken Tibor's money and now he was making a show of his loyalty to the cause for the small group watching them. She was tempted to say something, here in front of witnesses, but she bit her lip. Horvath's beady brown eyes sat in a head that was narrow, but top-heavy like a turnip. He looked at her with a mixture of disdain and lust and pursed his thin lips. "You'll be sorry you tried to escape," he hissed, coming very near her face.

  The kosher butcher shop was cold and humid. The refrigerated shelves were turned off and stripped bare of any produce. What goods there were had long been taken to feed the ghetto or pilfered by the gendarmes. Hedy guessed there were twenty other people there already, watched over by four guards. They ordered everyone to sit down on the cool tile floor. Then, for no apparent reason, two guards grabbed a reluctant man off the floor and dragged him out the door. The man's protests and screams pierced the air as the guards started to beat him. Hedy put her head down and tried to muffle the horrible sounds by putting her arms up against her ears.

  Possibly to camouflage the noise, the two guards in the shop started berating those left inside. "You are all here because you are guilty of not following orders. No one will leave here until they learn that rules are made to be followed exactly. No one is exempt from these rules. Now, repeat after me: Lipit-Lopat."

  The recitation went on for at least twenty minutes and was followed immediately by another series of nonsensical tongue-twisters. What is the point of this stupid exercise? Hedy wondered. Already exhausted from being up most of the night, she tried to follow the instructions of these guards who had probably never finished grade school. Her mind wandered back to the events of the previous night. She saw before her the intense look in Tibor's eyes, felt his loving caresses on her cheek and arms and felt a pang of love as she went back over in her mind the planning and thought he had put into creating that hidden compartment for her. She realized for the first time the tremendous risk he was taking in doing all this for her.

  The repetition went on for another hour. Then they sat in silence for hours more. Suddenly, more of the stupidity of repetition. Hedy glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost evening; she had been there since 8:00 a.m. How could I have possibly thought that I could help my family? Hedy thought. They must be sick with worry right about now. She tried not to think about what Tibor must have felt when he found out she had returned to the ghetto. She looked down at her beautiful calfskin shoes and second-guessed her decision to leave the train car.

  During the night, the beatings outside stopped and the guard who had ordered them to repeat the nonsense phrases also became silent. Hedy curled herself into a little ball, trying to retain the little warmth left in her body. Her fatigue and the damp, cool surroundings left her shivering all nig
ht. Toward dawn, everyone inside and out became silent. Then they heard the muffled footsteps. At first, it sounded to Hedy like there were just a few, then what sounded like hundreds of people walking past the butcher shop. Eerily funereal, it seemed like hundreds of people were shuffling by on the street outside, with hardly any other sound than the occasional baby crying or child talking. Panic set in as Hedy realized that another group from the ghetto was being taken to the train station. One thought kept running through her mind: They can't take my family without me.

  SUTI PROMISED HIS FATHER that he would look after Icuka, who wanted to play a counting game as they walked. He didn't feel like playing - he felt hot and irritable. Who wears a coat on a warm day at the end of May? he thought. Yet Aliz, his older sister, had told him he must wear the coat or carry it. It was easier to wear it. He was already wearing a knapsack on his back, even though his wasn't as big as the one Aliz and father were wearing on their backs. He still couldn't understand any of this. Where were they going? When were they going to be allowed back home?

  "Let's play a silent game," Suti said to his sister. "When you see something and you want me to find out what it is, squeeze my hand and I will try to guess what you are thinking of."

  Icuka smiled, pleased that, finally, someone had agreed to play with her. Within a minute she squeezed Suti's hand. He guessed a bluebird on a tree. Icuka was amazed at his quick guess. He had secretly been admiring it, wishing he could be that bird and just fly away. The game continued. Suti was soon tired of the game. He told Icuka to count a hundred cobblestones in between guesses. The cobblestones were close to one another, in an arched, half-circle repeating pattern. It would take her time to count them. She looked at him sadly but reluctantly obeyed and began counting in groups of tens.

  As the long row of people slowly made its way down Vasut utca (Railroad Street), Suti noticed that nearly every one of the houses they passed had their shutters pulled completely down. The street was devoid of people. No cars or horse-drawn carts were moving. The sun's rays beat down on the row of neat, whitewashed houses and the sun-bleached cobblestones of the old street and seemed to melt both together, transforming everything into a scene of translucent white.

  The family seemed to be just around the corner from the train station when the long line came to a halt, inching forward only every once in a while. They were in front of the Liga, an old medieval-looking school structure that had been an orphanage for as long as anyone could remember. Suti could see that a table had been set up in the street.

  Behind it were three chairs where two men and one woman were busy writing. As they inched closer, Suti could see his teacher, Ortutay bacsi, sitting at one of the chairs. As the line snaked over to the table, each family was assigned one of the three stenographers. Suti was pleased when they were assigned to Ortutay bacsi. He really liked his teacher.

  His father, Vilmos, gave him the information: the family's last name, their address, the names of the members of the family in line and dates of their births. Suti stood next to his father as his name and date of birth were being given. He looked for some sign of recognition from this teacher he loved, but Ortutay bacsi kept his head down as he wrote and seemed to be totally concentrated on what he was writing.

  After he wrote Suti's name and address down, Ortutay stopped, put down his pen, then, methodically, took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes with his hands, and wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. He did not greet Suti or look at him. Suti tried to imagine how hot it must be just sitting there at the table writing all day. He felt sympathy for Ortutay bacsi.

  The line continued to crawl at a snail's pace. Icuka was quiet now, trying to catch the eye of a child near them. Suddenly, there was a bit of commotion behind them and a small group of people, some of whom Suti recognized from the ghetto, walked by. Icuka recognized Hedy in the group and ran to her.

  "Hedy, Hedy, thank God you're here!" cried Icuka, grabbing her sister by the waist and hugging her. Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed her older sister's hand. "Where were you? I missed you!"

  No one else asked Hedy anything.

  Aliz glanced at her with a worried expression. Hedy looked relieved, but her eyes were red, as if she had been crying. Suti was so happy his sister was back with them. He saw Tibor, dressed in uniform, following right behind Hedy. Tibor greeted everyone and smiled.

  He was pushing a bicycle and there was a very official-looking black leather bag in it that looked like the kind of bag a doctor carried. Suti noticed it had "T.S." engraved in fancy lettering on the top, next to the lock.

  The line was moving a bit better now and they were heading toward the only train standing at the station. The long line of open cattle cars standing on the railway tracks couldn't be waiting for them, Suti thought - they were for transporting animals. But he could see that those people in the front of the line were already being herded into the cars.

  Tibor stayed with them as they were loaded onto one of the cars. "Sixty. Seventy. Eighty." Suti heard the guard counting every tenth person as he ordered them into one of the boxcars.

  Inside, it felt very cramped. The air was still and there was hardly any room to stand, let alone sit or lie down. Suti was incredibly thirsty. When their car was full, the guard began rolling the heavy, steel, windowless door down in order to slam it shut. But before he could, Tibor spoke to him quietly, discretely, pulling a bottle of vodka out of his briefcase and handed it to him. The guard looked at the bottle then, without glancing at Tibor or saying a single word, he put the vodka into his pants pocket and moved on. Their door stayed open. Another set of guards came by and handed them two buckets: one was empty and the other was full of water. When they saw Tibor standing at the door, they didn't question why the door was still open. They just handed in the buckets and walked on.

  Tibor pulled more surprises and treats out of the leather-bound case: a bottle of wine, glasses for Hedy, father, Aliz, and himself, bread and cheese, candy and apples for Icuka and himself. Where could he have stored all these goodies? Hedy sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the doorway and Tibor stood by her side. They leaned in close together and talked and talked. Suti could hardly hear a word - no one could, they were talking in such low tones. What could they be talking about for so long? he wondered.

  For the next six hours, the train just stood and waited in the blazing, late-May sunshine. As the hot afternoon wore on, Suti heard cries from the other boxcars.

  "Water, water. Please, we're dying of thirst." The guards watched, unmoved.

  "We can't breathe. Please, open the boxcar. My wife is suffocating." But all the other cattle cars remained closed.

  The tar on the train tracks seemed to melt from the heat. No other trains came and went. Late in the afternoon, the train whistle blew. Tibor leaned in close to Hedy. He seemed to be saying something very serious to her now. Finally, he took a small white book out of his briefcase and handed it to her. She took the book in one hand, put her other arm around his neck, and hugged him. Suti saw tears rolling down her face. The guard came over and motioned for Tibor to step away. The door had to be closed. Tibor took Hedy's hand in his and gently kissed it, then, reluctantly, he stepped away from the train. There were tears in his eyes.

  Hedy stood up and the door rolled shut and was sealed from the outside. Slowly, it rumbled out of the train station.

  Tibor stood and watched as the billows of white smoke from the steam engine became smaller and smaller. Even long after the train disappeared, he remained there, staring into the distance, as tears of disbelief and grief rolled down his cheeks.

  THE TRAIN OF CATTLE cars pulled into its final destination of Auschwitz-Birkenau. From the moment it came to a final stop, Suti was in shock, stunned by the series of unbelievable events taking place around him.

  For almost three days, Suti, his sisters, and his father, along with some seventy others, had sat scrunched back to back, side to side in the dark cattle car. As the train had pulled out of Nagyszoll
os, tears were rolling down Hedy's face but, once she stopped crying, she showed Suti the little, white, leather-bound book Tibor had given her. Through the thin stream of light coming in the opening at the top of the boxcar, he could see the book was full of beautiful pictures. Hedy explained to him that this was Tibor's prayer book. As she tenderly stroked the soft leather cover, she told Suti that she and Tibor were in love. They were secretly engaged. Once the war was over, she confided, they would be married. It took Suti a while to absorb everything she told him, but he was happy for his sister.

  THE NEXT THREE DAYS were like a nightmare. The cattle car had a small opening at the top (ten to twelve inches maximum) that ran along the uppermost sides of the car; it was the only place light and fresh air could come in. No one was tall enough to see out of the opening so, each time the cattle car slowed down for a station, some of the men lifted Suti up on their shoulders so he could read the station sign and tell them what he saw. People were anxious to find out where they were and what direction they were going. At one point Suti realized that the language on the signposts had changed. The place names were now written in what was Slovak or Polish - Suti wasn't sure which. But he read the names out dutifully, hoping that one of their fellow passengers would recognize where they were.

  Suti and Hedy tried to keep up appearances for the sake of twelve-year-old Icuka. They told her stories during the dark and terrifying journey, reassured her that they were going to a place called Waldsee and that there would be a playground there and a beautiful lake where they would go swimming. In the dark, Hedy and Suti took turns comforting her, quietly talking and singing songs.

  It smelled dreadful inside the cattle car. The bucket that was provided for waste had filled up by the second day and people started relieving themselves wherever they could. As the train slowed down and lurched forward on the journey, the contents of the bucket splattered and spilled out. Their fresh water was gone and so was the little food they had packed. There were whispers that an elderly man had died on the second day but they couldn't see because it was too crowded to stand and walk around. Suti lost track of time. As the train pulled into a station on the third day, he hoped this would be their final stop on what seemed like a never-ending journey.