by Andrew Gross
“Sister,” Blum said, guiding the pump from behind. It had a cylindrical tin housing that contained the pump and hose feed which was set on an unsteady wooden platform with four wheels and a towing rod.
“Sister? So then why do you need her in here?” Rozen looked back, puzzled.
“Is it all right if I tell you tomorrow?” Blum said. By then he wouldn’t have to answer the question. They’d be gone.
“You don’t have to ever tell me.” Rozen shrugged. “It’s not my business.”
They passed by the kitchens and the administrative building on the other side of the wire. Guards looked them over as they went by. Rozen nodded to a few he recognized. No one gave them a hard time. “I’ve done business in here a long time. I know most of them at the gates,” he said. “I’ll do the talking, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
“The reason we go now”—he looked up at the clock tower—“ten after, is to make sure by the time we come back, the shifts won’t have changed.”
At the front gate, they presented their passes to the guards. Blum still felt a knot tighten in his stomach. An SS sergeant with a submachine gun slung over his shoulder looked over the pump.
“Emergency over in the women’s camp,” Rozen told him. “Block Thirteen.”
“Thirteen? Second time this week.” The guard sniffed and shook his head. “What do they do with the water over there?”
“If you’d let us fix the damn pipes for good, we wouldn’t have to keep lugging this thing.”
“You.” He came over to Blum. Blum handed him his pass. “New…? Didn’t I see you carrying the shit buckets the other day?”
Blum now saw he was one of the guards Dormutter was playing up to yesterday. Blum wasn’t sure exactly how to answer.
“He looks young, but he’s as sharp a mechanic as we’ve found,” Rozen interjected. “Why waste skills like that in the latrines?”
The guard looked Blum up and down. “Nice promotion.” He handed Blum back the pass. “Enjoy the view over there.”
They were waved through, and they made their way along the perimeter of the brick wall, following the road. The rattly cart needed help getting over the scrub and bumps on the path. The women’s camp was only a couple of hundred yards down the path, but dragging this apparatus made the trip seem endless. The closer they got to Birkenau, the stench in the air grew even worse. It was like he and Rozen were heading straight for the gray, low-hanging cloud that always hung over it.
A troop carrier passed them by, filled with soldiers. Farther west, Blum noticed the train tracks that were being built, and past them the line of pines and maples where Josef’s partisan detail would attack from tonight. These woods were the only spot of green Blum had seen since he had been here. He made a mental reference to Vrba’s map. It was accurate enough, he saw, thinking of what lay ahead. He sucked in an anxious breath. Later.
“The women’s gate is right up here. This is where it starts to get dicey,” Rozen warned. “Block Thirteen, you say? Does she know you’re coming?”
“No. It was only today that she even learned I’m here.”
“You’re taking a big chance then, if you don’t mind me saying. You know this can only happen once.”
“I understand.” Once is all I have, Blum said inwardly.
He hadn’t heard the orchestra playing anywhere in camp for several hours now, as most of the population was out at work. He assumed that meant they were now on break. Or sleeping. It was just after two p.m. Ahead, Blum saw a small brick building at a road with two SS standing guard.
Rozen looked back with a serious cast on his face. “Here we are.”
A brick wall ran the length of the perimeter of the women’s camp with the occasional guard tower manned with machine guns.
“Ah, Scharführer!” Rozen nodded familiarly to a guard as they wobbled up to the gate.
“Back so soon?” The guard rolled his eyes.
“Trust me, it’s no holiday for me either, dragging this contraption over. You’d make my life a lot easier if they had their own here.”
“I’ll be sure and take that up next time I speak with the Führer,” the guard snorted with a sarcastic grin. “Where to today? Thirteen? Again?” he remarked, as Rozen showed their passes. Blum was sure there was a bill sandwiched between them.
“So what is it there?” The guard stepped up to Blum and gave him the once-over. “Frau?”
Blum glanced at Rozen, unsure how to answer. The repair chief gave him a quick nod.
“Yes. My wife.”
“Then I hope the old pump works, if you know what I mean.” He chuckled complicitly. “See you in twenty,” he said to Rozen with a wink, “if I’m still here.”
They hurried through, the guard checking his palm as he went back to his post and tucking something in his uniform.
They were in.
FIFTY-FIVE
The women’s barracks were similar to the men’s—long, two-storied structures, windows on top, with trenches along the sides. Some even had small gardens planted in front with wildflowers growing. There were several dour-looking female guards in brown SS uniforms with pistols strapped to their belts. And male guards too. As they passed, several prisoners made advances at them. “Come over here, lover boys. We need a hose too! Where are you going?”
“Thirteen.”
“How come Thirteen gets all the action? What’s Thirteen got that we don’t? Look!”
“The water’s off, that’s all,” Rozen replied, lugging the pump along the row of barracks.
“Ours is off as well!” a woman called. “Bring that big pump of yours over here.” A few of them laughed openly.
“I’ll see you on the way back.”
They mostly had shaved heads and wore shapeless rags over their skin and bones, and rarely even saw a man other than the guards, from whom they suffered the same brutality as did the male prisoners.
“Thirteen’s over there,” Rozen said, pointing to a long barrack identical to the others. “You’ll open the housing. I’ll hook up the pump. You’ve got twenty minutes. Less, since we have to give the appearance that we’re doing some real work. And you can’t go inside the barrack. That’s verboten. And remember, we take her only if no one’s around. And on my say-so. Otherwise I pack the ship up and leave you both here.”
“I hear you.” Blum’s heart began to race in expectation. He looked around. They had their own Blockführers and clerks to watch out for here as well. Not just the guards. A couple of women were tending the garden on the side.
“Ladies … back again,” Rozen announced. “We’ll get this thing running yet.” He towed the pump along the side of the barrack, so it was mostly out of view. Blum opened the pump housing. A thick rubber hose was wound up around a wooden coil, which he pulled out and gave to Rozen, who flicked the motor on and led it over to the outdoor spigot. He kneeled down and twisted open the tap. A trickle of brackish water ran out. Probably as much as they had had on a good day, Blum presumed, as in the men’s camp. Rozen took a wrench and bent down and removed the faucet head, and hooked up the rubber pump nozzle to the pipe going, “Maestro, please…!” and gave the signal back to Blum, who began to raise and lower the pump handle, forcing the pressure forward.
Then he looked back at Blum and gave him a complicit nod. Which meant get going! “I’ll take over now.”
Blum nodded. He went over to the two women in the garden in front of the barrack, saying quickly in Polish, “Please, Pani, do either of you know Leisa Blum here in Thirteen?”
One shook her head and said, “Greco.” I’m Greek. I don’t understand.
The other shrugged. “Blum? No,” shaking her head too. “I don’t know names here.”
“She’s in the orchestra. She plays clarinet.”
“Ah, clarinet, yes!” Her face lit up. “I know her.”
“Can you find her for me? Quick, please!”
“But I don’t know if she’s here.”
He’d think about this moment for the rest of his life.
Finally, the woman who’d gone off came back, her arms apart, and shaking her head in disappointment. “Sorry, she’s not here. But I sent someone…”
What if someone had seen them talking earlier? What if the orchestra was rehearsing somewhere? What if a thousand things? Blum thought in a rush of panic. He looked at Rozen. Ten minutes now. Where was she?
Suddenly the Oberaufseherin, the block wardress, just as the men had their blockschreiber, came out of the barrack in a huff, barking to Rozen, “What’s this? I didn’t send for you.”
“Well, someone did, madame.” Rozen coolly threw his hands up. “You can see there’s a problem. Anyway, the pressure looks like it’s starting to come back.”
That seemed to calm her, and she went back into her office, yelling, “Next time, it must come from me!” But time was ticking away. There was only so long they could stay.
Finally, Blum saw another woman coming from a neighboring block all excited, and a few yards behind her, Leisa. Thank God! Leisa stopped as soon she saw him, clearly in shock, twenty yards away. Blum waved her over to the side of the barrack down from the pump, like two lovers who were going there to have some moments alone. “Nathan, what are you doing here?” she uttered in disbelief. “I was practicing. I—”
“Hush.” He pulled her farther along the barrack to make sure they were completely alone. “Leisa, just listen,” he said under his breath. “I told you I have a way out of here. But it must be tonight. And you must come with me to the men’s camp. Now.”
“To the men’s camp?” Her eyes flooded with terror. “Now? How, Nathan?”
“Inside the pump. Come close,” he instructed, “make it look as if we are lovers. It will work, Leisa. You can fit. Rozen goes back and forth all the time. But there’s no time to think on it. It must be now. You can’t even go back and get anything. You can’t even say goodbye. You just have to trust me. And come.”
“Now…?” She shook her head fearfully. “I can’t, Nathan.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t. It’s too quick. I have friends…”
“You must. Otherwise you will die in here, Leisa. With your friends. Have I ever let you down?”
“No. Never,” she said. But he could see how conflicted she was.
“And I won’t now. Look, I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. I know this all seems out of a dream, seeing me here like this. But I’m on a mission, Leisa. To get someone out of the camp. A scientist. And we have a way to get out. A plane is coming tonight. Nearby. To take us out of here. To England.”
“A plane…? England…” Blum saw her face come alive, but as she looked to make sure no guards were around, the color drained from it. Trepidation came into her eyes. “Nathan, I can’t. I want to, but I’m just not ready, I—”
“Leisa, listen to me. You must!” He took her by the shoulders. “If only for the sake of our parents. You know that they would want this for you. For us. We have to try.”
Blum gauged the time. Maybe fifteen minutes had gone by. At the most, they had maybe five more. Five minutes to convince his sister to give up everything she knew to be true for the past years and place her faith in him. A shadow from her past, suddenly come alive. And putting herself at grave risk. He glanced back at the pump. Rozen would soon be getting anxious. Blum took her by the arms. “Now that I’ve found you, I won’t leave without you, Leisa. No matter what else is at stake. I won’t leave you behind. Not ever again.”
Through the conflict in her eyes he could see deep into her heart. The fear alive in there. Her trust in him, which he knew was without limits. She was just frozen, behind these wires. This place had taken everything from her. Her will. Her ability to act. Her hope. Yet a flicker of it still burned deep inside her. Blum could see it. Like a light down a long dark corridor in her conflicted eyes. He cupped his hands on her cheeks and said to her again, “This is me talking. You have to trust me, Dolly. Come!”
At first her eyes shook with indecision. Then suddenly she nodded. “All right, I will. I’ll come, Nathan.” She kept nodding. “I do trust you. I’ll come.”
Ebullient, Blum took her by the hands. “I knew you would.”
“I just need to get my—”
“No.” Blum shook his head. “There’s no time. It has to be now.”
“My clarinet … I just can’t leave it.”
“Not even your instrument, Leisa. Nothing. We have already lost a lot of time. It must be now.”
She swallowed with a sense of resolve, nodding, and he wiped a last tear off her cheek. “Okay, then … Let’s go.”
“We’re going to make it,” he said, putting a hand to her face. “I promise. Okay, Doleczki?”
She sucked in a breath for courage and smiled. “Yes.”
He led her by the shoulders back toward the pump wagon. He nodded to Rozen, who was still at the handle.
She’s set.
“Okay, pressure’s back up!” the repairman announced. Then he went back to the spigot and switched out the pump hose for the faucet, making a big scene of it. “Come see…” Two or three women went and kneeled down and turned the spigot on. Water came out, perhaps a shade more than before. But just as brackish. “Go ahead, drink up,” he said. “We’re all done.”
A couple filled their cups while Blum guided Leisa onto the pump platform and she squeezed herself inside the metal housing. Just enough room in there for her to wedge herself in. Rozen then brought the hose back over and coiled it around the wooden spool, Leisa crouching inside. The more it wrapped around, the more completely it hid her. When the hose was wound back in, Blum shut the housing door, closing her in. “I know it’s dark in there,” he said through a vent. “But you’ll be safe. I promise. Just stay calm.”
“All right, Nathan.” Her voice came back meekly. Her knew how terrified she had to be, huddled up in there. His little sister was never the one who threw herself off rocks into a lake at their summer cottage or, in the ghetto, dodged between buildings after curfew.
Rozen glanced back at Blum. “Ready?”
Blum nodded. “Yes.”
“So let’s go.” The repairman looked around and didn’t notice anyone who seemed focused on them. Just a routine repair, prepared to return home. Rozen in front, they wheeled the pump back out into the main yard. “Bye, ladies.” He waved. “Till next time.”
“Next time, Rozen, you should stay for one yourself,” one called.
“I will.” He waved to her. “Promise.”
They towed the pump—which was heavier now, with Leisa inside—through the main yard of the women’s camp and then back to the outside gate. Blum’s legs grew rubbery as they wheeled it up, the same guard checking the passes again and looking over the pump, eyeing Blum with sort of a derisive laugh. “Back so soon. You Jews certainly don’t last very long.”
“You said twenty minutes, Unterscharführer.” Rozen watched the sergeant circle the pump. “I’m sure if he had the time, my friend here could have gone on for hours.”
All it would take, Blum knew, would be one perfunctory look inside, in the course of just doing their jobs, and they were all dead. He saw himself hanged on the gallows like the other prisoners he had seen, or dropped with a bullet to the head where he stood. Leisa too, which made his worry even stronger.
Just be still, Leisa … Do not move, he willed her inside.
“You look a little pale. All a bit too much for you?” The guard chortled at Blum.
“It’s just that I hadn’t seen my wife in a long time.”
“And you may not again. Best to look at each time as your last. Okay, go on.” The sergeant finally waved them through. They pushed forward, trying not to make it look like there was an added weight inside. They were almost at the path. Suddenly a second guard came out of the gatehouse, announcing, “I’m off. I’m wanted at the guardhouse over at the main camp. I’ll escort them back.”
Blum’s heart went into free fall. He shot a worried glance to Rozen, up in front. The repairman’s look mirrored his own, and read, Just be steady and don’t panic. And hope that Leisa holds together. There was nothing else they could do.
“Come on, yids. On the double.” The guard grabbed his rifle. “I don’t have all day.”
Blum’s gut knotted tight with dread. They pushed on, over the scrubby terrain, the couple of hundred yards between the two camps. With Leisa inside, the cart was even less maneuverable. Its wobbly wheels bobbed up and down over the ruts and gullies. Blum imagined she must be going out of her mind inside. She had to have heard it all. Knowing her death, all their deaths, was so near.
“Nice afternoon, is it not, Herr Scharführer?” Rozen asked him, more to let Leisa know that they had company in case she said something.
The guard was in no mood. “Just keep your mind on what you’re doing. I don’t have all day.”
A few yards behind them, he lit a cigarette and smoked. He waved to a few cohorts riding by on the road. Blum kept the wheels steady with every bit of strength he had. If they broke an axle over a rock or a buried root, it would be a quick end for all of them.
At last they made it back to the men’s gate. Luck was with them. The same set of guards were manning it as when they left.
“Look what I’ve brought you.” The guard who had escorted them back chortled, flicking out his cigarette. “Two stinking sacks of shit. Ready for the dung heap. They’re all yours now.”
