“All I could think of was how Otto, a boy I had known and loved for so many years, could willingly stand shoulder to shoulder with these monsters and send his townspeople to their death. And to think, Catherine, that he lives today in a mansion, wealthy beyond imagination, all at the expense of the thousands he robbed and sent to die. He’s living the life of a respected member of society, unblemished, loved by all Chicago.”
“Maybe not for long, Ben. Why don’t we continue tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow, Catherine, it’s Friday.”
“Then Saturday.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
The first snow of the season, light fluffy flakes, floated about on the Saturday before Thanksgiving, giving the impression of a Lincoln Park snow globe. Ben rang Catherine’s doorbell just before the noon hour. He brushed the snowflakes from his jacket and shook his wool cap before entering her foyer.
“I predict it’ll be winter before it’s summer,” he said.
“That’s a safe prediction,” Catherine said. “Come on in. I’ve got a fire going and some tea brewing.”
“Are you sure you want to work on a Saturday?” Ben said.
“It’s as good a day as any. I don’t have regular office hours now, anyway. Besides, we need to push ahead.”
They walked into the living room and Ben took a seat in the overstuffed chair beside the fireplace. “I feel like I’m in therapy. Shall I take the same seat and confess my life’s history?”
Catherine sat back with her pad and pen. “So, tell Dr. Lockhart what happened next?”
Zamość, Poland 1942
“Ah yes. The raid on Wojda. Irek’s intelligence was flawless. There were six Germans guarding the arms depot with their dogs. Our plan was to rattle the dogs, get them barking and draw the guards out into the railroad yards. It worked perfectly. Half of them came snooping around the box cars with their leashed dogs. Having split from their group, we outflanked them and made quick work of the guards and their dogs. The rest of our group overtook the three guards at the depot and carted away dozens of weapons: pistols, rifles, machine guns.
“Unfortunately, as some of the partisans had warned, there were reprisals. We learned that German soldiers later descended on Wojda, indiscriminately shooting people on the street. But we were not dissuaded from our mission and the raids kept up. The weapons seized were sent, for the most part, by underground to the Warsaw ghetto. Some of them were given to the AK, the Polish home army.
“Hannah continued to work in the clinic with my mother. Father continued to serve on the Judenrat. There were no further transports from Zamość in April, but many refugees were shipped into Zamość from other villages, other cities and even other countries. A large group arrived from Czechoslovakia and the sheer numbers were difficult to absorb. Zamość became a transit location. People were collected in Zamość and then sent to other ghettos or to the death camps. It was like living in the middle of a crowded train station, with people coming and going all the time.
“As for me, I spent more and more time in the Zamość forests with the freedom fighters, sneaking back into the ghetto every few days to be with Hannah. I enlisted several more young people to join the resistance: friends from high school, kids I’d grown up with, even Lucyna who became a tough little fighter.
“Despite the wretched conditions, my nights with Hannah were sweet. We would shut out the world and talk of a future, far from Poland and the Germans, where we would raise our family. Hannah would become a nurse, she announced one night as we lay together, her head on my arm.
“‘What about me?’ I asked her, lightly tracing the curves of her figure with my fingertips. ‘What will I be when this war is over?’
“‘You’ll be a brilliant statesman, like your father. Or,’ she said mischievously, ‘maybe just a cranky old farmer, feeding hay to Buttermilk.’
“Moments like those were heaven itself. Even in the midst of our captivity, life was precious to me as long as I could hold my Hannah.”
Catherine smiled. “I wish I had met her.”
“I do too,” said Ben. “She was a woman of strong resolve, just like you.”
Ben stared into the fire, watched the flames dance, lingered with a memory or two and then continued. “On May 17th, the Judenrat received a directive from Otto’s office containing a list of elderly citizens who were ordered to register for deportation and resettlement by May 19th. We were shocked to see that Dr. Weissbaum’s name was included. Hannah and I immediately went to my father and asked him to intercede with Otto.
“My father scheduled an appointment for the next morning.
“‘I suppose you’re here to argue about the old people’s list,’ said Otto. ‘There’s nothing I can do. The orders were issued by Adolph Eichmann himself. They are to be resettled in barracks at Izbica to wait out the war. They’re unfit to enter the work force.’
“‘They’re not going to Izbica and you know it,’ Father said. ‘Stop lying to me, Otto. I want you to cancel the deportation.’
“‘You’re a fool, Abraham. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the authority to cancel Eichmann’s order.’
“‘Hannah’s father is on the list.’
“‘He’s over sixty.’
“‘He’s a doctor and he’s needed in the hospital.’
“‘For what? To prolong the lives of dead men? To keep them alive for another few months?’
“‘Take him off the list. He’s needed at the hospital.’
“Otto rocked back in his chair and flipped a pencil. ‘Is that your parental command? Your son is killing German officers with the so-called freedom fighters.’
“‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ben is in Zamość.’
“‘Now who’s lying, Abraham? Bring Ben to me and I’ll release Dr. Weissbaum from the list.’
“‘You want me to turn in my own son?’
“‘And then I’ll release Dr. Weissbaum.’
“‘What will happen to Ben?
“‘I just want to speak to him.’
“‘You know I’ll never do that.’
“‘Then we have nothing more to talk about.’ Otto summoned his orderly who entered the room with a crisp Nazi salute. ‘Go back to your Judenrat, Abraham, and stop causing trouble or I’ll add you to the list.’”
Catherine took a deep breath. “What happened to Hannah’s father?”
“On May 26th and 27th, all of the people on the list were taken to the ramp, put on the train and transported directly to Belzec. Dr. Weissbaum was in the group.”
Catherine put her hand to her mouth.
“He had said his goodbyes to Hannah the night before. He knew what was in store for him. So did Hannah. Mother stayed by Hannah’s side throughout the next few days. It’s impossible to imagine the anguish of having parents taken from you, when you know…you know that they’re being sent to their death, that they’re going to be murdered. They’re going to be slaughtered. You can’t imagine, Catherine, you’d do anything, you’d….”
Ben couldn’t finish his sentence and all Catherine could do was sit helplessly and nod her head. He walked to the window and gazed at the street. It took a while for him to compose himself. He stared at the neighborhood, calm and peaceful. The grassy parkways were covered by a thin blanket of white. Catherine tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a box of Kleenex. A few minutes later Ben returned to his chair and continued.
“The summer passed without any further deportations. My resistance unit was busy attacking German patrols, setting bombs at German fortifications and capturing arms to be smuggled into the Warsaw ghetto. I was forced to spend longer periods away from Zamość. Many nights I could not return to New Town and I stopped going to roll call. A search was conducted and I was listed as missing. The official word was that I was killed in a raid. That meant I couldn’t be seen in town anymore, not even by our own people. But now and then I’d sneak back in the middle of the night. For Hannah and me, our time toget
her became less frequent and all the more precious.
“On one of my visits, my father informed me that I was a wanted man, that Otto believed that I was still alive and had offered a reward – food and an exemption from the deportation list – for information leading to my arrest, or the arrest of anyone else in the Zamość resistance. To protect my family, I had to stay away. I would slip into Zamość only on rare occasions, spend a few hours with Hannah and be gone long before sunrise.
“In late September, Irek pulled me aside and told me that he had received word that the entire Zamość ghetto was to be demolished by the end of October, that every person was to be transported, probably to Izbica first and then to the death camps at Belzec or Sobibor. I knew I would have to get my family out before that happened. I made plans to get back to Zamość as soon as our operation in Zaboreczno was finished. Unfortunately, the operation took four weeks and it was late October before I returned.
“I slipped into town after midnight and moved quietly through the shadows. Many of the apartment buildings were vacant and the ghetto was very still. As I walked through the halls to my little corner apartment, it was obvious the building had been emptied. My apartment was bare. Hannah was gone.
“I dashed to my parents’ building and up to the second floor. Sheets still hung from the ceiling, but they only partitioned empty, silent spaces. I rushed down the hallway to their apartment. My heart sank. They too were gone. Only a few souls remained, hiding in the building, and they told me that almost everyone had been marched out days ago.
“Now I was frantic. I left the ghetto, ran to Elzbieta’s and knocked on her door. She answered in her robe and hurried me in. ‘Do you know the half the German army’s looking for you?’
“‘I’m sorry to come here, Elzie. I know I said I wouldn’t involve you, but Hannah and my parents are gone. The buildings are empty. I’m sure Otto knows where they are.’
“‘I’m sure he does, too,’ answered Elzbieta. ‘There have been mass deportations. They’re clearing out the ghettoes, not just in Zamość but all over Poland.’
“‘Would you take me to Otto, please?’
“‘Now? It’s the middle of the night – there’s nothing that can be done tonight. And, believe me, Otto will not help you. He’s the one who made the selections. He’s the one who implemented the deportations.’
“‘Will you drive me to his house? I don’t know where he lives.’
“‘She grimaced. ‘I will, but you cannot tell him that you talked to me.’
“I promise. I won’t mention you.’
“She nodded, grabbed a wool coat from her closet and wrapped it around her night clothes. She drove me to the north edge of town, to where a large home lay nestled in a walnut grove, and stopped the car at the end of a long gravel driveway. ‘That’s where he lives. His bedroom is on the second floor at the end of the hallway. Be careful,’ she said and drove away.
“The house, a three-story stone building with light-blue shutters and a gray slate roof, was dark. I found a back window unlatched and climbed through. A winding staircase ascended from the foyer. I found Otto easily. He was sound asleep, loudly snoring off the evening’s alcohol and thankfully he was alone. I took my Lugar from my belt, walked to his bed and pushed the cold steel barrel against his neck. He opened his eyes, looked at me and didn’t move.
“‘Where’s Hannah? Where are my parents?’
“‘You’re a dead man,’ he said in a gravelly whisper.
“I pushed the nose of the gun harder against the base of his skull and repeated my question.
“‘They’re no longer in Zamość,’ he said. ‘They were sent out last week with a group that marched to Izbica. You’re lucky. I was good to you. I could have sent them straight to Belzec.’
“‘Get up,’ I said, ‘We’re going to get them.’
“He laughed. ‘Even you can’t accomplish that, Fox. The moment we enter Izbica, you’ll be shot.’
“‘Then so will you. You better pray that everyone’s alive. Your life depends on it. Get up.’
“I opened Otto’s closet and removed two uniforms. Each of us put on the uniform of an SS hauptscharfuhrer. We got into Otto’s car and he drove the twenty-one kilometers to Izbica with my pistol sticking in his ribs, arriving just as the sun was coming up.
“Izbica was teeming with refugees, thousands more than could fit into the small wooden huts and barracks. The streets were muddy and the primitive conditions were far beneath my most dreadful expectations. Izbica was a transit ghetto, just a stop on the way to Belzec, Sobibor or one of the other death camps.
“We parked Otto’s black sedan on the outskirts of the village. I approached a sentry and demanded in German to know where the group from Zamość had been housed. He didn’t know. There must have been ten thousand people in a rural town fit for five hundred. With my pistol in Otto’s back, we walked together through the filthy streets, our boots sticking in the mud, asking people about the Zamość refugees. It seemed to be an overwhelming task.
“‘What will you do if you find them?’ Otto said. ‘Where will you go? All Poland is enemy territory to you. There isn’t a town you can hide in and as soon as you’re caught you’ll be shot or sent to Belzec.’ He turned his head and looked at me with his steel eyes. ‘If you drive me back to Zamość right now, I’ll let you go.’
“I dug my pistol into his ribs and prodded him forward. ‘Pray to whatever demon gods you worship that I find my parents and Hannah. Pray that they’re alive and haven’t been sent on to Belzec. Otherwise this mud will be your grave.’
“All afternoon we sloshed through the dirt of Izbica, looking into the crowded barracks, into the gaunt faces of the poor, uprooted families. ‘Have you seen a group from Zamość?’ we asked, but we were Nazis in full uniform and the people just cowered and shook their heads.
“As the October darkness settled in, we neared the edge of the town and my hopes were dwindling. We rounded a wooden barrack, and there, in the dim light of the setting sun, I saw my Hannah. In her cotton dress, standing in the mud, she was still the prettiest girl in all the world. It took her a moment to recognize us and realize what was going on. She inclined her head for us to follow her and led us into a long wooden building. Plywood bunks lined the walls, four rows high, slabs of wood without mattresses. My mother and father were sitting on the edge of a bunk.
“‘Otto?’ Father said. ‘You came for us?’ He started forward. Then he saw my gun and understood.
“‘There. Now you have them,’ Otto said to me. ‘You see, they’re just fine.’
“‘Take off your uniform,’ I said.
“‘What? You found your family, now let me go.’
“‘I don’t think so, Otto. We wouldn’t get far before you and your soldiers re-arrested us. No, you need to stay here awhile, but don’t worry, you’re among your people now. These are your Zamość townsfolk, the ones you grew up with, the ones who taught you math and history, the ones that served you sodas after school.’ I waved my arm at the people standing in the barracks, watching us and smirking at Otto’s comeuppance. ‘Now, take off your uniform.’
“He stripped down to his underwear. ‘I’m not safe here,’ he said quietly to me. ‘I got your family out, didn’t I? You owe me. I’m begging you, Ben, these people are hostile to me.’
“‘You’ve always made friends easily, Otto. Tell them all about how you grew up and rose to your lofty position with the Third Reich.’ I handed Otto’s uniform to my father and told him to put it on.
“With the laces from his boots, we tied Otto’s hands tightly to the bunk with multiple knots and left him standing in the barracks, shivering in his underwear. The Zamość captives turned their backs and walked outside. But even if one of the townsfolk decided to help him, it would be a while before they could get the laces untied. We walked quickly back to Otto’s car, saluted by the sentries and guards as we passed – heil Hitler to the hauptscharfuhrers and their women prisoners.
We drove south out of Izbica, through the valley; Hannah, Mother, Father and I.”
Catherine whispered, “Bravo.”
Chapter Thirty
Chicago, Illinois November 2004
Monday morning, a few hours before she was scheduled to meet with Ben, Catherine entered the offices of Jenkins and Fairchild, to box up her belongings under the watchful eye of security personnel. After her argument with Walter Jenkins, the firm immediately locked her out of the system, confiscated her computer and sealed her office. Now she was allowed a short period of time to gather her personal effects, submit them for inspection and take them home.
She carefully wrapped each of her little mementos in newspaper – figurines, pictures, gifts from clients, all accumulated over the years and sitting on the office bookshelves – and placed them into a cardboard box. She took her diplomas from the wall, brushed the dust off the tops of the frames and set them inside the box. A patchwork of nostalgia played out in her mind. Suddenly, she was shaken from her daydreams by a knock on the open door.
“May I come in?” Walter Jenkins said.
Catherine nodded. He dismissed the watchman, shut the door and took a seat beside her desk. The vest of his three piece, dark blue suit was clasped with the gold chain of his pocket watch.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. “Why don’t we talk this through?”
Her eyes filled with tears. She reached for a tissue and dabbed her running mascara.
Jenkins, thirty years her senior, spoke kindly and paternally. “You’re a fine litigator with a bright future and I don’t say that lightly. I was lucky when Taggart recommended you after your troubles. I didn’t know at the time what a top-notch lawyer I was getting, but I took a chance on you. Give me a little credit. I gave you a new start and it worked out well for both of us. Don’t throw it all away. You’re making a big mistake. I keep thinking you’re doing this out of some professional stubbornness, because I demanded that you give up a case. Am I right?”
Once We Were Brothers Page 22
