Eli's Promise

by Ronald H. Balson

  “Thank you.”

  * * *

  As the sun was setting, Eli walked into the yard and toward the trucks, his phony authorization hidden in his pocket. He did not intend to return. He motioned for Avram, the yard foreman. “Are you going somewhere, my friend?” Avram said.

  “I’m going home to Lublin. I need to be with my wife and my son. Things are getting worse by the day.”

  “I have heard that. There are rumors that Lublin will soon be what the Nazis call Judenrein.”

  “Avram, you’re a good man. Between you and me, I don’t know what I’m going to find when I get back to Lublin, and I won’t know my next move until I get there. You may need to take on more responsibilities here at the brickyard. Maximilian cannot run the operation by himself. He will need you.”

  “But you…”

  Eli shook his head. “You’ll be on your own.”

  Avram nodded. “I understand, and I would do the same under the circumstances. You may depend on me. Safe travels, my friend. Good luck to you and your family.”

  “Goodbye, my friend.”

  As Eli climbed into the driver’s seat, he saw Maximilian watching the two of them from inside the office.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  LUBLIN, POLAND

  APRIL 1942

  It was almost midnight when Eli pulled up to the curb in front of his house. His mind was set. His vision was clear. He was prepared for what he had to do and for the journey they were going to take. He had a truck, he had authorization to be on the road and, God willing, he could make it to the Baltic coast or find a safe haven for his family until the world came to its senses. His only regret was that he hadn’t made the decision earlier. He shut off the truck’s motor and hurried to the door.

  His body ached to hold Esther. He could see her smile; he could feel her arms around him. Together, they would pack whatever they could, pick up Izaak, leave Lublin before dawn and set off for parts unknown. Together, they would weather the storm. Together, they could do anything.

  When he opened the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. The interior had been ransacked. Furniture was overturned. Lamps lay broken on the floor. “Essie,” he screamed. “Essie, baby, where are you? Please answer me.”

  A voice, barely audible, called out, “She’s not here.”

  “Papa!” He dashed into the living room to find his father lying on the floor in a corner. There was blood on his shirt and pooled beneath his body. His right leg was twisted to the side. “They came tonight,” he said. “The Jew Hunters. They screamed at Esther and ordered her to return to Lipowa, that she had no right to be at home. When she tried to explain that she was allowed to come home at night, they slapped her and called her a liar.”

  Every muscle in Eli’s body tightened. “Oh my God, Papa, what did they do to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t tell them, son. They tried to get it out of me, but I didn’t tell them a thing.”

  Eli lifted him and set him gently on the couch. His right leg was fractured. Eli ran to get a washcloth and some bandages from Esther’s medical supplies. “Let me clean the wound, and we’ll get you some help,” he said.

  His father shook his head. “The clinic is shuttered. The doctors and nurses have all been taken away. That was right after they took Louis and his family.” He reached up and grabbed a fistful of Eli’s shirt. “But I didn’t tell them, Eli. They didn’t get nothing out of me.”

  “Tell them what, Papa?”

  “The big one, the fat ORPO pig, was yelling, ‘Where is the boy?’ Esther told him that he was dead, that she had buried him. He said, ‘That’s bullshit. I know he’s alive,’ and he slapped her to the floor. Then the other one, the skinny one, said, ‘Don’t hurt her, Gert. She’s not to be injured. Our orders are to take her back to Lindenstrasse.’ Then the fat one said, ‘Well, no one gave us any orders about the old Jew. He’ll tell us.’” Jakob paused and winced in pain. “They beat me with a club, Eli. But I didn’t tell them nothing.”

  “Papa…”

  “Finally, the skinny one said, ‘We gotta go. We have to get her back to the camp. Leave the old man. We’ll come get him tomorrow. He’s not going anywhere.’ The fat one took out his gun, said, ‘You’re right about that,’ and fired a shot at me. It hit me in the side and knocked me backwards. Then they left. But, Eli, they didn’t get nothing out of me. I didn’t tell them.” He strained to sit up, coughed and said, “He’s at the church, Eli. Esther took him to the lady at the church, just like you told her to. But they were never going to learn that from me.”

  “Papa, I’m going to take you back to Lodz. We’ll get someone to fix you up.”

  He started to lift his father, who groaned in pain. Eli’s hands were coated in blood. “I’ve got to get you to the truck. We need to go now.”

  His father shook his head. “I can’t make it, son. It hurts too bad. Find Izaak and take him to safety. They’re looking for him.”

  Eli shook his head. “I have to get you some help. Izzie is safe.”

  Eli dressed the wound, tried to stop the bleeding the best he could and carried him to the truck. He drove back to Lodz at breakneck speed, all the way exhorting his father to hang on. When they arrived at Lodz and pulled into the lot, the sun had yet to rise and floodlights still illuminated the yard. The workers on the night shift were scurrying about, filling orders. Eli rushed around to the passenger side, gently lifted his father from the seat, turned and walked quickly toward the office, only to realize that he was carrying a lifeless body. He set him on the bed in the office, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “They didn’t break you, Papa. You didn’t tell them anything. You saved Izzie’s life, and I’m so proud of you. But I have been proud of you every day of my life. I am so proud to be your son. God rest your blessed soul.”

  As the day broke, Eli remained seated by his father. Avram came in with a clipboard in his hand and closed his eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Eli. Is that your father?”

  Eli nodded. “Tell Maximilian I want to see him. Before he takes another breath, he will answer to me.”

  A short while later, Maximilian entered but kept his distance. “I hope you don’t hold me responsible for Jakob’s death. I knew nothing about it.”

  “You sent them. Don’t deny it.”

  “I do deny it. I sent no one. I learned early this morning that all Lipowa workers were to be permanently confined. There would be no future home privileges. Had you delayed your visit by one day, you would have known as well.”

  Eli took a step forward. “You’re a liar. You’ve always been a liar. There isn’t a speck of truth that comes out of your mouth. They were there, the Jew Hunters, to take Esther into custody and to find Izaak. How would they even know about Izaak?”

  Maximilian answered calmly. “The ORPO knows every single Jew in Lublin. Every child, every woman, every man. If you remember, there was a census conducted the first month of occupation.”

  “Maximilian, you are nothing but a lying opportunist, a slimy snake without a shred of decency. I know you had a hand in all of this. The ORPO acted on your orders. Tell me, why was it necessary to take Esther into custody in the middle of the night? If they wanted to keep her at Lipowa, they could have held her at the end of her shift. Why break into my house?”

  Maximilian shrugged. “I don’t know what their thinking was. Who can reason with the Nazis?”

  “Could it be that I was on my way to see her and you suspected that I would take my family and not come back to Lodz?”

  “Would my suspicions be well founded, Eli? Despite your promises to me? In fact, I did anticipate that you would be false to me and not return, but that had nothing to do with the independent actions of the ORPO. How would I have the authority to order the ORPO to do anything at all?”

  “You might not, but Globočnik would.”

  “Then you might consider confronting Herr Brigadeführer, but that would be foolhardy. Let’s face it, Eli, the Order Police ar
e a wild, unmanageable bunch to whom atrocities come naturally. Esther is immeasurably safer in the barracks of Lipowa than on the streets of Lublin, which will soon be cleared of all Jews. Once again, she is safe because I have protected her.”

  “I want to see her. I don’t trust your ability to protect her. I will strike a bargain with you. I will agree to continue running your brickyard, but I want you to bring Esther here to Lodz.”

  “Sadly, that’s not possible.”

  “She can work in a shop here in Lodz.”

  “She is needed at Lipowa, and Commandant Riedel will not release her. We have been over that issue time and again. Besides, you wouldn’t want her working in the Lodz shops. Conditions here are severe. The women here work in munitions factories and do heavy physical labor.” Maximilian took a step toward the door and stopped. “As I said before, we are bound together, you and I. You will continue to run the brickyard, and Esther will remain safe under my protection.”

  “I want my father washed, dressed and buried in the Jewish cemetery.”

  “I will see to it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  LUBLIN, POLAND

  FEBRUARY 1943

  Ten months later, in the midst of a February thaw, Maximilian burst into the office and made a beeline for the file cabinets. Sweat dripped from his brow and his shirt was soaked at the armpits. Gone was the usual cavalier composure. This day, he was frenzied. His breathing was rapid and labored.

  “I want a moment alone with Eli Rosen,” he brusquely barked to the office personnel, wildly waving them out. When they had left, he closed and locked the door. “Where are the books and records?” he snapped.

  Eli shrugged. “If you came around more than once a week, you’d know, Mr. Brickyard Owner.”

  “Don’t fuck with me!” he screamed. “This is serious. Globočnik has demanded a meeting with you and me tomorrow morning. He wants to review the books with us.”

  “So? Why is that a concern?”

  His voice was shaky. “Where are they, Eli? I need to see them.”

  A smile slowly crept across Eli’s face. “Why, Maximilian, I do believe you are worried. Material purchases and bank disbursements—are they going to balance? When the eminent brigadeführer reviews the books, will he see discrepancies? Have you been dipping?”

  “Shut up. Where are the books and bank records? They’re not in the cabinet.”

  “No, they’re not. They were picked up early this morning.”

  Maximilian sat down hard. “Son of a bitch, we’re in trouble.”

  “We?”

  “You’re responsible for running this brickyard. It’s your business.”

  “That’s not what the sign says. Everyone knows it’s M. Poleski Building and Construction Materials. Are you intending to shift the blame to me, a poor worker under your supervision? Not that I’m surprised, but I just don’t think your argument will carry the day. I have no control over the bank account and no authority to withdraw any money. Never have. All payments for materials require your signature. Yours alone. I’ve never taken a pfennig.”

  “You have to help me. I’ve protected your family for years. You owe me.”

  “You are a pig. Tell that to my father, my brother, my sister-in-law. Remind me how you protected them. Besides, what do you think I can do for you? Can I erase your defalcations? Can I magically change the bank records?”

  “You can tell Globočnik that on many occasions we had to buy materials with cash.”

  “He’ll never believe that.”

  “Listen to me. Don’t forsake me. Cover for me, and I will get Esther out of Lipowa. I’ll arrange for a material pickup in Sweden. The two of you will go to Sweden. You have my solemn word. You have to help me. I’m in trouble. Globočnik will have my skin.”

  “I want to leave immediately.”

  “Tomorrow, I swear it.”

  * * *

  Brigadeführer Odilo Globočnik sat behind a polished desk in full uniform. Nazi flags were posted on either side. On the wall behind his desk was a large black-and-white photograph of the führer in his peaked cap, arm stiff in a Hitler salute. Maximilian and Eli were led into the room by an adjutant who stood at attention on Globočnik’s right. Eli noticed that the brickyard’s accounting books were sitting on the brigadeführer’s desk.

  Before Globočnik could say a word, Maximilian blurted, “Your excellency, I can explain everything.”

  The brigadeführer opened his palm and politely gestured for Eli and Maximilian to be seated. “What would you like to explain to me, Maximilian of royal blood? I haven’t asked you a single question.”

  “I mean to say that whatever concerns you may have,” he answered nervously, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

  “Well, let’s begin with your reasonable explanation on why there are thirteen thousand marks missing from the brickyard bank account.”

  Maximilian glanced at Eli, then turned to Globočnik and said, “It’s not missing. There are always material deliveries, especially those from small individual vendors, for which we must pay cash. On the spot. They will not invoice us. I must quickly run to the bank for a withdrawal or the man might decide to take his wares to another construction site. These individuals have no sense of loyalty.”

  “Is that true, Mr. Rosen?”

  Eli swallowed. “I’m sure there are occasions when materials are purchased for cash.”

  “How many such occasions, Mr. Rosen?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Can you tell me, Mr. Rosen, why these cash withdrawals for materials were not noted in the books?”

  “No, sir, I can’t.”

  “Aren’t you the one responsible for making entries of material purchases in the books?”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “So if Maximilian of royal blood were to rush to the bank in order to withdraw cash to make a purchase before this disloyal delivery truck driver pulled away, wouldn’t it be your practice to note the amount paid to that driver and the materials delivered?”

  “Yes, sir, it would.”

  Globočnik nodded. “Well, I will tell you what I think. I think the books probably reflect income and expenses of the brickyard accurately. I don’t believe cash was withdrawn to purchase materials, or the transactions would have been noted in these books. I believe the missing cash went into someone’s pocket.”

  Maximilian spun around. “Oh, Eli,” he said. “How could you? After all I’ve done for you and your family. How could you be so greedy and ungrateful?” Then he faced Globočnik. “I am so sorry, your excellency. I trusted him to manage the brickyard honestly. I have known his family for years. I even helped his wife secure placement in the Lipowa shops rather than be subject to deportation to a distant camp. I never expected him to betray me and embezzle money.”

  Globočnik tapped a pen on the desk. Silence reigned for a few moments. “Herr Poleski, I find it highly improbable that Rosen took the money. He doesn’t have access to the bank account.”

  Maximilian’s lips quivered. “Perhaps he requested that I withdraw the money to give to him for materials. Yes, that’s it. I seem to remember that happening on many occasions.”

  Globočnik glanced at Eli. “What do you have to say about that, Mr. Rosen?”

  Eli hung his head and did not respond.

  “Are you afraid to answer, Mr. Rosen? Are you afraid of reprisals that would affect your wife, Esther? I understand she was sewing uniforms in the Lindenstrasse labor camp and coming home each night—that is, until Mr. Poleski asked me to make other arrangements.”

  Eli glared at Maximilian. His jaw quivered in rage.

  Globočnik continued and stared at Maximilian. “You needn’t be afraid to unburden yourself of the truth, Herr Poleski. We already know the truth.”

  Maximilian leaned forward. “It was all a careless mistake,” he said. “From time to time I would borrow the money, clearly intending to pay it back. Most of the time I d
id, but some of it must have slipped my mind. We were so busy. I will promptly pay the money back. I assure you.”

  “And how will you do that, Herr Poleski? Will you pay it back from the money you receive from selling forged Juden-Ausweis identification cards?”

  Maximilian jumped to his feet. “Never did I do such a thing. You have me confused with someone else.”

  Globočnik motioned to his adjutant, who nodded and left the room. A moment later he reappeared with an elderly man in a striped prison outfit. Maximilian’s eyes widened, and he slumped into his chair.

  Globočnik rolled his index finger, motioning for the prisoner to speak. “Tell us, Mr. Gottby, what business did you conduct with Maximilian Poleski, he of royal blood?”

  The old man gulped and said, “We manufactured and sold IDs to Jews in Lublin and in Lodz.”

  “Were these fake identification cards a special kind? Were they Juden-Ausweis IDs, the kind of cards that show that a Jew is working and therefore exempt from deportation?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s correct.”

  “Tell us how the illegal scheme worked, Mr. Gottby.”

  “Maximilian would make contact with a Jew who wanted a Juden-Ausweis ID. He’d bring me the information, and I would manufacture the ID card. Then we split the money.”

  “He’s a liar,” Maximilian said indignantly. “Why would you take his word over mine?”

  Globočnik grinned. “I do admire your audacity.” Then to his adjutant he said, “Take them away.” Eli watched as the two of them were led from the room.

  “I never took any money, sir,” Eli said.

  “I know that. You can go. Return to your brickyard.”

  Eli stood, turned and said, “About Esther, my wife, I’d like to know how she is.”

  Globočnik tipped his head. “The last I heard, she was alive, but the sewing shop at the Lindenstrasse camp was closed two months ago.”

  Eli was shocked. “Closed? Where did all the women go?”

  Globočnik shrugged. “Some went to Belzec, some to Majdanek, some to the east, to other work camps. Specifically, I don’t know about your wife.”