The Brothers of Auschwitz

by Malka Adler

  I got to the end of the rise.

  I was breathing like a tired old locomotive. My heart beat in my chest, pressing at my ribs, I felt as if glue had been poured into me. Pouring, pouring, pouring until it was blocked. I had a stitch in my side. I couldn’t bend over because of it. Couldn’t feel my legs. They were like heavy tree trunks. I knew I had to find my brother. I looked for him. I crossed the road among prisoners who were barely breathing. Around us there were trees, and water, my mouth was dry. I looked back. On the road were piles of rags that moved slowly up the hill. My brain gave me an order, don’t knock into a prisoner. Careful. Don’t touch anyone, if you touch anyone, you’ll fall. I heard my brain knocking from a distance, as if it was sitting in someone else’s head.

  Yitzhak stood in front of me, smiling. Nodded. Said, very good. We did it, very good. I smiled at him. Beside me someone was smoking a cigarette. I said cigarette, give me a cigarette, he didn’t hear. Fiercely, my brother pulled me back, I heard him say, are you mad? It’s SSman, you’re asking an SSman for a cigarette, what’s wrong with you? I didn’t answer, I felt as if someone was trying to get up, straighten up inside me, wanting to leave my body. Again I wanted to say cigarette, cigarette. Yitzhak dragged me to another place.

  We continued to march one beside the other.

  A uniform pace. My brother breathed aloud as if he was in danger of dying. I had my mouth shut. I looked at him, Yitzhak didn’t see or hear what was going on in my head. Good that we were silent. A day and a night, another hill.

  We parted at the bottom.

  My brother caught my hands. Came close up to my face and said, Dov, open your eyes, close. Open your mouth wide, close.

  I asked, can you see ants? There are ants traveling inside my forehead from here to here, can you see them? I pointed to my forehead, yesterday they were in my nose, now they’re in my ear, what should I do?

  Yitzhak stamped his foot, pinched my chin and said, there are no ants, none, and don’t go talking to anyone about ants, d’you hear me? And don’t just say things, promise me.

  I said, all right, but I also have worms, they go from one place to another, just so you know.

  And then Yitzhak hugged me and said we have to get out of this war alive, together, and he’ll be waiting for me at the top, like the hill two days before. He took my head in both his hands and turned my face towards the mountain crest.

  Drops of blood dripped from my nose.

  I cleaned my nose on my sleeve and said to my brother, and you have to promise me that we’ll meet at the top, promise. Don’t let them just shoot you with a bullet, and wait, before we part, I need a tune, I need a tune to keep pace, what was that song we sang, nu, the song that Vassily would whistle when he rode the horses.

  Yitzhak looked upward, dropped his arms to his sides, and said, don’t look for tunes now, there’s no time.

  I said, but I want to play the harmonica, I’ve got a harmonica in my pocket.

  Yitzhak cursed, hit himself on the head and said, oy, I’ve forgotten, and thrust his hand into my pocket and took the harmonica. He said, I’ll keep the harmonica for you, and hide that blood from your nose. We parted.

  I bent over to one side and pulled myself along as if I was attached to a hay cart. The blood continued to drip. I stopped. I raised my head and swallowed the blood. I lowered my head and the bleeding went on and on. I thought, I won’t have any blood left by the time I get to the top. I closed my nose with two fingers and advanced along the road. I saw a dry stick. I broke the stick in two and stuck them in my nostrils. The bleeding stopped. I felt a weakness in my legs. I gave myself an order to walk. Walk. Step, close. Step, close.

  I knew my brother Yitzhak was stronger than me. I knew that my brother and I were perhaps the only ones in our family to survive. My brain hammered, I must not leave my little brother alone. I must succeed for both of us. For mother and father. For Sarah and Avrum. For father. Where is my father, Papaleh, Papaleh, step. Space. Close. Step, break, breathe, breathe. Boom. Boom. Boom. Head straight, head straight, and again ants are going down from my forehead to my nose, my mouth. I swallow quickly, and say: breathe, breathe.

  Prisoners fell next to me with their faces in the road, waiting for the bullet. There were prisoners who tried to get up and some did succeed. Half a meter from me one fell. From the ground he held out a hand to me. He had foam in his mouth. He looked and wept without teeth. I didn’t give him a hand. I knew that if I did, I’d fall and wouldn’t get up. I said to him, listen, my brother is waiting for me at the top, understand? I have a brother, and he needs me, yes? We’ll meet in a while. Goodbye.

  I continued to climb. The ants descended to my throat.

  Only at the top of the hill did I look to the sides. I saw my brother. He smiled at me, pulled the sticks out of my nose and put them in his pocket. And then he held out an apple peel. I asked, where did you get it?

  And he said, SSman threw it away. He let me suck on the peel. I sucked a little and returned it to him. He sucked on it, chewed half, took it out of his mouth and gave it to me, eat, eat.

  We were told to get in line. They’re handing out bread. We took our bread and sat on the side. Next to us sat a tall prisoner who swallowed his bread fast. He looked at the line and called, father, come and sit next to me. Someone with a red blister under his ear approached. He was holding his bread in his hand. Suddenly the son jumped on the father, grabbed the bread and swallowed it in one go. The father was silent. Then he covered his face with both hands and wept. We left.

  We went down the hill together.

  I said to my brother, what was that song that Vassily sang on the horse, tell me.

  My brother frowned, finally whispered, you mean the song about Koshot Loyosh

  I cried, yes, yes. Sing me that song, I’ve forgotten the tune.

  Yitzhak tugged his shirt down and said, no, no. I don’t want to sing, stop it. I saw he was blushing. The flesh under his eye began to twitch.

  I wanted to stop talking to him but I couldn’t, then tell me a story, tell me.

  Yitzhak looked at me, swallowed, and said, all right, I’m giving you the words to the song and you mustn’t ask anyone about songs, or talk about ants and worms, or ask anyone for a cigarette. It went like this: Koshot Loyosh the Hungarian fought at the front, and if he says again that he has no more soldiers, then the whole nation must join up and go to the front. That’s what I remember.

  I cried out, yes, yes, it’s a song, and I began to call Koshot Loyosh the hero to come to us and save us, why not, we need someone to save us, the Messiah isn’t coming, and the Lord left us a long time ago, maybe Koshot Loyosh will hear us? Yitzhak caught me by the elbow, approached my ear, opened his mouth, I said, just a moment, just a moment, I stuck my finger in my ear and mashed all the ants in my ear, now tell me.

  He said, Dov, we have to be silent now. Shhhhh.

  Today I know. The decision to part from my brother at every hill, gave me strength. We had to analyze the situation. We had to plan, think about how to go on living. I had a goal. I had a reason to make the effort to go up the hill, I knew my brother was waiting for me at the top and that gave me hope on the difficult journey. We talked. We touched. Looked at each other and I saw the concern he had for me. Thousands were left finished on the roads, and one, only one, looked after me, and I looked after him. We were there for each other like a small torch in the great darkness.

  Israel, 2001

  14:58 from Nahariya to Binyamina. A stop at Bat Galim, in Haifa.

  I lean my head on the seat and want something sweet. Don’t know how to stay alone with the story.

  Their story was becoming difficult, frightening. Yitzhak could still shatter SSman with a blow of his fist, but follows from a distance, waits for an opportunity. Dov is almost finished, he’d already gone through half of Germany on foot and part of Poland.

  They are so sad in Yitzhak’s living room.

  If Dov was with me he’d say, but why are you
crying, if I were you I’d be happy, we’re coming to the end of the war, aren’t we? Yitzhak would get up and go out into the yard to hush his geese, returning without saying a word.

  They’d look at each other for an hour, finally Yitzhak would say, that’s enough now, I’m going to my cowshed. Dov would say, do you want to go on? And I’d say, not now, Dov, take me to the station.

  Chapter 18

  Dov

  I could no longer take care of myself on the march.

  And my brother Yitzhak became a thief. An expert thief. He knew how to put his hand into someone’s pocket and take something without them feeling it. Bread, potato peels, things like that. I saw something in him I didn’t see in the camps. He stole food and agreed to share it with me.

  We entered a half-empty camp, Yitzhak disappeared and I fell to the ground. Don’t remember the name of the camp. Couldn’t move. My head hurt. I put a hand on my forehead and it was burning. I felt as if my body was turning into a match and I sank down. I bent my fingers, moved a knee, stuck out my tongue, aah, breathed deeply and closed one eye. The second eye burned and burned, I couldn’t see a thing. I sat up and thumped my chest. My chest hurt. I felt it was dangerous for me to be in the dark. In the meantime, Yitzhak returned. He had a piece of bread in his hand. Yitzhak cut his bread in half and put some in my mouth. I managed to sit up. I asked, where are the sticks I put in my nose?

  He looked at me, what for?

  I said, I’m burning, can’t open my eyes. Yitzhak touched my forehead, said, it’s because of the fever, eat another piece of bread and we’ll look for a tap. I went with him. We found water. I put my head under the tap. It was good. Every time my brother got hold of some food, he gave me exactly half. My brother Yitzhak had the strength to give it to me. Others didn’t have the strength to give, Yitzhak did. I saw. Brothers didn’t help each other. Father and son didn’t share, like the case of the father with the blister under his ear and the son who had his trousers rolled up to the knee. I saw them several times. They walked not far from us on the death march from Buchenwald. The father was maybe forty-five. His tall son looked about twenty. They slept quite near us and didn’t speak to each other.

  Before entering the labor camp we prepared a place to sleep in the forest. It was cold. Suddenly shouts. The father with the red blister and the tall son were fighting in the mud. The son was holding something in his hand. He was struggling to put it in his mouth. The father caught his hand. The son clenched his fingers. The father tried to open his fingers one by one, screaming, how could you, Ya’akov, it’s my bread, mine. The son kicked the father in the belly, speaking through clenched teeth, you’re finished, give it to me, give it, to me.

  The father shrank, stuck two fingers in the son’s eyes, weeping, it’s mine, Ya’akov, give it back, I’m a father, your father, and I’m telling you to give it to me. The son whined like an animal, bit the father’s fingers and covered his face.

  I turned over. I heard the father weeping, Mamaleh, oy, Mamaleh, oy gevalt.

  SSman Hans Schultz stood near us. In the darkness he looked like a giant with boots and hat.

  He aimed his revolver and shot one bullet, two. One in the father’s head. One in the son’s head. End. My brother Yitzhak stood near the tree. Motionless. I shivered. I put my face in cold leaves. Pulled the blanket over me. I wanted father. Papaleh. Where is my father. Papa, Papa. I felt a touch on my shoulder. I raised my head. My brother Yitzhak bent over me. He held a piece of bread in his hand. He divided the bread and gave me half. I put the bread next to my cheek. The bread got wet. My brother signed to me to put it in my mouth. I ate slowly.

  Chapter 19

  Yitzhak

  SSman Hans Schultz looked at the dead father and son and signaled me to approach.

  The prisoners near me walked away and I approached the dead. I stepped on the blood still oozing from them into the mud. The father’s mouth was open. I bent over the son. He had bread in his hand. I took the bread.

  I looked at SSman Hans Schultz. He nodded in the direction of the feet. I bent over the feet of the youth. His shoes were ruined and the soles were like paper. I picked up his foot. Felt. Socks. I quickly removed his shoes and took his socks.

  The next day I didn’t see SSman Hans Schultz. He disappeared forever. After the war, I looked in the newspapers. Looked for his name. I didn’t find it in the newspaper. I wanted to see if they found him guilty. I considered putting in a good word for him but in the end decided not to. We must not put in good words for Nazis, we must not, because of all those who died on the roads.

  Chapter 20

  Dov

  My brother Yitzhak took a risk for me.

  We reached a German airplane factory. An abandoned factory. It was dark with stars and a scrap of moon like a slice of grapefruit. We were a few hundred prisoners, maybe a thousand, don’t know the exact number. A convoy of prisoners in pajamas with the stripes almost erased by dirt and mud. The Germans announced through the loudspeaker, we will spend the night here, and they handed out a quarter loaf of bread to each prisoner. Next to the SSman who was giving out the bread two wolf hounds were waiting. Large dogs with sharp-pointed teeth. Dogs trained to smell a prisoner who got into the line for the second time.

  We stood in a long line.

  My brother held my trousers from behind. We received our bread and went to find somewhere to sit. We fell to the ground and swallowed the bread in one bite. We looked at each other. My brother frowned, looked into the corners and whispered, now we have to find a place for the night, get up, get up. I remained sitting. I couldn’t get to my feet. My brother said, wait here, he got up, walked around and stood in line again for bread. I looked at the dogs. My heart sank into my soles. I wanted to call him back. I raised my hand but it fell back. I opened my mouth, closed it. I made a decision. I couldn’t bear to watch. Fell into a bottomless pit. Got up.

  Yitzhak’s turn was approaching. Three in front of him. Two. Yitzhak stopped. Gets bread from SSman and barks from the dogs. They smelled him, and as if on command: they leaped on him, grasping him in their teeth, aaah. The SSman raised his rifle and brought it down on his neck. My brother Yitzhak fell to the ground. The two dogs were on him. I heard the yelps of the dogs tearing at him, aaah. I shouted God, where are you, save him, save him. God didn’t come. I pressed my hands to the concrete, bent my knees to my belly, flew sideways. I craned my neck and looked ahead, not one prisoner took any interest in my brother. A group of SSmen sat by the door with their back to us. They were eating canned food out of tins. I wept, Papaleh, my Papaleh, the dogs are eating him. Father didn’t come. Only the SSman took an interest. He stood over my brother his legs spread wide, hands on his hips, smiling at his dogs. I wanted him to die.

  But my brother Yitzhak fought the dogs.

  I saw his leg fly up into the air. He kicked one of them hard in the stomach. He had a wooden sole on his shoe. The dog howled and flew up to the ceiling. The second dog attacked my brother in the neck. Yitzhak grabbed him by the head and turned it to the side. The dog lay on the floor. And then Yitzhak jumped to his feet, flew towards the factory entrance and vanished. The SSmen continued to eat. The dogs whined and crawled to the boots of the SSman with the bread. He wagged a finger at them, nu, nu, nu, and left the place. I had no air. Began to cough. Couldn’t stop. I pressed my mouth, screaming in my mind, you’re all right, yes. Your brother is also all right, yes.

  A few minutes went by and my brother Yitzhak sat down next to me. His shirt was ripped and he had holes in his elbow and leg. His face was as red as a boiled tomato. His forehead was wet. He wiped his hands and the blood on his shirt, wiping his forehead on the sleeve, put a hand into his armpit and took out a piece of bread. I couldn’t believe I was seeing bread. He divided the bread in two and gave me half. I was good, hah? Yitzhak gave a half grin, the other side of his mouth was blue. Another miracle.

  When I was strong I had the courage to do things myself.

  Night. A German vil
lage. Two days walking without bread and water. The SSmen informed the residents of the village by loudspeaker: organize food for the prisoners. We were a few hundred prisoners, maybe less, maybe more, and we sat down to rest. I saw a horse and cart approaching. On the wagon was an enormous tub. We understood they’d brought us soup. A tall SSman jumped onto the wagon. He held an iron ladle and called out: get in line, all of you. I saw the long line and realized I didn’t have a chance of getting to the soup.

  I stole behind the SSman and jumped on the wagon.

  I was holding a tin can. I managed to thrust the can into the tub and fill it with soup. The German with the ladle saw me. He thrust the ladle right into my forehead. I heard a boom like a bomb and blood. A lot of blood and a mist. I flew off the wagon with the can in my hand. The soup didn’t spill. The soup only changed color. I drank the soup with my blood. It gave me strength for a few more hours.

  Chapter 21

  Yitzhak

  The Germans weren’t satisfied with our deaths on the roads.

  Sometimes they loaded us onto open trains. When the American airplanes came they wouldn’t let us get off. We didn’t ask them, we wanted to live. We knew the war was coming to an end. By the airplanes circling in the skies and shitting on us with bombs. The minute the bombing started we jumped down to look for food. Not shelter, food. We always looked for food. We were willing to eat a scrap of bread, or peels, or roots, even if everything was dipped in blood. There were those who thought that if they’d walk a bit in the fields they’d find real food, others knew there were no miracles and didn’t jump to look for something to chew. Their energy to dream was long gone. They lay in the car and waited for bombs from above.

  One day we were traveling in an open car in the rain.