The Brothers of Auschwitz

by Malka Adler

  The soldier’s hand was full of tin badges. He took one of them and said, Stalin. Stalin. And turned the badge over, Lenin. Lenin. And then he bent down under the table, put his hands inside something and I heard a lot of clinking. He stood up, winked at us, and held out two handfuls of badges. We didn’t move. The soldier nodded his head, take, take. I took one Stalin. The soldier held my hand and gave me more badges. To Vassily as well. The soldier pointed at Vassily’s little suitcase. Vassily opened it, it was rather empty. He dropped in four more handfuls and closed the suitcase. The soldier approached me unsteadily, he smelled of vodka. He took a Stalin badge and fixed it to the pocket of my shirt, and one to Vassily’s. And then he belched, took an unsteady step back, raised a straight arm and saluted us as if we were soldiers. I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly he gave a whistle and farted like a canon. Vassily and I jumped together. The drunken soldier began to laugh, and then the other soldier got mad, pulled his shirt, and laid him down on the ground. I saw them struggling. Two seconds, and three soldiers with rifles arrived at a run. I whispered to Vassily, quickly, let’s get out of here, but walk slowly. We walked away from them. I looked back, the soldiers were dragging the drunken soldier along the pavement. I heard him shouting, Stalinka, Leninka, babushka, hee, hee.

  Who’s Stalin.

  I said, maybe he’s an important man if there are so many pieces of him, we’ll give them out at the monastery. From a distance I saw another distribution point.

  Vassily said, let’s have another turn. My heart beat, but we did go over, because I wanted to bring gifts from Prague for my friends, I also wanted to give some to the female soldiers and to the nuns. We took the badges off the pockets on our shirts and approached the soldiers. They welcomed us and put badges on our shirts, our collars, the belts of our trousers, and a few more handfuls in the suitcase. I understood, they want to get rid of the quantity they’d brought. I saw they had full boxes under the table. We passed three-four distribution points. The suitcase filled up, we were pleased.

  We left Prague towards evening.

  We wanted to cross the Czech border and arrived at a train station. We had no money for food. A rather neglected man was sitting on the pavement, he had a backpack. Peeping out of the backpack was a parcel, it looked like a bread wrapping. I said to Vassily, I’ll talk to the man and you steal the bread. He agreed. I went over to the man. I asked in German about a train to Germany. He began to answer, he had a loud, officer’s voice. The hair on my body stood on end and I listened to the explanations until Vassily took the parcel out of the backpack and off we ran. We stopped at a safe distance. The German didn’t move. He cleaned his teeth and watched us. We got nothing out of it. In the paper were dry chicken bones. We chewed the bones and were still hungry.

  We decided to leave the train station.

  We went on foot to the fields. I said to Vassily, maybe in a farmer’s field we’ll find some vegetables to eat. The sun set and I didn’t know who would give my brother food when he arrived in the village. I was worried about him. I asked Vassily, is our neighbor Stanku still in the village?

  He said, yes, Stanku is in the village, what are we looking for?

  I said, don’t know, we’ll find something. We walked for about an hour through a bare field. Suddenly, in the middle of the field, I saw a large airplane with a lot of small windows. I didn’t see any people. I nodded to Vassily, we bent down, and approached the airplane at a run. We heard no voices. We peeped inside. Saw empty seats. We climbed into the airplane. Looked for food among the seats. Found nothing. We climbed back down into the field. I asked Vassily, isn’t this a cabbage field? Vassily bent down and began to dig in the earth. We dug together. We found cabbage roots. We made a large pile, climbed into the airplane and sat in the seats. We ate it all and I felt like a king. We held each other for warmth and fell asleep in a second.

  The following evening, we arrived at the monastery.

  The fellows at the monastery gathered round us. They stroked the badges on our clothes, and I said, we have some for all of you. We took the badges out of the suitcase and gave three badges to each one. The fellows did what we had done, put badges on their shirts, belt and hat. Stalin and Lenin took over the monastery. There were some who didn’t want to take them. They wanted to spit on the badges and they spat on the floor. There were some who stood to attention and saluted each other.

  The next day, the yard was cheerful. Each one who appeared decorated with badges was laughingly spat on or saluted. The female soldier with the ponytail said to me, you’ve created a real mess with your badges.

  I said, it’s better than your Yiddish theater, at least we aren’t dying of boredom.

  One evening my instructor came into my room. Her eyelashes were blue. She said to me, you must come with me. I got up from the bed, arranged a few badges on my shirt and followed her to the office.

  Four American soldiers were sitting in the office. The silence in the office frightened me. One of them pointed at a single chair at the table and said, sit down, please. I sat down. The soldier with the bars on his shoulder began to question me in German.

  Where did you get the Stalin badges?

  I brought them from Prague.

  Who gave them to you?

  Russian soldiers.

  Where did you meet Russian soldiers?

  In the street near the municipality. In other places. They were standing on main street corners and handing out free badges.

  Who did they give them to?

  To anyone going by in the street. They even gave them to children.

  Why did the soldiers hand them out for free?

  My mouth went dry. I didn’t understand why an American officer was taking an interest in Russian badges. I leaned towards them and said, I can give you all my badges. Lots and lots of Stalin, Lenin on the other side.

  The soldier with the bars sat up in his chair. His forehead was thoughtful and I was alarmed, he’ll turn me over to the Germans. He’ll say something about me to the Germans and they’ll put me on a truck. They’ve probably hidden some little crematorium in the mountains, maybe even in a nearby forest. I wanted to run away. Holding onto to the table, I jumped to my feet. The officer said, sit. I sat. I felt a tingling in the back of my neck. I got up. My instructor gestured to me to sit quietly. I couldn’t without bouncing. I wanted to shout, leave me alone, where’s my brother?

  The officer said, Bernard, did the Russian soldiers ask you to hand out badges?

  I leaped to the door, no! Why should they? I don’t speak Russian and Russian soldiers frighten me, I saw them taking people off the train for no reason, just because they didn’t have papers in their pockets. One man cried, caught hold of the window, it was no use, they hit him on the back with the butt of a rifle, and sent him off. They were like the SSmen at the camp and a Russian soldier aimed his Kalashnikov at me because of a sandwich.

  The officer pointed at the chair. I scuttled between the door and the window. The officer whispered with the soldiers next to him in a language I didn’t know. My instructor observed me. She had wrinkles between her eyes. She tried to smile at me and her face came out all crooked. I bent down to her and whispered, and if the Russians had asked me to hand out badges, d’you think I’d have listened to them? Suddenly, pak. My heart fell. I understood that the Americans suspected me of spying for the Russians. I understood that the Americans hate the Russians and that’s why Mrs Fisher warned us not to lose our papers. She knew the Russians were dangerous.

  I felt I was about to faint.

  Finally, the officer said, now bring the suitcase from your room.

  Shakily, I ran to my room. I held my ass tight so it wouldn’t run away to the forest. Vassily was sleeping in Yitzhak’s bed. I pulled the suitcase from under the bed. Tore badges off the shirts I saw in the room and returned to the Americans. They opened the suitcase and emptied the badges onto the table. The officer said to the soldiers, the Russians want to take over Prague. And then he sa
id to me, sit down and he began to ask all his questions from the beginning.

  I thought about my brother Yitzhak. He’d probably be angry with me. Think for a moment, who took care of us in hospital, the Russians? Who sent us to a convalescent home? The Russians? The Americans are taking care of us. The Russians send people to Siberia.

  I was ashamed that I hadn’t understood it myself. I was young. For me the war was over. I believed my troubles were over.

  After two days of interrogation, the soldiers released me. Not before I’d collected all the badges in the monastery. I didn’t even leave one badge as a souvenir.

  Chapter 35

  Yitzhak

  After a week I left the village of Humenne and felt relief.

  Local people continued to come to the aunts’ house looking for relatives. I could no longer bear listening to people weeping for Roza, Sida, Shura, and Hannah, Lenna and Feige, Hershi, Martin, and Gerti, she was three, Gerti, she had a small bag on her back, like the bag you take on a trip to the mountains, did you see her, did you see? I was sure their ashes were scattered across the Wisla, what could I say?

  One day a small, white-haired man arrived. He may have been thirty. He began with Mira’leh, and Moishe’leh, and I shouted, I don’t know Mira’leh, and Moishe’leh, I know 14550, I know 15093, do you understand, ask me numbers, sir. The plump aunt immediately brought me a glass of water with five teaspoons of sugar. That evening I told the aunts, I’m leaving tomorrow, tomorrow.

  From the village of Humenne I went on foot to Brezna. I didn’t want to board a train because it crossed the border under Russian control. People in Humenne said the Russians were taking people who were alone off the train, whether they had papers in their pockets or not.

  From Brezna I took the train to Perechyn.

  In Perechyn was the market where my father sold cows. I knew the market well. I knew the vendors. I didn’t go to see the market. I knew I wouldn’t find Yenkel, Simon, Jacob, or the Klein sisters from the dress store. I knew a dirt road in the mountains from Perechyn to Tur’i Remety. Dov and I used to take cows from the village along this road to market. Father would promise to buy us ice cream in Perechyn for each cow we took on foot.

  I found the way and began to walk with the good smell of wet earth and hay. The path looked just as I remembered. Rather narrow, exactly wide enough for two people and a medium sized cow. Alongside the path were thorns and bushes full of snails. Under the bushes was a carpet of black pebbles. I picked up a handful of stones and threw them into the distance. Two birds flew off in alarm. I remember thinking, the path, the mountains and the sky all look the same, if I close my eyes very tightly, and open them, I’ll see Dov walking beside me, a cow between us, and we’ll tap the cow on her hindquarters with a stick, nu, nu, cow, this is no time to graze, we’re going straight to market now because father is waiting for us, and he’ll be glad and say, very good, children, very good, now run along and buy ice cream, and he’ll give us a coin and we’ll race each other to the ice cream and Dov will win, he always won, and each of us would have an ice cream in our hands and we’d lick it pleasurably and wander round to see how Yenkel, Simon and Jacob were doing.

  I closed my eyes. Stood still. Waited.

  And then came a shout from the core of my belly, aahhhh, aahhhh, and the kicks. I began to kick stones, kick the bushes and fling away branches with crushed snails, and I bent down and picked up a handful of earth and flung it on the path, and let out another scream, aaahhhh, and warm tears fell on my cheeks, wetting the battledress, and I wiped my face on my sleeve, and my nose ran like water, aaahhh, and I continued to walk.

  I reached the village towards evening.

  I stood at a distance. The houses in the village had stayed as I remembered. Rows of small, dark houses made of mud mixed with hay, a chimney on the roof, and a large yard. In the yard was a cowshed, behind it a haystack, beside the cowshed were vegetable and flower beds with apple trees at the end. I saw yards with a stable and horses, yards with one horse and no stable. Three hay-laden wagons traveled along the road, a long mooo of cows heralded the night.

  I sat on the ground and put a hand on my chest. I felt as if my heart wanted to jump out and I began to count, one. Two. Three. I reached fifty and my heart still hadn’t calmed down. I spoke to myself, now get up and start walking, one two, one two.

  I approached until I was two houses away from ours. The house was at the corner of the street. There was light at the windows and a woman’s voice and the voice of a child and from the direction of the cowshed came the sound of a pitchfork shifting hay, I wanted to tear out my hair. I leaned against a tree trunk and held my belly. My mind was pulsing, those bastard goys hadn’t waited until the end of the war. Those bastard goys hadn’t waited to see if we’d return home. We boarded the train to Ungvár and they’d leaped on the house like wolves on a carcass, damn them. They sit like a good, loving family at our table eating dinner with our utensils. They wash in our bathroom, and soon their damned children will get into bed, and Mama will come in to say good night with a kiss on the forehead, and I need a Kalashnikov in my hand, I want to break down the door and spray all of them, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta.

  I didn’t know what to do with the rage in my body.

  Chapter 36

  Dov

  After Prague I landed in the hospital.

  One day I was waiting at the inn. Don’t remember where Vassily was. A cold wind blew leaves from the trees onto the road. Spun them like a carousel. An American soldier arrived in an open command car. A freshly painted command car. The soldier went inside the inn and I went up to the command car. I stroked the clocks and the steering wheel, grasped the seat, jumped in and sat down, pressed the clutch, then rushed away behind the fence. I was alone. I returned to the command car and tried to turn the steering wheel. brrrm. brrrm. The gear stick was stiff. I stroked the armrest of the seat, the command car had a good smell and I really wanted to travel in a command car. brrrm. brrrm.

  After almost half an hour the soldier came out of the inn. I jumped down. He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. The soldier said, want a ride!

  I choked, whispered, yes, yes, I’ve never traveled in an open command car.

  The soldier said, but we’ll be cold, boy, what do you say?

  I said, cold doesn’t scare me and I remembered the open trains and the wind like a razor blade, without coat or gloves, just stinking pajamas and the newly dead to hold onto and keep warm.

  I got into the command car with trembling legs. The soldier gave me a can of beer. I drank it in one gulp. Wow, it was as cold as ice. And then he said, hold tight, he pressed hard on the accelerator and we shot out onto the road. My heart wept with joy. I saw fireworks and prayed my friends at the monastery would see me in the command car. I prayed that Vassily would be standing on the road and I could wave to him. I didn’t see friends.

  We went into the fields and the soldier accelerated. He called out, are you all right?

  I shouted yes, I feel wonderful, and heard my teeth dance in my mouth. I was freezing and I felt on top of the world. After two hours in the fields we returned to the monastery.

  That evening I developed a high fever.

  They immediately sent me to a hospital in the town of Deggendorf. American and German doctors worked there. An American doctor examined me with a stethoscope. He fell asleep on me while listening to my lungs. After pressing my chest and back he woke up and said: You have pneumonia, you’re staying in hospital. I pulled down my shirt and stood up. I was alarmed, hospital? I refuse, no, no, I promise to stay in bed at the monastery for a long time, two weeks, a month, even two months, and I promise to drink hot tea, and you can give me an injection in my backside, but I’m going back to the monastery. The doctor wrote something. I understood from him that there was no chance of my leaving. It was all I could do not to cry.

  In the coming days I burned with fever, I felt like a rag.

  They stuck a needle in my back and drained w
ater from the lungs and gave me a lot of medication. I lay in bed and called the doctor, I need matches.

  The doctor asked, what for?

  I said, for my eyes, otherwise I’ll fall asleep for three months.

  Where were you during the war?

  Don’t remember, Doctor, do you have a match? He left me and whispered something to a nurse. I didn’t get any matches so I started to talk to myself to stay awake, I said, listen Vassily, I sat next to an American soldier in an open command car, and he went zooom, zooom, with his foot on the accelerator, and I was on top of the world in the fields with a cold beer, where are you, Vassily, and where is my brother, I want my brother. My head fell back on the pillow. I pinched my belly and tickled my navel and armpit until I fell asleep.

  Two weeks went by, my fever went down, but I didn’t have the strength to wander around. One day I was lying in bed and began to tap my fingers on the iron railing of the bed, like the British soldier taught me to play the piano. I failed at the piano. I remembered the harmonica I had at home. I had two. Father brought me one from Perechyn, and I got a smaller one from my grandfather in the village of Humenne. I’d dreamed of a harmonica ever since I was in cheder, because of the goy children. I saw them playing the harmonica and the mandolin. They’d ride their horses, one hand holding the rein and the other a harmonica. They played songs that made people joyous and happy. I wanted to be like the goy children. I said to father, buy me a harmonica, and I started learning to play on my own. I didn’t succeed. And then they tested our singing at school. A woman with a loud voice said to me: Sing. I sang.

  She stuck her finger in her ear and said, you don’t have to sing anymore, it’s not for you, understand? Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t have a musical ear. I hid my harmonica inside a drawer and covered it with a towel.