The maintenance fellow was right. Edek did recognize her, but not by her armband or the description given to him by the historian. It was the steps that gave her away, purposeful and hurried, belonging to someone who had no time to lose on empty gossip and the exchange of pleasantries. Listening to them approach, Edek froze with a pipe wrench in his hand, suddenly unable to turn his head. It must have been all the fantasies he had filled his head with. By extension, he now associated this woman with freedom, homeland, and everything he so dearly loved. It was difficult to look at her just now, as though in fear of disappointment.
A narrow palm fell on his shoulder, and he ceased breathing altogether. She was already turning him toward herself with surprising insistence; he could see her tall boots, not unlike the ones the wardens wore, the hem of her brown overcoat, the warm, woolen skirt peeking from under it. And then, a sudden and unexpectedly wrathful, “You’re not Pavol!”
Her German was harsh and unforgiving, just like her gaze.
Edek glanced up and scrunched his face, as if expecting a slap.
Mala looked like she was ready to award him with one, for wasting her time and demanding a meeting in someone else’s name.
“No. I’m Edek.” That was all he could come up with as he stared, as one enchanted, at her face.
It was set; she was obviously mad. Her light-brown eyes, narrowed like those of a cat, dissected him into pieces, and yet it occurred to him that he had never seen anyone so beautiful. Against the dim light of the overhead lamps, her hair shone like liquid gold. Crystal droplets of melted snow shimmered in the dark lashes—
Edek’s ogling ended abruptly. She was already turning away, uttering a curse under her breath—his ticket to freedom, homeland, everything he so dearly loved.
“Mala, wait!” At once, he was on his feet, trying to catch her sleeve.
She freed her arm and gave him a withering glare.
In spite of himself, Edek made a step toward her. “I brought Pavol’s goods for you.”
She regarded him with mistrust.
“Please.” He gestured toward one of the shower stalls, where they could talk in private.
Whether it was the wild appeal for mercy that she saw in his eyes or the miserable tone of his voice, her features softened a bit. She motioned for him to follow her.
The stalls were the German madam’s domain. Mala paid the woman her fare—a cigarette—and marched to the very end of the dingy corridor. Edek kept his gaze trained on the floor as he trailed after her. Whatever was happening in some of the stalls, he didn’t wish to witness.
“Well?” Mala demanded in Polish, as soon as they reached the furthest stall. “Get on with it. I don’t have much time.” She switched between languages with such natural ease, Edek regarded her with a newfound admiration.
Remembering himself, he extracted three sardine tins out of the pockets of his overalls. “I didn’t eat the sardines. The tins were already empty when he gave them to me,” he rushed to assure her.
Rather to his surprise, Mala grinned. It was dark in the stall, but Edek could swear that the expression in her eyes turned from cold to coy.
“You don’t know what these are for, do you?” she asked, inspecting the tins in her hand.
Edek shook his head, watching her pocket the tins in puzzlement.
“All the better for you,” Mala said. “The Russians here have a saying, the less you know, the better you sleep.”
“You speak Russian too?”
“Why? You need something from the Soviets?”
“No.” He wetted his lips. “I need an Ausweis. The real one, from the camp office.”
“What else, then? A new Mercedes with a personal driver to drive you out of here?” she asked with a mocking grin.
“Why, can you organize that too?”
In the darkness, her teeth shone dazzling white. Edek discovered that he was smiling as well.
“It depends. What can you offer in exchange?”
“My life in your eternal servitude?” Edek suggested.
Mala made a face. “Your life, with its eternal servitude, belongs to the SS.”
“That’s why there’s the need for the Ausweis. I don’t quite fancy such a life.”
Her smile slipped. For some time, she studied his face closely.
“How do I know you’re not a Political Department’s agitator?”
“Do I look like one?”
After a very long moment, during which Edek was holding his breath, Mala finally smiled again. “I suppose not. Your eyes are too honest. What are you in here for, anyway?”
“For nothing.”
“You’re not a Jew to be here for nothing.”
“I’m a Pole who can hold a weapon in his hands. In the eyes of the Nazis, it’s a crime, too.”
Mala nodded sagely. That much was true.
“I know it’s not enough—” Edek dug into his pocket and extracted a handful of sharp metal shavings and broken details from his workshop, “but Pavol said—”
“Oh, that’s just grand!” Mala interrupted him, going after what seemed like regular junk to Edek with impressive enthusiasm. “Could you possibly get more?” Now it was her turn to give him a pleading look.
“I’m working on a permanent transfer here, but while I belong to the locksmith Kommando, I’ll certainly bring you as much as I can.”
Mala was positively beaming now. “What sort of an Ausweis do you need?”
“The type that an SS man would demonstrate to the guard at the gates, good for one inmate accompanying the guard, for work outside the camp territory. Is there such an Ausweis?”
For a moment, Mala considered his question. “I suppose. But what are you trying to bribe an SS escort with, at any rate? No one will be mad enough to go through with your enterprise. They’ll be thrown into the local Gestapo jail for aiding the escape at once.”
“Let me worry about the SS man. The less you know, the better you sleep,” he said, repeating the saying he’d just learned.
Mala chuckled softly. “Do you, at least, have some sort of a plan for when you’re outside?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t an outright lie either.
In the few short days that he’d spent among the Birkenau carpenters, Wiesław came to know about Antoni Szymlak, a civilian tiler who did odd jobs around the camp and who smuggled mail and parcels for local inmates. Most of the civilian Polish workers who lived in nearby villages and were hired by the camp administration to do specialized work around the camp that the inmates weren’t qualified to do preferred to stay as far away from the inmates as possible. After all, fraternizing with the prisoners could land them in Auschwitz after the first denunciation to the camp Gestapo. However, there were a few civilians who risked their freedom and lives to aid those in need. Fortunately for Wiesław and Edek, Szymlak belonged to the latter category.
As soon as Edek heard about the man, he latched onto the idea that if Szymlak was indeed as sympathetic as the carpenters claimed, he could be persuaded to provide them with temporary shelter once they escaped. After that, they would make it across the Beskidy mountains and to Zakopane, a town where Wiesław’s sister lived and the Germans didn’t show their noses all that much. It was a land of the partisans—freedom fighters, former soldiers who narrowly escaped the clutches of the Nazis, and ordinary Polish patriots who lurked in the forests and attacked the Germans at every opportunity that presented itself, just to disappear after a successful raid back to the shadows to which they now belonged. For quite some time now, Edek had nursed hopes of joining them.
“All right then.” Mala’s voice brought him back to reality. “I’ll get you a pass. But it may take some time. Best to do it at the end of the month, right before they close all the books. That’s the only time the SS get careless and may overlook the disappearance of an Ausweis.”
Edek nodded. He trusted her judgement. Mala looked like she knew precisely what she was doing.
“I’ll meet you the day after tomorrow then?” He looked at her expectantly. “To bring you more shavings and parts,” he clarified.
Suddenly, Mala reached out and pressed his hand. A warm smile once again played on her full, soft lips. “That’ll be most helpful. I’ll be waiting.”
Then, she was gone, and he stood, dumbfounded and strangely lightheaded, in the dingy stall.
Eight
Auschwitz
It was another pale, winter day, with a sky so low and leaden, it made one forget that the sun ever existed. In front of the locksmith’s shop, Lubusch was smoking. Past his eyes, columns upon columns of inmates were trudging toward the gates—Aussenkommando prisoners, conscripted to work outside in the subzero temperatures all day. Whenever they leveled with the SS man, one of their Kapos shouted the usual “caps off” command and viciously clubbed whoever wasn’t quick enough to tear the striped prisoner’s hat off his shaved head in time.
Edek had been sent to fetch Lubusch. An illustrator, who used to work for a liberal newspaper in Warsaw and who made a grave mistake of drawing anti-Nazi political sketches for the publication, had once again jammed one of the machines in front of Edek’s eyes and gave him a conspirator’s grin when Edek didn’t betray him. After poking and prodding at the machine for a few minutes, Kapo Vasek told Edek to fetch Herr Kommandoführer to sort it out. However, seeing the SS man’s face just then, Edek didn’t wish to disturb him and so, he stood by the wall of the block and, just like Lubusch, followed the columns of the gray skeletons as they marched to their deaths to the cheery sound of the camp orchestra.
Suddenly, one of the skeletons stumbled a step, staggered out of the column so as not to break the rest of the men’s marching order, and slowly sank to his knees, keeling over. A Kapo pounced on him at once and began working on the man’s sides and legs with his wooden club, shouting at him to “get your fat behind up, you stinker, you duty shirker, I’ll show you yet how to lay about, you lazy Jew-pig—”
“Hit him about the face a little harder!” another Kapo, also a Green Triangle, brayed with laughter as he passed by. “Maybe you’ll conjure up a miracle and make him rise from the dead.”
“He’s not dead,” the first Kapo protested.
“Sure, he is. Look at him!” The second one made a show of walking up to the corpse and kicking him demonstratively in the genitals. “See? Dead as a doorknob.”
The first Kapo grumbled at his comrade’s retreating back and yanked two of the inmates out of the column. “Get that filthy carcass out of my sight and be quick about it before I get annoyed.”
When they were passing by Lubusch and Edek, Edek saw a young inmate wiping his face on his shoulder. His breath was coming out in harsh, silent sobs. Lubusch made a step toward him, inquiring if he knew the old man.
“My father,” the young inmate managed between tears, his face twisting into a painful grimace once again.
“I have to write his number down,” Lubusch said.
With purposeful slowness, he extracted his black notebook and wrote down the dead inmate’s name and number. Ensuring that the young man’s Kapo was far ahead of them, the SS guard slipped a pack of cigarettes into the boy’s pocket. Edek heard Lubusch whisper some words of sympathy very softly to the young inmate, in response to which he cried even harder. Kindness produced odd effects on people here. They had simply lost all habit for it.
“Now, off you go,” Lubusch said with intentional loudness. “There’s a death cart; march to it at the double. Duty shirkers, the lot of you.”
Turning back to the locksmith shop barracks, he finally noticed Edek.
“Is something the matter?”
“One of the machines seems to be jammed again, Herr Rottenführer.”
“Unterscharführer,” Lubusch corrected him, staring vacantly after the couple of prisoners he’d just dismissed. With as much respect as it was possible, they were laying out the young inmate’s father’s corpse atop a small mountain of other bodies. “I’m officially a non-commissioned officer now; not a simple soldier anymore. Christmas promotion for a job well done.” His voice was hollow, bitter.
“Congratulations, Herr Unterscharführer,” Edek said mechanically and bit his tongue at the glare that Lubusch threw him.
“What’s wrong with the machine? Did one of you jam it on purpose, to sabotage the production again?”
Edek started, not quite knowing what to say in response to the truthful accusation. So, Lubusch knew all about their machinations. Knew, and never said anything, not once, let alone punish anyone for ruining the numbers of his detail.
A faint smile appeared on Edek’s face. “Does it matter what precisely caused it, Herr Unterscharführer?”
“It does, if I discover some alien part jammed into it right in front of a Kapo’s eyes. If he sees it, there will be no way for me to conceal it and it will be the Strafblock for the ones responsible.” Lubusch looked at Edek closely. “Well? Will I find anything?”
“It’s a very strong possibility, Herr Unterscharführer.” Edek lowered his eyes.
Lubusch released a sigh and passed his hand over his forehead as if it all was too much for one day.
“I can try and distract the Kapo from putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.” Edek gave Lubusch a probing glance.
“Are you looking to earn Vasek’s baton?” Lubusch chuckled mirthlessly.
“I’ll be careful, Herr Unterscharführer.”
“Did you jam it then?”
“No. I never jam any machines.”
“Why not?”
Edek searched for the right words. “Because even though I should love to sabotage production, I never wish to cause any trouble for you. You have your own superiors before whom you are responsible. I’d never want you to get into hot water because of me.”
“Why take responsibility for what you haven’t done then?”
Edek gave a shrug, purposely avoiding Lubusch’s inquisitive eyes. This was even more difficult to explain, but after Lubusch surprised him with a discreet clap on his shoulder, Edek realized that the SS man understood everything perfectly.
“Come on then, Galiński. Duty calls and all that rot.”
Edek stepped before him, hardly breathing. This was his only chance, the perfect timing, and he would be damned if he missed it. “Herr Unterscharführer, may I ask you for a small favor?”
“What sort of a favor?”
“May I be transferred to the fitters’ Kommando in Birkenau? Permanently?”
The SS officer scowled slightly. “Why Birkenau? The living—and working—conditions are much better here, in Auschwitz.”
“It has nothing to do with living or working conditions, Herr Unterscharführer.”
“What then? Are you not treated well here?” He sounded slightly offended.
Edek quickly shook his head. “No, of course not; I’m treated here exceptionally well, Herr Unterscharführer…” He hadn’t quite thought the whole affair through before opening his mouth and now he was feverishly trying to come up with a suitable excuse. Instead, he stood before his Kommandoführer opening and closing his mouth like a fish thrown out of water.
All of a sudden, a knowing grin appeared on Lubusch’s face. “Is it a girl, then?”
Startled, Edek glanced up. Mala’s face appeared before his eyes and, suddenly, he was terrified at the thought of being uncovered.
“Look at you, you’ve gone quite red in the face,” Lubusch continued his good-natured teasing. “A girl! Who would have thought? You first-rate Romeo!” He was laughing now, a genuine, carefree laugh that Edek had never heard from him before.
Edek had just begun to protest, but then thought better of it. Why not a girl, after all? A suitable enough explanation, one Lubusch would sympathize with, to be sure. He hung his head, silently admitting his defeat.
“What’s her name?”
“Mala,” Edek whispered, in spite of himself.
“Polish?”
“Jewish. Jewish-political,” he quickly corrected himself. “She wears a red triangle over the yellow one.”
“I’ll be damned.” Lubusch was positively beaming now. “It’s what we spoke about. A hypothetical Jewish girl for you to fall in love with. What do you say to that? I ought to join the gypsy camp and work part-time predicting the future. Very well, Galiński. You’ll get your transfer. It’ll be my Christmas present to you.”
Following him into the shop, Edek was overcome with the feeling of the most profound gratitude. Saved, he thought in his excitement, scarcely suppressing a huge grin growing on his face.
Inside, Kapo Vasek’s enraged shouts could be heard through the entire work detail. He had lined up all of the inmates along the wall and had already conducted his own interrogation concerning the jammed machine, judging by their split lips and bloodied noses. He appeared to be so consumed by clubbing his victims, he failed to notice his own superior as he entered the shop.
“Do you think I don’t know what you sly apes are up to? Do you think you shall keep getting away with your tricks? The same machine, jamming the third time this month. Do you think I don’t know it’s one of you who is doing it? I swear, the moment I find out the pig who did it, I shall break every bone in his hands!” Like a true servant of the Nazi regime, Vasek followed up every sentence with a blow of a baton to an inmate’s midsection or head.
“Attention!”
Edek felt his shoulders jerk at Lubusch bellowing next to him. He looked thoroughly incensed.
The Kapo swung round and tore his hat off at once.
In a few long steps, Lubusch closed the distance between the entrance and Vasek.
“On whose orders?!” Lubusch shouted in the Kapo’s face. “I’m asking you, on whose orders are you mutilating my workers?”
When Vasek failed to explain himself, Lubusch continued his dressing-down with even greater enthusiasm.
“If you put half of them out of commission, who shall finish the quota for the month? Or do you plan to volunteer for the entire detail, what?” He backhanded the man with such force, Vasek stumbled a step back despite his powerful physique.
The Girl Who Escaped from Auschwitz: A totally gripping and absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 page-turner, based on a true story Page 7
