She thought she had fought back in her own way. She was feeding the people, keeping them going. She’d battled to keep the food coming, to increase it even, and she’d succeeded. Now thousands of the most desperate people, already bereft of their jobs and their rights, were going to lose their only means to survive.
“I won’t let them get away with it,” she whispered.
“Irena, there’s nothing we can do. This isn’t a suggestion; this is a direct order from on high. If you ignore it, they will swat you like a fly and replace you the next day with someone who will do what they want. Besides,” he said, shrugging, “these families will be all right. The Jews always take care of themselves.”
“How can you say that?” demanded Irena, her anger flaring again. “What do you know of Jews? Are you friends with Jews? Did you grow up with them? Go to school with them? They will take care of themselves? How? You’re speaking from prejudice. The Jews of Warsaw have no jobs. The Germans have taken all their property and their money. They have nothing left. They cannot take care of themselves!”
Jan paused. Taking a step forward, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know you grew up around Jewish families, that your father helped them, that he died treating them. It’s not that I don’t care, Irena, but you must be realistic. It’s not just our choice what to do. The world as we knew it is gone. The Nazis are killing Poles by the hundreds of thousands. We are looking at the survival of our civilization. I want to protect the Jews too, but if I must choose, I choose the Poles. And we don’t really have a choice. We will follow the orders, or we will die. I’m sorry, Irena, but it’s as simple as that.”
“I won’t accept this.”
“You have to. For you, for me, for all of us. Do you think your defiance would only affect you? They’ll arrest all of us. You, me, the distribution workers, our whole office. All of this,” he said, spreading his arms, “will be gone in a moment. And you will not have helped a single Jew in the process. Take the rest of the day off, Irena. Spend some time with your mother. Walk along the Vistula. Visit the Praga market. Do some thinking and clear your head. We can meet back tomorrow. When you’ve thought things through, you’ll realize it’s our only choice. When you’re ready, I need a report outlining how many people this will affect. Remember, this will mean more food for our Polish families.”
“The Jews are Poles too.”
“They are and they aren’t. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
He left and she sat there stunned, her mind spinning. She thought about ignoring his advice and digging even deeper into her work. She decided he was right, she should take the day off. She’d worked one-hundred-hour weeks since the war ended. Sometimes she labored twenty hours in a day. She was exhausted. She needed to get some rest and think about things. He was correct that she shouldn’t do anything hasty. There was no sense in throwing her life away when another Pole would just step in and follow the German orders. Perhaps there was some other solution that she could not yet see?
She packed up her things and left the building. The afternoon was cold but fine, with an azure sky bereft of clouds. The sun was warm on her face and as she walked along, she started to feel better. She decided to take Jan’s advice and stroll along the Vistula. She reached the river after a half hour and walked along the bank. The Poniatowski Bridge dominating the horizon to her left. There were couples out, holding hands, strolling as if there was no war, no Germany, a future without submission and slavery.
She thought of Mietek, her estranged husband. She’d received a letter from him. He was in a POW camp in Germany. He said conditions were good, but of course there was no way to know, as any correspondence would be carefully censored. She’d written him back, hoping he was well. She wanted to care for him, to be the wife he’d always wanted. A solid, faithful, hardworking Polish spouse, who stayed home, cooked, cleaned, and cared for their children. That’s what he’d wanted, not a socialist who worked outside the home and talked back.
She smiled. They’d been so young when they met. A couple of kids. He was from a stable, reputable family. She was the daughter of radicals. He’d thought he could bridge that gap and for a year or two they’d managed, but then the passion had faded, and they’d lived parallel lives, he in his vocation, her with ongoing university work. When an opportunity came several years ago for him to move and take a new job, they had said their goodbyes. There was no divorce, they weren’t ready for such a drastic step, but they weren’t living as husband and wife anymore.
She continued her stroll, enjoying the sweet melancholy that coursed through her veins. She’d worked so hard; she’d had no time for herself. After an hour of bliss, she turned toward home. The streets were bustling with workers returning to their flats after a long day of work. There were few vehicles on the streets—only Germans traveled by car these days. The streetcars were full of Poles. The Jews were forced to walk. As she approached her home building, she realized she felt so much better. She would figure out something. She sprang up the steps to the second floor with new spirit, with renewed hope.
“Irena.”
The voice startled her. She stared at a figure in the hallway. It was him. Adam Celnikier was standing there in a worn lieutenant’s uniform. A Jew, they’d been friends before the war. He was a socialist like her; he even flirted with communism.
“Adam, what are you doing here?”
“I just got home,” he said.
“Come in,” she said. “You must be starving.”
* * *
“The German army is not like anything you’ve ever dreamed of,” said Adam, as he munched away at some bread at the table with Irena and her mother. “They move like lightning. Their infantry ride in trucks. They bring their artillery with them, along with tanks. As if that wasn’t enough, when they attack, they come from above as well. Their planes work in close coordination with the infantry, diving in to strafe the lines with bullets and bombs.”
He took a sip of vodka, and a bite of kielbasa. His onyx pupils flickered in the candlelight, peering out from under a canopy of sable curly hair. “Worst of all are the Stukas—their dive bombers,” he explained. “You would hear their scream and before you knew it, they were on you, eagles with fire and death in their talons. We fought them with rifles and horses. We had enough men, but they came at us from every direction, East Prussia in the north and Czechoslovakia in the south. We were poorly led, poorly equipped, and prepared for the last war, not this one. Our men fought bravely, but there was no hope. I knew from the first day that we would lose. I think we all did.”
“How terrible,” said Irena. Throughout the dinner she’d listened with rapt attention as Adam described his war experiences. “But you were never wounded?”
“By some miracle, I wasn’t. Men were killed next to me so many times I can’t even count them. Bombs exploded, killing dozens at a time. Bullets whizzed past, kicked up the dirt in front of me. I was sure I would die. God must have watched over me.”
“I thought you communists didn’t believe in God?” observed her mother.
“Don’t be rude,” snapped Irena.
Adam chuckled. “She’s not being rude. She speaks the truth,” he said, taking a sip of vodka. “But old habits are hard to break. I spent my youth reciting the Torah, learning Hebrew, celebrating the sabbath and Passover. I’ve tried hard to shed myself of the old ways, to embrace the true path, but I’ve failed at times. Out there in the fighting, when you’re a moment from death, you want to believe more than anything that there’s another world after this one. Otherwise, what a terrible waste this life is.”
“Mietek is still a prisoner,” said her mother, peering closely at him. “How is it that they’ve released you?”
“The one advantage of being a Jew,” laughed Adam. “They aren’t interested in keeping us in the POW camps. We might spread disease, they said. They asked about our religion on the first day of incarceration. We were only there for a few weeks and then they separated us. I thought we wo
uld be killed when they carted us out of there, but they took us to a different camp filled only with Jews. After another month, they brought us back to Warsaw and dropped us off. I’ve been back for a couple of weeks.”
“And you just came here now?” asked Irena, feeling a fraction of anger.
“It took a few days of processing to get new papers,” explained Adam. “Then I had to make sure my family was safe. Of course, you and Janina were on my mind,” he said, using her mother’s name.
“How is your wife?” Janina asked.
“She’s doing fine. Thank you for asking. We’ve had our difficulties. We separated about a year ago.”
Irena had heard rumors about this. She’d wanted to ask Adam, but it seemed a rude question.
“It must be nice for you young people to have the luxury of separation,” Janina said, snorting. “I would do anything to have my husband back. But you two throw away spouses like chaff from the wheat.”
Adam’s cheeks filled with color. She thought he would say something. She hoped he would, that he would call her mother to task, explain why he was separated, defend her own separation from Mietek, but he said nothing. Instead, he sipped his vodka, looking away thoughtfully.
Janina rose, pulling herself out of the seat. “I’m tired and I’m going to bed. Thank you for coming, Adam, it was good to see you. I suppose you’ll be leaving now.”
“No, he will not,” said Irena. “I haven’t seen him for ages and we’re going to stay up and visit.”
Her mother stumbled and sank back into her chair. “I rose too fast,” she said.
Adam rushed to her side, motioning for Irena. They walked her back into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed.
“If you give me a few minutes, Adam, I’ll help her change and then we can chat.”
“Don’t bother with me,” said Janina. “You might as well go back out there and do whatever you’re going to do. I don’t know what the world’s coming to. Two married people alone together without a chaperone.”
“The world’s changing for sure,” said Adam sadly, “and all for the worse. Thank you for having me to dinner tonight.” He bowed and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“What is wrong with you?” whispered Irena, eyes flashing. “I haven’t seen him in months and you’re going to drive him out of here with your barbs.”
“Good!” her mother whispered back. “That would be the best thing for both of you. If Mietek knew you would willingly eat dinner with another man, he would die right here and now.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, muttering to herself. “Poor boy, alone out there in some terrible camp. And his wife’s at home betraying him.”
“Giving some bread to an old friend is not a betrayal, Mother. Besides, he’s hardly my husband anymore.”
“He is your spouse under the law and before God. And he always will be.”
“You’re impossible,” said Irena. She stood and walked out of the room, tearing the door open and slamming it behind her. Her mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. Her face must have been a mess, for Adam took one glance at her and turned away.
“I should be going,” he mumbled, taking a step toward the door.
“No! Please, stay, even if just for a little while.”
He hesitated and then sat back down. “As you wish.”
She took the place next to him, a half meter between them. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said.
He smiled at her. “Me either. It’s a miracle to be back in Warsaw.”
“What will you do now?” she whispered. She didn’t want her mother eavesdropping.
He shrugged. “Who knows? The Germans won’t let me practice law anymore. The bastards have taken everything we owned, at least on paper. But they don’t have it all. My father was always smart. We have zlotys, gold and silver jewelry. Enough to last the war if it doesn’t take too long. My family has been buying food on the black market to supplement what they give us officially. I’ll try to help. Maybe I can find work in the country?”
“You can work for me,” she offered.
“For the government? Impossible.”
“Not officially. A driver. We always need them. You could travel out on a wagon and pick up supplies. When you’re out there, you’d be able to trade for food directly, for your family. You’d get better prices; your money would last longer.”
“Wouldn’t they grow suspicious? I don’t have papers.”
“The Germans aren’t careful with food deliveries. They know about my wagons and my drivers. You’d be on official business. They hardly ever check papers and even if they did, they’d only shoo you away. Heaven knows it’s been far safer to be a Jew these past few months than a Pole, particularly an educated Pole.”
“So, the rumors are true. They’re killing off the intelligentsia?”
She nodded.
“How many?”
Irena shrugged. He was leaning in now and she could smell him, feel his warmth. His head was close to hers.
“Tens of thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands. Dozens of people I know have disappeared.”
He moved a little closer, his eyes full of concern. Her heart beat with a rapid thud. She felt dizzy, excited, confused.
“Aren’t you worried about yourself?”
“They won’t touch me,” she said. “I work for them.”
He drew away, his eyes wide and forehead furrowed. “What do you mean, you work for them?” he demanded.
She was surprised by his reaction. “It’s not what it sounds like. I’m just doing what I did before. But the Germans oversee it. They’re in charge of everything.”
“You’re working for the fascists!” He shouted this time, startling her.
“Adam, quiet, people will hear.” From the other room she heard her mother, calling her name, asking what was going on.
“I won’t be quiet! What has happened to you?” He pointed an accusing finger. “The Irena I knew would never collaborate with the Nazis. She would die before that happened!” He started to rise.
She stood also, reaching out for him. He jerked his arm away, storming toward the door. “Please, Adam! Don’t! Let me explain.”
He turned on her. “There is no explanation. I won’t spend a moment talking with a collaborator.” She saw the betrayal and the pain in his eyes. “I thought I knew you,” he said. “Obviously I was wrong.”
She tried to stop him, but he pushed her away. He slammed the door shut behind him, knocking a picture off the wall. She stood with her head against the door, palms against the panels, tears erupting down her cheeks.
Chapter 6
A Confrontation
October 14, 1940
Warsaw, Poland
Irena worked by candlelight in the living room of her flat. She glanced out the window. The sky was just beginning to lighten. Her mother was asleep in the next room. She tried to be quiet, but the manual typewriter she worked from had a mind of its own. The staccato clap of the keys refused to be muted, and if she pressed too lightly, the letters did not show up properly and she was forced to start over.
She worked from a list she had handwritten. One column contained first names and the second family names. She had written down about a hundred of each. She combined the columns when she created new names, then she would trace locations on the map. The rest of the biographical information she made up as she went.
Each form had to make sense. The Germans could review records at any time. They frequently did. There had already been arrests at her office and random searches. She knew if she wasn’t careful, she would be the next person the Nazis would take into custody. She finished typing the form and pulled it out of the typewriter. She reviewed the information, straining her eyes in the dim light. There were no mistakes. She had just created a family out of nothing. An Aryan Polish family. She could now use this form to set up a client file, and to apply for food welfare. When she was approved, she would assign this file to one
of her Jewish families, and there would be one less starving household in Warsaw.
She’d done this hundreds of times now. Methodically, she was eradicating the loss of social welfare for the Jews of Warsaw. She worked alone; afraid she would be betrayed if she shared what she was doing with anyone else in the office. She was forced to labor in the mornings, often three or four hours before work began. She wished she could prepare these reports at the office, but it was too dangerous.
She had confided in Ewa and Ala. When Ala learned what she was doing, what sacrifices she was making, she had forgiven Irena and the rift between them was healed.
Not so Adam. She’d tried to reach out to him multiple times. She’d appeared at his door, but he refused to talk to her. She’d sent Ewa to intercede with him, but as soon as he learned that Irena was behind the visit, he’d ordered her to go away. She hoped he was safe, healthy. She wanted his forgiveness but as the weeks turned to months, she realized that might never come.
Thankfully there was still her work. The job was harder each day. The Germans were cutting back food supplies, limiting what each family could eat on a monthly basis, even if they were recipients of social welfare. Her contacts in the countryside were drying up, as the Germans demanded more of the farmers’ crops and produce, forcing the Polish peasants to horde what little they could for themselves.
Still she found a way to bring the food in. She employed more workers. Labor was almost free. Life was cheaper than food in these terrible times. She sent her workers to comb the farms. Sometimes she visited the countryside herself, talking directly to the landowners, convincing them to give just a little of their precious reserves to keep the people of Warsaw alive. She didn’t mention Jews; that would have stopped them cold. Even before the war, the average Pole had little sympathy for the Jewish population. As Jan had said, to each their own.
Irena's War Page 6
