“This is Dr. Korczak’s orphanage. He has two hundred children here,” explained Ala.
“So many?”
“If he had room, there would be a thousand more. Countless parents have died from the cold and the lack of food. There are more orphans every day.”
They climbed the stairs and entered the building. There was a large reception area. Children were everywhere, sitting at tables with puzzles, the little ones on the floor in a circle, playing with toys. Multiple doors lined the walls.
“They lead to other parts of the building,” Ala explained. “There are offices too, for the staff. We have our own small clinic here. I try to keep at least one nurse on duty seven days a week.”
“Is there enough food?”
Ala nodded. “Usually. Dr. Korczak has quite the reputation. He’s a special project of the Judenrat. There are also donations from influential families. The children here do as well as anyone does in the ghetto. It’s the ones on the street who suffer the worst.”
Children came up to Ala, hugging her and laughing. They knew her here, Irena realized. She was about to comment on this when a door opened, and she saw a familiar face. Ewa was there, accompanied by Dr. Korczak, whom she had met before, and another woman she thought she recognized, but couldn’t place. Ewa flew into her arms. Irena laughed, holding her friend, then turned to greet Dr. Korczak.
The orphanage director was a thin waif of a man in an impeccable woolen suit. His round glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, adding weight to his dignity. His eyes brimmed with intelligence and a balancing dose of sadness. “Irena, it’s been so long. I hope you’ve been well. How did you find your way into our lovely ghetto? Are you coming to help us?”
“Dr. Korczak,” she said, taking his hand warmly. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”
“How did you get in?”
“I have an epidemic pass from the welfare department.”
“Well, we have plenty of diseases for you,” he joked. “Typhus, typhoid, diphtheria. Our German friends have created a cauldron of infection.”
“I will be coming every day from now on,” Irena promised. “If there is anything I can do for you.”
“And who is this?” asked the other woman.
“Let me introduce you,” said Ala. There seemed to be an odd strain to her voice as she said this. “Irena, this is my cousin by marriage, Dwojra Grynberg. But you may know her as Wiera Gran.”
“The famous singer?” asked Irena.
“I don’t know about all of that,” said Wiera, raven hair flowing out of a rose-colored cloche with a wide tan ribbon. She arched an eyebrow and flashed a wry smile, emphasized by her high cheekbones. “Besides,” she said. “Nobody is famous in the ghetto.”
“You’re too modest,” said Ala. “Wiera is still in high demand, even in this hell. She performs daily at the Café Sztuka on Leszno Street.”
“There are cafés in the ghetto?” asked Irena in surprise.
“Like I said,” explained Ala. “The wealthy and powerful still prosper. They demand their entertainments, and Wiera is happy to indulge them. Aren’t you, Cousin?”
“Now let’s not be rude,” retorted Wiera. “To each their own skill. You were a nurse before the war and now you’re the lead nurse here. I was a singer. What should I do? Try to be a nurse? I’d kill all my patients.” She laughed. “I’m trying to survive, just like you.”
“She does more than survive,” interjected Ewa. “She gives heavily to the orphanage. Without people like Wiera, we would have been shut down long ago.”
Irena saw Dr. Korczak nod in agreement. “Yes indeed, Wiera has been a tremendous friend to us.”
“And now I shall be your friend,” she said to Irena, her eyes softening. “If there is any way I can help you.”
“Thank you so much,” she replied.
“Ewa, why don’t you take a break and visit with your friends here,” said Dr. Korczak. “I have a little more business with Wiera, then we can meet after lunchtime and go over some logistics.” He turned to Irena. “So wonderful to see you.”
“You as well,” she said. “I look forward to learning how I can help you.”
“I’m sure you will be of wonderful assistance.” He bowed and turned to leave.
Wiera turned to Irena. “I look forward to seeing you again. I’ve heard wonderful things about you from my cousin. You must come visit me soon.”
“I will,” Irena responded.
“Snake,” hissed Ala as her cousin walked out of earshot.
“Why do you hate her so much?” Irena asked.
“She’s never been any good,” said Ala. “Always the self-promoter and schemer. Now she makes money on the backs of our people. Not to mention her connections. She consorts with the worst of the ghetto, and with the Germans.”
“You don’t know that,” said Ewa. “Those are rumors. Look what she does here. Without her help, these children would starve. You’re doing your part, Ala, and she’s doing hers.”
“Believe your illusions if you wish. I won’t give her a grain of trust.” Ala turned to Irena. “Now, enough unpleasantness, what shall we do? Would you like to see my hospital? A tour of the ghetto? How do we make our long-lost friend welcome in our humble Jewish Quarter?”
“Adam.”
Ala smiled. “How did I know you would say that. I’m surprised the topic hasn’t come up sooner.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“He doesn’t leave his home, by all accounts,” said Ewa.
“Can we visit him?”
“Certainly,” said Ala. “It’s not so far.”
The three of them left the orphanage and marched back out onto the swarming streets. As they walked along, Ewa and Ala filled her in on stories of the ghetto: the food, the smuggling, the raids and killings, the starving children, the disease and death. She tried to listen, but her mind was focused on Adam. She hadn’t seen him in so long. Now she would finally be reunited with him. They’d left on difficult terms last time, but she was sure that all would be forgiven when she was face-to-face with him.
They made their way through the streets as quickly as they could, weaving through the throng. Irena noticed that Ala received many greetings, and respectful bows. Her friend was a person of importance here, she realized, and clearly well respected.
Finally, they reached Adam’s street. About midway down the block they found a nondescript three-story building. They entered the dimly lit corridor and climbed the two flights of stairs to the top floor. There was a stale stench to the hallway, a stagnant reek like wet laundry left too long in a washer. Irena could feel her heart thumping in her chest. Blood rushed to her ears. What would she say to him? She tried to fight down the emotions. She was with her friends and would not be able to show everything she wanted.
“Here we are,” Ala said, finding a door about halfway down. She knocked lightly and waited a minute. There was no answer. She rapped the wood harder. She heard shuffling inside. The door opened a crack. Irena saw Adam’s eyes staring out in fear. The door closed and there was a rustling inside as he fumbled with the latch. He opened again and he was there. Her Adam.
Her elation froze into anguish. He was pale, ill, so thin his skin was transparent. He stared at them with a dull expression as if he didn’t recognize them. His back was hunched over and his breath rattled in his chest. He was dying.
Chapter 12
New Ventures
January 1941
Warsaw Ghetto, Poland
Irena rushed into the apartment. Adam slumped to the floor even as she reached for him. She stood frozen, unsure what to do, but Ala was already there, taking his vitals with expert hands. “He’s starving,” she said. “But that’s not the problem. Severe dehydration. We’ve got to get him medical care right away.”
“Will he be all right?” Irena asked.
Ala looked up. “It’s too early to tell. We must get fluids into him immediately. Ewa, get to the hospital as quickly
as you can and find some help. We need a cart and some help to carry him.”
“I’ll go with you,” offered Irena.
“No, I need you here with me.”
Ewa nodded and raced down the hallway.
Irena turned back to Ala and Adam. “What do we do?” she asked.
“Get me some water,” Ala ordered. Irena rushed into the apartment, wading through the litter of clothes and crumpled papers until she reached the sink. She fumbled for a cup and twisted the faucet. Nothing came out.
“It’s not working!” she shouted.
“Go to the neighbors.”
Irena sprinted out of the apartment and down the hallway. She beat on the first door she came to, but nobody answered. Moving to the next apartment she repeated the violent knocking. This time somebody answered, a pair of terrified eyes peering from behind the crack in the door.
“I need water,” Irena screamed, trying to force the door open. The chain prevented her from entering.
The eyes behind the door stared at her for a moment and then the head nodded. The door opened and she saw an elderly gentleman was there, his wife hiding behind him. She ran into the flat and moved to the sink.
“Don’t bother,” the man said behind her. “It hasn’t worked in months.”
“What then?” she demanded, frantic and angry.
He hobbled to the kitchen counter and retrieved a metal pitcher. He approached her cautiously, as if she would attack him, and poured some water into her cup. The liquid was discolored and smelled rusty, but she didn’t care. She thanked him and turned, moving as quickly as she could toward the door without spilling the liquid.
It seemed an eternity to move down the hallway without losing the precious water. She finally made it and turned back into Adam’s apartment. He still lay on the floor. Ala cradled his head in her lap. She looked up in relief when she saw Irena return. “Hurry,” she pleaded.
Irena bent down and carefully offered the cup. “Help me tip his head back,” Ala ordered.
Irena moved behind Adam and lifted his neck. Ala shoved her fingers into his mouth and pulled the lips apart, forcing his mouth open. She pressed the cup against his lips and tipped a little water in. Adam sputtered and coughed. Some of the liquid dripped out of his mouth.
“He’s not taking it,” said Irena. “Give him the rest.”
Ala shook her head. “He took a little. In a minute, I’ll give him another sip. You can’t give him a bunch at one time. His body can’t handle it. He must be reintroduced slowly. What he needs is an IV, but we must wait for that. This will help a bit until they get here.”
“Is he going to make it?” Irena repeated.
“I don’t know. He’s very weak and it doesn’t look like he’s eaten in a week.” She looked up, giving Irena a reassuring look. “Don’t you worry though. He’s young and he was healthy before. There’s an excellent chance he’ll be fine, once we get some fluids into him.”
Irena felt a hot cocktail of emotion wash over her. She heard footsteps clambering on the stairwell and along the corridor. Help was here. Ewa appeared in the doorway along with a couple of men. They held a canvas stretcher supported by two thick wooden poles.
Irena moved out of the way as the men went to work, laying the stretcher onto the floor and pulling Adam gently into place. With a grunt they lifted him and maneuvered out of the apartment. The hallway was too narrow, and they had to angle Adam sharply to get him through. His arm fell out of the stretcher and wedged against the doorframe. Adam gave out a groan of pain.
“Stop!” screamed Irena. She moved forward and disentangled him, pulling his arm back into place. “Now you can go.”
With Ala in the lead, they lumbered along the hallway and down the stairs. The men huffed and puffed as they carried Adam awkwardly down the narrow stairwell. Finally, they reached the street and were able to increase their speed, Ala shouting at bystanders to move out of the way.
They were a mile or more from the hospital, and each moment was agony for Irena. Adam shivered under a thick blanket and his head lolled back and forth. “Hurry!” she demanded.
“We’re going as fast as we can,” retorted one of the men. “If you think you can do better, you’re welcome to take an end.”
“Don’t worry,” assured Ewa. “He’s going to be all right. We’re nearly there. Look.”
Irena saw that they’d reached a building with a large red cross embossed crudely on a plywood sign tacked over the door. A nurse and a doctor stood at the top of the entryway, holding the doors open and motioning for Ewa. Two orderlies rushed out and down the stairs, taking over the handles of the stretcher. The stretcher bearers doubled over, breathing heavily as the orderlies rushed up the stairs and into the hospital. Irena and Ewa followed as Adam was transferred onto a rolling table and whisked down the hallway and through a set of double doors. Ala turned at the entrance and blocked Irena, her hands held up. “Stay here,” she ordered. “The staff needs some time.”
Irena tried to push past her, but Ala refused to budge. “You would only be in the way. Let me do my job. I’ll come for you as soon as I can.”
Irena resisted for a few moments longer, but Ewa reached up from behind and held her arms. She struggled for a second and then nodded and stepped back. Ala rushed through the doors and they were left there alone in the vacant corridor, the hallway suddenly quiet and dark.
Irena felt the tears welling up and she collapsed on the hard floor, her breath coming in sobs. Ewa was there, kneeling down, a hand on her back, whispering words of compassion. She wept hot tears, letting out all the frustration of the last few months. She’d waited so long to see him. Week after week of uncertainty and fear. Now she had made it into the ghetto only to find him on the verge of death. Had they found him in time? Had she risked her life obtaining this pass only to lose him forever?
She lay there for a long time, slowly pulling herself together. The cold, hard floor felt good, drawing her back to reality. She clung to the surface, her face pressed against the tiles, her breath coming in ragged spurts. After a half hour she was sufficiently recovered to sit up. She felt better. She could face what would happen next. She had friends here, companions who loved her and supported her no matter what the result.
“That’s right,” Ewa echoed, as if she could read her thoughts. “Everything will be all right. No matter what.”
“Thank you for being here for me,” Irena said.
“Always and forever, my friend. Now let’s sit somewhere a little more comfortable.” Ewa drew Irena up and led her to the waiting room. There were seats and some newspapers strewn about a worn cardboard table. Irena scanned the headlines. Rubbish. The papers told of German victories over the English. The lead story predicted the capitulation of the lone remaining German enemy at any time. There was no way to know whether the stories were true or not, as the Germans carefully censored the information released to the Polish population, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it did turn out to be accurate. The vaunted French and English allies had done nothing to help them during the war or to ease their suffering in the past year. Then the Germans had invaded and defeated the French almost as quickly as they had the Poles. The English couldn’t possibly last much longer. The superhuman Germans would reign supreme through all of Europe.
They sat there for hours as the afternoon light dimmed into evening. Ewa periodically talked to Irena, trying to engage her in conversation, but she could only nod or give short responses, her mind lost in fear for Adam and despair at the condition of her nation, her city, and her friends. The door opened periodically and she would look up, hope in her heart, but again and again these interruptions were medical staff coming and going.
Finally, Ala appeared in the doorway. She looked exhausted but she was smiling. “It’s going to be okay,” she said.
“Thank God,” said Irena. “Can I see him now?”
Ala nodded and motioned for her to follow. Irena rushed after her. Her friend led her back dow
n the hallway and through the double doors. They walked farther along, eventually coming to a door about two thirds of the way down a second corridor. “He’s in here,” said Ala. “You can visit for a few minutes, but that’s all,” she said sternly. “Then come see me. We have some things to discuss.”
Irena sprinted past her and into the room. Adam was there in a hospital bed. An IV was attached to a tall metal hanger, a tube extending down into a needle in Adam’s right hand. He was awake. He looked drawn and exhausted, but he was smiling and there was life in his eyes again. “Hello. Irena.”
She rushed to his side and threw her arms around him.
“Careful,” he whispered, chuckling to himself. “You’ll detach me, and we’ll have to start all over again.”
“Thank God you’re safe,” she whispered.
He reached up and took her hand. She felt electricity sizzle through her entire body. “Thanks to you.”
“What’s happened to you? Where’s your family? How did they let this happen to you?”
“They live one building over,” Adam responded. “I haven’t visited them much. It’s my fault they’ve stopped trying to see me. They had no idea things had got so bad.”
“How can they be excused?”
“It’s my own responsibility. I’ve shunned them. Since the wall went up I’ve . . . well, let’s just say I haven’t been myself. My family tried to help. But I wouldn’t let them. Even my—”
“Don’t say your wife.”
“That’s what she is. Even if we are separated. Yes, Irena, even she has tried to help me, but I’ve refused. I turned into myself, reading my few remaining books, trying to understand what is going on.” His eyes turned the color of molten coal. “I’ve been angry. Furious at the fools in charge of this country for letting us down. At the Germans, the Russians. Even at you.” He pulled his hand away.
“At me? How can that be?”
“You’ve spent the last months in Aryan Poland, still living some kind of life. We’ve been here starving, dying. The world has forgotten us.”
Irena's War Page 13
