Irena's War

by Shipman, James D.

  Irena turned and swam away as fast as she could, pulling Rami with her. A second passed and another. The corridor erupted like the sun. Her ears filled with a crushing explosion and she was blown down the passage, crashing hard against the wall. She groped out in the chaos for Rami. She found an arm and pulled, bringing the girl next to her. She held her close until the brightness died down. A grenade, she realized.

  “Are you hit?” she screamed. Her voice was distant and dull, traveling through a screaming ring in her ears. She couldn’t hear the reply. She opened her eyes. There was fire burning the top of the water behind her. They were thirty meters or so away from the intersection. The German was nowhere to be seen but he could return any second. She looked at Rami, turning her this way and that. She seemed to be okay, although she was covered in filth and it was difficult to tell. She would have to trust that she was all right to move on. She could check for injuries later.

  For now, they had to get away. The explosion would certainly draw more Germans soon. Turning, she pulled Rami forward and they moved on, traveling three or four hundred meters. She noticed the stream became shallower. Soon the sludge was only calf deep. They reached a turn to the right and there were steps leading up into a passageway. She lifted Rami up and they fell against the floor.

  “Are you all right?” she asked again. The ringing had lessened a fraction and she could hear Rami now.

  “I think so.”

  Irena turned on her light and examined the girl up and down, checking her arms and legs, her front and her back. She had a nasty cut on her forehead and her knees were scuffed and bloody. But she had no real wounds. Irena checked herself next. Miraculously, neither of them was badly hurt. She turned off the light again and lay her head down. Rami lay down next to her and they stayed that way for a long time, catching their breath and trying to recover from the horrible journey they’d just experienced.

  Long they lay there. Irena floated between consciousness and dreams. She knew they should flee this area, that there was still danger, but she was exhausted. Finally, she opened her eyes and flicked on her flashlight, checking her watch. It was nine in the morning. She roused Rami, who was also asleep. They struggled to their feet. Irena could barely move. Every part of her body screamed with soreness and fatigue. Her clothes were caked with muck and they dragged her down, making it difficult to move. She took a step forward, and then another. Rami held tightly to her arm and the two used each other to move forward.

  Eventually they reached an opening. Irena looked up. Light poked through the holes of the cover, illuminating the ground. She pulled herself up on a rung, barely able to climb. She raised herself up one step at a time, reaching the top. She placed both hands against the bottom of the cover, balancing herself so she didn’t fall. She pushed with all her might. The cover moved a little, then gave way. She screamed as with a final effort she shoved the cover to the side, pushing it until half of the hole was uncovered. She pressed her head against the wall, resting for a moment. She knew she had to hurry. There was danger here again. She wasn’t even sure where she was. She stepped up again and poked her head above the street level. A man and woman stood a few feet away. They were dressed nicely, and the woman was holding the man’s arm, both staring in surprise at Irena. They looked at her for a few more moments and then hurried off, obviously wanting to get away from the scene as quickly as possible.

  Irena looked around. There was nobody else on the street. She recognized a small hardware store across the way. She’d been here before. She was in Aryan Warsaw. They’d made it. The nightmare was over.

  Chapter 28

  Peter

  April 1943

  Warsaw, Poland

  Irena sat at the table at Maria’s. Adam stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders. Rami was there too, munching on some bread and talking to Adam. He was teasing her, and she kept laughing.

  Irena wished they would go in the other room. She was trying to concentrate. She was working from two long lists as she wrote down the names of the children that were hidden and their new names and addresses in Aryan Warsaw. She was amazed the operation had been a resounding success. Virtually every child had come out safely. Except for Sasha, who was more qualified than all the rest, the guides had made their way in and out of the ghetto without incident. A few of the children had not come to the gathering places, either because the Germans had already reached them or perhaps because the parents did not have the heart to let them go. But notwithstanding these few exceptions, more than four hundred children had made it out.

  Four days had passed. Irena had spent most of that time consolidating her lists. She would spend the day at Maria’s, enjoying time with Adam and Rami while she worked on her scraps of paper. In the evenings she would take a jarful of the papers home, make dinner for her mother, and then bury the names in the garden after midnight.

  She felt rested. She’d rarely had this much time in comparative peace. Still, the time was heavy on her. They’d had no word of Ala in all this time. Rami, who was for the most part in good spirits, would occasionally ask for her mother and break down when they didn’t have any news. If she’d known even a little of the truth, the young girl would have been inconsolable. Irena did not give up hope. She’d learned long ago that while tragedy surprised her again and again, there were unexpected miracles that appeared just when she had given up.

  She heard a jangle of keys in the hallway and then a fumbling at the door. Maria entered, rushing inside and slamming the door closed. “We’ve found her!” she exclaimed.

  Irena rose. “Where is she?”

  Maria glanced down at Rami. “We should talk in the other room.”

  “Adam, why don’t you play a game with Rami. Maria and I need to talk for a minute.”

  Adam nodded and sat down at the table. He pulled a blank piece of paper out and a pencil. “Let’s play the picture game,” he said. “You can tell me anything in the world you want me to draw, and I’ll do my best to make it.”

  “Draw a lion!” Rami shouted, giggling. She leaned over the table and watched closely, and Adam began sketching. Irena watched for a moment, a smile on her face. When she was sure that Rami was fully engaged, she turned and led Maria into Adam’s bedroom.

  “Where is she?” Irena repeated when they’d closed the door.

  Maria’s face darkened. “She’s in Szucha Street.”

  Gestapo headquarters. Irena knew that meant only one thing: Ala was being tortured, likely with the intent of revealing what she knew about Irena and egota. She shivered, imagining what was happening to her friend. How long would they have before she broke? Would Ala be able to keep quiet?

  “We have to do something,” she said at last.

  “Agreed. But what?”

  “I don’t know,” said Irena. It was one thing to attack a gate with a couple of guards in the ghetto. The Gestapo headquarters would be heavily guarded. There was no way they could mount a raid on the facility with any hope of success. She tried to think of what they could do, but she didn’t come up with anything. “We need to talk to Julian.”

  Maria nodded. “That’s what I think.”

  Irena checked her watch. It was three o’clock. They could make it if they left now. “I’ll go see him,” she said.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Maria.

  They walked the long distance from her apartment in the Praga district, over the Vistula and toward Julian’s headquarters.

  They were led into Julian’s presence as soon as they arrived. They explained the situation to him. He listened with rapt attention, but when they were finished, he shook his head. “It’s impossible,” he said, taking a puff from his cigarette. “She might as well be on the moon. We can’t touch her there.”

  “Surely there is something we can do?” Irena asked.

  “I don’t see what. You go into Szucha Street but you don’t come back out again.”

  “Don’t we have anyone on the inside?”

  Julian look
ed down. He didn’t answer.

  “You do have someone,” said Irena.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. If I did have someone, I would have to save them for a higher-value mission.”

  “A higher-value mission?” Irena asked incredulously. “Who is higher value than Ala? She was the chief nurse of the ghetto. She’s been fighting the Germans out in the open, without a rest, for years. Nobody has taken more risks, or done more to defy them, than she has.”

  Julian shrugged. “She’s not Polish, Irena. She’s a Jew. Now don’t get me wrong,” he said, as Irena started to protest. “I’m not an anti-Semite. I know how important she is to you, and what she’s done for the ghetto. But the Jewish story in Warsaw is ending. The resistance is wrapping up. The ghetto is a pile of rubble. We’ve got to think about the future. Our future. We will be fighting the Germans ourselves soon enough. And we intend to win. When we do, we may need our theoretical informant in the Gestapo. I can’t play that card prematurely.”

  “I don’t care what you want,” said Irena, taking a step forward. “She’s fought them with her bare hands. She trusted us to get her out and she’s been betrayed. Possibly by someone in our very organization. Worse, she knows about me. If she gives me up, they’ll arrest me. Once they are torturing me, who will I have to give up to save my life?”

  His face paled. He knew the answer to that question. He took another deep drag on his cigarette. “Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll see what I can do. But don’t get your hopes up. She could be dead already.”

  “I know you’ll do everything you can,” said Irena. She and Maria left and went on to the office. Jan was still there, and they filled him in on what was happening. He hadn’t heard about Ala and she saw the sadness on his face.

  “Do you think Julian can get her out?” he asked.

  Irena shook her head. “There is no way to know. But if anyone can, he will. I just hope we can get her in time. I don’t know what I will say to Rami if something happens. I keep putting off her questions, but she’s growing more insistent every day.”

  “She won’t be the first child without her parents,” said Maria. “It’s a lucky one who will leave this war with a mother or a father.”

  They spent the next several days waiting impatiently for word. Finally, a messenger arrived and told them that Julian was summoning Maria and her to headquarters. Irena was excited. She held hope that Ala might already be there when they arrived. He wouldn’t send word unless he had significant news.

  When they arrived she knew immediately that something was wrong.

  “Your informant betrayed us,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No, he’s turned out to be as reliable as I could possibly have hoped.”

  “What then?”

  “We asked him to sneak her out. He said he could do it. He’s waited the last couple of days, trying to find the right opportunity. This morning, he thought he would have a chance. But when he went to her cell, she was gone. He’s tried to find out where, but so far, he doesn’t know anything. Ala has disappeared.”

  Irena wanted to argue with him, to beat her arms against his chest or fall to the ground and collapse. Instead she stood there, stony faced, and absorbed this newest failure as she had the others. Ala was gone. Probably forever. She was helpless again and there was nothing she could do about it.

  They walked back to Maria’s apartment in silence. Her friend tried to engage her in conversation, but she refused. When they arrived home she barely spoke to Adam. She went directly to his bedroom where she kept a few things and changed into her newer dress. She stood at a mirror that rested over his dresser and adjusted her hair, applying makeup and making sure she looked her best.

  “What are you doing?” Adam asked, concern in his voice.

  “Take care of Rami,” she said, turning to walk past him.

  He took her wrist, holding her back.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have something I must do.”

  “Irena. Maria told me what’s going on. You’re not in your right mind.” She tried to move past him, but he maintained his grip.

  “Let me go!” she shouted, her eyes flashing fire. “I know what I’m doing.”

  He took a step back, his hands raised as if in surrender. “I’m just trying to help,” he said angrily.

  She walked to the door. “I’ll be back,” she said.

  * * *

  The restaurant on Wilcza Street was a simple one. A long walnut bar on the right held a dozen stools. There were six or seven tables scattered around. A woman sat in the corner, facing away from the crowd, playing a stand-up piano. Irena perched at the end of the bar, a cigarette in her mouth. She’d been approached twice already by men eager to speak with her, but she’d politely declined. She wasn’t here for the attention of random males.

  She’d heard of this restaurant before but never been here. She’d avoided the place until tonight. She really wasn’t sure whether she was wasting her time, but she couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. She kept an eye on the door as she sipped some vodka, watching people come and go. This was a place to meet people. A special kind of person in fact.

  The door jangled open again. He was here. He filled the doorway as he blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light. Someone shouted for him to get in or get out and he laughed, stepping in and clumsily shoving the door closed behind him. His shirttail was sticking out of the back of his tunic. He probably didn’t know or care. He turned, scanning the room. A hawk seeking his prey. His eyes fixed on Irena and she saw the surprise and recognition. A flicker of a smile lit up his face and he headed toward her.

  “Fräulein Sendler, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

  “It’s Frau, as you know,” she said, not unpleasantly.

  “That’s right. You have some husband or other, don’t you?” said Peter, looking her up and down. “What are you doing in here then?”

  “I needed a drink.”

  “Don’t we all,” he said. He turned and loudly ordered a vodka. The barkeeper hastened to pour a double and bring it to him. He bowed his head slightly to Peter. He obviously knew who he was. Peter took the vodka and tipped the glass back, draining the contents in a flick of his wrist. He sighed in satisfaction. “I needed that.” He turned back to Irena. “We were discussing your presence in this bar. It has the worst reputation, you know.”

  “For what?” Irena asked innocently.

  “For Polish women coming to meet German men.” His eyes bored into her. “Surely you know that.” He waved at the bartender and directed more vodka for himself and for Irena.

  “I’ve heard the rumors,” Irena admitted. “I guess I was curious after all these years to see what goes on in here.”

  “Curious, were you?” Peter laughed. “I didn’t think anything pulled your attention away from your duties.”

  “It’s been a long war.”

  Peter raised his glass. “To an end of this beastly war.”

  She clinked his glass, smiling up at him. “Finally, something we can agree on.”

  “Perhaps we have more in common than that,” he said.

  “Like?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But perhaps there is an opportunity to find out.”

  She stared back at him for long moments. “Perhaps,” she said finally, her eyes darting downward.

  Peter quaffed his second shot. “No reason to stay here longer, is there?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said shyly.

  “Yes, you do. Let’s go.”

  “Peter, I couldn’t.”

  He took her arm, pulling her toward the door. She resisted for a moment and then relented. “You already have,” he said.

  Chapter 29

  Anguish

  April 1943

  Gestapo Headquarters, Warsaw, Poland

  Klaus sat with Colonel Wagner, going over the reports from the past few weeks. The news was mostly good. The ghetto wa
s hardly more than a memory. Most of the resistance fighters had been killed or had surrendered. The workers at the Többens and Schultz factories had been relocated to a new camp at Poniatowa near Lublin.

  “What about these reports of all the escaped children?” the colonel asked.

  “Rumors at best,” said Klaus. “Of course, a few people got out of the ghetto, but there couldn’t be more than a couple of dozen at the most.”

  “That’s not what my people tell me.”

  “And who are your people?”

  The colonel smiled. “We have our watchers, as you know.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Governor Frank is satisfied with the conclusion of this project. Even if it wasn’t the best example of liquidating a ghetto.” The colonel leaned across the desk. “What he’s not satisfied about, is your failure to find egota.”

  Klaus stared across the desk, battling down his anger. “What more could I do? I have five men assigned to this duty alone. They’re working day and night. We’ll crack into the group. Don’t you worry.”

  “What about the vaunted arrest you made? You promised answers from her.”

  “She obviously didn’t know anything.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because after what we put her through, anyone would talk. Anyone. And she had nothing to say. I think she was just what she said she was. A nurse in the ghetto. An important person among the Jews, I suppose, but she apparently didn’t dabble with the resistance movement.”

  “What did you do with her?” the colonel asked.