“How did you arrange for my escape?” Irena asked through clenched teeth, trying to talk to keep her mind off the searing pain.
“egota had a contact in the SS,” Maria said. “You remember he was holding it back for something important? You were that something. Julian has been working with that soldier for months, waiting for the right moment to get you out. But you were too closely watched. Finally, he was on duty when Klaus had you moved to another cell. He learned you were on the list for execution the next day and he arranged to escort you out. It’s a miracle he was at the right place at the right time, or you would have perished.”
Irena couldn’t believe her good fortune. “But we’re in terrible danger,” she said. She explained her last interactions with Klaus.
“How could he know about Adam?” Maria asked.
“I don’t know. Someone has betrayed us.”
Maria raised her hand to her chin, considering the situation for a few moments. “You’re not safe here,” she concluded. “Neither is Adam.”
“I know,” Irena said. “None of us are. We all have to go into hiding.”
“Your mother too,” said Adam.
Irena turned to Adam, her eyes filling with tears. “You haven’t heard. They killed her.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“Months ago. It was Klaus.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “I saw her yesterday. She’s ill, she’s grown worse since you were captured, but I assure you she’s very much alive.”
Irena couldn’t believe it. Klaus had lied to her. Of course, why would he be honest? If he’d lied about her mother, perhaps he didn’t know where Adam was? No, they couldn’t risk it. “What are we going to do?” she asked.
“We’re going to disappear,” said Maria. “Today. All of us. Julian will hide us. We’ve dozens of safe houses.” She turned to Irena, a wry smile on her face. “We’ll finally be able to try out some of that paperwork on you. You deserve it.”
There was a knock at the door. Irena froze but Maria put a hand on her leg. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s Julian. I put out word the moment you got here.”
She moved to the door and opened it. Julian was there, looking thin and ill himself. He had a half dozen men with him and they rushed in, checking all the bedrooms and forming a protective circle around them.
“Irena,” Julian said, moving to kneel in front of her.
“Hello, Julian.”
He took her hands. “Months of torture and you held your tongue.” He smiled. “I knew I was right about you. Don’t you worry now, we’ve already picked up your mother. We’re going to move you into hiding.”
“How long until I can return to work?” she asked.
His eyes widened and he shook his head. “You’ve done enough,” he said. “Too much. Let us take care of you now.”
“Perhaps for a little while,” she relented. “But not forever.”
He laughed. “You’re impossible. But all right. If you insist, we’ll find something for you.”
“Something for both of us,” said Adam, taking her arm. “And you must keep us together. We’ve been apart far too long.”
Julian nodded. “That can be arranged.”
Another man entered the room. “It’s clear,” he said. “We can go.”
Julian turned to Irena. “Can you walk?”
“I’ll manage,” she said.
“Let’s go then,” he said. He drew her up and then put his arms around her, holding her for a moment. “For Poland,” he whispered.
She whispered back, “For the children.”
Chapter 35
Bitter Endings
April 1945
Böhlen, Germany
Klaus sat at the dinner table with his family. He looked around at his humble flat. He was back where they had started. Briggita reached out, taking his hand, as if understanding his thoughts.
“It will be all right,” she said. “We had a wonderful time in Warsaw. Thank you for that. But this is where we started. We’ll make do. Perhaps you can get your old job back.” She smiled with encouragement.
Klaus looked at her and at their little girl. He smiled. She was so beautiful and so encouraging. She’d believed in him and supported him in every way. Now, when their world was falling apart, she was still here for him, no matter what.
She was so innocent. She had no idea what was coming. She did not know the Russians. He did. He’d reviewed the intelligence reports from East Prussia. The rapes, the murders. He looked at his beautiful wife and his heart broke. She didn’t know the suffering they were about to endure. And that was just for the general population. When they discovered he was in the SS—worse yet, when they learned of his role in Poland—their fate would be even worse.
How had everything gone so wrong? The Nazis had brought him out of dire poverty. They’d promised a new world of order and truth. He’d believed in everything they promised, even if he detested the actions that were required to get them there. He’d performed those duties. He had the lives of half a million Jews on his hands. He could have lived with that somehow, for the future of his family, of his child. But the dream had turned into a nightmare. The promises were shallow lies. There would be no Greater Germany to last a thousand years. Instead the Russians had won. Communism would rule here, and there was no place for Klaus in that future.
He heard the sharp footsteps on the stairway. His wife looked up in alarm, her eyes full of fear. “What is it?” she asked.
“It is nothing,” he lied. His final lie. His final protection. There was a sharp rapping on the door. He stepped up and moved from the table. At the door he paused, turning to look at his family. “I love you,” he whispered.
He opened the latch with one hand while with the other he removed the pins from the two grenades in his pocket and took a few steps toward his family. The Russians were there, charging him, seizing him by the arms. He heard Briggita scream. His heart wrenched with pain. He closed his eyes. There was a flash, and all was darkness.
* * *
Irena and Adam sat at the kitchen table of their flat, sipping tea. Adam flipped through the paper, shaking his head. “It’s as bad as when the fascists were here,” he said. “All lies. Look at this,” he said, pointing to an article. “They claim that food and fuel production is up forty-five percent from last year at this time.” Adam laughed, glancing over at their empty stove. “I guess it could be true. What is forty-five percent more of nothing?”
“They are doing their best, my dear,” said Irena. “The Nazis set the world on fire and burned it to the ground. It will take some time to rebuild.”
“Look at us,” Adam observed. “I was always the communist and you were the socialist. Now our roles are reversed. I hate the Russians and you’re encouraging me to accept them.”
“What choice do we have?” she asked. “What should we do? Pack up and move to the west? With what money? What language skills? Besides, it would be the same as the old Poland. A bunch of nationalist capitalists who hate us. No, we need to give the Russians time. They will build a new nation for all of our people.”
She rose and moved toward the sink, taking their dishes. She ambled slowly. Her back hurt and she ran her hand over her stomach, feeling the new life in there. She smiled to herself. Adam was right, the times were still terrible, but when their little one had grown, he would have a different life. Besides, no matter what their child faced, it could never be as bad as the Nazis.
There was a sharp knock at the door. Irena looked up in surprise. Who could it be? She stepped over and opened the latch. A uniformed Polish soldier stood at the door.
“Irena Sendler?” the soldier asked.
“Yes. That’s me.”
“You are to come with me immediately.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” asked Adam, rising from the table.
The soldier took a step into the apartment, his hand moving to a pistol at his side.
“D
on’t, Adam!” Irena shouted. “Stay here. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
Irena followed the soldier out of the apartment building and into a waiting car. She sat in the back as the vehicle sputtered off into the ruined streets of Warsaw. She looked around for a moment. Most of the blocks were still just mounds of rubble, with an occasional burned-out structure maintaining a little of its previous form but utterly unusable.
She stared out the window as if in a dream. She remembered the last time she’d been whisked away to an unknown location. Would this be the same? She wanted to believe that the Soviets were not capable of the same conduct as the Germans, but she knew better. She tried to understand why they had appeared at her door. Had she done something wrong? She’d resumed her old duties in the social welfare department of the new government a few months ago. She was enthusiastic about her work. She’d never been critical out loud to anyone. Thank God they couldn’t hear what Adam said, she thought. She ran through all the conversations she’d had at her office and she could think of nothing she had said. Still, she knew. In this system, as with the Germans, sometimes it didn’t matter if you were innocent.
The car stopped outside a large building on the edge of the city. A Soviet flag fluttered in the wind from a flagpole jutting out above the entranceway. Russian guards stood on either side of the double doors leading into the building. They were at attention with rifles shouldered. She didn’t recognize their location but assumed it must be some kind of government headquarters for the Soviets.
Her door was opened and the man who had appeared at her door was there, gesturing for her to get out. “Why am I here?” she asked.
“That’s not for me to say,” the soldier responded. She hadn’t expected an answer. He led her up the stairs and through the doors. The guards on either side stared forward, not acknowledging them.
She followed him down a long corridor, dimly lit. It reminded her so much of her old welfare office on Złota Street. She smiled to herself. Perhaps all government structures had the same oppressive, sterile feel.
The soldier stopped midway down the hall and opened a door to his right. He gestured for her to enter the office. Irena stepped in to find a middle-aged man in a Russian uniform with green trimming on his collar sitting at a desk. The office was well appointed, with wood paneling and a fine mahogany desk. An enormous painting of Stalin peered down from behind his leather chair. She recognized the collar. He was a member of the NKVD, the Russian secret police. First the Gestapo, now this.
The gentleman rose, gesturing for her to sit down. She felt a fraction of her fear subsiding. If they were going to torture her, they would have taken her to a cell, not an office.
The soldier sat back down and then opened a file, thumbing through it for a few minutes. She was reminded strongly of her first interview with Klaus, all those years ago. She searched the man’s face, looking for any clue of what he might be thinking, why she was here, but his features were an impenetrable mask.
“You’ve been working for us for about three months now,” he said finally in Polish with a thick Russian accent.
“Yes. At the department.”
“But it says here you have extensive experience in social welfare, dating back from before the war. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir. What is the meaning of this?”
“Have you always worked with food distribution?”
“Most of the time,” she answered. “Except for a period in ’41 and ’42 when I worked in disease control.”
“Ah yes,” he noted, scanning a page from the file. “You worked in the Jewish Quarter.”
“I did.”
The man looked up. “That’s the time frame we are particularly interested in. Stop me if I’m wrong, Mrs. Sendler, but it appears that your activities in the ghetto went well beyond your official duties. Isn’t that correct?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Let’s not play games. We know you were a major player in getting children out of the ghetto. You were an operative with egota, correct? How many Jewish children did you manage to evacuate?”
“I’m not sure exactly.”
He looked over his glasses at her. “I hardly believe that. How many?”
“Approximately twenty-five hundred.”
She saw his surprised reaction. You don’t know everything.
“That’s very impressive. Do you have the names and locations now?”
She shook her head. “They were gone when I was released. I know a few locations from memory, but almost everything is missing.”
“Your release?” He looked down. “Ah yes, you were captured and held for four months. Is that correct?”
She nodded, not wanting to think about that time.
“Did they torture you?”
“Every day,” she managed to respond.
“And you never revealed your organization? You gave no names?”
She shook her head. “I almost did,” she admitted truthfully. “They took me beyond what I was able to endure. But in the end, I got away before it was too late.”
“Yes, I see here that you were slated for execution, but you escaped. How did you manage that?”
She told him the story of egota’s involvement and the harrowing escape from Szucha Street.
“Finally, I see you and your live-in companion, Adam, fought with the Polish resistance during the Warsaw uprising?”
She nodded again.
He sat back, staring at her for a long time. “I don’t quite know what to say. I’ve seen a lot of things the past six years, as I’m sure you can imagine. But your story might be the most remarkable of all. You are a hero,” he said. “One of the great Polish heroes of the war.”
She felt hot embarrassment. She looked up. He was smiling now. She wondered what all this meant. “Thank you,” she said finally.
“My department has been studying you for some time now. There’s been much debate about your future in the new government.”
What did that mean? Were they thinking of promoting her? She felt her excitement rising.
“I have many ideas,” she said. “It’s always been my dream to serve in a socialist state. My father attended university in Kiev. He taught me from a little girl that—”
“We concluded you will stay where you are,” he said.
“What?” she asked incredulously. “But surely with my record, I have so much to offer.”
“The plain facts are you collaborated with the Polish government-in-exile in London throughout the war,” he said. “egota was a branch of that government, as you know.”
“Yes, but—”
“There are no excuses, Mrs. Sendler. The London exiles have been proven traitors to Poland, traitors to socialism. And you were a primary officer here during the war.” He leaned forward. “I have to tell you that there has been a great push for your arrest and trial.”
“Arrest? How can that—”
“I, for one, resisted that position. I have the good news to tell you that the conclusion was to leave you alone, provided that you keep your mouth shut.”
“What?” she asked.
“You will not talk about your activities during the war again. To anyone. You will stay in your current position. You will follow the rules and you will forget egota, and the ghetto, and those children. Do you understand me?”
She couldn’t believe his words. Everything she’d done during the war was to be ignored and forgotten? She was to remain silent forever, or face more arrests, torture, and likely death. This was the world she’d fought for? A socialist paradise? How could she have defied the Germans, put her life on the line, saved all those children, only to be told that everything she’d done was a betrayal of socialism. “You can’t ask that of me,” she said.
“I have to,” he responded. “Listen to me, Mrs. Sendler, because this is the last time you will ever hear this. You either follow my directions, to the letter, or you and Adam, and that bastard child you car
ry in your belly, will disappear forever. I’m doing this for your own good. You’ve done great things for Poland. Great things for the Jews. But you made the wrong friends during the war. Because of your service I’ve convinced the other investigators to let you go. But they won’t give me a second chance. You must agree now, and you must follow this order for the rest of your life. Can you make that commitment to me?”
She realized she had no choice. She had to forget the war. In her mind she saw Dr. Korczak, Ewa, Kaji, the orphanage children playing at the center and then marching hand in hand to the Umschlagplatz. She saw Ala, the Jewish resistance fighters. She remembered her arrest and torture. Lastly, she thought of the lists. The thin little papers where thousands of lives were recorded—and now lost. One by one she burned these memories in her mind. If she was to survive now and have the family she’d dreamed of, she must deny that any of it had ever happened. She looked up and nodded.
“You’ve made the right decision, Mrs. Sendler. Thank you for coming.” He stood and extended his hand. She rose, not taking it.
“You won’t see me again,” he said. “Unless you break the rules. In which case, we will meet in very different circumstances.”
The door opened behind her and the soldier was there again, motioning for her to follow. Soon she was back in the vehicle and riding through the broken streets of Warsaw. They arrived back in front of her apartment building a half hour later. The soldier helped her out of the car and then drove off without saying a word.
Irena walked upstairs to her apartment and into Adam’s arms.
“I was so worried,” he said. “What did they want of you?” She buried her head in his chest, letting the tears flow, sobbing for the loss of all she’d fought for and sacrificed for.
As they stood there, she reached down and touched her stomach, thinking of the life that was growing inside her, of her future with Adam, with Poland. She didn’t need the past, she realized. Everything she’d ever wanted was here.
Irena's War Page 33
