CHAPTER 14
The next morning, Lale appears in the administration office and approaches Bella at the main desk.
‘Lale, where have you been?’ Bella says with a warm smile. ‘We thought something had happened to you.’
‘Auschwitz.’
‘Ah, say no more. You must be low on supplies – wait here and I’ll stock you up.’
‘Not too much, Bella.’
Bella looks over at Gita. ‘Of course. We need to make sure you come back tomorrow.’
‘You know me too well, young Bella. Thank you.’
Bella wanders off to get his supplies and Lale leans on the desk and stares at Gita. He knows she has seen him come in but is playing coy and keeping her head down. She runs a finger over her lips. Lale aches with desire.
He also notices that the chair next to her, Cilka’s, is empty. Again he tells himself to find out what is happening with her.
He leaves the office and heads over to the selection area, having already noted that a truck has arrived with new prisoners. As he is setting up his table, Baretski appears.
‘I’ve got someone here to see you, Tätowierer.’
Before Lale can look up, he hears a familiar voice, no more than a whisper.
‘Hello, Lale.’
Leon stands beside Baretski – pale, thinner, stooped over, carefully placing one foot in front of the other.
‘I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.’ A smiling Baretski walks off.
‘Leon, oh my god, you’re alive.’ Lale rushes to embrace him. He can feel every bone through his friend’s shirt. He holds him at arm’s length, examining him.
‘Mengele. Was it Mengele?’ Leon can only nod. Lale gently runs his hands down Leon’s skinny arms, touches his face.
‘The bastard. One day he’ll get his. As soon as I’ve finished here I can get you plenty of food. Chocolate, sausage, what do you want? I’ll fatten you up.’
Leon smiles weakly at him. ‘Thanks, Lale.’
‘I knew the bastard was starving prisoners. I thought he was only doing it to girls.’
‘If only that was all it was.’
‘What do you mean?’
Now Leon stares directly into Lale’s eyes. ‘He cut my fucking balls off, Lale,’ he says, his voice strong and steady. ‘Somehow you lose your appetite when they cut your balls off.’
Lale reels back in horror, and turns away, not wanting Leon to see his shock. Leon fights back a sob and struggles to find his voice as he searches the ground for something to focus on.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. Thank you for your offer. I am grateful to you.’
Lale breathes deeply, trying to control his anger. He badly wants to lash out, to take revenge on the crime committed against his friend.
Leon clears his throat. ‘Any chance I can have my job back?’
Lale’s face floods with warmth. ‘Of course. Glad to have you back – but only when you’ve regained your strength,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you go back to my room? If any of the Gypsies stop you, tell them you’re my friend and I’ve sent you there. You’ll find supplies under my bed. I’ll see you when I’m done here.’
A senior SS officer approaches.
‘Go now, hurry.’
‘Hurrying is not something I can do right now.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK. I’m gone. See you later.’
The officer watches Leon walk off and turns back to what he was doing previously: determining who should live and die.
•
The next day, Lale reports to the administration office to be told that he has the day off. No transports are arriving at either Auschwitz or Birkenau and there is no request from Herr Doktor to assist him. He spends the morning with Leon. He’d bribed his old kapo in Block 7 to take Leon in, on the understanding he will work for him when he has regained his strength. He gives him food that he had been planning to give to his Romani friends and to Gita for distribution.
As Lale is leaving Leon, Baretski calls out to him. ‘Tätowierer, where have you been? I have been looking for you.’
‘I was told I had the day off.’
‘Well, you don’t anymore. Come, we have a job.’
‘I have to get my bag.’
‘You don’t need your tools for this job. Come.’
Lale hurries after Baretski. They are heading towards one of the crematoria.
He catches up with him. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Are you worried?’ Baretski laughs.
‘Wouldn’t you be?’
‘No.’
Lale’s chest tightens; his breath comes too short. Should he run? If he does, Baretski will surely turn his weapon on him. But then, what would it matter? A bullet is surely preferable to the ovens.
They are very close to Crematorium Three before Baretski decides to put Lale out of his misery. He slows his long strides.
‘Don’t worry. Now come on before we both get into trouble and end up in the ovens.’
‘You’re not getting rid of me?’
‘Not just yet. There are two prisoners in here who appear to have the same number. We need you to look at them. It must have been you or that eunuch who made the marks. You have to tell us which one is which.’
The red brick building looms in front of them; large windows disguise the purpose, but the size of the chimneys confirms its horrifying true nature. They are met at the entrance by two SS, who joke with Baretski and ignore Lale. They point to closed doors inside the building and Baretski and Lale walk towards them. Lale looks around at this final stretch of the road to death at Birkenau. He sees the Sonderkommandos standing by, defeated, ready to do a job no one on earth would volunteer for: removing corpses from the gas chambers and putting them into the ovens. He tries to make eye contact with them, to let them know he too works for the enemy. He too has chosen to stay alive for as long as he can, by performing an act of defilement on people of his own faith. None of them meets his eye. He has heard what other prisoners say about these men and the privileged position they occupy – housed separately, receiving extra rations, having warm clothing and blankets to sleep under. Their lives parallel his and he feels a sinking in his gut at the thought that he too is despised for the role he plays at the camp. Unable to express in any way his solidarity with these men, he walks on.
They are led to a large steel door. In front of it stands a guard.
‘It’s all right, all the gas has gone. We need to send them to the ovens, but can’t until you identify the correct numbers.’
The guard opens the door for Lale and Baretski. Pulling himself up to his full height, Lale looks Baretski in the eye and sweeps his hand from left to right.
‘After you.’
Baretski bursts out laughing and slaps Lale on the back, ‘No, after you.’
‘No, after you,’ Lale repeats.
‘I insist, Tätowierer.’
The SS officer opens the doors wide and they step into a cavernous room. Bodies, hundreds of naked bodies, fill the room. They are piled up on each other, their limbs distorted. Dead eyes stare. Men, young and old; children at the bottom. Blood, vomit, urine and faeces. The smell of death pervades the entire space. Lale tries to hold his breath. His lungs burn. His legs threaten to give way beneath him. Behind him Baretski says, ‘Shit.’
That one word from a sadist only deepens the well of inhumanity that Lale is drowning in.
‘Over here,’ an officer indicates, and they follow him to a side of the room where two male bodies are laid out together. The officer starts talking to Baretski. For once words fail him, and he indicates that Lale can understand German.
‘They both have the same number. How could that be?’ he asks.
Lale can only shake his head and shrug his shoulders. How the hell should I know?
‘Look at them. Which one is correct?’ the officer snaps.
Lale leans down and takes hold of one of the arms. He is grateful for a reason to kneel and hopes it will stabilise him. He looks closely at the numbers tattooed on the arm he holds.
‘The other?’ he asks.
Roughly, the other man’s arm is thrust at him. He looks closely at both numbers.
‘See here. This is not a three, it’s an eight. Part of it is faded, but it’s an eight.’
The guard scribbles on each cold arm the correct numbers. Without asking for permission, Lale gets up and leaves the building. Baretski catches up with him outside, where he is doubled over and breathing deeply.
Baretski waits a moment or two.
‘Are you all right?’
‘No, I’m not fucking all right. You bastards. How many more of us must you kill?’
‘You’re upset. I can see that.’
Baretski is just a kid, an uneducated kid. But Lale can’t help wondering how he can feel nothing for the people they have just seen, the agony of death inscribed on their faces and twisted bodies.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ says Baretski.
Lale pulls himself up to walk beside him, though he cannot look at him.
‘You know something, Tätowierer? I bet you’re the only Jew who ever walked into an oven and then walked back out of it.’
He laughs loudly, slaps Lale on the back and strides off ahead.
CHAPTER 15
Lale walks determinedly from his block and across the compound. Two SS officers approach him, rifles at the ready. Without breaking step, he holds up his bag.
‘Politische Abteilung!’
The rifles lower and he passes without another word. Lale enters the women’s camp and heads immediately to Block 29, where he is met by the kapo, who leans against the building, looking bored. Her charges are away working. She doesn’t bother to move as he approaches her and takes from his bag a large block of chocolate. Having been warned by Baretski not to interfere in the relationship between the Tätowierer and prisoner 34902, she accepts the bribe.
‘Please bring Gita to me. I’ll wait inside.’
Stuffing the chocolate down her ample bosom and shrugging her shoulders, the kapo sets off to the administration building. Lale goes inside the barracks block, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t have to wait long. A flash of sunlight – the door opens – tells him she has arrived. Gita sees him standing in the semi-dark, his head bowed.
‘You!’
Lale takes a step towards her. She steps back, hard up against the shut door, clearly distressed.
‘Are you all right? Gita, it’s me.’
He takes one step closer, and is shocked by her visible trembling.
‘Say something, Gita.’
‘You . . . you . . .’ she repeats.
‘Yes, it’s me, Lale.’ He takes hold of her two wrists and tries to hold them tightly.
‘Have you any idea what goes through your head when the SS come for you? Any idea at all?’
‘Gita . . .’
‘How could you? How could you let the SS take me?’
Lale is dumbfounded. He relaxes his grip on her wrists and she pulls free and turns away.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just asked your kapo to have you brought here. I needed to see you.’
‘When someone is taken away by the SS, they are never seen again. Do you understand? I thought I was being taken to die, and all I could think of was you. Not that I might never see my friends again, not Cilka who watched me go and who must be so upset, but that I would never see you. And here you are.’
Lale is ashamed. His selfish need has caused his beloved this distress. Suddenly she runs at him with her fists raised. He reaches out to her as she crashes into him. She strikes him in the chest and tears stream down her face. Lale takes the hits until they subside. Then, slowly, he lifts her face, wiping away tears with his hand and attempting to kiss her. As their lips meet, Gita pulls away, glaring at him. He holds out his arms for her to come back to him. Seeing her reluctance, he lowers them. She runs at him again, this time knocking him back against a wall as she tries to tear his shirt off. Stunned, Lale holds her at arm’s length, but she will have none of it and pushes herself hard against him, kissing him violently. He lifts her from her bottom and she wraps her legs around his waist, kissing so hungrily that she bites his lips. Lale tastes the salt of blood but kisses her back, stumbling onto a nearby bunk where they tumble down together, tearing at each other’s clothes. Their lovemaking is passionate, desperate. It is a need, so long in the making that it cannot be denied. Two people desperate for the love and intimacy they fear they will otherwise never experience. It seals their commitment to each other, and Lale knows at this moment that he can love no other. It strengthens his resolve to go on another day, and another day, for a thousand days, for however long it takes for them to live by his words to Gita, ‘To be free to make love whenever, wherever we want.’
Exhausted, they lie in each other’s arms. Gita falls asleep and Lale spends a long time just looking at her. The physical fight between them is over, replaced by a raging tumult within Lale. What has this place done to us? What has it made us become? How much longer can we go on? She thought it was all ending today. I caused that pain. I must never do that again.
He touches his lip. Winces. It breaks his dark mood and he smiles at the thought of where the pain has come from. He gently kisses Gita awake.
‘Hi there,’ he whispers.
Gita rolls onto her stomach and looks at him, troubled. ‘Are you all right? You looked, I don’t know . . . Even though I was upset when I came in, now that I think about it, you looked terrible.’
Lale closes his eyes, sighing deeply.
‘What happened?’
‘Let’s just say I took another step into the abyss but got to step back out of it.’
‘Will you tell me one day?’
‘Probably not. Don’t push it, Gita.’
She nods.
‘Now I think you’d better go back to the office so Cilka and the others can see that you’re OK.’
‘Mmmm. I want to stay here with you, forever.’
‘Forever is a long time.’
‘Or it could be tomorrow,’ she says.
‘No, it won’t be.’
Gita turns her head away, blushing, closing her eyes.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asks.
‘I’m listening. To the walls.’
‘What are they saying?’
‘Nothing. They’re breathing heavily, weeping for those who leave here in the morning and do not return at night.’
‘They are not weeping for you, my love.’
‘Not today. I know that now.’
‘Or tomorrow. They will never weep for you. Now, get out of here and get back to work.’
She curls into a ball. ‘Can you go first? I need to find my clothes.’
After one last kiss, Lale scrambles around for his clothes. Dressed, he gives her another quick kiss before leaving. Outside the block, the kapo is back in her position against the wall.
‘Feeling better, Tätowierer?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘The chocolate is lovely. I like sausage too.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘You do that, Tätowierer. See you.