A Flicker of Light (26 page)

“I’m already hungry,
” Aaron gagged as he lifted his spoon to his mouth. A dead cockroach floated in the water. “
Echhh
, look at this. An insect is one thing, but this is the filthiest insect on earth. It harbors so many diseases. I can’t eat it.”

“You must. It is all there is. If you
don’t eat, you will surely die,
” Saul said.

“I can’t do it. Do you want this?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sadly I am,
” Aaron answered. Saul grabbed the bowl and poured it into his mouth as Aaron nibbled on the bread. He watched as Saul picked up the dead cockroach from the dirt where Aaron had thrown it and shoved it into his mouth, swallowing quickly.

Before they had a chance to say another word, the
Kapo
came and said the time had come to go to the barracks.
But first there would be another roll call. Prisoners who collaborated with the Nazis against their own people were called
Kapos
. They believed that things would be easier on them. However, in the end
,
they went to the gas chambers right beside the others.

The barracks were long bui
ldings built of wood. Inside, there were
large rooms filled with dirty straw that became saturated each time it rained, breeding lice at an alarming rate. The hay, now dry, stank, as it had turned green with mold. A crowd of men poured into the sleeping area, all of them worn out from the day’s work and inadequate food. Aaron lay his head down beside Saul, and to his surprise he found that, looking up, he could see a bit of sky and the light of a tiny star flickering through an opening in the wooden ceiling. As Saul snored beside him, Aaron prayed. He prayed for Petra, for her safety and for her happiness. Then he too drifted off to sleep.

Morning came all too soon, accompanied by bellows from the
Kapos
.

“These men they call
Kapos
, they’re the traitor prisoners who conspire with the Germans against the rest of us,” Saul explained, shaking his head in disgust.

“Come on you lazy,
good-for-nothing pigs! Get up! L
et
’s go! It’s time for roll call!
”

Aaron watched in horror as the prisoners carried out the dead bodies of those who had died during the night. They laid them in a pile at the side of the line
.
E
ach dead man would be marked off of a list and accounted for. Eight times per day the men would line up for roll call. Once the job had been completed that morning, the guards directed those who still lived to breakfast.

A long line formed rapidly as each man struggled to ensure he received his cup of barley water. On occasion, Saul told him, the soup ran out and those who had not been served did not eat. The food took some getting used to, but Aaron’s near starvation won out
,
and his disgust soon faded.

At night the straw crawled with lice, and as Aaron’s hair grew back, constant itching plagued him. One night as they lay side-by-side, Aaron turned to Saul.

“Where did you live before this all started?” Aaron asked.

“Oh, I lived right in the town of Munich. I worked as a barber. I had two beautiful daughters and a wife who drove me crazy, but I loved her. I loved her so much.”

Tears filled the old man’s eyes and in the darkness Aaron could see them shining, and instantly regretted that he’d asked.

“My wife, oh
,
how she could cook, let me tell you. I can taste that roast chicken even now - the crispy skin and the meat so moist. She could bake too. Every Friday night she baked a
challa
for the Sabbath.
And my girls,
oy
, how I miss my
fagellas
, my little birds.”
A sob choked from deep within him. “They might all be dead - my babies, my wife - I don’t know, Aaron, I just don’t know.”

“Th
ey’re all right. I’m sure of it,
” Aaron tried to be reassuring.

“Yes
, I hope so. You should have seen their faces when the Nazis arrested me. The Gestapo came to my house early in the morning, maybe six o’clock or so. I had just got up for work. In the kitchen my wife had my breakfast ready. All of a sudden
,
we heard a banging so loud on the door that my wife tripped and almost fell. She held on to the corner of the counter as I opened the door. There they stood
, three Gestapo men. They
burst into my dining room. They gave me five minutes to gather what I could, say goodbye and leave. I had no idea that it would be forever. They told me I would only be taken in for questioning and returned later that day. As I prepared a bag, my wife broke
into sobs. My daughter, Esther, fainted. Little
Elke
watched with wide eyes, her hand balled up into a fist covering her mouth. I am haunted to this day, by their faces. I don’t know what has happened to my wife and my girls.  I am afraid, though, that we will never see each other again. I am afraid that I will never leave this camp alive.”

“Don’t say that, Saul.
I
f you say it, it will be true. You have to stay strong and keep believing.”

For a few minutes Saul fell silent and Aaron felt sure he had gone to sleep. Then he spoke, “What about you Aaron? Did you have a wife?
Children?

“No, no wife
or children. But I had a girl, a very special girl who I would give my life for. If I survive, I will plead with her to be my wife.”

“Now it is you being pessimistic, my friend. You must not say if we surviv
e; you must say when we survive,
” Saul said.

“You are so right, Saul.
Y
ou are so wise.”

“What kind of work did you do?”

“I
worked as a doctor’s assistant
and attended medical school.”

“Ah, that is very impressive. Maybe when this is all over you will open a practice right down the street from me. You will marry and have children and our families will be friends. We will have Sabbath dinners together. Yes?”

“Of course, Saul.
O
f course.”

One brisk January afternoon on his way to bring a note to the
Gruppenfuhrer
, a l
esser officer, from one of the
K
apos
, Aaron witnessed an atroci
ty. H
e’d seen many appalling acts committed by the Nazis, but this one, perhaps due to the nature of the victim, stayed branded in his mind. The victim wore the six
-
pointed Star of David. One of the oldest men in the encampment, he had the appearance of a beaten-down dog. The guards were dressed in heavy coats, scarves and hats to shield them from the cold, while the old man had no winter gear, just a thin gray striped uniform. He stood hunched and shivering in the snow. What little hair he had stuck out from his head in white tufts. The pants and shirt he wore hung off of his
gaunt
body. One of the SS men shoved him into the center of what became a circle. The others gathered around and began pounding the man
with clubs
. Blood poured from his nose as one of the guards hit him across the face. He fell to the ground, but the kicking and beating continued. Aaron stood frozen, holding himself back. If he
made any move to defend the prisoner, he would surely be killed. After several blows to the man’s stomach and back, blood spurted from his mouth and his legs trembled. Screams of pain and terror echoed through the camp until, at last, the man’s leg shook one final time and then he lay still. Aaron, although he had seen the SS carry out horrific things in the past, still could not comprehend their cruelty. And he felt guilt and shame that he could not have helped the prisoner. But even worse, for some reason, the old man brought back memories of his father, so old and so weak.

When Aaron returned to his place at the machine beside Saul, the older man saw the distress in his face. In a whisper he asked him what happened.

“I saw something today it made me ashamed to be a human being.”

“Here, we see these things every day. Listen, son, you must stop looking and try to believe that we will soon be free of this place. The Allies are gaining ground. It is said that the Nazis will lose the war.”

Daily, prisoners died of starvation and typhoid. At night, the sounds of the sick rang through the camp as they coughed and vomited. In the morning, bodies covered in scarlet lesions lay unmoving, dead; each carried out and
tossed on a pile like a sack of manure. The men had grown so feeble that they did not linger long once the disease took hold. Aaron could not help but reflect on these people. Every one of them had been born to a mother who labored to bring them into the world, loved them, nursed them
,
and cared for them in sickness. Many had wives and children. Some, those who wore the pink arm bands, were homosexuals. These gentle and thoughtful chaps had often proven themselves to be sensitive, kind and talented individuals. All of the dead men and who they were in their lives before this horror constantly preoccupied him. In his mind’s eye
,
he saw them as they were before this all began. He assumed some had been teachers, fathers, musicians, friends and lovers. And now they’d been reduced to
a
meaningless mass, burned and disposed of in a large community oven.

One afternoon, while on his way to roll call, Aaron over heard some of the non-Jewish prisoners talking.

“I care for the rabbits. The cages ar
e in the back over by the fence,
”
o
ne of the gentile prisoners said.

“Yes, I heard about this. The SS keep them there to show the world what a model camp Dachau is. Now that’s a fucking yarn.”

“You’re not kidding.”

“But
,
you know, I
have grown fond of the animals,”
t
he prisoner said
,
smiling.

Rabbits, Aaron thought to himself. We are starving. At night I will try to steal a rabbit for Saul and me. Meat will bring us strength. The non-Jewish prisoners had access to the canteen. The Nazis allowed them to receive money from outside sources to buy sauerkraut, oatmeal, tinned fish, or jam when available. Non-Jews sometimes could also be awarded additional rations if they worked harder. But these privileges were never extended to Jews.

Jacob, one of the prisoners, belonged to the camp orchestra. He played the violin for the officers. The SS allowed him to practice in the evening and this entertainment had fast become something that many of the men lived for.

Hauntingly beautiful melodies echoed through the barracks, bringing some of the men to tears as Jacob moved the bow over his strings.

The camp had grown dark. The guards remained on patrol, but few stood outside in the winter. Once they believed all of the men were asleep, they went into an office for a cigarette and a cup of schnapps.

When the camp appeared to be
virtually
de
serted by the guards, Aaron crawled on his belly along the snow-covered dirt until he reached the rabbit cages. His hands stiff with cold, he reached into his pocket for the pin he’d brought with him. He pushed the pin carefully into the keyhole and turned it. He had picked plenty of locks in his life before Dr.
Blumgarten
. The padlock clicked and then clicked again, as it fell open. Aaron began to reach in to the rabbit cage, and as he did, someone moved toward him from behind.

“What are you doing?”

Aaron felt his heart drop as he looked up into the angular face of a boy not more than seventeen. The boy stood tall
,
with false bravado. But Aaron could see he did not feel strong or confident. In fact he had no idea what to do.

“Please, let me go;
I only
wanted some food,
” Aaron knew he could kill the child, if he so chose. Even starved
,
his strength far exceeded that of this boy. But Aaron had spent too many years as a healer to take a life so casually. His judgment of human nature told him that the young
guard did not have the cruel temperament he’d seen in so many of the others.

The light
s reflected off the boy’s wheat-
blond hair as he stared down at Aaron. Trying to appear in control, but trembling, he donned a voice of authority.

“Get out of here. Go, immediately. Get back to your barracks.”

Showing the youth the respect that he fought to command, Aaron quickly returned to his barracks.

With his mission to find food fruitless, Aaron watched as Saul grew weaker. Often the older man stumbled or forgot things he’d known only hours before. Aaron began to worry when Saul worked the machine in the factory. Cutting metal was dangerous business, and Saul did not seem as alert as he once was. It came as no surprise when one morning Aaron rose to find his friend ablaze with fever, his cough and rash indicative of the dreaded typhoid. Without medication, Saul would surely die.