Brothers Beyond Blood (11 page)

The man, whom I later learned was named Dov Lemko, looked at the Rabbi respectfully, “Do you think I can be a whole man again?”

The Reb shrugged, “That is up to you. You are alive. You are standing here. Surely God has some purpose for you.” He turned to his audience. “You are all alive while others died. Surely there must be a reason. Would you waste that life God has allowed you to have? Would you dishonor those who died? Because if you throw that life away, that is what you do.”

The discussion continued, with many fellows contributing fantasies of where they wished to be in those long-off five or ten years. It was obvious to me that the Rabbi’s words had caused many men to look within themselves.

As the bell rang announcing lunch, Miss Maria entered the tent and caught Herschel’s eye, waving him over. She stood with a large American soldier.

“Boys, I’d like you to meet Chief Hawk. He’s with the 69
th
Seabees. That’s the construction battalion assigned to this camp.” Herschel and I shook the giant man’s hand.

“Pleased to meet you, men.” He appraised us, his eyes noting Herschel’s rather slight physique and my heavier one. “Maria here tells me you want to learn a trade. Is that right? Think you can do construction work?” He spoke to us in rather stilted German.

Herschel spoke up, “I speak much English, sir, and my brother Hans here, speaks some and is a fast learner.” He smiled a winning smile, “Your German is very good, sir. Where did you learn?”

He smirked at us and shook his head, “I lived in a mostly German town back in upstate New York, and I studied it in school. Never thought I’d have much use for it though.”

Miss Maria interrupted, “You fellows figure things out. I have to get back to work. I hear that there are several truckloads of refugees coming in today from the east, ahead of the Russians.” She waved and winked at Hans, “Bye now.”

The soldier turned to us, “Men, I am Chief Petty Officer Albert Hawk. My job here is to replace the main tents with buildings. I have only ten men in my command, so I am supposed to use men from the town. I…”

“Chief Hawk, Herschel and I would like to work with you to learn this trade. We can get more men from the camp here, many who are also trained as electrical men, plumbers and builders.” I had no idea if Jews were even trained in these trades but I did not wish to work with locals. They would be collaborators, former party members and most likely former soldiers hiding from the Americans.

“But I can just go into town and hire experienced men.” Was the Chief arguing or testing us?

“Hire?” Herschel blurted. “But Chief, the people here will work for nothing. We already get food and a place to sleep from the UNRRA. Many of these men would just like to have something to do during the day. Do you really want former Nazis working for you? Your enemies?”

Before Chief Hawk could answer, I jumped in. “Give us two days and let us bring some men to meet you. If you are not pleased with them, then we will not object for you to hire men from the town.” I held out my hand. “Are we agreed?”

Hawk considered, “All right. You bring me ten men tomorrow right here after lunch, and we’ll put them to work. But,” he admonished us, “if they don’t work out, I have to get townspeople. I have a schedule, you know.” With that he gave us a mock salute and walked out.

I whirled on Herschel, “Mein Gott! Herschel, where are we going to find ten men who will be able to do the work?”

“Relax, Hans, we have a thousand men, more, in this camp. Surely there must be some who have the trades. We just have to find them.”

There were over two hundred men eating lunch right now. We rushed up to the Rabbi and put our problem to him. He nodded, understanding immediately.

In a moment, he mounted a bench at the nearest table and banged a mug on it for quiet. “Achtung! Bitte!” As the vast tent fell silent, the Reb quickly told the men what we needed and asked them to spread the word, admonishing them, “Ten men only for a start. Perhaps woodworkers and masons. Later electrical men and plumbers. Tomorrow, after the noon meal.” He smiled down at us, “Anything more?”

I shook my head, and the Rabbi thanked the men and told them to continue eating. We helped him down from the bench and went to eat also.

That night, the four of us sat in our tent while the good Rabbi quietly said the Kaddish. The almost forgotten words whispered in the night air. They were comforting, and if I closed my eyes I could remember my Rabbi from home saying the words when my grandmother died.

We fell silent and Hans wept. He just sat while the tears ran down his strong cheeks. I went to sit beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. After a few minutes, he wiped his face on his sleeve and asked, “Why do you not weep, Herschel?”

I thought for a moment, “It was a long time ago, my friend. I think I wept all my tears away. There are none left.”

Across the tent, Mendel nodded, saying nothing. Then he brightened, “I almost forgot, comrades, I have presents for you both.” He rummaged in a bag he had acquired and pulled out two knitted yarmulkes. These were skullcaps worn by Orthodox Jews worldwide. Grinning, he handed them to us and exclaimed, “Wear this, Hans, and you will officially be a Jew!”

I agreed, “Once you place this on your head, there is no going back.” I enjoyed teasing him.

Hans turned it round in his hand, examining it, “You know, I used to see these on the heads of children I played with as a youngster but I never knew what they were. When I was in the Hitler Youth, we used to knock them from the heads of every Jew we saw. I never thought I would wear one.” He looked round at each of us, “I will spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins as a foolish youth.” He placed it on top of his head, and I helped him move it to the back.

“There, you are now Reb Hans!” This brought a laugh from all of us.

The Rabbi leaned forward, “You know, young Hans, accepting the Jewish faith is not to be taken lightly. With the responsibilities comes great danger, as you know.”

Hans hesitated, “I am aware of that, sir, and decided some time ago that I would convert, not just to save my life or for Herschel but because it is the right thing for me to do.” He patted the skullcap and added, “That is, if you’ll have me?”

The Rabbi stood and solemnly placed a hand on Hans’ head, “By the authority vested in me by, well, me, I now declare you an official Jew.” He turned to me and said, “Herschel, you may now kiss the bride!”

We all laughed, and each had a small glass of wine from a bottle that Mendel had somehow found.

The next day, after the Rabbi’s lecture on self-sacrifice and helping ones’ neighbors, I heard a commotion outside the mess tent.

Chief Hawk came striding in, straightening his uniform. He strode up to Hans and me and said indignantly, “What the hell is going on, you two?”

I frowned and said, “What are you talking about, Chief? We’ve been here with the Rabbi waiting for lunch.”

He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the doorway. Pushing the flap aside, he pointed at the huge crowd outside, men jostling each other, trying to get to the front. As soon as they saw us a cry went up in several languages, “Me, me!”

The Chief quickly lowered the flap. “I almost got killed on the way in. Do you mean to tell me they are all tradesmen?”

I shrugged, at a loss, “I don’t know, sir. Let me talk to them. I will find out.” I turned back before going outside, “What trades will you need first?”

He thought for a moment, “Carpenters and cement workers.”

Meanwhile, behind us, men still inside, started to move toward the Chief and Hans.

As I left, I heard the Chief mutter, “What a SNAFU.”

Outside, I waved my arms for attention, “Men, men, who among you is a tradesman?”

Almost every man raised an arm.

“Sheiss,” I mumbled to myself. “I need cement workers over here,” I hollered pointing to my left. “Carpenters and woodworkers over there, to the right.” Groups of men and boys moved to each side, leaving a large number in the center.

“The rest of you, we will call you when we get to your specialty.” I went to the first group.

“Who is a cement worker here?” Every hand went up. I walked down the line and selected one fellow, “You, what experience do you have?” He was at least twenty years older than me, slim from malnutrition, yet strong looking with curly hair just starting to grow in. A lumpy, bulbous nose and puffy, scarred ears, gave his face character.

“I built three synagogues and several brick buildings in Dusseldorf and Frankfort before the war,” he explained. Then he hung his head, “I also helped build ovens in Bergen-Belsen. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, “I did not know what they were for until later.”

“I understand, my friend. Would you select five more good men and bring them inside when you are done?”

He nodded. I told him my name, and he said his name was Sam Katz. We shook hands and I walked to the other group and found an older man who described some of his past work. I also asked him to select five men and bring them inside.

In the tent, the Chief and Hans were compiling a list of the men before them and their trades. The Chief looked exasperated. He was talking to a cadaverous fellow, bald with a croupy cough.

“Buddy, I don’t need a furrier, or a teacher. I need good, strong carpenters.” Finally he eased up and, with Hans translating, said, “Get well. Get that cough taken care of and then come back. We’ll see if we can find something for you.”

The man grinned toothlessly, and bobbed his head in thanks.

I told Chief Hawk what I had done and he sighed with relief. “Hans, would you please get a list of names of the men who will be working for me and their trades? We’ll start tomorrow morning at the main tent near the gate. Zero seven hundred sharp!”

The next morning, while the Rabbi taught, Hans and I met Chief Hawk by an open space that had been cleared near the gate and the main tent. He had a roll of drawings in his hand and behind him stood a table made of planks set atop saw horses.

“Good morning, men.” He shook our hands and then indicated two men in blue denim trousers and lighter blue shirts standing behind him. They both wore dark blue caps. “This ugly mutt here is Nowicki. You can call him Pete. This other guy is Nate Rosen. Yeah, he’s a Jew. The only one I could find with some training.” He unrolled the drawings on the table, placing a stone on each corner. Behind us, the selected men milled around, waiting for instructions.

“Okay, we’re going to build a one-story frame building with a cement floor and a corrugated metal roof. It’s going to be eighty feet long and twenty feet wide. You got that?”

I looked at the drawings and did the arithmetic in my head. Approximately 24 meters by six and a half meters. I looked at Hans and could tell that he was doing the same thing.

“Could we bring Mr. Sam Katz up to look at these drawings, please?” I asked innocently. “He is our best cement worker,”

The Chief frowned, “What? You don’t think my guys know what they’re doing?”

“Oh, no, not at all, sir. But if you are going to use these men, it would be better if they all knew what we are going to do. Besides Mr. Katz will be able to explain to the other men, and there will be less confusion,” I hastily reasoned.

“Okay, okay, bring him up,” sighed the Chief.

“Sam,” I beckoned. When he came to the table, I showed him the drawings.

He looked at them and shrugged. He spoke to me for a few minutes in Yiddish and waited while I translated. “He says that it looks pretty easy. The forms first, some men to mix the cement, unless you are going to truck it in. He says it looks like about fifty cubic meters of cement.” I turned to the Chief and his men. “Is that correct?”

Nate was scribbling on a piece of paper with the stub of a pencil he kept behind his ear. “Yup, that’s about right, Chief. Guy knows his shit.” Nate was a short, fireplug of a man with curly black hair, bushy eyebrows and a tattoo of an old sailing ship on his left forearm.

A Jew with a tattoo? How unusual, I thought.

The other fellow, Peter Nowicki, was about my height but heavier, older and with a large belly that hung over his belt. He seemed to have a cigar stuck in the corner of his fleshy mouth at all times. He had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen.

Both men were good-natured and not nearly as taciturn as the Chief. But the Chief had the responsibility, and they just followed orders.

Soon, Nate was speaking with the cement workers and Peter was unloading some long lengths of lumber from a truck. Hans went with the lumber, people and I stayed with the cement workers. In short order, Chief Hawk had a device out on a tripod and had men hammering pointed pieces of wood into the ground.

After about one hour, Miss Maria came out and asked if she could borrow Hans for a short while to move some files. After wiping the dust from his face, he gladly went with her. I went with my fellows and unloaded bags of cement from another truck. We stacked them on slabs of wood and then covered them with a large canvas tarpaulin.

“We should have a mixer here tomorrow morning, men. The forms should be ready, and we can start pouring.” He indicated several shovels and said, “Give me a trench about a half meter wide by about a half meter deep around the edge, will you?”

I was about to translate for Sam Katz, but he told me that he’d already explained that this was called footer and the men were already going to their jobs.

I just looked at Chief Hawk and Nate and shrugged.

The Chief came over to me and clapped a big hand on my shoulder. “You’ve done a good job picking these guys, Hersch. This building ought to go up easy.” And it did.