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Authors: Don Kafrissen

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Jewish, #World Literature, #Historical Fiction

Brothers Beyond Blood (13 page)

BOOK: Brothers Beyond Blood
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Chapter 25 -
Hans’ Story

 

“Herschel. What will we do?” A thousand scenarios were going through my mind. Granski might be passing himself off as a camp survivor, but he was still a killer and a very frightening man.

Herschel ran his hand through his hair and said, “I don’t know. Let me think.”

We were still walking in the direction of the building we were working on when Chief Hawk yelled at us. “Let’s get the lead out, you guys. You’re burning daylight!”

We ran to the worksite. Mr. Peter Nowicki was already up on a ladder and some of our men handed long lengths of lumber up to him. I came around the end of the building and almost bumped into a group of men fashioning two ladders. A man I knew as Leib, a Romanian, was in charge of this crew. The men chiseled out notches in the long pieces and glued and nailed the crosspieces in place.

“Why are you doing it like that?” I asked frowning. It seemed a waste of time. “Why not just nail the pieces in place?”

He smiled, “Young Hans, this makes it safer, longer lasting and much stronger.” He stepped back admiring the work his men were doing. “Suppose a man were climbing up high with a hod of cement or a great bundle of roof tiles, do you suppose that a couple of mere nails will hold that?”

I understood what he was saying right away, “Yes, sir, thank you for explaining. So you expect these ladders to be in use for a long time?”

He sadly shook his head. “Unfortunately, yes. Look around, my son. Each day more refugees come and no one leaves. I am afraid that we will be living in these buildings for a long time.” He appraised me, “Do you expect to return to your home in the near future?”

All I could do was shake my head and mutter, “No, never.”

“I, too.” He slapped me on the back and helped me lift a ladder into place. “Why don’t you go up onto the roof and help them nail the roof boards in place? I have heard that the Chief Hawk fellow has located a warehouse with much sheet roofing tin. If it gets here soon, we can finish this roof before nightfall.”

I clambered up the ladder with my hammer stuck into my belt and encountered Herschel and two other men nailing roof boards as quickly as they were handed up. I climbed over to be next to him and again whispered, “What are we to do, Herschel? Have you thought of anything?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Tonight, after supper, I think we will pay him a visit. Maybe we can talk him into leaving the camp.”

As we worked, I considered what Herschel said. I didn’t think a man like Granski would succumb to our threats. After all, what did we have to threaten him with? Exposure as a former guard? Even if we exposed him, he would expose me. Then the Americans would execute us both. I did not want to die, even if it meant ensuring a man like Granski would never kill anyone again. I continued to think our best course would be to leave. But that would not keep Granski from harming someone else who might recognize him. It was a confusing problem.

At lunchtime, Miss Maria came to give us our sandwiches and some apples. “Hans,” she asked, “Would you please come and help me move two desks into new offices?” She gave me a winning smile, and I saw Herschel frown.

“Oh, don’t worry, Herschel, it won’t take but a few moments.” She led me into the main office building and into a small empty room. The light was dim and as soon as we entered, she turned and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me hungrily. I reciprocated, of course. As she pressed her warm body against mine, I realized this woman was coming to mean very much to me.

“Oh, Hans, I’ve missed you, I need you.” She mumbled against my lips.

In seconds, she unbuttoned her blouse and pushed her brassiere up, exposing her breasts. I had never seen a woman’s breasts and was astonished at how red her nipples were and by the circles around them. She crushed my face to them and I eagerly kissed and sucked at the tips. Maria gripped my hair in her hands and moaned, pulling me from one side to the other.

I reached for her skirt and tried hoisting it, but it was too tight. “Oh Mein Gott,” she moaned aloud, “I want you so badly, my Hans,” but she pushed me gently away. She put her hands on both sides of my face and kissed me all over; nose, eyelids, ears, cheeks and lips. “Not now, my big boy. Come to me tonight. I will wait for you near the corner of this building in the shadow. Nine o’clock, yes?”

I nodded eagerly, forgetting that Herschel and I would be paying a visit of another sort this night.

We kissed long and deeply, then she straightened her clothing and mine, “Now, go back to work, my strong lad. I will think of you all day.” One final kiss and I went back where my comrades were just finishing their noon meal.

Herschel asked, “I hope the desks weren’t too heavy, my strong lad?” He laughed and tossed me an apple.

I grinned in embarrassment. Did he know? I looked at the other men sitting around on the pile of lumber. No one paid me the slightest attention.

Leib came over to our group and said, “A man with a truckload of roofing metal has just arrived. Herr Nowicki asked him to back up close to the other side of this building. While you men are finishing the wood, we will begin nailing the metal in place, ya?”

This sounded good to me and before anyone could say another word, I scrambled up onto the roof. Herschel followed, still chuckling and came up beside me. “Excuse me, my brother, but you have a tiny smear of something red on your neck.” He touched just under my ear, and then pulled his finger away. The tip had a small smear of something red on it.

I felt my face flame and sputtered, “Must be some chalk or something.”

Herschel snickered, “Must be.”

In a short time we had the roof boards all on. At the other end of the building, sheets of shiny corrugated steel were being nailed in place, the grooves running from top to bottom. Our men picked their way carefully to that end, where we attempted to help.

“Nein,” cried one of the men. “Too many helpers. We can do this with just the six of us.” He waved his hammer, “Go, go.”

I backed away a few feet, trying to see how they were installing the metal. They overlapped the corrugations two grooves and then nailed onto the ridge, not in the valley. I suppose this was to keep the rain from coming through the nail holes. The sheets were quite wide, perhaps one and one half meters, and two men were at the top putting the sheets in place and nailing them firmly. Two were at the bottom receiving the sheets from the men in the truck and handing them up. Two scrambled over the surface nailing every six or seven corrugations.

I looked at Herschel and shrugged, so we went down a ladder and looked for Chief Hawk or Mr. Nowicki or Mr. Rosen. We found Mr. Rosen arguing with a man who had clambered out of the passenger side of the truck. He was a short, well-fed burgher, with a cap on his head and nicely cut trousers and jacket. A fresh shirt gleamed under the jacket and his bulbous nose was turning crimson.

“But mein Herr, you cannot just come to my warehouse and take this roofing tin. You have to pay for it.”

Rosen, exasperated, yelled, “I gave you a chit that says the U.S. Government will pay you as soon as we get our office set up here.” He scratched his rear end vigorously, “That should be in a couple of weeks, like I told you.”

“But I cannot eat chit. I cannot pay my bills.”

Rosen leaned back, “Mister, you don’t look like you’ve missed too many meals.” He thrust the paper back in the burgher’s hand and thundered, “Now get the hell out of here, you fuckin’ Nazi!”

The man stiffened, nostrils flaring. He was about to utter a retort but I could see that he thought better of it. As he turned, Rosen yelled after him, “You better not clean out or lock that warehouse, or I’ll have you arrested as a collaborator!”

As the truck drove off, Herschel and I stood on either side of him. Herschel said, “Thank you, Mr. Rosen.”

“Ah, them fat ass so-called businessmen get my goat. It was OK for him to give his shit to the Nazis but not to us, huh?”

“Oh, I’m sure he understood you. However, I’d get a truck or two back there as soon as possible and get what you need,” I replied.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” He looked at us and murmured, “I really couldn’t have him arrested, you know. I’m just an old swabbie building some barracks with a few knuckleheads like you guys helping.” He grinned at us, “Say, what are you guys doing off the roof?”

“Leib said he and his men could finish the metal roof without us, and we have completed nailing the wood boards in place. Have you got something for us to do?”

Nate Rosen looked around. “I don’t. Do you see the Chief?”

Herschel and I also looked but could not see him, “No, sir

“Naw, take the rest of the day off. I’ll see you back here in the morning.” With that he walked off whistling.

Herschel and I walked back to our tent. I wanted to bathe and thought we should talk to Mendel and the Rabbi about what we had learned. Herschel agreed and slung his tool belt over a sweaty shoulder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 26 - Herschel’s Story

 

When we arrived at the tent, Mendel and the Rabbi were nowhere to be found. Hans and I grabbed our towels and soap and headed for the nearest showers. The camp was laid out in squares with twelve large tents to a square at the upper end of each dirt street. In the lower end the tents were smaller. I supposed they thought there would not be this many people here. I estimated there were more than one hundred squares now.

There were two main streets laid out in a north south direction and cross streets every two squares. The streets had signs with numbers for the cross streets and A and B for the main streets. Each wooden road sign had numerous smaller signs, most hand lettered in Hebrew, Polish, Hungarian and any number of other languages indicating dining tents, latrines, shower tents and areas where the men could play games of football, cards, chess, singing, and the like. Many groups had formed as the camp grew. There were even theatrical performances in the dining tents each evening. Somehow, musical instruments had been fabricated or procured and frequently the strains of a melancholy violin or clarinet could be heard. The strumming of a guitar or mandolin often echoed between these fabric shelters. Was life returning to normal or were men just attempting to stave off the darkness in their hearts?

As the tent squares were replaced with buildings, each would receive a name from its occupants. Right now, each tent had a large white numeral painted on the front of it. The newer tents held twelve or more while our tents were just for four. I noticed that there were still some four-man tents scattered in the squares. I don’t believe the planners ever thought that the camps would be as large as they were, and they were still growing.

Every four squares had a wash tent with six showers. Each morning, water trucks supplied the overhead tanks in the center of the wash tents. There were now two large dining tents, and Chief Hawk told the men more workers would soon be required as orders came down to replace the dining tents with buildings ASAP, whatever that meant.

Across the road was the camp for the former guards and behind our camp was the women’s camp. It was rumored that the fence separating our camp from the women’s would be removed shortly. Married men were permitted to visit their wives and children and even stay the night, but single men were strongly urged to stay away, at least for the present. Each day, however, one could see men and women at the fence talking, exchanging food or small gifts. The Americans saw no reason to keep the camps separated any longer. I think they did it so that individuals could regain some weight, receive appropriate medical attention and perhaps come to terms with their grief. I do not know. I am not a psychologist.

The war had been over now for several months. Hitler was declared dead, though no soldier from the Allied forces could claim to have seen his body. The Russians reported that they had charge of the body and that of his mistress, Eva Braun. Many in the high command had been taken into custody or had disappeared. There were rumors of a war crimes trial but no one knew where or when it would take place.

There were also rumors that the Nazis had killed four million, then six million then eight million Jews, Polish and Russian prisoners, political enemies, Gypsies, the aged, the crippled, dwarves, even twins. Daily the rumors swirled and if one believed even half to be true, it was a global disaster of epic proportions.

When we returned to the tent, Reb Horowitz and Mendel were playing chess on a small table outside. We threw our towels over a line and slipped into clean clothes, before joining them.

The Rabbi turned his head and smiled, “Good afternoon, boys. A little early to stop for the day?”

I explained why we’d finished early and then told them about Granski and that Hans and I planned to pay him a visit that night to urge him in the strongest possible terms that he leave the camp.

“I don’t think that is a very good idea. What if he is armed? What if he, shall we say, doesn’t take kindly to your suggestion?” The Rabbi was very earnest and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, the chess game forgotten.

“Let me get some more men, and we will all go. Maybe he will listen if there is a crowd,” insisted Mendel.

“No, no,” Hans cried in alarm, “we cannot do that. If he points me out and the men believe him, then they will kill me too.”

“Yes, I see,” said Mendel thoughtfully. “So what will we do?”

“We? We? There is no ‘we’, Mendel. You stay here with the Rabbi. This is for Hans and me to take care of.”

“I am coming with you,” insisted Mendel. “I need to see this Granski you are so afraid of.”

“No, Mendel, he is a very dangerous man,” emphasized Hans. “I saw him shoot three men to death.”

“And he would have shot me if Hans hadn’t stepped between us,” I declared.

“All right, I will still go with you, but I will stay behind, out of sight, when you confront him. I just want to get a look at him.”

“Boys, I implore you, please do not do this. Just tell the American soldiers. Let them take care of him,” urged the Rabbi.

“Sir, you know we cannot do that. If we can get him to leave the camp, I will be safe. Please, Rabbi, try to look at this from our standpoint.”

“Yes, sir, you know my reasons. Please understand,” urged Hans.

“But suppose he won’t go? How far are you willing to go in, uh, urging him?”

Hans stiffened, “If we have to, we will kill him. He is an evil man.”

Now it was my turn to be taken aback. “Hans, you never said anything about killing him. I don’t know if…”

He rounded on me, “Herschel, I am not going back to that camp. If you don’t have the heart for this, then stay here. I will go alone. He has already killed one more of us. How many more does he have to kill for us to take action?”

“No!” insisted the Rabbi, standing and pointing at Hans. “No, I will not allow you to kill him!” He gripped Hans by the upper arm and put his face close. “No, no, no. Up to now, have you ever killed a man?”

Hans tried to pull his arm free. “No, sir, I have never killed anyone, but I am not going back to that prison camp. If I have to kill that piece of dung, I will, and have no ill dreams later.”

“I am sorry, my son, but that just makes you as bad a man as he. Don’t you see?” His face was a mask of agony, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Rabbi,” I begged, “we are just going to talk to him, warn him. However, if he attacks us, we will defend ourselves. But only then, all right? Hans?”

Reluctantly Hans nodded.

We went to eat, the four of us.

Later that evening, I took up my hammer and Hans retrieved his wooden cudgel. As we walked out of the tent, Mendel behind us, I looked back. In the glow of the tent lantern, I saw the Rabbi standing, hands pressed to his eyes. His shoulders were shaking. After all we’d been through, after all the death we both had seen, for us to kill one man, a very bad man, disturbed him so much. I was stunned to my core, so much that I had to stop and steady myself.

“What is wrong, Herschel?” asked Hans, concerned. He put an arm around my shoulders to steady me.

Mendel came up and also put an arm around my waist. “Are you ill, Herschel?”

I shook my head, stopped and stifled my own sob. I looked at each of them and nodded toward our tent and just said, “The Rabbi.”

They looked, and Mendel gasped, “What have we done?”

“Nothing,” said Hans quietly, “It’s what we may do.”

I struggled to my feet, “Come, we must just talk to Granski, and then we must get back to the Rabbi.”

They nodded and we set off up “A” Street to look for tent number 875. We passed many men sitting outside the tents on this a pleasant late spring evening. Several greeted Mendel and me. At the junction of a cross street, Mendel stopped by a group of three men. They greeted him with ribald jests and he grinned as he slapped a slim, balding man on the back.

“Ho, Gad, can you tell us where we can find tent number 875?”

The men fell silent and Gad took a step away. “875? Why that one, Mendel?”

Taken aback, Mendel could only say, “Why, we just wish to talk to one of the men in that tent.”

Gad looked around uneasily, “There is only one man in that tent.” He looked at the three of us, then at our tools, my hammer and Hans’ wooden club.

Puzzled, I asked, “Are these tents meant for more than one?”

Another of the men said, “There were four of them but three moved out. They said it was, um, uncomfortable.” He pointed up the road, “875 is three streets up. Good luck.” The three men turned and shuffled away.

“Come,” I said motioning the others. We walked up the darkening street until we made out the number 875 on canvas at a corner, next to a shower tent.

Hans pushed aside the flap. It was dark inside. We crowded the opening. “No one here,” I said scanning what I could see.

I heard a strangled cry behind me. Hans fell against me and I staggered into the tent. I turned just in time to see Granski standing over Mendel, a knife in his hand, blood covering the blade.

Hans clutched his upper arm. He swung the club at Granski’s head, but Granski just dodged the blow and laughed.

“You fools, you think to take me unaware?” He nudged Mendel with his booted foot, “And you bring this cripple? Pahh,” he spat at my feet. “I should kill you both.” He stepped towards me, and I lashed out with my foot, hitting him behind the leg.

He grunted and went down on a knee. Before I could draw back, he jabbed the bloody knife into my calf.

I screamed in pain and saw Hans loom over us, but Granski must have sensed him also. He swung a fist back and caught Hans in the stomach. Hans fell back and I tried to get to my feet. The knife lashed out again and tore through Hans’ bicep. The blood immediately soaked his shirtsleeve and dripped on me.

A voice called out, “Vas? Vas is los?” We heard the sound of several footsteps in the gravel, and Granski was gone.

I crawled to Hans, who was wrapping a handkerchief around his upper arm.

“Are you hurt, Herschel?” he asked.

“My leg. It is cut. That bastard, he cut us both.” I looked at where the men were kneeling and struggled to my feet. I held out a hand and Hans came to stand beside me. We hurried to the men and I pushed one aside. Mendel lay on his back while blood soaked into the ground around his head. I cradled his head in my arms and saw that he was still alive, though barely. In the dim light of a lantern held by one of the men, I saw his pale skin and the thin red line under his chin. His eyes fluttered, and he tried to speak.

We leaned close and all he said was, “Yisroel.” His eyes looked directly at me, and the life went out of them.

I stifled a sob, and Hans gripped my shoulder. I sat rocking poor Mendel and vowed I would revenge him, no matter what the Rabbi said. It was now very personal. In a few minutes, two soldiers ran up and pulled me away from Mendel. I tried talking to them, and several men were also gesticulating and shouting that it was not me, that it was the man who lived in the tent. In the confusion, I looked for Hans but he was gone.

One of the soldiers left and in a few minutes came back with several more, two with a stretcher and another wore an armband with a red cross on it. He checked Mendel for pulse and breath then shook his head. The men holding the stretcher unfolded a sheet, wrapped Mendel in it and carefully lifted our comrade onto the stretcher.

A soldier questioned some of the men but I could tell that this would be just a cursory investigation. In the land of death, at the end of a horrible war, what was another death?

Now I had to find Granski - and Hans.

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOOK: Brothers Beyond Blood
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