Brothers Beyond Blood (15 page)

“You know the dead guy, kid?”

I nodded. “He is the man who killed my friend Mendel, the one the Rabbi was with last night.”

He just nodded. “You kill him?” Now he turned his head and looked at me.

I shook my head wearily, “No, sir, I found him like this. It is good he is dead. He was a bad man, a former guard from our camp.”

“So that wasn’t a made up story?”

“No. He probably thought he was far enough away and would not get caught. I guess he did not think others, survivors from our camp, would be here.” I shook my head again. “He also killed a man last week who was from our camp.” Again I repeated, “It is good he is dead. The war is over. Perhaps now we may live in peace.”

The officer snorted, “It’s over here, but the war is still going on in the Pacific. Do you think it will ever end?”

I shrugged, “It seems like there will always be war somewhere. I, myself, am so tired of it all. Are you not sick of it all, too?”

“You bet, kid.” He ground the butt out on the ground and said, “Go on home and get some sleep. I know where to find you if I need you.”

“Thank you, sir.” I walked back down the street, forgetting the towels in the shower room. We could draw more tomorrow.

Maria pulled me into the unfinished building and deep into a shadowed corner. I pulled her close and she rested her head on my shoulder, her arms around my waist. “Oh, my love, I feel so bad about poor Mendel. I liked him so much. Everyone did.”

“Ya, he was a good friend. Herschel and I will find the man who did this and finish him.”

She pulled back and looked into my face. “You don’t mean kill him, do you?”

“Of course I do. He was a bad man before and is a worse man now. He deserves to die.”

“Oh, Hans, don’t say that. It is not for you to be judge, jury and executioner. Let the American Army take care of him. They are already keeping all the former camp guards in their own prison across the road.” Her voice dropped, “I have heard that they intend to try them by a military tribunal and hang them.”

I gulped. If she only know who she was talking to. I kissed her once to hide my nervousness and said, “I must get back to the Rabbi and Herschel. I cannot leave them alone. This madman may come after them too.”

“Yes, all right, my Hans. I understand. Will you come to work in the morning?”

“Of course. They need me. Herschel too. They cannot construct this building without the Rothberg brothers!” Each day it seemed more comfortable saying and even believing this.

A quick last kiss and we walked back into the twilight. Up ahead I saw a squad of soldiers marching quickly up the street. “Goodnight, Maria. I will see you tomorrow after breakfast.”

She smiled and said, “Until the morning, Hans.” Then she walked around a corner of the building and was gone.

I was dirty and sweaty and wanted nothing more than to take a bath or, rather, a shower, as the American and the UNRRC people had not seen fit to install bathing tubs for us.

The tent seemed empty, but I could make out the Rabbi, who lay curled into a fetal position in the dark corner of his bunk. I gently shook his shoulder, “Rabbi, Rabbi, are you awake?”

He slowly rolled over, and I gasped when I saw the blood on his clothes. “What happened? Are you hurt?” I could hardly believe my eyes but when I reached for his shirt, he put out a hand.

“No, young man, I am not injured, at least not physically. I have committed a terrible sin.” Then he slowly and almost inaudibly told me all that had happened that evening.

The practical side of me took over. “Reb, stand up. Remove your clothes and give them to me.” I reached into his trunk and gave him a clean shirt and trousers. “Quickly. The soldiers may come at any moment.”

He stood and then sat again, unsure what to do, attempting to hurry. When he had his trousers in hand, I wiped his hands and throat with a damp cloth. Then I bundled the blood-soaked clothes tightly and left the tent. The nearest refuse bin was just one street over, but I hurried to the building site and placed them in a large steel trash container, covering them with building scraps.

When I returned, Herschel was sitting with the Rabbi. He held the old man’s hand and bent his head close. The Rabbi was shaking his head from side to side, sitting in his underclothes, his skinny frame looked weak, his face sallow.

“No, no, no, Herschel. God will never forgive me for taking a life.”

“But you saved my life!”

“No, not I. That was a madman who took control of my body.” He gripped his hair and made to tear it out, but he lacked the strength. “Oy, what will I do?”

His agony was pathetic. What could we do? It was over, done with. Granski, the monster, was dead.

Herschel stood up and pointed a finger at the old man. He was nearly enraged at this point. “Stop it! Just stop it! You feel sorry for yourself? Good. If it will make you sad to feel sorry for taking the life of that ball of dung, then do so, but you did it so I would live. And for that, I thank you.” He leaned over the Rabbi, who sat rocking back and forth, his thin arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t you even try to make me feel bad.” Herschel turned and spat on the floor. “You self-righteous old fool, we worked taking the bodies out of the gas building. We were part of the killing machine! We were Sonderkommandos.”

The Rabbi leaped up, his face a mask of total agony, “No, don’t say that. Until this night, I have never killed anyone!”

“I would kill that man a hundred times and not feel one pang of guilt. You did what had to be done,” I snorted

The Rabbi looked from one to the other of us wildly, “Mein Gott, what has happened? What will become of us?”

I did not know what to make of this. “At least finish putting your clothes on, old man,” I said gently, attempting to help him.

The Rabbi slapped my hands away. He was visibly shaking. With a last look at us, he screeched, “I need some time alone!” He grabbed his clothes and rushed from the tent.

Herschel plunked himself down on his bunk, deflated. “Perhaps we should go after him?”

“No, let him be for a while. He will come to his senses once he has time to think about it. I think we need some quiet time too,” I shrugged dismissively.

Herschel walked me up to our nearby shower tent. The soldiers had removed the body and scrubbed down the floor to rid it of blood. Faint traces could still be seen on the wooden boards.

I showered quickly, the room making me very uncomfortable. At last, Granski was dead. Neither Herschel nor I had killed him, and I was now safe. I doubted if I would ever come upon Commandant Boettcher or if he would remember me. As far as I was concerned, the long, terrible war was ended, and I now wished to continue my life, perhaps with Maria and Herschel. He was truly my brother.

Neither of us was hungry that evening so we sat and played cards and then took a walk. We greeted friends and received many condolences for Mendel. When it was time for bed, the Rabbi had still not returned. “Should we go look for him?” I asked Herschel.

“I do not think so. He must understand and accept what has happened. Just wait, you will see, by morning life will go on and he will be lecturing in the mess tent.” He disrobed and climbed into his bunk.

“If he comes in during the night and I hear him, I will wake you, yes?”

“Yes, yes, fine.”

“Herschel?”

“Yes, Hans?”

“Do you think God forgives?”

He barked a short laugh, “God? There is no God, Hans.”

“But he is all powerful, all forgiving. That’s what we were taught in church.”

“All powerful? Hah! If He were all-powerful, would He have let happen what did happen over the last eight or ten years? No, my friend, my brother, if God is good, and the Devil is evil, then for the past years the Devil has been winning. In the last war, he won also. I am afraid if God exists, he has taken a back seat- if you believe in that sort of religious shit. I do not any longer.” Herschel rolled over and went to sleep.

The next morning, we were surprised that the Rabbi had still not returned. At breakfast in the mess tent, we had not found him. “He probably spent the night walking about or with some friends. He will turn up when he gets hungry,” I said. Herschel and I were very hungry and went back to the serving tables two times. Then we each pocketed an apple and went to find Chief Hawk.

The Chief stood in front of the nearly finished building, Nowicki and Rosen stood behind him. He looked somber. “I was just about to send someone to find you two.”                                    

The Chief looked somber, as did Mr. Nowicki and Mr. Rosen. Behind them, Sam Katz and the other men were just standing and watching us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Maria standing by the corner of our building.

There was definitely something odd going on. I looked from one to the other of the men. “What is wrong, Chief Hawk?”

“Would you boys please come over here and sit down for a coupla minutes?” He indicated a bench against the side of one wall. The Chief withdrew a green pack of cigarettes from his shirt pockets, shook one out and lit it with his large silver lighter.

Hans and I sat on either side of him. The rain from the previous day had stopped, and the clouds had cleared. I took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of fresh wood, cement and odors from the cook tent. It felt like life was returning to normal. I frowned at the Chief. “What do you need, sir?”

“When did you last see your friend, the Rabbi?”

Hans perked up, an anxious look on his face. “Last evening, sir. We talked for a bit, and then he went for a walk. Herschel and I played cards for, perhaps one hour, then went to bed. Why? Have you seen him?”

“Yes, I’m afraid we have.” He stood. “Come with me.”

I looked worriedly at Hans, and then we followed the Chief. He led us into the unfinished end of the building. He hesitated before opening an inside door. In the room that opened was a shadow. I craned my neck to see past the Chief. As he opened the door fully, some light spilled in.

Beside me, Hans gasped. Hanging from a ceiling joist was a figure. It was, as I had feared, the Rabbi. His feet were off the floor, a toppled wooden crate next to them. His hands hung loosely by his side and, though he had strangled horribly, a faint smile was on his haggard face. Around his neck was a length of electric wire. It had cut deeply into his meager flesh. His head was unnaturally tilted to one side.

Hans was softly sobbing. Quietly, so only I could hear him, he said, “Herschel, what have we done?”

I could only shake my head. What had we done? We didn’t do this, he did. The Rabbi had killed himself. Was I to blame? He stabbed Granski, thus saving my life. Did that make me responsible? No, I refused to feel it was my fault. I did not bring Granski to this camp. I wanted to reason with him. I wanted him to leave. No, he chose to stay and begin killing men from Kefferstadt. If the Rabbi hadn’t stopped him, I would be dead right now. No doubt, he would have eliminated the Rabbi and Hans and who knows how many others? I wanted the Rabbi to be alive so I could tell him this again and again. I couldn’t cry. I tried but couldn’t force the tears. I was inured to death. It had no meaning any longer. For more years than I could count, I had been immersed in it. After you’ve cleared a gas building and piled corpses of men, women and even children on a flat, wheeled trolley, the color of dung, towed it to a gash in the earth and dumped the corpses in, does the death of one more man even have meaning?

The Rabbi and Mendel had been my friends but now they were dead. I was still alive. It was my duty to go on. It was my solemn, holy duty to live a life that would honor them. But was it my duty to have children and, once again, produce more of the Jewish race for another so-called master race to annihilate? Never, ever again would a Jew wait in fear for that midnight tread outside his door and go meekly away to the gas buildings and the ovens. I swore in my heart to Mendel, to the Rabbi and to the millions who’d perished that this Jew would fight to his last breath before someone in power would march me off that way.

I turned to the Chief, “Cut him down please.”

Chief Hawk shook his head, “Can’t yet. The doc and soldiers have to declare him dead first.”

I slowly rounded on him, fists clenched, “Cut him down, goddammit! He is dead!” I shouted. “He deserves better than that!” I moved to the Rabbi’s corpse and grabbed his legs and tried to lift him. “Help me. Please, help me!”

Hans came up to me and gripped me around the waist, pulling me back. I held on, then let my arms drop. My face was wet and I wiped it with my shirtsleeve. Was it raining in here? Did I have something in my eye?

The room was suddenly full of men. One soldier stood on the crate and felt the Rabbi’s neck for a pulse. When he couldn’t detect one, he signaled two of the other soldiers, and they lifted the body until he could unwind the wire. They laid the body on a stretcher and covered it with a blanket.

“I’m Captain Evans. I’m the doctor here at the camp.” He shook the Chief’s hand and then nodded at Hans and me. He indicated the now empty electric cord hanging from the beam, “Anybody know him?”

I stepped forward and opened my mouth, but the Chief motioned me back. He said to Dr. Evans, “Yeah, he’s been around here a couple of times. His name is, was, Rabbi Horowitz. I don’t know what his first name was.”

“A Jew, huh? Camp survivor?” Asked the doctor, not looking anymore at Hans or me.

“Uh-huh,”

“Yeah, well, he’s not the first. Probably won’t be the last.” He made a note on a card he took from his shirt pocket. “You Seabees, Chief?”

“Yep. This is my building. Be done in another coupla days.” He shook a cigarette from the pack and offered one to the doc. “You know what we’re doin’ next?”

The doc shook his head, “No. What?” He took the cigarette and waited for the Chief to flick open his lighter, then leaned forward and sucked in the smoke.

Chief Hawk smiled. “Medical center. Sickbay. I don’t know, what do you guys call it?”

“Field Hospital.” The doc had a hopeful look on his face. Then he straightened his hat, cleared his throat and looked the Chief in the eye. “You want us to bury him?”

Chief Hawk glared over the doc’s shoulder at us. “I’ll send somebody around to collect him tomorrow morning, O.K.? We’ll take him out back and bury him.”

“Sounds good. I’ve got better things for my guys to do.” He shook the Chief’s hand again and said, “Sign here and I’ll see you when you start the Field Hospital.” He turned on his heel and left.

“Why did you stop us from talking about the Rabbi?” I asked. I was curious. It couldn’t have been in deference to the Rabbi. The Chief barely knew him.

Chief Hawk motioned us back outside, and we again sat on the wooden bench. He smoked in silence. I noticed that Mr. Nowicki and Mr. Rosen had put the men back to work. We sat while all around us there were men lifting, carrying, hammering and measuring.

“There will most likely be an investigation once word gets out about the Rabbi.” He turned to us and said, “I've been talking to Petty Officer Nowicki to get you boys sponsored for immigration to the United States. To Chicago. Nowicki’s family runs a contracting business in Chicago, and it looks like they will do it for him.” He took a last puff on the cigarette, then crushed the tip out on the edge of the bench, ripped it open and scattered the remaining ash and tobacco on the ground. Then he balled up the bit of paper and stuck it in a pocket of his pressed khaki trousers.

“If you get caught up in the investigation, it might throw a monkey wrench into the works and get you sidelined for months. The U.S. has immigration quotas, and if you get shuffled to the back of the line, you may not get a visa, understand?”

“But, sir, the Rabbi was our tent mate. So was Mendel, and now they are both dead. Will they not want to question us?”

The Chief shrugged. “Probably, but I already put the word out that you were with me until about midnight working on the drawings of the field hospital.”

I frowned, as did Hans, “Why would you do that?”

“Look, fellas, I know that you didn’t kill the Rabbi or the Mendel kid, but this new investigator doesn’t know you guys like I do. See, fellas, there have been just a few too many deaths here in this camp. The U.S. Government doesn’t run this camp, at least not like the one across the road, but they’re responsible for security here. So they sent this Colonel Bain here. He’s a hardass from the states, been in Washington for the war.”

Chief Hawk patted my knee, “Now he’s here to oversee the trial of those Nazi bastards across the road, but since we’ve got ‘em locked up pretty tight, the Colonel will probably think he’d better take a look-see here first.”

Hans asked, “How close a lookee, Chief?”

“Look-see, kid, look-see!” The Chief chuckled. “I don’t expect too close. He doesn’t have much of a staff yet.” He stood and turned to the two of us. “I think it would be best if you guys made yourselves scarce.”

I understood what he was saying. “Do you think we could move our gear in here, sir?”

“Don’t see why not. After all, you guys work here, don’t you?” Then he asked the question I had been waiting for, “You boys do want to go to America, don’t you?”

In unison we answered, “Oh, yes, sir.”

I guess we did. “Come Hans, let us retrieve our goods from the tent.” We quickly ran to our tent. After packing our meager belongings in the pillow sacks, we stood for a minute looking down at Mendel’s and the Rabbi’s beds. Hans took the Bible from the Rabbi’s end table, kissed it, then put it in his sack. Of Mendel’s, we took nothing. We would hold Mendel in our hearts.

Chapter 31 -
Hans’ Story

I was in much pain seeing Reb Horowitz dead. He was a good man, and I was proud to call him my friend. Now he and Mendel are gone and I wonder who will be next. Will it be Herschel or me?