Finding Rebecca: A Novel of Love and the Holocaust (29 page)

“There
is something else, Herr Lagerkommandant.”

“You
have my attention, Herr Obersturmführer. You have had my attention since that
night you showed your bravery in Crematorium 3.”

“Well,
what I wanted to ask about was the children passing through the camp.”

“What
about them?”

“I was
considering that we might be able to repatriate some of them, the babies
perhaps, the ones that have not been poisoned by the Jewish ideologies and lies
yet, so that we may impose some of our Aryan ways upon them, to purify them as
it were, like a mission of mercy.”

“I
understand what you’re saying, and I’ve had that thought myself before, but the
sad fact of it is that they are just as much enemies of the Reich as their
parents. It’s in their blood. They have no choice. A Jew will always be so,
nothing more, nothing less. They must be eradicated.”

Christopher
forced the bile down his throat. There was no answer for that, at least not
now. “I understand that, but how about the young children, the three, four and
five year olds. They could be put to work in the factories, cleaning out pipes,
getting into machinery, their fingers can reach places adult hands cannot.”
Christopher held his hands up. “I mean, what chance do we adults have?” He
smiled. “It’s just economic sense. I think in logical terms, Herr
Lagerkommandant, and that one thing that I cannot stand is waste.”

“A
compelling argument indeed, Herr Obersturmführer, but unfortunately Jewish
blood is Jewish blood.”

“We keep
hundreds of able bodied Jews every week to work for the Reich. I just don’t see
the sense in there being an age limit, that’s all. I think in black and white,
economic terms. It’s my father’s fault; he is a very logical man.” Christopher
felt ashamed for mentioning his father’s name in this place.

Höss
smiled. “I have very much enjoyed meeting you today, Christopher. You are an
exemplary young officer, with many good ideas. The idea of making the children
work? Well, again, it’s something we could give thought to. But now I must bid
you goodbye.”

Christopher smiled, shook the
Lagerkommandant’s hand and clicked his heels together to give the Nazi salute.
Höss did think about it for three days, and then Christopher received the
memo that he was to head up a task force to investigate corruption in the camp
and to have recommendations in place for a new system to prevent monies being
siphoned off at source within two weeks. There was no mention of the children
and his idea to make them work, not yet. Christopher looked out as the sun was
setting over the horizon. He thought of Rebecca, the children that he couldn’t
save, and the thousands of faceless murdered that he had seen pass through this
place. For the first time in a long time, he felt hope within him.
 
 

The
guards greeted Christopher as he walked into the dull, smoky grey room. They
were all there; Lahm, Ganz, Meyer, Schlegel, Dreier, Bruns, Mohr and Greune, as
well as two other SS that Christopher hadn’t met before. Christopher’s seat,
between Lahm and Ganz, was left empty and he sat down. The table was littered
with the usual mix of cigarettes and all kinds of booze pilfered from the
stores. Greune pushed a glass of whisky across to Christopher, which he
accepted with a smile.

“I trust
we are all well tonight, gentlemen,” Christopher began. He was greeted by a
series of grunts from around the massive table. “And I hope you’re all ready
for me to take your money.” He laughed. A few smiled, but most remained
transfixed on the cards in front of their faces. There was a large pile of money
in the middle of the table, mainly Reichmarks, but there were also British
pounds, US dollars and Polish zloty peeking through. Christopher looked around
the table, sipping a glass of whisky, waiting for the next hand. “I don’t think
I can stay too late tonight,” he said. “I have to be up early tomorrow morning
for a meeting with some of the top brass.” None of the men around the table
looked up. “I’m setting up a new anti-corruption committee, sanctioned by the
Lagerkommandant.” Now all eyes were on him. Several of the men had put their
cards down, but none spoke. “I’m going to be heading up the committee. The
Lagerkommandant asked me to take charge.” Christopher made sure he made eye
contact with each man around the table as he spoke. “Now, I know that my
findings won’t affect any man here,” he looked down at the pile of bank notes
and then back up at Lahm and then Dreier. Still no one spoke but none dared
look away from Christopher. Obersturmführer Seeler put down his glass of whisky
and smiled. “If you have any doubts, any questions, come to me. If there’s
anyone you know who might have been engaged in anything that might look
illegal, speak to them. Warn them. Tell them to lay off, for a few weeks at
least, until the Anti-Corruption Committee has done its work.” Ganz pushed out
a deep breath and Christopher reached across to put his hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve no desire to put any of my mates behind bars, boys, in fact quite the
opposite. Tell your friends what’s happening. Of course there’s no need for me
to tell any of you this. I just thought…. in case you had friends around the
camp…”

“Yes, we
understand,” Lahm said. Christopher picked up his glass of whisky again,
watching the golden brown liquid swirling around. There was no more talk about
the Anti-Corruption Committee that night.

The
first meeting of the Auschwitz-Birkenau Anti-Corruption Committee was held in
the administration building the next morning, just a few doors down from
Liebermann’s office. Christopher sat at the head of the table. Outside the
window, the first tiny snows of the season were floating down. Breitner sat
directly to his left. Christopher noticed he had pressed his uniform especially
for the meeting. Flick and Muller were there, and, opposite them, sat the
Kommandoführers Kuntz, Strunz and Roehrig, the heads of the crematoria and at
the opposite end of the table, away from the others, sat Jan Schultz, the head
of the Sonderkommandos in Canada. Christopher began the speech he had been
rehearsing in his head for the previous week. “Thank you for coming here today,
gentlemen, for the first meeting of our committee. I will keep this short, as I
know you are all busy and there is a train arriving in less than an hour that
we will all need to attend to.” Christopher looked around the room. “I want to
particularly thank the KommandoFührers Kuntz, Strunz and Roehrig from taking
time out of their busy schedules to attend.” The three men nodded. “I have
summoned you here today because you are men I know I can trust, and, in matters
of this importance trust is absolutely essential. Word is that we will have a
new Lagerkommandant soon, as Herr Höss will be moving to Berlin to take a
more direct role in the war effort. It is our job to prepare the camp for the
new Commandant, to show him that we are the SS men who are not prepared to put
up with the insidious cancer of corruption that is slowly taking a hold of all
corners of Auschwitz-Birkenau. A successful anti-corruption campaign will lead
us all onto great personal glory, as well as securing the future of the camp in
its current guise. Let’s not forget, gentlemen, why we are all here, to further
the ideals that our Führer himself has passed down to us, and to secure the
future of our world and our civilization.” Christopher looked down at Schultz.
His face was stoic, rendering absolutely no emotions. “I have asked the head of
the Sonderkommando unit in the Economic Agency zone to attend today. Now I know
that several of you were surprised at his inclusion in the committee, but I
think in order for us to be successful we need to work with the prisoners.”
Christopher spoke for another twenty minutes, about checks and procedures,
about secrecy and punishment for transgressions. Each man had a dossier in
front of him that Christopher had compiled himself, with explicit instructions
on each stage of their operations. Christopher noticed Kuntz shifting uneasily
in his seat as he read through the papers. The meeting was over in less than an
hour. Each man left clear about, if not entirely happy with, their new set of
instructions. Christopher stayed in the room for a few minutes after, making
sure they had all left before he went down the hallway to see Liebermann. He
didn’t bother knocking on the door, just pushed straight inside.

“Liebermann.
I trust you’ve heard who the new head of the anti-corruption taskforce in the
camp is?”

Liebermann
looked flustered as Christopher sat down in front of his desk. “Yes, I did hear
that. Congratulations on your new appointment. Who on earth saw fit to give you
of all people such a role?”

Christopher
smiled. “None other than the Lagerkommandant himself. He knows a good SS officer
when he sees one.”

Liebermann
shook his head. “Perhaps it is best that he moves to Berlin after all.”

“You
know me too well, Herr Liebermann, but I know you too. Let’s not forget that.
Now that I’m head of the Anti-Corruption Committee…well?” Christopher shrugged.

Liebermann
laughed. “Don’t try to strong-arm me, Herr Obersturmführer. Don’t forget who
your superior officer is.”

“Of
course not, Herr Hauptsturmführer.” Christopher looked back at Liebermann. “I
want what you want, to serve the Fatherland and the Führer.”

“Indeed,”
Liebermann said looking down at his papers. “And speaking of your service of
the Fatherland and the Führer I may have some news of your prisoner.”

“Where
is she?” Christopher snapped, trying to hold himself back.

Liebermann
sneered. “I’ve managed to find some prisoners from Jersey, in a camp in
Baden-Württemberg.
I don’t know if your friend is there among them, not yet anyway.”

Christopher
resisted the jibe about her being his friend and continued as casually as his
thundering heart rate would allow. “When will you find out?”

“I have
written another letter. I should receive reply within a week or so, depending.”

Christopher
stood up, his legs wobbling under his own weight. “Very good then, I will check
back with you in a few days. Keep up the good work, Herr
Hauptsturmführer.”
Christopher walked out of the office, love and hope burning through him. There
was a thin layer of snow on the ground and, just for the matter of a few
seconds, he forgot where he was and that he was going to assist in the murder
of thousands of innocent people that day.

The day
passed like any other. The snow was soon churned over by the footprints of the
thousands of new prisoners who arrived that day as they trudged to their
horrible deaths. Christopher watched the children as they went. Where was the
word from the Lagerkommandant about them? Should he go to the head of the
factories himself? He knew he had to be patient, but the agony of watching them
file into the changing rooms was becoming too much to bear and he made his
excuses to go back to his office where he sat for several hours, poring through
reports and files, ledgers and records, anything to distract himself.

It was
the end of the day, dark and cold, and the snow was falling again when he left
his office to see Schultz in Crematorium 4. Christopher reached for his long
coat and tucked the collar up to cover his ears as he made his way out into the
dark outside. Work was officially over for the day, but there were still Sonderkommandos
tending to their own duties. They all saluted him as he walked past. The
warehouses were empty, the ladies from Canada returned to their bunkhouses a
few hundred yards away. Christopher looked up at the guard towers. He was close
enough to see the condensation from the guard’s breath as he turned the searchlight
down along the wire. Christopher waved upwards and was just able to discern the
wave back. The yard outside Crematorium four was deserted but for a couple of
Sonderkommando pushing carts of suitcases towards the warehouses in Canada.
Christopher pushed the door open and walked into Crematorium 4. The
Sonderkommandos’ quarters were upstairs and by the standards of the rest of the
camp they were luxurious. The Sonderkommandos were given bunk beds, one each,
with clean sheets in heated dorms. They ate their meals alone and blind eyes
were turned to allow them to steal as much booze as they could ever drink.
These were their rewards for the work they did, as well as the right to live
one more day themselves. Schultz was not there. Christopher asked the
Sonderkommando, a young Polish boy, probably no more than 19 years old, where
he was and was told to check the hair-cutting room, downstairs near the
ovens.
 

Schultz
whirled around as Christopher found him. There were four other Sonderkommandos
with him, all experienced in their jobs, most of them having worked in the
crematorium for 2 months or more, which was around the life expectancy of a
Sonderkommando. All five men stood in a line in front of a bench at the back
wall. Their faces betrayed something. “Herr Obersturmführer, what brings you
down here?” Schultz began. Christopher did not answer. “Have you come to check
the progress of the Anti-Corrup…”