Once We Were Brothers (25 page)

Once again Ben’s eyes widened. He stared at the ceiling and settled into his zone.

“I wander around the first floor to get my bearings. Officers are sitting in groups, some arguing about military tactics, some about the impending Russian campaign and some are demanding service of food or alcohol from frightened waiters. I take a glass of wine from a server’s tray and look for someone to talk to.

“Two young officers, obviously taking a break from the demands of their sexual exploits, their tunics unbuttoned, are lounging on a couch in the front room laughing and swapping stories. I plop down on a chair opposite them and take a sip of wine.

“After a moment, one tilts his head at me and says, ‘Did you just get here?’

“‘A little while ago,’ I say.

“‘You better guard your pecker,’ he says with a drunken slur, ‘they’ll suck it right off.’ Then he and his compatriot double over in laughter.

“I smile and toast him with my wine glass. ‘Where are the girls?’ I ask.

“He gestures with his thumb, ‘Upstairs. They’re all over the place. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ He spews a drunken giggle and downs a shot of whiskey.

“I leave them and walk up to the second floor. At the top of the grand staircase there is a sitting room where several girls in dressing gowns are seated on folding chairs, awaiting the attention of the visiting dignitaries. Most of them are young and all of them look frightened. I don’t see Beka. A few of the girls force a smile as I walk in.

“I reach for the hand of a young blond girl, slight and fair skinned, dressed only in a small silk nightgown barely covering her thighs, who dutifully rises and walks out into the hallway with me. Her hand is small and child-like. I judge her to be sixteen or seventeen. The villa has several bedrooms, maybe a dozen, and we hear orgiastic noise emanating from behind many of the closed doors. We come upon an empty bedroom. I lead her in and shut the door. She stands still, head down, waiting to be invited onto the bed or to be told what my perverted pleasures demand of her.

“‘What is your name?’ I say.

“Her eyes are lowered. ‘Please, sir,’ she says in Polish, ‘what would you have me to do?’

“I repeat my question in Polish, ‘What is your name, please?’ She continues to stare at the floor.”

Catherine said softly, “She doesn’t want to personalize the experience.”

“That’s what I think, too, but I have to know who she is. ‘Tell me your name and where you’re from,’ I say forcefully.

“‘I am Lucyna. My home is in Nowy Targ.’

“‘Are you Jewish, Lucyna?’ I say.

“She swallows hard, averting her eyes, and begins to unbutton the top of her gown, exposing her breasts. Tears are forming and rolling down her face.

“‘Stop undressing,’ I say, taking out my picture of Beka. ‘I’m looking for a girl. This one.’

“She doesn’t know what to make of me. Taking the photograph, her eyes move back and forth between my face and the picture. She nods. ‘I know her. She came with me last week. She’s here.’

“‘Where is she?’

“‘Please, your honor, I’m just a peasant girl. I don’t really know what others are doing. I will be happy to please you. Please don’t ask me questions, for I have no information to give.’

“I grab her wrists. My face is inches from hers. ‘She’s my sister, Lucyna. Her name is Beka. I’m not a Nazi. I’m a Jew, like you. I’ve come to get my sister.’

“Tears stream from her eyes and she blinks several times. I let her hands go and she wipes her eyes. ‘You’re a fool,’ she says. ‘The only way out of here is in a wagon.’

“‘Where is she, Lucyna?’

“She hesitates, then nods and says, ‘I’m a condemned girl anyway.’ She takes my hand and leads me into the hallway, whispering, ‘She was taken earlier today by a young SS officer named Rolf. He has a bad reputation among the girls – mean and violent – he likes it rough. He’s been in the corner bedroom for two days.’

“I open the door to the corner bedroom where Rolf is propped up on the bed, his back against the headboard. He’s a stocky man with a massive hairy chest and powerful arms. He has close-cropped blond hair. He sits alone in his boxers and sleeveless undershirt, soaked down the front with what I assume is sweat and dribbled whiskey. He holds the neck of a bottle of brandy in his left hand. His uniform, boots, pistol and knife lie in a heap on the floor by the side of the bed. He smiles broadly and holds up the brandy bottle as we walk in.

“‘Hellooo, Hauptscharfuhrer,’ he slurs. Brandy spills from his lips and down his shirt. ‘Did you bring me another tasty morsel?’

“‘All in good time, my friend. I was hoping you could tell me about a pretty young girl you were with earlier.’ I show him the photograph.

“He snorts. ‘This one,’ he says, ‘is gone. You wouldn’t want her anyway. Fucking cold bitch.’

“Listening to him talk about my sister sends fire through my veins. It takes all my effort to restrain myself.

“‘Do you know where she is, my friend?’

“He sits up, tries very hard to focus and points at Beka’s picture. ‘Let me tell you about this one. She almost ruined my whole weekend. Fucking bitch,’ he sneers, ‘didn’t want to be touched.’

“He snorts again. ‘So I decide to teach this Jewish sow a thing or two about the Master Race.’ He reaches down and picks up his knife from his pile of clothes. ‘You’d be surprised how romantic they become when they feel the cold of my blade on their soft white tits.’ He laughs and flips the knife up in the air. It lands on the end of his bed. He takes a swig of brandy. ‘Besides, there’s something erotic about debasing those arrogant Jewesses, don’t you think? It gets me all excited. So, I grab this bitch by the hair, lean back, spread my legs and point at my crotch. “Come and taste the German High Command,” I say. “In your dreams,” she says and then she spits at me. Can you believe it? This fucking Jew spits at a German officer. I let her go to wipe my face.’

“He tips another swig of brandy, wipes his mouth with the back of his arm and slurs, ‘She backs up toward the door, so I jump off the bed with my knife. “Oh you’ll take it all right,” I tell her, “all eight inches of it, and then I’m going to carve my initials in your lily-white ass.” I grab at her, but she’s quick and darts away. I swing my foot and manage to trip her and she goes tumbling across the floor. Now I’ve got her cornered and I’m going to take her right there on the floor, but the wild beast spins away from me. She jumps up and looks at me with these crazy eyes. “This is one Jewish girl you won’t violate,” she says and she flings herself out the window. Two stories down. Stupid bitch. She hit the cement below and broke her skull wide open.’ He snort-laughed and took another swig. ‘Serves her right. I’m only sorry I didn’t get to do it myself.”‘

Ben paused his narrative. His jaw tensed. “Everything is a blur – I’m operating on animal instinct. I grab Rolf’s knife from the bed and fly at him, my right hand tight around his throat, my left pressuring the tip of the knife over his heart. His eyes are wide with fear, his body is still. ‘That lovely girl was my sister,’ I say, inches from his vile face. ‘You want romance? Here’s a kiss from Beka Solomon.’ I push the knife deep into his chest, twisting it up and then down, holding his throat until he stops convulsing.

“Lucyna stands frozen in the center of the room. ‘We’re dead,’ she says.

“‘Help me get him into the closet,’ I say to her, ‘and I’ll take you out of here.’

“We pull him into the closet and cover him with bedding.

“‘Your hands,’ she says. I look down at my shaking hands. They’re covered in red. I dash to the bathroom and wash his filthy blood down the sink.

“His pistol is lying on the floor. I stick it in my belt, grab Lucyna and lead her from the bedroom to the staircase, pretending to stumble like two drunks, my arm around her waist, to all appearances my courtesan for the night. I take a bottle of vodka off a table near the door and, swinging it around, walk out the front door sauntering like I own the place, me in my uniform, Lucyna in her nightgown. Winking at the sentries, Lucyna and I wobble and giggle through the portico and out toward the woods, another sick Nazi off to get his jollies.

“We make our way down to the car, and thankfully, the keys are on the seat. I quietly drive down the stone pathway back to the road.”

A lump in Ben’s throat put a halt to the narrative. He placed his palms flat on the table and nodded his head. Looking into Catherine’s eyes, he said, “And that’s what happened to my sister. It’s my fault, Catherine. I never should have left her.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, gripping his forearms. Her face flushed, her eyes full of tears, Catherine put her arms around the wiry old man, hugged him tightly and buried her head on his shoulder. He patted her back. They rocked together.

“It was never your fault, Ben. You can’t continue to blame yourself. Please. If you’d have been there at the cabin, you would have also been arrested.” She gently lifted his chin. “I’m honored that you shared your story with me, Ben.”

She gathered their coats from the brass coat tree, handed Ben his parka, pushed her arms through the sleeves of her camel coat and wrapped a cream wool scarf around her neck. “Would you take a walk with me? I think we could use a breather.”

Raw November winds, the Alberta Clippers, churned Lake Michigan like an agitator in a washing machine, lifting the whitecaps and slamming them down on the sandy shore. Park district workers busily constructed wooden snow fences along the edges of the beachfront to keep impending winter snowfalls from blowing and drifting over adjacent Lake Shore Drive. Catherine and Ben walked briskly and without conversation past the Oak Street beach and back again. By the time they finished their walk and returned to the office, it was dusk and Ben was breathing hard.

“Whew. That’s more exercise than I’ve had in a while,” he said.

“It was a therapy walk for me,” Catherine said. “I needed a few degrees of separation. I hope you didn’t overdo.”

“I’ll be okay. The years have taken their toll, I’m afraid. There was a time when I could walk, and did walk, for days.” He poured a cup of hot tea and wrapped his hands around the mug. Ben shivered, making ripples in the surface of the tea. “But then, that’s another chapter of my story.”

“Do you feel up to continuing, because I’ll go a while longer if you want to.”

“Full speed ahead.”

Catherine nodded and prepared to take notes.

Zamość, Poland 1941

“Leaving Rabka, I could barely contain my rage. I wanted to drive back to Zamość as soon as possible, gather Hannah and my family and get out of Europe. Of course, now I had Lucyna with me. I offered to take her to her home in Nowy Targ, but she rejected the suggestion, fearing that she would be re-arrested and sent back to Rabka. Or worse. She felt that she was a marked woman, that she’d be sought as the woman who helped murder Rolf.

“We drove through the night, her head on my shoulder, and arrived in Zamość about 3 a.m. Dressed only in her nightgown, my tunic wrapped around her, she shivered in the night’s cold. I parked the car a block away from Elzbieta’s and walked with Lucyna up the back stairway. Elzbieta answered the door in her robe.

“‘Come in quickly,’ she whispered and inclined her head at Lucyna standing in the doorway, essentially asking me, ‘Who the heck is this?’

“As she ushered us in and handed Lucyna a robe, I hurriedly recounted the details, leaving nothing out. Needless to say, Elzbieta was shaken by the news of Beka’s death.

“‘I’ve got to get Hannah and my family out of Zamość. One way or another we’re leaving Europe,’ I said.

“‘What are we to do with Lucyna?’ Elzbieta said, staring at us both. ‘She has no papers and from what you tell me, the two of you are public enemies number one and two.’

“I shook my head. ‘The drunken scum at Rabka don’t know who I am. I figure I’ll take Lucyna into New Town tomorrow morning. She doesn’t have any place else to stay. My mother will find a home for her until we leave and then she’ll come with us.’

“Elzbieta hesitated. ‘I heard rumors tonight.’

“‘From Otto?’

“She nodded. ‘Soon there are to be mass deportations from New Town. Railroad transports to Izbica. The Germans have built a large work camp there.’

“I knew that was the beginning of the end – I’d worked at Izbica. It was a small, primitive community with old wooden houses, barely any electricity and mud streets. It was located in a desolate valley, near Belzec, farther from the Tatras and more remote. It was truly cut off from the rest of the world. ‘Once they’re transferred there, it’ll be hell to escape.’

“‘Take my car,’ she said, ‘it belonged to my aunt and she doesn’t drive anymore. Get your family out of here.’

“I gave her a big kiss. ‘Elzie, you’re wonderful. Tell Otto I need to keep his uniform in case we’re stopped.’

“‘I will, but he’s not going to like it,’ she said. She led Lucyna back to her closet to find some clothes. I caught a short nap and awoke at daylight.

“The two of us made our way into the ghetto without incident. I carried Otto’s tunic in a shopping bag covered with potatoes. Neither my mother nor my father was at the apartment. I hid the uniform and pistol under the bed, left Lucyna and headed to the Judenrat, for I preferred to have my father with me when my mother learned about Beka. When I found him he was in the midst of an argument with several older men, trying to formulate a protest to present to Commandant Schubert, complaining about the lack of medicine deliveries.