Panorama (62 page)

First the victims are gathered together in each country, all of them not being able to come here at the same time, exhaustive plans needing to be worked out, for the most loyal of the conspirators have many worries, it all needing to go faster, always faster, there being so many obstacles to overcome in order to get the lost ones onto the trains, it requiring epic battles with the army, with the railroad administration, with the opposition of the church, with the hatred of the saboteurs, with the ignorance of the stubborn, with the recalcitrance of the Italians, with the mawkishness of the Germans. Not everyone knows about the Conqueror’s plans for extermination, he cannot make it public and explain it such that every last dimwit is assured that murder isn’t taking place here, and mercifully not in any mass manner, and so the Conqueror must hide it all, the people cannot know the truth, everything is secret and almost invisible, but not everything can remain hidden, and that’s what leads to difficulties that make the most loyal of the conspirators groan. The victims have no idea where they are being brought, nor do many of the collaborators know as they help round up the lost ones and load them onto the trains, for while it’s clear that the lost ones are being sent off to work, and thus have to be resettled, most don’t know the name of the place to which they are being taken. In France it was called Pitchipoi,
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the children robbed of their parents having coined the name, such that whenever a train left from there for the east, both large and small said it was headed to Pitchipoi as goodbyes were said, hope and sadness mixing together among those leaving as well as those remaining behind, everyone believing that the journey will be easier than staying, it won’t last much longer, the Conqueror will be defeated, then they will return from Pitchipoi, everyone will celebrate and they will be celebrated, then the brotherhood of all mankind will arise, the Conqueror, however, having to appear before a court of the people, in which they will raise the brazen charge, “Why didn’t you let us stay in our houses? Why did you drag us off to Pitchipoi?”

That will certainly be the last trial that humankind will hold, for it will be followed by eternal peace, which can already be clearly seen as it expands, it being seen whenever the iron rails ring and clatter,
Pimmm-Pimmm-Pimmm-tititititititittititi-Pimmm!
Peace is at hand when one’s gaze reaches out toward the Beskydy Range, whose gray-blue waits in the distance, ourselves already on the threshold of freedom, the furnaces that consume their victims today extinguished forever, no one yelling “Hats off!” and “Out of your bunks!,” no roll call taken, no section elder reporting, “Section 23 present with 327!” Then all of this will be just a phantom, it never having existed, just the spawn of a disturbed mind, there never having been a Conqueror, not even a war, people were not chased into slaughterhouses but simply remained at home and went about their peaceful business, it having been a golden age then as it will be again. Josef does not despair completely, a confidence having been granted him, although reason would seem to rule out any positive expectation, yet his trust is not completely destroyed, it is still there and has even strengthened somewhat in the camp of the lost, though he’s somewhat ashamed to admit it, but he still wants to maintain it and believe in it, it being a thick coat that protects his wounded nakedness, he not totally lost even when he is surrounded by filth and vermin when he lies with Milan and Étienne under a blanket, for perhaps it’s even worse in Mordechai’s quarters, where there is hardly anything to take one’s mind off how things are in the Gypsy camp.

Josef’s group waits for fourteen days under the smoke clouds of the chimneys, their imminent departure often postponed and rescheduled, but then it’s announced that several groups will be transported together. Then the lost ones are shoved once again into the baths, though it’s not a large sauna but instead a small one in the Gypsy camp, the lost ones having to stand outside for many hours in the rain, all of them freezing in their rags, until finally they are pressed into the rooms, commanded to take off everything in the front room, until they are left with only a pair of shoes that they carry in their hands, while everything they have accumulated in the camp, except that which they can always carry on their person, has to be abandoned, spoons and cigarette butts, all of it yanked away from them under the threat of blows. The naked are herded with heckling calls into the sauna, nothing visible except steam and murk, an ear-shattering noise ripping
through the room, everyone wailing and thrashing about, Josef never having witnessed such bellowing in Birkenau, everyone senselessly lashing out at everyone else, senselessly shoving one another around, all without reason, even without intent, no one even wanting to blame the other. Finally the showerheads are turned on, the water is too hot and burns their naked skin, though most are happy, it’s the first shower they’ve had in weeks, despite each hut being outfitted with a latrine that doubles as a washroom, though no one would think of using it as such, for you can only stand it there for a while and only on the rare occasion, there being hardly enough time to wash your hands and face, as in general there are too few wash-stands, the water pressure is poor, and there is no soap or towels. In the small sauna the lost ones can scrape the dirt off their skin with their fingernails, their backs and limbs turning red from this and from the hot water, though there’s no way to dry off, so they all stand there barefoot on a cold stone floor with their shoes in their hands, the water dripping from their heads and shoulders. The lost ones continue to scream without ceasing, even though they still have no reason to, it perhaps being the horror of it all that is indeed abysmal and continually gives rise to new terrors, the room seeming ready to burst with the chain of screams that continue without end. To the collaborators it all seems so stupid, for they are just trying to do their job, and with horsewhips they flog the naked, who want to avoid the blows, thus causing each to trample on the other, the floor slippery and painful for anyone who falls, while if care isn’t taken they can be trampled, the blows bringing no end to it all, but rather only worsening the puzzlement and confusion of this carnival, which takes on its first bit of orderliness the minute one of the conspirators appears and waves his pistol about. Then clothes are handed out, which goes about the same as it would in the big sauna, as plunder is taken from them with their having no choice in the matter, though the clothes they are given are not the same as what they had on before, because after bathing and disinfection in the Gypsy camp they don’t get their stuff back, but instead the lost ones get something better, the working slaves destined soon to be transported receiving underwear and winter coats, which is more than what they had in quarantine, even though it’s no better in quality. Josef is somewhat lucky to get a miserable pair of shoes made of torn linen, none of the stuff is made from the wool of a prayer
shawl, instead a narrow pair of leggings and stained pants are made from thin cloth, which was once brown, though he does get a good green vest, the black jacket having no doubt been part of a good suit, while the hand-sewn winter coat was once quite fine, Josef reading on a sewn-on silk strip the name and address of a Jewish tailor in Lodz.

They are not allowed to dawdle while dressing, “Hurry! Hurry!” shouted at them continually, as if the train were already waiting for them above on the ramp, where each of them arrived sometime in recent weeks, but there appears to be no train waiting anxiously, for next the lost ones are forced to stand and wait for hours more in front of the sauna. Then they file into rows and the entire group marches to the yard, where the prison scribes appear with their lists and begin to count the number of lost ones in each group, counting them again and again, two groups missing a couple of men, Josef’s group having one too many, which causes a lot of squabbling and complaint, though neither gentle talk nor threats seems to work, the numbers don’t add up, and so each one has to be asked who he is and which group he belongs to, though in the chaos of the Gypsy camp it simply isn’t possible to maintain such control, the names of the lost ones often falsely given or written down wrong, no one having any papers, for all their possessions were taken from them by force in the big sauna. Thus it takes over two hours before the count is right for each group, too many having snuck in, for they want to get out of the camp, some of them beaten as a result, but then sent on without further punishment, they even allowing some to be exchanged between different groups so that fathers and sons and brothers can stick together, until finally the groups are formed, everyone takes a breath, though once again it is announced that the journey has been postponed, everyone back in the huts.

It turns out this doesn’t mean that Josef’s group is to return to the same huts they were in before, instead they are led to the gate of the E-Camp, where they stand for a long while, threatened all the while with severe punishment if anyone dares to try to take anything out of the Gypsy camp but what they’ve been fitted out with already, though after the plundering that occurred in the small sauna hardly anyone has anything, nor do most of them want to risk a flogging for it, only here and there someone allowing a spoon or a knife to drop to the ground. Then the group is counted more
than once by the helpers and the accomplices, and along with sections D, C, and B they are led off to A-Camp, where their marching ends at a barracks where the section elder appears and takes charge of the group. With his scribe he stands before the lost, playing with his riding whip as he sticks one cigarette after another into his clever and inscrutable face, introducing himself as Pinks, there no longer being anyone like him in the A-Camp, for the lost ones need not stand still while listening to him, as he is a good father and treats the men—which is what he calls the prisoners, as do others—with solidarity and compassion, there being no one who can force him to kill anyone in his barracks, which is part of his goodwill, though they should inscribe on the inside of their forehead that here they are not in the Gypsy camp, here different rules apply, here only good men live who also want to work, no riffraff, for here one has to keep everything and himself clean, for if you have a louse and are such a pig, then you will be tossed out of your lodgings and will get twenty-five lashes on your naked ass, thus no one should even dare to wear his boots inside, and the blankets must be cleanly folded and remain on the bunks, no one can take them, here they are to live like gentlemen, nothing will be stolen from anyone, but if someone pinches something, then Pinks will have nothing to do with him, only good people will be allowed to live under him, and the culprit will be relegated to the shit command that takes away all the shit they produce because they eat too much, Pinks ready to close his speech by saying that each should know that Pinks is fair, and if the new ones behave and he hears no complaints about them, then he is like a father and has a soft heart, but when anyone doesn’t obey, then his heart is hard, while he will repeat again that this is the A-Camp and not the Gypsy camp, and so off with you, you all look tired, the men should be in their huts, and so the staffers show them to their places.

The setup of the hut is no different from those in the Gypsy camp, but it really is much cleaner, everything painted white, the bunks fitted out with tin plates on which numbers are written down. Josef’s group stays only one night in the hut, but that’s enough to get to know some of the inhabitants. Pinks comes by again with a cigarette in his mouth, and once more during the night, acting out his role as father as he speaks with each of them for a short while or even longer, though sometimes he has to reveal his hard heart and takes someone out to beat him with his belt. The regular inhabitants of
the hut are used to how things work in the camp, most of them experienced lads, hardened and tough, the uninitiated having a hard time understanding their talk, it being a thick accent full of cussing, though the boys are unbowed, most of them seeming strong and fresh, while what’s going on around them doesn’t seem to disturb them, though many are good-natured, tossing potatoes and slices of bread to the guests, obviously being well nourished themselves, having bacon and tinned foods in supply, chocolate, as well as good clothes and woolens, leather gloves, and their exquisite boots standing underneath their bunks. All of this is the booty from possessions of the newly arrived lost ones, this only a small part of the untold thievery that doesn’t benefit the collaborators and the regular lost ones, but rather the conspirators, whose most loyal members need to be compensated a little for the great service they provide the Conqueror, though no matter how hard they try the most loyal ones couldn’t possibly keep the measureless amount of stolen goods for themselves, and so they have to be a little honest and distribute on behalf of all conspirators a good amount to the general public for its own use. This is why huge storehouses have been built here, which are referred to as “Canada,” they being full of gold and jewels, clothes and shoes, bedding and handbags, watches and perfumes, children’s clothes and toys, all of which had been quickly and carefully packed by the clueless, they who had readied themselves for the journey to Pitchipoi, since for such a journey they took their very best things, often carrying their most expensive items in the hope of using them to trade for necessities or to save for future times, only to have everything taken away on the ramp or in the room where they disrobed before entering the gas chambers, or remaining behind in the big sauna, where after a while they end up in the storehouses, albeit not as items recorded as tremendous losses. Instead, announcements are made that say the wares have been confiscated as stolen or fenced goods, the will of the Conqueror having been fulfilled, for which many people are thankful, though often they have no idea what they should be thankful for, since the countless owners of all these goods have long since been consumed by the flames.

The next day Josef’s group is transferred from the A-Camp to the D-Camp, which means that they will likely not be transported soon, though it could also mean that it will be today for sure, but many doubt it, no one
knowing what to believe. This also gives rise to a shower of hope that Germany is no longer able to use trains to transport prisoners, the Russians already having reached Krakow and perhaps ready to break through any day, meaning that they are preparing to empty the camps. This news, which means so much to the lost ones, also makes them realize that the present situation in the camp is markedly improved since earlier times, they having already experienced the worst of what they’d seen, there having been hardly any transports from the west in more than six months, many of the conspirators having become nicer or at least more careful, supposedly having been warned against listening to German-language radio out of England and threatened with punishment if they did. In any case, the improved relations with the lost ones is a good sign of a quick end to the war, the Conqueror’s days numbered, his enemies not even allowing him a chance to catch his breath, while also having overrun the fatherland’s western border, a thousand planes crisscrossing by day and by night, as Germany is transformed into a single mound of rubble, the Resistance also beginning to hurt it, the lost ones needing to stay confident, for the hour of liberation is at hand. Nonetheless, many turn away from such far-reaching hope as they look at the charged barbed wire and upward at the weapons at the ready in the watchtowers.