The Children's War (65 page)

Zosia wrote something down when he said this. He could not quite make out the words but he thought he saw “severe depression.” He felt affronted, so he quickly added, “Besides, it was difficult and the penalties were high. In my case, as a convict, it was the death penalty.”

“So you planned to sit out the full twenty years?”

“No. I was hoping for a reduction in my sentence.” Then he added with a small laugh, “For good behavior.”

Zosia saw no humor in his words but wrote something else. She looked up and asked in a businesslike tone, “What sort of work did you do at the camp?”

“All sorts of stuff. Usually some industry or farm rented our services from the government and so our treatment and conditions changed considerably from month to month.”

“How long did you work?” she asked.

“Oh, the day usually ended around six o’clock. However, during the summer—”

“I meant,” Zosia clarified, “how long were you in the camp?”

“Oh. Nearly four years. It was grim, but tolerable.”

“You were well treated?”

He laughed. “I guess so, in comparison anyway. I saw some things, awful things. I saw a man, a
Zwangsarbeiter,
shot in cold blood, in a steel mill, because he had broken a bone. I . . . I wanted to help, but I couldn’t, I was a prisoner, too.”

Zosia tilted her head but remained silent.

“I, there were other things, too, in other factories, in . . . They didn’t affect us,
we were only draftees, so we weren’t usually treated that badly, but the way they . . . It was the
Zwangsarbeiter,
the way they treated the
Zwangsarbeiter.
I thought, at the time . . . It was like they were different people, another species, almost like they couldn’t feel pain, or had no lives of their own. I . . . After what happened to me later, after the factory work, I know better, I . . .” He paused, embarrassed by his sudden, confused confession. “I remember, when I was working in a factory, these two officers, one of them tripped me. I swear he did it on purpose. I . . . they . . . I was beaten for that.” He closed his eyes against the painful memory. “I don’t know why they did that to me.”

“What did they look like?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I don’t remember their faces. All I remember-is the uniforms and the way they joked with each other and . . .”

“And?”

“And the way they looked at me. It was just the way I used to look at others. Like I wasn’t really there, or couldn’t possibly understand what was going on. Like I was beyond hope.”

“Everything in due course,” Zosia said as if to steady him. “Back to the work camp. How was it there for you?”

“There? I felt secure there, even needed.”

“Then what?”

He stared at the ground as if he had not heard her.

“Then what?”

“Hmm?”

“Then what?”

“Oh, then?” he asked as he began to pick at some dirt under a fingernail. “Then I attempted an escape.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’ ” he asked, moving on to the next nail. “I just did.”

“Was it that you had seen too much?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. That was it. I had seen too much,” he answered distantly as he struggled with a particularly recalcitrant bit of dirt.

She shook her head. “There’s more to it than that.”

“No, really, I just had an opportunity, so I took it,” he said, still concentrating on his fingers.

“You’re lying.”

“Lying?” He shook his head.“No, it’s the truth.”

“Don’t play games with me. Why did you leave the work camp?”

“Does one need a reason?” he asked, forcing himself to look directly at her.

“After nearly four years, yes.”

“It took that long to get over what had happened in London. I felt ready—”

“One last chance,” she stated coldly.

He threw his hands up angrily. “I don’t understand why I need a reason! I changed my mind about waiting it out. Wouldn’t you try to escape?”

She stood up and headed toward the entrance.

“Don’t go!” he pleaded.

She turned back to look at him.

He sighed, then said, “I found out something.” Before she could prod him he continued, “You see, the boys are paid a wage during their conscription: half of their wage is doled out to them while they’re working, the other half is saved up until their release. Out of the paid-out wages, they pay for their room and board and buy any of the so-called luxury items such as cigarettes or coffee. Naturally, the prices are set such that nobody saves anything. At the end of their six years, they get the lump-sum payment of the other half of their wages minus taxes, their round-trip fare, and any surcharges they have incurred. As you might well guess, it’s a con game and it’s not untypical for the boy to return home emptyhanded for his six years of work.”

Zosia returned to sit down next to him. “So?”

“Well, I was different. As a convict, I didn’t merit a wage, nor was I charged for room and board. I figured I was on a different scheme and that was that.”

“How did you buy your luxury goods?”

He laughed. “I was camp leader, remember. I assessed fines for misbehavior, and the others chipped in a bit now and then.”

“You taxed them?” she asked, amused.

He nodded. “I guess you could call it that. Anyway, I figured prison was prison and after I did my time they’d release me with a hundred marks or something. But then, when I was working in one of the camp offices, I went through the files and found out I was being assessed all along. In other words, the longer I stayed, the greater my debt.”

“So after you served your time, you’d be massively in debt to the camp.”

He nodded. “Yeah, and the only way I could pay it off would be with my labor. That told me that my sentence was essentially a life sentence and that there was no hope of release other than escaping.”

“I see.” Zosia noted something down. “So how did you come to be in such a trusted position that you could snoop through their filing cabinets?”

He shrugged. “Somebody had to be assigned to clean those rooms. My turn came up.”

“Alone, in rooms with sensitive files?”

“They weren’t that important,” he answered defensively. “Just prisoner files.”

Zosia stood and paced to the entrance of the tent. Speaking softly into the woods, she said, “One clever infiltrator would be the death of all of us. They’re not going to take that chance, Peter, they
will
shoot you.” She stepped out of the tent.

“Come back!” he yelled desperately. “There’s more!”

Zosia stepped back inside and eyed him critically.

He dropped his gaze to his cup of coffee. The black liquid was not as dark as the void he felt he was entering. What was in that corner of his mind? He had not
looked there for so long. He stood suddenly and joined Zosia at the entrance of the tent; only Olek stood there, watching them curiously.

“Does the boy speak English?”

“Not really.” She grabbed his arm and led him back into the tent to sit down.

Still he could say nothing. He picked up his coffee and sipped it, then stood again. Zosia waited patiently as he studied the fabric of the tent. Eventually he found his voice. “I’d like to tell you everything,” he said quietly.

“I want to hear whatever you have to say.”

66

H
E TOOK A DEEP BREATH,
then began, “The camp changed
Kommandant
s fairly frequently. They were all alike, all the same sort of bland, ignorable bureaucrat. It was a dead-end job reserved for idiot nephews and brainless pretty boys who could go no further in the hierarchy. The latter group we called blah-blah-blah for ‘blathering, blue-eyed blonds.’ ”

“But
blah-blah-blah
comes from
blond, blauäugig und blöd,
or blond, blueeyed, and stupid,” Zosia corrected.

“I know, we anglicized it. Anyway, they were the sort who advanced through the military with their classic Aryan looks, until inevitably, someone realized that they were simply too brainless to be of any real use. As a group they were generally arrogant, petty, and vindictive, and we avoided them. Well, one day, we got a new fellow, just like all the others. He was driven into the camp one morning, an announcement of the change was made in the evening, and the old
Kommandant
left the following day. At first nothing changed. The announcements were as patriotic and idiotic as usual, the threats just as dire, the routine just as tedious.

“It started slowly; the stories filtered in, hearsay and secondhand, and I did my best to ignore them. Then one of the young lads approached me and described his troubles firsthand. I couldn’t ignore it any longer, and after several days wrestling with my options, I decided to confront the
Kommandant
directly.”

“What exactly did the boy say?”

“Oh, that he was summoned to the
Kommandant
’s private quarters and given an ultimatum. He must perform sexual favors for the
Kommandant
or face unspecified consequences.”

“And he did this?”

“He was afraid.”

“And you believed it was not voluntary?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I find it difficult to believe he would give in so easily.”

Peter turned to look at Zosia. “You’ve never been a prisoner, have you?”

Zosia shook her head.

“I believed him,” Peter reiterated, “and I believed it was involuntary, even though, I guess, the
Kommandant
showered his victims with little favors after the fact. The problem was, I really did not know what I could do about it. I had no real authority.”

“You went to see him anyway?”

Peter nodded. “I told him my concerns. I told him to just leave the kids alone. He kept feigning ignorance so I said I’d go over his head, if necessary.”

“Was that possible?”

Peter shook his head.“No, not really. I was just grasping at straws.”

“Did he get angry that you were threatening him?”

“He didn’t seem to, he just told me to come and talk to him later. He seemed like he got a bright idea and said that he was having a party and I should come as a guest, then we could talk afterwards.”

“A guest?” Zosia asked, amazed.

“I think he thought I would be entertaining. After the roll call, I returned to the barracks, somewhat undecided about what to do, but within minutes, a guard came to the hut and informed me that the
Kommandant
wanted to see me in his quarters. With an armed escort I was taken back across the compound.

“The
Kommandant
was in a friendly mood. He offered me a brandy and then said, if I was a charming guest that evening, maybe we could work out some arrangement with respect to the problem I had mentioned earlier. So, I worked at being charming. God, it was tedious! I’ll spare you the details. Anyway, I did my best. Probably succeeded except for a certain lack of deference. At one point the
Kommandant
hissed in my ear that I had not said even one lousy
‘mein Herr’
and it wouldn’t hurt for me to say
‘Heil Hitler’
once in a while.”

Zosia laughed. “What did you say?”

“I told him it wasn’t our custom. I didn’t tell him that I thought it rather strange to greet other people by invoking a dead psychopath’s name.”

“Perhaps no odder than having one’s wedding day blessed by a visit to a pickled, I mean,
preserved
corpse,” Zosia commented.

“Who does that?”

“People in the Soviet Union.”

“Wow, that is weird, but then I suppose religious people get married in the presence of a crucifix.”

“Yes, some do,” Zosia agreed, pursing her lips. “So what happened?”

“Well, when the evening finally ended, I felt utterly drained. Being charming was hard work among those idiots, and I had rewarded my efforts by overindulging in the hors d’oeuvres and
Sekt.
By the time the last guest had stumbled out the door, I felt woozy. I remember just sitting down, wishing I had a cigarette, and wondering how the hell I was going to get a promise of good behavior out of him.”

“Did you?”

“Not immediately. The
Kommandant
returned from saying farewell to the last guest and poured me another drink. Brandy. He explained he didn’t offer his guests any because it was too expensive. I drank it down in two gulps. He called me a barbarian for that. Said I should savor it. I told him he could fucking savor it, I had to get back and get up early.” Peter paused, then said,“He reacted to that word.”

“Which word?”
“Fucking.
I could see it in his face. It was like my ‘foul’ language had opened a door to him . . .” Peter’s voice trailed off.

Zosia waited without saying anything, without voicing her suspicions.

“Anyway, he gave me another, and I know I shouldn’t have, but I drank that, too. It just felt so good to break the monotony. He didn’t sit down, he stood a few feet from me, pulled out his cigarette case, and removed one for himself. Didn’t offer me one. Just smoked a cigarette as I sat there drinking. I began to feel all nice and warm and almost numb. Thought that in a few minutes I’d be asleep. Began to think about Allison, then I noticed he was staring at me.

“Suddenly he said, ‘You are very handsome, you know.’ That’s when I knew I was in real trouble. I said I had to go and I tried to stand up, but he sort of pushed me back into the chair. I was off-balance from . . .” Peter paused, embarrassed.

Zosia remained silent, her face a mask. Outside the tent, the wind picked up and the brittle leaves of the trees rustled noisily in the breeze.

“He said, ‘We still have to discuss our deal.’ I was worried, but tried to put a brave face on it all. Told him, sure, I’d been to his party, now he would do his part and lay off the boys. He said, no, we weren’t done yet. I didn’t ask the obvious question, just got up to leave, but he blocked my exit. So finally I asked him what he wanted.”

“And he said?”

“Me, of course.” He smiled at her, as if he were telling a joke, but the smile was not returned and his dropped from his face. “He offered to leave everyone else alone if I would . . . you know.”

“Did you accept his offer?”

He shook his head. “No. I probably should have. Not only would he have left the others alone, but I don’t think he was really interested. He wasn’t homosexual, he just liked power, and if I had said yes, maybe that would have taken away all the fun and he would have left me alone.”

“You had no guarantee that he would have kept his word.”

“No, I didn’t. And I used that to justify my refusal. That, and the fact that young kids are resilient. I figured that their getting raped was a hell of a lot easier for them to cope with than me getting fucked by him. I guess that was rather cowardly on my part.”

“I don’t think so. You can’t give in to blackmail, it just gets used against you more and more if you do.”

“I’ve done nothing but give in to blackmail for the last four years,” he commented bitterly.

“That proves my point.”

“It’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

She straightened a bit, then said, “Please continue.”

“Well, in any case, I didn’t have the choice. He drew his gun and said I should reconsider. I called his bluff and headed toward the door. He didn’t shoot, but his personal guards dragged me back in. They tied my wrists behind my back and left me alone with him.”

“But you could still fight.”

Peter laughed. “Have you ever fought with your hands tied behind you?”

“Only in training.”

“Well, for one thing, fighting implies that there is a chance of winning. If I had managed to overpower him, there was still nowhere to go. All I could do was try and hurt him.”

“And did you?”

He nodded. “It was irrational but I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”

“What happened?”

“It didn’t stop him. He . . .” Peter closed his eyes as he tried not to remember too clearly all that had happened. He exhaled, then said, “He used the belt of his robe to tie my wrists to my neck, then he started pounding on me, on my head. I spent all my time trying not to break my arms or strangle myself. I think the pounding or the lack of air caused me to black out. All I know is . . .”

Zosia raised her eyebrows and waited. Finally she asked, “What?”

He blinked at the unexpected sight of the tent. “My refusal was moot.” His lips twitched but he did not say anything more.

“What happened then?”

“He released me, kicked me out. I pulled on my clothes and left.” He gave Zosia a fleeting smile. “That was the really weird part, the way he just stood there and watched me as if nothing exceptional had happened. And me, I didn’t know what else to do. I left, pretended it hadn’t happened. When I returned to my barracks, everyone was mercifully asleep, and the next day, when they inquired as to the success of my mission, I told them only that I had elicited a promise, nothing more, from the
Kommandant.
About a week later I was told that there were no more complaints, and I was to be congratulated on my diplomacy.”

“So you were through with it all.”

“So I thought. Two weeks later, I received another summons. It was late evening, most of the boys were asleep, some were playing cards or writing. I was sharing a pot of weak tea with Geoff, talking about nothing in particular, when one of the lads near the door suddenly announced someone was coming. A guard walked in, came straight up to me, and said that
he
wanted to see me in his quarters immediately.”

“Did you go?”

“I had no other choice.” Peter sighed and continued, “I’ll spare you the details of our conversation. The upshot was he wanted to continue our so-called bargain and he wanted a measure of cooperation on my part. I tried to reason with him, appealed to his decency, appealed to his sense of humanity.”

“It didn’t work?”

“He laughed at me, told me I wasn’t an
Übermensch,
so I should just do as he told me and be grateful for his attentions. I pointed out that what he was doing was not approved behavior and it could destroy his career. He said he knew I wouldn’t tell anyone because it would cost me my life. He was right, there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t make me more guilty than he.”