All My Love, Detrick (37 page)

“I have some things that I would like to sell.” Detrick wore civilian clothes, leaving his uniform in the back seat of the car, to help preserve his anonymity.

“Let me see.”

Detrick laid his grandfather’s pocket watch on the table beside his wedding band. Next to that, he placed a stamp collection he’d kept as a child and all of his soccer equipment.

The
shopkeeper lifted the watch and turned it in his hand. Then, coming out from behind his counter, he studied the old black bicycle. It was obviously used, but still saleable. Before he finished with a price, the pawnbroker looked at the wedding band.

“I’ll give you one hundred
reichsmarks
for the lot.”

“The watch alone is worth that.”

“Take it or leave it. That’s my offer.”

“I’ll take it. And I would also like to purchase a flashlight.”

138

Although he had a key, Detrick had never dared enter headquarters after hours. He knew that on occasion Konrad brought women to his office in order to impress them, and he hoped that tonight would not be one of those evenings.

Detrick did not turn the lights on; instead, he used the flashlight to navigate his way to Konrad’s office. Relieved that Konrad had not chosen this night to make another conquest, Detrick entered the room alone.

Several piles of manila folders had been arranged neatly on Konrad’s desk. These, Detrick knew, were documentation to be entered into the punch card system. Depending upon when the arrest had occurred, the Abdenstern files might still be amongst them. Detrick prayed that they had not yet been processed. If Konrad had already finished and entered them, then locating the records would be far more difficult.

139

Packed wall-to-wall with desperate souls standing upright because there was no room for sitting, the train to Bergen-Belsen seemed airless. Unrelenting heat, lack of food and water, caused death amongst many in the compressed boxcar. A strong, permeating odor of urine, feces, and vomit prevailed throughout the entire trip. And, with only a small light peeking through the wood panels, Jacob lost track of the hours.

By the time the train reached its destination, he could not remember how long he’d been
riding; only that he had no idea what had become of Detrick or Leah, and he hoped the two would somehow locate each other. If the Nazis meant to kill them all, and Jacob believed that they did, his final prayer would be not for himself, but for those he loved. And so, he prayed, with tears running from his eyes that at least the lovers might face the end together and find comfort in each other’s arms. The rabbi stood beside him, silent the entire trip; neither could speak. Both men were lost in their own premonitions of what awaited them and the entire Jewish race.

140

Berlin

W
ith the Jewish problem under control, and Detrick not due back from the country until Monday, Konrad prepared to attend a party to honor a high-ranking official that Friday evening. The situation with the Muellers and the Jews would require some disciplinary action. Detrick must realize the seriousness of his crime, but Konrad felt secure that he’d had the brilliance to resolve the entire fiasco without any of the higher-ups ever discovering Detrick’s offense. Therefore, the punishment would be enforced and acknowledged only between the two of them; no one else need ever know. As he shaved the soft shadow of stubble from his chin, Konrad winked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He’d saved Detrick’s life; now Detrick owed him an even greater debt. Careful to wear a perfectly pressed uniform, he affected a smile guaranteed to push him toward another advancement in the party. Then, as always, picking up the black phone on his desk and dialing a number from his long list, he secured the perfect girl to appear as his date. After he replaced the receiver, he marveled at how women willingly accepted his invitations at the last minute because he was a man to be reckoned with. It had never been more clear to him how much the Third Reich had done to change his life. He had gone from the awkward, unaccepted boy to a man women and men aimed to please. Yes, the Nazi Party had been the best thing that ever happened to Konrad.

141

Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp

Near Celle, Germany

W
hen the doors to the train rattled open and the sunlight flooded in, Jacob was momentarily blinded. He heard the harsh voices of the guards yelling, “
Beeilen, Schweine!
” (Hurry up, pigs), as the crowd rushed through the door. The force of their pushing swept him along with them. Once outside, Jacob searched for the rabbi, but the guards would not tolerate his hesitation, and one of them hit him on the back with a club, telling him to move along. A pain shot through Jacob’s shoulder where the blow had landed as he followed the line, which had begun to enter the barbed-wire enclosure. Once inside, the prisoners' hair was shaved, and then they were ushered over to another line where they waited to enter a hot-air delousing machine. Standing in the broiling sun for hours, waiting, Jacob felt dizzy and drained. He continued to scan the large masses of people in search of the rabbi, but to no avail.

After the delousing, the captives, herded at
gunpoint, received their uniforms and entered the already overcrowded barracks. The odors on the train had been horrific, but they could not compare to the stench that pervaded these rooms. Emaciated men slept on the floors without blankets, their skin stretched across their skeletons so tightly that it looked as if the bones would soon pop right through. Anywhere Jacob looked, he saw people coughing or vomiting. In the background, he heard the guard instructing those who’d newly arrived to find an open space. Again, Jacob tried to locate the rabbi, but did not see him. Finding a small area between a teenage boy and a man appearing somewhere around forty, Jacob sat down.

“The man who used to sleep here died last night. We think he had cholera.” The middle-aged man scratched his head.

“Thanks, I’m glad you let me know the good news.” Jacob observed the crusty sore, dripping blood where the man had scratched it. Then he realized that the man’s entire skull was covered in red, angry bumps, some covered over with scabs.

On the other side of
him, the boy lay quietly. A pang of sadness shot through Jacob as he smiled at the youngster.

“Hello, my name is Jacob.”

“I’m Benjamin, but my friends call me Benny. You know, like Benny Goodman.”

“Ahhh, the American musician.”

“Yes, right.” Benny perked up. “You know American music?”

“A little bit, but not as much as I would have liked to.
It became illegal to listen to it and I didn’t want any trouble.” Jacob laughed. “I guess I could have listened…it seems I have trouble anyway.”

“I guess we both do.” The boy pointed to the yellow star on his arm. “If you’re a Jew in Europe you have trouble.”

“Where are you from?”

“Poland. I was in Auschwitz for the last three years, but as the Allies are getting closer, the Nazis are moving us into camps in Germany. I don’t think it will be too long before the end of all of this. The Germans know they’re losing the war. I just hope I’m strong enough to make it to the end.”

“You’re young. You’ll make it.”

“I hope so. There’s no food here, and no water. It’s filthy with lice, and everyone seems to be suffering from one illness or another. From what I understand, this camp
was designed to be a sick camp. The Nazis were sending all of the diseased prisoners here. Now there are sick and healthy, all together. So the healthy….get sick.”

“Well, you won’t get sick.” Jacob smiled. “You’ll be all right.” He patted the boy’s arm.

After a time, the middle-aged man introduced himself, “I guess since we are going to be neighbors, I should tell you my name. I am Leon, from Hungary.”

“Good to make your acquaintance, Leon. I am Jacob, from Berlin.”

“German Jews…they think they are something special…ehhh. Always putting on airs, you Germans, as if you are some kind of a higher class of Jew. Well…here you are dying with the rest of us.”

142

Ravensbrook Concentration Camp

90km North of Berlin

“Being pretty is dangerous here. If you are chosen to go to the brothel and the other girls find out about it, they will beat you to death.” Simza, the young gypsy girl, gazed at Leah. “See that one over there?” Simza indicated a large heavyset woman prisoner with a massive bulbous nose and thinning dark hair. Her small blue-green reptilian eyes darted around the room looking for a victim. “That’s Dagmar. She’s the ringleader, and she is meaner than a hungry badger. Be careful to stay out of her way.”

Simza ran her fingers through her long, curly black hair, her dark eyes studying the new girl who
had been placed in the bunk beside hers.

“Why would anyone be jealous of someone being forced into a brothel? It sounds like the worst thing that could happen.”

“Yes, I agree with you. But, you see, the girls who are sent to the brothels are fed better food and treated much better than we are. A girl like Dagmar has no chance of being chosen; she is lucky they haven’t done away with her yet. I think the only reason they even keep her around is because, she dominates the others and keeps them all under control. Sometimes I think she works directly with the guards.”

“You’re very pretty. Do you ever fear that you’ll
be selected?”
 

“Yes, of course… My biggest worry is that I
will be sterilized. There is forced sterilization here, especially if you’re sent to work as a prostitute. They don’t want anyone to get pregnant. If that should happen, the girl is immediately forced to abort. One of my friends was married and already with child when she came here. She tried to keep it secret, but she started to grow a big belly. When the Nazi guards found out what was happening, they took her to the doctor, who performed a quick abortion. She died. Most, who are treated here at the hospital, for anything, wind up dying. Try not to irritate the female guards; if you do, they usually send you for use in the medical experiments. Those are terrible. See that woman over on the other side of the room? They did an experimental surgery on her leg, and now she can’t walk without limping anymore. She tries to hide it, but I have seen where they cut her, and it’s red and swollen. Getting worse every day. Soon, she will die.”

Leah took a deep breath. She’d planned to tell Detrick, when he returned from Munich, that she carried his baby in her womb. Now, thoughts rushed at her with terrifying speed, as she asked herself how she might protect that precious life from all the evil around her that could snuff it out.

143

Berlin

Half way through the stack of files on Konrad's desk, Detrick found one folder for Leah and another for Jacob. It surprised him that Konrad had separated them. But, as he read further, he realized why. Plans to send Leah with the first transport going to the brothel at Gusen were clearly indicated; therefore, Konrad had sent her to Ravensbrook, the all-women’s camp. It was from Ravensbrook that the females for sexual slavery were selected. Unable to breathe, Detrick continued thumbing quickly through the papers to discover that Jacob had been sent to Bergen-Belsen.

With trembling hands, Detrick reached into Konrad’s drawer where he knew the letterhead paper
would be kept. Then, placing the flashlight next to the typewriter, he picked out two letters, forged Konrad’s signature and sealed them with his seal. Detrick’s knees buckled, and his chest tightened. Forcing himself to breathe, he grabbed the car keys, only to have them fall from his hand. Picking them up, he grasped them tightly, his knuckles white with the force, and he raced out to the car.

The stillness of night lay upon Berlin, causing Detrick to cringe as the sound of the car motor broke through the calm. Quickly removing his shirt, he replaced it with the jacket to his uniform. Then, with as much
self-control as he could muster, Detrick strained himself to refrain from speeding as he set out on his way to Ravensbrook. First, though, he must stop back at the Mueller’s house and find clothes for Jacob and Leah.