Karolina's Twins (11 page)

“As David had warned, many were sadistic. If you were an observant Jewish man, they'd cut off your beard. They'd make you dance on the street to German drinking songs. I saw them force men to lick the dirt off their boots. I saw them force a woman to squat and urinate on her meager groceries. I could go on, Catherine, but you've heard all the stories.

“After work that very first day, on my way to the ghetto, I was stopped by two soldiers and ordered to show my ID. I said to myself,
stay calm.
But I was afraid. They looked me over and asked me where I was going.

“‘I'm headed back into the ghetto. I'm coming from work.'

“‘What is your address?'

“‘I don't have one yet.' My anxiety increased.

“‘No address? Where have you been living?'

“‘On the streets.'

“That answer was totally unacceptable to him and he shook his head. ‘
Nein, nein.
' But then his companion said, ‘C'mon, Josef, we're late. They're waiting for us at the restaurant. I don't give a shit about this woman.'

“He gave me back my ID, let me go and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I saw a few more people on my way to the ghetto, mostly women returning from their jobs. I stopped some of them and asked them about the Scheinmans. Has anyone seen them? As I told you, most everyone knew the Captain. He was a well-respected man. But the people I met told me that as far as they knew, he had never arrived in the ghetto. They hadn't seen him, my mother or Milosz.

“I entered a few of the overcrowded apartment buildings looking for a room, but they were all full. The situation in the ghetto was bleak. You can't imagine. In an area where a few hundred poor families had lived, there were now close to ten thousand people. If your family had lived in a two-story house before the war, you now found yourselves crammed into a single living space in a decaying building. Perhaps a ten-by-ten room.

“I went from one building to another. It was getting late. It was also dark and exceptionally cold for an April night. Near the tracks was a four-story brown brick building with two apartments per floor. Each of the apartments now held several families and there was no extra room. I was leaving the building when an elderly man stopped me. ‘Do you need something?'

“‘I'm looking for a place to sleep. Every room seems to be taken. Do you know of any vacant rooms?'

“‘It's almost midnight. You won't find anything tonight. Most people, if they can, have gone to sleep. I have a little room, but you can stay. I'm harmless.' He smiled warmly. ‘I'm Yossi.'

“He lived in the basement in a small furnace room. There was a large coal furnace that heated the building, but it wasn't functional. There was no coal. We were in coal mining country, but there were no deliveries to the ghetto. Yossi told me that I could sleep for the night on the extra mat in the corner. I was grateful to take it and I offered him a few reichsmarks, but he refused. I sat down on the mat, opened the bag of food that David had given to me and took out a portion of bread and meat. I was famished. As I unwrapped my dinner, I saw Yossi staring.

“‘Hungry?' I said.

“He shrugged, then nodded. I shared my small provisions with him, for which he was tearfully appreciative. I thought, how is this man getting any food? He didn't look strong enough to stand in the ration lines all day. And he certainly wasn't healthy enough to work. I hoped he had a family that was taking care of him. Otherwise, he was going to die in this unheated basement. His coat was threadbare and his shoes were coming apart.

“‘Do you know Jacob Scheinman?' I asked him while we ate.

“He nodded. ‘I know Jacob. The Captain.' He smiled. His teeth were yellowing and some were missing. I was certain that toothpaste was a luxury that he hadn't seen for a while. ‘I knew Jacob when he was a young man and I was a teacher.'

“‘He's my father. He was arrested by the Germans along with my mother and little brother. I think they may have relocated here in the ghetto. Have you seen any of them?'

“He shook his head sadly. ‘I'm sorry. My walking is limited and my attendance at social functions is minimal. I go to the synagogue if I can get someone to assist me. If not, I stay in my room and read. But I have not run into Jacob.' He held up his gnarled index finger to make a point. ‘You should inquire at the Judenrat. They keep the census—they know who's here and they know who's not.'

“‘The Judenrat?'

“‘It's the Jewish council. Because they're responsible for filling the work details, they know who's living here, who's been sent away, who left on a work detail and who's never returned. They supply the names of workers to the Germans and then post them outside city hall. Every day, you check the list, and if your name's there, you show up in the market square for work. Sometimes you come back at the end of the day, sometimes you don't come back for a week, sometimes you don't come back.'

“His narrative made me shudder. ‘And the Judenrat, this Jewish council, willfully supplies the names for the Germans?'

“‘You can't blame the members of the Judenrat they don't have a choice. They don't run this show, here. I think they're generally good people, and they try hard. They're our interface with the Nazi command. If it weren't for them, there would be no community organization and no one to communicate with the Nazis. But in truth, I suppose you're right, they're helping the Nazis enforce their edicts. When you inquire about your family at the Judenrat, ask to see Mayer Kapinski.'

“Yossi gave me the address and told me that the best time to catch him was right before lunch. ‘They usually meet during the day until just before sunset. They don't want to violate the curfew.'

“I shook my head. ‘I can't go during the day. I have to be at the Shop. Could you find a way to make the inquiry for me? If it isn't too much to ask, could you see Mr. Kapinski and ask him about Jacob and Hannah Scheinman and a young disabled boy named Milosz? I could come back here tomorrow night and you could tell me.'

“He patted me on the top of my head. ‘Of course. Of course. Come back tomorrow and I will tell you if I have learned something. And you may stay in the corner of my basement for as long as you like.' He looked at the corner and laughed. ‘Or until you find a place to sleep that you don't have to share with the mice. Be careful.'

“I thanked him profusely, put my duffel under my head for a pillow and passed out.

“The next morning I awoke with a sharp poke in my side. Yossi was standing over me. The room was dark, but there was a slice of bright light coming from the stairway. ‘You'd better get going,' he said. ‘The sun's up and you can't be late to the Shop. They will penalize you for late arrival.'

“‘Is there a place to wash up?'

“He shook his head. ‘Down the street at the fountain. There's no running water in this building. Only the fountain.'

“I returned to the Shop and took my place at the sewing machine just before seven. Bolts of cloth were brought to my station and I commenced work. At noon, there was a break and portions of bread, cheese and a small piece of sausage were distributed. I was ravenous. I introduced myself to the young woman next to me. Her name was Marcja. A thin, little girl with stringy blond hair and high cheekbones. She had come from the town of Trzebinia, five kilometers away. I knew the town; there was a train station there.

“On the first day of the war, the Germans had bombed Trzebinia, destroying the train station and much of the town. She told me that most of her family had scattered—some to Russia and some to the north—but her mother stayed in Trzebinia. Marcja came to Chrzanów to find work. She walked to and from Trzebinia each Sunday, even through the snowstorms. During the week she shared a room in the ghetto.

“‘I've lost track of my family,' I said. ‘They were taken from my home. I was hoping that my mother was working here, but David said he hasn't seen her.'

“‘People are taken from their homes, people are snatched off the street, people are even grabbed from the Shop,' Marcja said. ‘I've heard there are labor camps being set up all over Poland and Germany, where these people are sent. They don't come home. That's where your family might be.'

“Marcja was a fountain of information about the Shop and day-to-day life, which she was happy to share. She told me that we were given three bathroom breaks a day, ten minutes only, and the women's lavatory was the best way to wash your body, even though the water was ice cold. She also told me about the few stores that were open early in the morning, before sunrise, where the lines were short and where you might be more successful with your food card.

“The day ended and I hurried back to Yossi to learn the news about my family. He gently put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Ethel Goodman helped me to the synagogue and I talked to Kapinski.' He nodded at me. ‘Good news! Kapinski said he knows about your family. He wants to see you in person and tell you himself.'

“‘That's wonderful, but how can I see him? My work hours won't let me go during the day.'

“‘Kapinski knows that. He says he will see you tonight. Ten o'clock. He will meet you in the old synagogue on Górski Street.' He smiled broadly, proud that he was able to help me. ‘Kapinski. He has the information.'

“I was beside myself. Kapinski knew where my family was. I thanked Yossi, I hugged him and I shared my provisions with him. Just before ten, I left for the old synagogue.

“The streets in the ghetto were dark. Streetlamps were either nonexistent or inoperative. No one filled the gas lamps. Electricity was a sometimes thing. I arrived at the synagogue and opened the heavy door. The halls were pitch black and silent. In the sanctuary, a few candles were lit and along with the ner tamid, they cast a dim glow. I didn't see anyone and walked down the aisle toward the bimah.

“‘I'm here,' Mr. Kapinski said quietly from behind. I turned and saw a tall man with a full gray beard sitting in the middle row. He wore a dark suit jacket over a badly worn white shirt. He patted the seat next to him and gestured for me to sit. Other than the two of us, the synagogue was empty.

“‘Thank you for meeting me. Yossi tells me that you were able to learn about my family.'

“He nodded, but solemnly. ‘I don't know how much you know about your father. A genuine Polish patriot.'

“‘Oh, I know. He's a war hero. He fought very bravely.'

“Mr. Kapinski shook his head. ‘I'm not talking about the Great War. I'm talking about right now. In the midst of this hellish occupation, there are courageous souls who put their lives on the line every day. They are the Polish resistance. They are the home guard. They are fighters, they are couriers, they are saboteurs and they are leaders. Your father was such a man.'

“‘Was?' I swallowed hard.

“Mr. Kapinski closed his eyes and nodded. ‘Captain Scheinman, of blessed memory, was a leader in the resistance. With his guidance, we have caused substantial disruption to the German war effort.'

“I swiped at the tears that were dripping like a leaky faucet. I did my best to compose myself. ‘I want to hear the rest.'

“‘War makes strong men bold, but weak men desperate. Hunger, want, and fear easily combine to compromise a weak person's sense of honor. Nazis are very good at sniffing out these vulnerable souls and capitalizing on their weaknesses. I'm sorry to say that such a person, a member of our inner group, betrayed your father to the Nazis. That is why they came to your home.'

“‘And my mother, and Milosz?'

“Again, he lowered his eyes and slowly shook his head. ‘We have known them to execute entire families for much lesser crimes.' With that, I broke down. He put his arms around me and held me for quite a while. ‘You may stay here as long as you like. I will stay with you.'

“‘Who's the traitor? Who turned him in?'

“He hesitated, then nodded. ‘You have a right to know. I believe we've identified him. I will tell you when I'm certain.'

“I spent the night curled up on the synagogue pew. My grief was overwhelming. The next morning several worshippers came for minyan. It was already daylight. I rubbed my reddened eyes, looked at the prayer group and shook my head.
To whom do you pray?
I thought.
Other than the members of your group, who the hell do you think is listening? What a waste of time and energy.
I slowly left the synagogue and returned to the Shop, arriving long after my shift had started. David met me. He could tell instantly that something was wrong.

“‘What happened to you? You look terrible.'

“‘They killed them, David. My entire family. My father, my mother, my baby brother. All of them. The Nazis executed them in cold blood.'

“‘Come with me.' He hustled me upstairs to the little room that he used for his office and his bedroom.

“‘My father was betrayed by a spy for the Nazis,' I said. ‘The snake! The bastard! I'll get him, David. I will have my revenge! Fucking Nazis, they will pay.' And again, I broke down.

“‘Shh!' he said, wrapping his arms around me. He smoothed my hair back from my forehead and wiped the tears from my face. ‘Watch your mouth. You don't want to be saying these things. Do you see what's walking around downstairs? You be careful who you talk to. What makes you think you can even talk to me?'

“I looked at him. I looked into his blue eyes. Was it possible he was also a collaborator? After all, he managed the Shop. What did he have to do to get that position? Was he also a weak link? I shook the thought from my head. No. Not David. Not possible.

“‘I don't care anymore,' I said. ‘I don't care who hears what I say. I'm going to get this traitor. I'm going to avenge my family. I swear it.'

“He smiled at me. ‘Müller was right, you've got spunk. But uncontrolled rage is not your friend. Find your moment. It is not now. Wisdom, planning, plotting, finding your opportunity—those are your friends. You'll get your chance. Your father was a great man.'