No Light (14 page)

My line begins to move forward and soon I am close enough to the front to see what is happening. Three officers stand facing us. Behind them are trucks. One of the officers is moving people left or right. A few are directed right but most are going left.

“Name!”

“I am Solomon Politzer from Paris!”

The officers laugh and one even smiles.

“Als ob das spart ihnen Jude!”

I shrug my shoulders and return his smile. He immediately looks away. I am pointed left and taken to one of the trucks by a man dressed in a flimsy striped uniform. He must be a prisoner.

“Please, go quietly”, he says.

Inside the truck I sit in silence. Again it seems like I am watching a movie. Characters enter and exit, some stop. Soon the truck is full of strangers. No-one speaks. I wait alone in silence. The truck starts up and we are driven along a dirt track towards a wood. Through the back of the truck I see the ghostly shapes of pine trees speeding past. Eventually we stop and are ordered out. More prisoners guide us towards a large hut; more soldiers shout, more dogs bark.

Inside the hut there are tables and benches. There are rows of towels and soap on the tables. When we have all filled the room a young officer appears at the door. He addresses us in French and he is smiling.

“Good evening, I am Untersturmführer Jurgen Groer and I apologise that you have had to endure such a difficult journey but your ordeal has now ended. You have arrived at Konzentrationslager Auschwitz.  Soon you will be joining life in this camp but before that you must shower and disinfect. I am sure you will welcome the opportunity to do so. Please remove your clothes. You will be given camp uniforms after.”

The prisoners move between us.

“Please be quick”, they say, “clothes and shoes to be tied together.”

As I begin to undress I resist the temptation to look at those around me. Soon everyone is naked. I am ashamed and instinctively use my hands to cover my genitals. We are told to take some soap and marched quickly from the hut between two lines of soldiers and dogs towards what looks like a farmhouse painted white and surrounded by a beautiful garden full of the most fragrant flowers. Inside the cottage we are forced into a small room. On the ceiling are rows of shower heads. I am frightened now. There are too many of us in here, all crammed tightly together. Some of the men begin to moan, others yell, some cry. I hope this is over soon. Then I notice the wall is covered in marks. I examine them and can see that they resemble scratching and are stained with blood. Dear God! There is a deafening thud. Everyone instinctively rushes towards the door, now slammed shut. I feel water splashing on my feet. It is the man beside me. Another man vomits. We are plunged into darkness. Unimaginable screams fill the air. Such terrifying sounds I have never heard.

I squeeze my eyes shut desperately seeking some image to comfort me. I see only shadows.

My heart breaks. My soul cries.

Oh, my tears! My tears!

Our world is destroyed.

And everything within us is rotten.

Solomon Politzer and Esther Guillard were murdered in the gas chambers at Auschwitz/Berkinau on 23
rd
July 1942. Their bodies were burnt and the ashes thrown into the Sola river.

*

Martin Cheym was shot on the train. His daughter Annabelle was transported from Drancy to Auschwitz on the 26
th
July. Like Solomon and Esther she was gassed immediately on arrival.

*

Cecilia Hartmann did not survive the war. She was murdered by Soviet soldiers as they took Berlin in 1945. Her son Ralf did survive. He remained in Paris until July 1944 when he was transferred to the Netherlands. He was captured by Allied forces at Nijmegen in September 1944. After the war Ralf returned to Berlin to search for Leni and Resi. He failed to find them and travelled to Austria where he settled in Innsbruck and became a teacher of literature.

*

Paul Politzer returned to the apartment and helped by Anshel Drezner, buried his wife Camille in the cemetery at Montparnasse. Four days later he was arrested and sent to Natzweiler-Struthof forced labour camp in Eastern France. In 1944 he was transferred to Dachau where he was liberated by US forces in April 1945.

He travelled to Villelongue and was reunited with Isabelle Berman. Her husband Anton and sons Louis and Maurice had not survived having lost their lives fighting for the Maquis near Lariere in July 1944.

Paul lived with Isabelle for over twenty years until his death in 1968.

He suffered greatly with ill health as a result of his wartime incarceration and never painted again.