Spark of Life (36 page)

Handke eyed the prisoners. They expected one of his outbursts.

But it didn’t come. “Fatheads!” he said. “Hurry up and get the filth out of here!” Then he turned to Berger. “I’ll bet you wouldn’t have liked it much, would you, if the barrack had been thoroughly searched?”

Berger didn’t answer. Expressionless, he glanced at Handke. Handke let out a guffaw. “Think I’m dumb, eh? I know more than you think. And I’ll get you all yet! All you stuck-up political idiots, understand?”

He stamped out behind Weber. Berger turned around. “What was that?” he asked Goldstein.

Goldstein shrugged his shoulders. “We must warn Lewinsky at once. And try to move those two who are hiding here somewhere else. D’you think it could be done in Block 20?”

“Yes—we’ll talk to 509.”

IN THE MORNING
the fog hung close over the camp. The machine-gun towers and the palisades could not be recognized. It seemed for a while as though the concentration camp no longer existed; as though the fog had dissolved the enclosure into a soft, treacherous freedom and one had only to walk on to discover it was no longer there.

Then came the sirens and soon afterwards the first explosions. They came from some soft nowhere and had no direction and no origin. They could just as well have been in the air or beyond the horizon as in the town. They were flung about, as thunder by many muffled storms, and in the gray-white of the woolly infinity they gave the impression of holding no danger.

The inmates of Barrack 22 crouched wearily on the bunks and in the corridors. They had slept little and were wretched from hunger; there had only been a thin soup the evening before. They paid hardly any attention to the bombardment. This, too, had grown familiar by now, it had become a part of their existence. None of them, however, had been prepared for the howling to increase furiously all of a sudden and to end with a gigantic detonation.

The barrack swayed as in an earthquake. Into the echoing reverberation of the crash sounded the tinkling of broken windowpanes.

“They’re bombing us. They’re bombing us!” someone cried. “Let me get out! Out of here!”

A panic started. Men tumbled out of their bunks. Others tried to clamber down and hung entangled with those below in a maze of limbs. Feeble arms lashed out, bared teeth gleamed from the skulls, and eyes stared fearfully out of deep sockets. What gave it all a ghostlike quality was that everything seemed to proceed without sound; the raging of the antiaircraft guns and the bombs was now so violent that it completely drowned the screaming within. Open mouths appeared to scream without voices as though fear had made them mute.

A second explosion shook the earth. The panic turned into uproar and flight. Those still able to walk swarmed helter-skelter through the corridors; others, utterly indifferent, lay on their bunks staring at their soundless gesticulating comrades as though they were spectators of a pantomime that no longer concerned them. “Shut the door!” shouted Berger.

It was too late. The door was flung open and the first batch of skeletons stumbled into the fog. Others followed. The Veterans crouched in their corner and only with difficulty kept from being dragged out with the rest. “Stay here!” shouted Berger. “The guards will fire!”

The flight continued. “Lie down!” called Lewinsky. Despite Handke’s threats, he had spent the night in Barrack 22. It had still seemed safer to him. The previous day four men whose names began with the letters H and K had been caught in the labor camp by the special SS gang consisting of Steinbrenner, Breuer and Niemann and taken to the crematorium. Fortunately the search had been carried out bureaucratically. Lewinsky had not waited for them to reach the letter L. “Flat on the ground!” he shouted. “They’re going to fire!”

“Out! Who wants to be caught in this mousetrap?”

Outside, shots were already crackling into the howling and thunder. “There! It’s started! Lie down! Flat! The machine guns are more dangerous than the bombs!”

Lewinsky was mistaken. After the third explosion the machine guns ceased. The guards had quit the towers in a hurry. Lewinsky crept out of the door. “The danger’s over!” he shouted into Berger’s ear. “The SS have disappeared.”

“Shall we stay inside?”

“No! That’s no protection. We can get trapped and burn to death.”

“Out!” shouted Meyerhof. “If the barbed wire is bombed we can flee!”

“Shut up, idiot! They’d catch you in those clothes and shoot you!”

“Come out.”

They hustled out of the door. “Stick together!” shouted Lewinsky. He seized Meyerhof by the front of his jacket. “If you do anything foolish I’ll break your neck with my own hands, d’you hear? Damned idiot, d’you think we can risk that kind of thing now?” He shook him. “D’you understand? Or shall I break your neck this minute?”

“Leave him alone,” said Berger. “He won’t do it. I’ll watch him.”

They lay beside the barrack, close enough to see the dark walls in the steaming fog. It looked as though they were giving off fumes from an invisible fire. They lay there, the giant hands of many thunders in the back of their necks, hugging the earth and waiting for the next explosion.

It didn’t come. Only the flak continued raging. Soon bombs could no longer be heard even from the direction of the town. Instead, it was the crack of rifle shots that sounded clearer through the noise.

“That’s here in the camp,” said Sulzbacher.

“It’s the SS.” Lebenthal raised his head. “Maybe the SS quarters have been hit and Weber and Neubauer are dead.”

“Too good to be true,” said Rosen. “Things like that don’t happen. They certainly couldn’t have done any precision bombing in that fog. Maybe they hit a few barracks.”

“Where’s Lewinsky?” asked Lebenthal.

Berger looked around. “I don’t know. He was here a few minutes ago. Don’t you know where he is, Meyerhof?”

“No.”

“Maybe he’s gone out to explore.”

They went on listening. The tension increased. Once more isolated rifle shots could be heard. “Maybe some men over there have escaped and they’re after them.”

“I hope not.”

They all knew the whole camp would have to line up for roll call and be left standing until the escaped men had been brought back dead or alive. That would mean dozens of dead and a thorough search of all barracks. This was the reason why Lewinsky had shouted at Meyerhof. “Why should they still try to escape now?” asked Ahasver.

“Why not?” retorted Meyerhof. “Each day—”

“Be quiet,” interrupted Berger. “You’ve risen from the dead and that’s made you crazy. You think you’re Samson. You wouldn’t get five hundred yards.”

“Maybe Lewinsky himself has bolted. He had reason enough. More than anyone else.”

“Ridiculous! He won’t bolt.”

The flak died down. In the silence commands and running could be heard. “Wouldn’t it be better for us to get into the barrack?” asked Lebenthal.

“You’re right.” Berger got up. “Everyone from Section C back
into the room. Goldstein, see to it that your men hide themselves well to the rear. Handke’ll be here any minute.”

“I’ll bet they didn’t hit the SS,” said Lebenthal. “Those gangsters always get through. Probably a few hundred of us have been torn to pieces.”

“Perhaps the Americans are already here,” said someone in the fog.

For a moment everyone fell silent. “Shut up!” said Lebenthal then, annoyed. “Don’t talk like that!”

“In with you, those who can still crawl. There’s bound to be a roll call.”

They crept back into the barrack. Again there was a near-panic. Many, especially those who owned a strip of bunkboard, were suddenly afraid that others, faster, might take it from them. They yelled with hoarse, feeble voices, fell down and scrambled forward. The barrack was still overcrowded and there was room for less than a third of them. Some remained outside despite all warnings to get in; they were too exhausted by the excitement even to crawl. The panic had swept them out with the others, but now they could move no longer. The Veterans dragged several of them as far as the barrack; through the fog they saw that two were dead. They were bleeding. Bullets had killed them.

“Look out!” Through the white surging fog they heard steps heavier than those of Mussulmen.

The steps drew closer and stopped in front of the barrack. Lewinsky looked in. “Berger,” he whispered, “where’s 509?”

“In 20. What’s up?”

“Just come out for a moment.” Berger went to the door. “509 needn’t be afraid any more,” said Lewinsky fast and abruptly. “Handke is dead.”

“Dead? From a bomb?”

“No. Dead.”

“How did it happen? Did the SS catch him in the fog?”

“Something caught him in the fog. That’s enough, or isn’t it? The main thing is, he’s gone. He was dangerous. The fog was convenient.” Lewinsky remained silent for a moment. “You’ll see him all right in the crematorium.”

“If the shot was from too close, they’ll see traces of powder and burns.”

“There was no shot. Two other bullies got finished off too in the fog and confusion. Two of the worst. One of them was from our barrack. He squealed on two men.”

The All Clear sounded. The fog rose and scattered. It looked as though the explosions had torn it apart. Through it a scrap of blue began to shine, then it turned silver and the sun beyond it filled it with a white glow. Like dark scaffolds, the machine-gun towers began rising out of it.

Someone approached. “Look out,” whispered Berger. “Come in, Lewinsky. Hide!”

They closed the door behind them. “It’s only one,” said Lewinsky. “No danger. For a week now they’ve given up coming alone. They’re in too much of a funk.”

The door was cautiously opened. “Is Lewinsky here?” someone asked.

“What d’you want?’

“Come quick. I have it here.”

Lewinsky disappeared in the fog.

Berger looked around. “Where’s Lebenthal?”

“Went to 20. Wanted to tell 509 about it.”

Lewinsky returned. “Did you hear any more about what happened over there?” asked Berger.

“Yes. Come out.”

“What was it?”

Lewinsky smiled slowly. His face was wet from the fog and unfolded
itself into teeth, eyes and a broad quivering nose. “A part of the SS quarters has collapsed,” he said. “Dead and wounded. Don’t know yet how many. Barrack 1 has losses. The arms depot and the clothes chamber have been damaged.” He glanced cautiously into the fog. “We’ve got something to hide. Maybe only until tonight. We managed to get hold of something. Our people didn’t have much time. Only until the SS returned.”

“Give it to me,” said Berger.

They stood close together. Lewinsky handed Berger a heavy package. “From the arms depot,” he whispered. “Hide it in your corner. I’ve still got another one. We’ll stick it into the hole under 509’s bunk. Who’s sleeping there now?”

“Ahasver, Karel and Lebenthal.”

“Fine.” Lewinsky breathed heavily. “They worked fast. They started the moment the bomb had smashed the depot wall. The SS weren’t there. Our men had left before they returned. We even got hold of more. We’ll hide that in the typhus ward. Distribute the risk, you understand? Werner’s principle.”

“Won’t the SS discover what’s missing?”

“Maybe. That’s why we’re not going to leave anything in the labor camp. We haven’t taken too much and everything’s in a hell of a mess. Maybe they won’t notice anything. We’ve tried to set the depot on fire.”

“You’ve worked damn well,” said Berger.

Lewinsky nodded. “A lucky day. Come, let’s hide it without anyone seeing. No one here suspects anything. It’s getting brighter. We couldn’t get hold of more because the SS returned too soon. They thought the fences had been destroyed. Shot at everyone crossing their path. Expected a wholesale escape. Now they’re calmer. Discovered the barbed wire was intact. Damn lucky the labor gangs had been kept back this morning; danger of escape in the fog. That’s how we could let our best men go to work. Now
there’ll probably soon be a roll call. Come, show me where we can put the things.”

An hour later the sun came out. The sky turned soft and blue and the last of the fog disappeared. There lay the fields with the rows of trees fresh and damp and with a shimmer of green, as after a bath.

In the afternoon Block 22 heard that twenty-seven prisoners had been shot during and after the bombardment; twelve had been killed in Barrack 1, twenty-eight injured by splinters. Ten SS-men were dead; among them Birkhauser of the Gestapo. Handke was dead; so were two men from Lewinsky’s barrack.

509 came over. “What about the receipt for the Swiss francs that you gave Handke?” asked Berger. “Supposing it’s found among his things? What then? What if it falls into the hands of the Gestapo? We didn’t think of that!”

“Yes, someone did,” said 509. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Lewinsky knew about it. And he thought of it. He managed to get hold of Handke’s things. A reliable kapo stole them for him right after Handke’s death.”

“Lewinsky has been damned efficient today. Tear it up!” Berger heaved a sigh of relief. “I hope we’ll at last have some peace now.”

“Perhaps. It depends on who’s going to be the new block senior.”