Beyond the Shadow of Night(102)

“You weren’t in Ukraine at the time—when the Nazis invaded. If you sided with the Russians you joined the Red Army. If you sided with the Germans you joined the SS. If you wanted to be Ukrainian you were killed by either the Russians or the Nazis. The whole thing was a devil’s mess.”

“And have you conveniently forgotten Babi Yar? You were in Kiev at the time. You must have known. What was it? Over thirty thousand innocent Jews rounded up and shot dead in a few bloody hours of butchery by Hitler’s henchmen?”

“Yes. I was in Kiev at the time. In a POW camp.”

“But you were there.”

“And you weren’t, Asher. You weren’t. The world knows about Bergen-Belsen and Auschwitz, and not without good cause, but that POW camp was every bit as horrific—a disgusting, festering boil on the face of humanity. Starvation, disease, random beatings and shootings were all common, and the Nazis showed as much hatred for us as they did for any Jew. An ocean of men stretched over the horizon. In that and many other POW camps, millions of Ukrainians died, all with families and hopes for a normal life. So yes, I heard the rumors about Babi Yar. But do you honestly think that was important to me at the time? Me, rotting and diseased, living in a crowded field with hundreds of thousands of other rotting and diseased people?”

“And so you volunteered to kill people?”

“I had to take sides. Surely you can see I had to do that to survive. Yes, it sounds terrible in this day and age of plentiful food and shelter. But history doesn’t know the future, Asher. History doesn’t know the future. Context is everything. So it turned out I exchanged one form of hell for another. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“The right thing for yourself?”

Mykhail nodded defiantly. “Of course for myself. Don’t forget, you said you were a Totenjude—a Jew of death. I was there, remember. I know what you did. You helped kill too. Wasn’t that self-preservation?”

Asher’s voice dropped a little. His thin lips drew back to reveal gritted teeth. “There was a difference, Mykhail. I was ordered at gunpoint; you volunteered.”

“You think I haven’t wrestled with my memories over the years? You think my mind didn’t spin around on a thousand sleepless nights, wondering whether I could have done anything different?”

“So you regret it?”

“That’s not the point, goddammit! We both know who was really to blame—the people who had real power and real choice. The point is, I’ve suffered because of what I did. I still do suffer, and my poor daughter shares some of that suffering, even though she doesn’t know it. But do you really think what I did was a free choice?”

“It depends. Knowing what you know now, do you still think you did the right thing?”

Mykhail shrugged and wiped his eyes. “Now?” He gave his head a slow shake. “Now I can’t do anything about it.”

Both men were silent for a few moments, neither looking at the other.

“Okay,” Asher said eventually. “Yes, of course I can understand, to a point. But part of the reason I feel so bad is because you’ve been lying to me all this time.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

“You lied about why you came to America. You couldn’t go back to Russia or Ukraine because you would have been considered a traitor.”

“I told you the truth. I could have stayed in Germany, but I came to America because I wanted something better for my life. I wanted to get away from the chaos of Europe. I assumed my family were all dead and wanted to do the best for myself—and for their memory.”

“You never wanted to find out whether your parents survived the war?”

“Of course I did. But there was no way I could go back. And when I came to this country—well, I guess I forgot about that old Mykhail. I’m sure changing my name helped. It’s a different life, and I’m a different person.”

“Except, of course, that you’re not, are you?” Asher stood up.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you said you wouldn’t tell the authorities. You promised.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mykhail. Will you quit with the self-preservation! I’m just disgusted with you, that’s all. History is history, I know, but the worst thing, the very worst thing, was what you did to me only last month.”

“Last month? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I was in hospital. You were by my bedside. I poured my heart out to you about Rina, told you how much I missed her all my life, how she could have become something special had she not been murdered. And you just sat there listening to me and nodding and telling me how terrible it all was. But all the time you were listening you knew that you were one of those sons of bitches who murdered her.”

“You think it would have helped to tell you then?”

Then Asher sat back down and spoke through gritted teeth, jets of spittle coming out with his words. “It would have shown me a little respect! It would have shown my sister a little respect. Mykhail, I’ve been your friend all these years. We’ve shared some good times and you’ll always be my brother in all but blood, and now I find . . . Oh, I just don’t know how I can cope, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you.”