The Tattooist of Auschwitz(29)

‘Hey, Lale, I’ve got fourteen players, counting you and me – a couple in reserve if some of us fall over,’ Big Joel tells him proudly.

‘Sorry, I was told no substitutes. Just one team. Choose the fittest.’

The men look at each other. Three hands rise, and those volunteering to take no part walk away. Lale watches as several of the men stretch and jump up and down in the manner of a professional warm-up.

‘Some of these guys look like they know what they are doing,’ Lale mutters to Little Joel.

‘They should. Six of them have played semi-professionally.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘Nope. We’re gonna kick their arses.’

‘Little Joel, you can’t. We can’t win. I guess I didn’t make myself clear.’

‘You said get a team together and I did.’

‘Yeah, but we can’t win. We can’t do anything to humiliate them. We mustn’t tempt them to open fire on everyone. Look around you.’

Little Joel sees the hundreds of prisoners gathered. There is an air of excitement in the camp, as they push and shove for a vantage point around the perimeter of the painted playing area. He sighs. ‘I’ll tell the others.’

Lale scans the crowd for one face only. Gita stands with her friends and waves to him furtively. He waves back, wanting desperately to run to her, sweep her up in his arms and disappear behind the administration building. He hears loud banging and turns to see several SS pounding large poles into the ground at each end to make goalposts.

Baretski approaches him. ‘Come with me.’

At one end of the field, the crowd of prisoners parts as the SS team enters. None of them are in uniform. Several wear clothing that will make playing a game of football much easier. Shorts, singlets. Behind the team a heavily guarded Commandant Schwarzhuber and Lale’s boss, Houstek, approach Lale and Baretski.

‘This is the captain of the prisoner team, the T?towierer.’ Baretski introduces Lale to Schwarzhuber.

‘T?towierer.’ He turns to one of his guards. ‘Have we got something we can play for?’

A senior SS takes a cup from a soldier beside him and shows it to his commandant.

‘We have this. It will make a more than suitable trophy. The inscription says “1930 World Cup”. I believe the winners were France.’ He shows the trophy to Lale. ‘What do you think?’

Before Lale can respond, Schwarzhuber takes the trophy and holds it aloft for everyone to see. The SS cheer. ‘Start the game, and may the best team win.’

As Lale jogs back to his team he mutters, ‘May the best team live to see the sun come up tomorrow.’

Lale joins his team and they gather in the middle of the field. The spectators cheer. The referee kicks the ball towards the SS team and it’s game on.

Ten minutes into the game, the prisoners have scored two goals to nil. While Lale enjoys the goals, common sense prevails when he looks at the angry faces of the SS. He subtly lets his players know to slow it down for the remainder of the half. They have had their moments of glory, and it is now time to let the SS into the game. The half ends two all. While the SS are given drinks during the short break, Lale and his team gather to discuss tactics. Eventually Lale impresses on them that they cannot win this game. It is agreed that to help boost morale for the watching prisoners two more goals can be scored, as long as they lose by one goal in the end.

As the second half begins, ash rains down on players and spectators. The crematoria are in action and this core task of Birkenau has not been interrupted by sport. Another goal goes in for the prisoners and another for the SS. As their appallingly inadequate diet begins to tell, the prisoners tire. The SS score two further goals. The prisoners don’t need to throw the game, they simply can’t compete any longer. With the SS two up, the referee blows his whistle for full time. Schwarzhuber makes his way onto the field and presents the trophy to the SS captain, who raises it aloft to muted cheers from the guards and officers present. As the SS make their way back to their barracks to celebrate, Houstek walks past Lale.

‘Well played, T?towierer.’

Lale gathers his team and tells them what a great job they’ve done. The crowd has begun to disperse. He looks around to find Gita, who hasn’t moved from her spot. He jogs over to her and takes her by the hand. They move through the other prisoners towards the administration block. As Gita drops to the ground behind the building, Lale looks around for prying eyes. Satisfied, he sits beside her. He watches Gita as she runs her fingers through the grass, examining it intently.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking for four-leaf clover. You’d be surprised by how many there are here.’

Lale smiles, charmed. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘No, I’ve found several. Ivana finds them all the time. You look shocked.’

‘I am. You’re the girl who doesn’t believe she’ll get out of here, yet you are looking for good luck charms!’

‘They’re not for me. It’s true I don’t believe in such things.’

‘For who then?’

‘Do you know how superstitious the SS are? If we find a four-leaf clover we treasure it. It’s like currency for us.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Whenever we are in danger from the SS we hand it over and sometimes it stops them from hitting us. If we take one to a mealtime we might even get extra rations.’