The Librarian of Auschwitz(38)
“She’s thanking God,” says H?ss with a guffaw.
The others laugh politely. Rudolf H?ss has recently been relieved of his position as commander of Auschwitz because the officers under him have been responsible for certain irregularities in the Lager’s accounts. Some members of the Gestapo’s high command don’t look on him as favorably as in the past. Eichmann returns to his soup without waiting for H?ss to resume his seat. These sorts of games seem out of place to him when you’re eating. Killing Jews is serious work as far as he’s concerned. That’s why, when he’s asked later on in 1944 by the head of the SS, Heinrich Himmler, to end the Final Solution in light of the inevitable defeat of the Germans, Eichmann will go on ordering massive exterminations right to the bitter end.
*
The rumor put out by Mrs. Turnovská—so rightly dubbed Radio Birkenau by Dita—that there’ll be a special meal of sausages for the prisoners, has turned out to be false. Yet again.
Dita heads off to see her parents, but as she makes her way through the crowd, she catches a glimpse of Mr. Tomá?ek and decides it is a perfect opportunity to talk to him. She sets off in his direction, but there’s such a crowd on the Lagerstrasse that she has trouble making headway. At times, she loses sight of him, but then she spots him again. He’s walking toward Block 31 and the hospital hut where there are fewer people. He moves quickly despite being about as old as her father, and Dita can’t catch up to him. She sees him skirting past Block 31 and walking on almost to the camp boundary where the clothing hut is located. It’s supervised by a regular German prisoner with the rank of Kapo rather than by a Jew. Dita has no idea what he’s planning to do there since Jewish prisoners aren’t allowed to enter that hut without permission. The Germans must think that the rags stored in there are very valuable. Mr. Tomá?ek is probably trying to get hold of some clothing for a needy prisoner. Her parents have explained to her that kindhearted Mr. Tomá?ek helps a lot of people, including finding clothes for them.
He strides into the hut before Dita can reach him, so she’ll have to wait till he comes out. The wide avenue through which you enter Auschwitz–Birkenau is on the other side of the family camp fence. They’re finishing construction of a railway line that will allow the train transports to run under the guard tower, which dominates everything at the main entrance, right to the very heart of the camp. She’s not too happy about staying there, in full sight of the guards at the main entrance, so she wanders down the side of the hut until she comes to a crack in the wooden wall. She walks up closer to it and hears Mr. Tomá?ek’s mild voice. He’s reciting some names and hut numbers. In German.
Intrigued, Dita sits down beside the wall.
An angry voice interrupts Mr. Tomá?ek’s report.
“We’ve told you many times already! We don’t want the names of retired socialists! We want the names of members of the Resistance.”
Dita recognizes the voice and the cold, hard way of speaking. It’s the Priest.
“It’s not easy. They hide. I try—”
“Try harder.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now go.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dita scurries round to the back of the hut so they won’t see her when they come out. She slumps to the ground.
Kindhearted Mr. Tomá?ek … how could he? And whom can she trust now?
She recalls Professor Morgenstern’s words: Trust yourself.
She’s on her own.
*
Fredy Hirsch has also found himself on his own. He’s sitting in his room when there’s a knock on the door. Miriam Edelstein comes in, sits down on the wooden floor, and rests her back against the wall. She looks incredibly tired.
“Did Eichmann make any comment about your report?” she asks.
“No, nothing.”
“What does he want it for?”
“Who knows.…”
“Schwarzhuber was in high spirits. He was smiling at Eichmann the whole time like a little lap dog.”
“Or a Doberman.”
“True. His face does remind you of a blond Doberman. And what about Mengele? He seemed like a fish out of water.”
“He’s going it alone.”
Miriam falls silent. It would never have occurred to her to speak about Mengele like that—as if he were an acquaintance.
“I don’t know how you are able to get along with such a repugnant person.”
“He’s the one who authorized the delivery to Block Thirty-One of the food parcels sent to dead prisoners. I get along with him because that’s my duty. I know some people say that Mengele is my friend. They know nothing. If it were advantageous to our children, I’d get along with the devil himself.”
“You already do.” And Miriam smiles and gives him an understanding wink as she says it.
“Dealing with Mengele has one advantage. He doesn’t hate us. He’s too intelligent for that. But that might be why he’s the most terrible Nazi of them all.”
“If he doesn’t hate us, why does he collaborate with this whole aberration?”
“Because it suits him. He’s not one of those Nazis who believe that we Jews are a race of inferior, hunchbacked beings from hell. He’s told me so. He finds many admirable qualities in Jews—”