The Librarian of Auschwitz(94)
Rudi Rosenberg and Fred Wetzler believe they are not far from the Slovak border, though they don’t know exactly the right road to the Beskidy mountain range. But that’s their second problem. Their first is that they are not invisible. On a sharp corner of a lane, they almost run headfirst into a woman. They are in a populated area with open fields: It’s inevitable that they’ll come across people like this Polish peasant with a heavily wrinkled face, who is looking at them apprehensively.
The two men decide they have no other option but to risk everything—they were going to bump into someone sooner or later. And anyway, they need help. They’ve been without food for more than twenty-four hours, they haven’t slept for days, and they don’t even know if they’re on the right track to Slovakia. They exchange a quick glance and instantly agree to tell the truth to this woman. In uncertain Polish, mixed with Czech phrases, much hand waving, and even interruptions to what the other is saying in an attempt to produce a convincing explanation, they tell the old woman that they are fugitives from Auschwitz. They are peaceful and just need to know how to get to the border so they can go back home.
The suspicious expression on the peasant woman’s face hasn’t altered: She even steps back when they try to come closer. Fred and Rudi fall silent. She peers at them with tiny eyes like peppercorns. They are tired, hungry, disoriented—and frightened. They beg her for help with gestures, and she looks down. The two men exchange glances, and Fred motions with his head that they have to leave before the woman starts to shout for help and gives them away. But they are afraid that she’ll sound the alarm the minute they turn around and stop eye contact with her.
They don’t have time to launch into their retreat. The woman looks up, takes a step toward them as if she has reached a sudden decision, and grabs Rudi by the sleeve of his sweater. They realize that she wants to look at them more closely. She examines them in detail, just as she would a horse or a calf. She wants to see what sort of men they are: Their unshaven faces and dirty clothes aren’t enough to convince her that they’ve told her the truth, but she also notices their haggard eyes, swollen from lack of sleep and sunken into their thin, almost cadaverous faces. She notices how their bones protrude everywhere and almost poke out through their skin. And then finally, she gives a nod. She gestures for them to stay where they are and indicates with another hand motion that she’ll bring them something to eat; they even think they understand a bit of what she says to them in Polish—“person” and “border.” After taking a few steps, the woman turns around and insists that they wait, that they stay right where they are.
Rudi whispers that she might go and report them to the German authorities, and that it might be an SS patrol that appears. Fred points out that they can go and hide but, if she raises the alarm that two fugitives from Auschwitz are here, the Germans will cordon off the area and search it. It would be very difficult for them to escape.
They decide to wait. They go over to the other side of the wooden bridge across the little stream from which they had taken a drink that very morning, so that if the SS do come, they’ll see them early enough to be able to head into the forest and gain a minute’s advantage. An hour goes by, and the old peasant woman hasn’t reappeared. Their stomachs begin to demand something more than air.
“The sensible thing would be to return to the forest,” mutters Rudi.
Fred agrees, but neither of them makes a move. They can’t; they’ve used up all their energy. They’ve got nothing left to burn.
After two hours, they give up expecting anyone to come and huddle together to get some protection from the cold. They even doze off. The calm is broken by the sound of hurried footsteps. They aren’t going to bother even trying to escape, no matter who it is. They open their eyes and see that the source of the footsteps is a twelve-year-old boy in a sackcloth jacket and a pair of pants held up with string. He is carrying a parcel. They manage to understand that the boy’s grandmother has sent him. When they open the little wooden box he’s carrying, they discover two steaming hot boiled potatoes on top of two thick fried fillets of veal. They wouldn’t exchange them for all the gold in the world.
Before the boy leaves, they try to ask him about the Slovak border. The boy tells them to wait. So, somewhat calmer after the friendly gesture of food and invigorated by the meal, which they devoured with speedy delight, they stay where they are. Night falls almost immediately, and the temperature drops. They decide to go on short circular walks to keep stiffness and some of the cold at bay.
Finally, they hear the sound of feet again, more cautious this time, and hidden in the darkness. They only make out the man in the moonlight when he’s almost on top of them: He’s dressed in peasant clothing, but he’s got a gun in his hand. Weapons are synonymous with bad news. The man stops in front of them and lights a match, which briefly illuminates their three faces. He has a thick, light brown mustache, which looks like a brush for polishing shoes. He lowers his hand with the gun and stretches out the other one for a handshake.
“Resistance.”
That’s all he says, but it’s enough. Rudi and Lederer jump with joy, they start to dance and hug until they fall to the ground. The Pole looks at them, perplexed. He wonders if they’re drunk. And they are drunk—with freedom.
The partisan introduces himself as Stanis, although they suspect it isn’t his real name. He explains to them in Czech that the reason the woman who found them was suspicious was that she thought they might be Gestapo agents in disguise, on the hunt for Poles collaborating with the Resistance. He tells them they’re very close to the border, and they’ll have to be careful about patrols of German soldiers, but he knows their timetable, and they are so precise that they go past the same spot at the exact same time every night, so the two fugitives will have no trouble avoiding them.