Spark of Life (22 page)

Two hundred men of the transport were still left in front of the Small camp. They were the weakest. They held each other up. Sulzbacher and Rosen were among them. The blocks stood in line outside. They knew that Weber himself was supervising the distribution. This was why Berger had sent 509 and Bucher to fetch the food; he wanted to prevent the camp leader from seeing them; but they had been sent back from the kitchen. Food was to be handed out only after the transport had moved in.

There was no light anywhere. Only Weber and SS Squad Leader Schulte had flashlights which they kept switching on and off. The block seniors reported. “Stick the rest in here,” said Weber to the second camp senior.

The camp senior divided the men up. Schulte was supervising. Weber strolled on. “Why are there so many fewer here than over there?” he asked on coming to Section D of Barrack 22.

Block Senior Handke stood at attention. “The room here is smaller than the other sections, Herr Storm Leader.”

Weber turned on his flashlight. The light wandered over the
rigid faces. 509 and Bucher were standing in the rear row. The circle of light passed over 509, blinded him, passed on and returned. “I’m sure I know you! Where from?”

“I’ve been in the camp a long time, Herr Storm Leader.”

The circle of light moved down to his number. “About time you kicked off!”

“He’s one of those who recently had to go to the office, Herr Storm Leader,” reported Handke.

“I see.” The circle of light wandered back again to the number, and then passed on. “Just make a note of that number, Schulte.”

“Very good,” declared Squad Leader Schulte in a fresh and youthful voice. “How many men are supposed to go in here?”

“Twenty. No, thirty; have to squeeze together.”

Schulte and the camp senior counted and made notes. From the dark the Veterans’ eyes followed Schulte’s pencil. They couldn’t see whether he took down 509’s number. Weber hadn’t mentioned it to him again and now the flashlight was switched off. “Finished?” asked Weber.

“Yes.”

“The rest of the writing business can be done by the office tomorrow. On with you, over there! And drop dead! Otherwise we’ll lend you some assistance.”

Square and confident, Weber walked back down the camp road. The squad leaders followed him. For a while Handke still hung around.

“Food carriers out!” he growled then.

“Stay here,” Berger whispered to 509 and Bucher. “Let a couple of others go. Better for you not to run under Weber’s nose again.”

“Did Schulte take down my number?”

“I didn’t see it.”

“No,” said Lebenthal. “I was standing in front and watched. He forgot it in his hurry.”

For a while the thirty newcomers stood almost motionless in the windy dark. “Is there room in the barracks?” asked Sulzbacher at last.

“Water,” said a man hoarsely beside him. “Water! For Christ’s sake, give us some water.”

Someone appeared with a tin pail half filled with water. The newcomers fell upon it and upset it; they had nothing to drink with but their hollow hands. They threw themselves on the ground and tried to scoop up the water. They moaned. Their lips were black and dirty. They licked the ground.

Berger had observed that Sulzbacher and Rosen had not joined in the tussle. “We have a water pipe near the latrine,” he said. “It only trickles; but in time you’ll get enough to drink. Take a pail and get some.”

One of the newcomers bared his teeth. “So that you can wolf our food in the meantime, eh?”

“I’ll go,” said Rosen, and took the pail.

“Me, too.” Sulzbacher seized the other end of the handle.

“You stay here,” said Berger. “Bucher can go along and show him where it is.”

The two went off. “I’m the room senior here,” said Berger to the newcomers. “We keep order here. I advise you to co-operate. Otherwise you’ll have a short life.”

No one answered. But Berger wasn’t sure that anyone had even listened.

“Is there room in the barracks?” Sulzbacher asked again after a while.

“No. We’ll have to take turns at sleeping. Some will have to stay outside.”

“Will there be anything to eat? We’ve been marching all day on nothing.”

“The food carriers have gone to the kitchen.” Berger didn’t express his belief that there wouldn’t be any food for the newcomers.

“My name is Sulzbacher. Is this an extermination camp?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank God! You haven’t any gas chambers?”

“No.”

“Thank God,” repeated Sulzbacher.

“You talk as though you were in a hotel,” said Ahasver. “Just wait. Where are you from?”

“We’ve been five days on the road. On foot. We were three thousand. Our camp was disbanded. Whoever couldn’t keep going was shot.”

“Where are you from?”

“From Lohme.”

A number of the newcomers were still lying on the ground. “Water!” squawked one. “Where’s the man with the water? Drinking himself full—the swine!”

“Wouldn’t you do the same?” asked Lebenthal.

The man stared at him from vacant eyes. “Water,” he said, calmer. “Water, please.”

“You came from Lohme?” asked Ahasver.

“Yes.”

“Did you know a Martin Schimmel there?”

“No.”

“Or Moritz Gewurz? One with a bashed-in nose and no hair.” Sulzbacher reflected wearily. “No.”

“Or maybe Gedalje Gold? He had only one ear,” said Ahasver hopefully. “That’s something you notice. He was in Block 12.”

“Twelve?”

“Yes. Four years ago.”

“Oh, God!” Sulzbacher turned away. The question was too idiotic. Four years! Why not a hundred?

“Let him alone, old man,” said 509. “He’s tired.”

“They were friends of mine,” murmured Ahasver. “One inquires after friends.”

Bucher and Rosen arrived with the pail. Rosen was bleeding. His surplice was torn at the shoulder; his jacket was open. “The new ones are fighting over the water,” said Bucher. “Mahner saved us. He organized things over there. Now they’re standing in line to get water. We’ll have to do the same thing here or they’ll upset the pail again.” The newcomers had gotten up. “Stand in line!” called Berger. “Every man will get some. We’ve something for all. Those not in line won’t get any!”

All obeyed except two who rushed forward. They beat them down with sticks. Then Ahasver and 509 fetched the mugs and they all drank, one after the other. “Let’s see if we can get some more,” said Bucher to Rosen and Sulzbacher. “It won’t be so dangerous now.”

“We were three thousand,” said Sulzbacher mechanically and senselessly.

The food carriers returned. They had gotten nothing for the newcomers. At once a row started. The men began beating each other up in front of Sections A and B. The room senior there was helpless. He had almost only Mussulmen, and the newcomers were shrewder and not yet so resigned.

“We’ve got to give them something,” said Berger quietly to 509.

“At most soup. No bread. We need it more than they do. We’re weaker.”

“That’s why we’ve got to give them something. Otherwise they’ll take it. You can see it over there.”

“Yes, but only soup. The bread we need ourselves. Let’s talk to the one called Sulzbacher.”

They fetched him. “Listen,” said Berger. “We didn’t get anything for you this evening. But we’ll share our soup with you.”

“Thanks,” said Sulzbacher.

“What?”

“Thanks.”

They stared at him in astonishment. It wasn’t usual to thank in the camp. “Can you help us with it?” asked Berger. “If not, your crowd’ll knock everything over again, and this time there won’t be anything more to be had. Is there someone else reliable?”

“Rosen. And the two next to him.”

The Veterans and the four newcomers went to meet the food carriers and crowded round them. Berger had previously seen to it that all the others were standing in line. Not till then did they bring up the food.

They gathered together and began dividing it up. The newcomers had no bowls. They had to eat their share standing up and then return the bowls. Rosen saw to it that no one came twice. Several of the old inmates grumbled. “You’ll get the soup back tomorrow,” said Berger. “It’s only lent.” Then he turned to Sulzbacher. “We need the bread ourselves. Our men are weaker than yours. Maybe they’ll hand something out to you tomorrow morning.”

“Yes. Thanks for the soup. We’ll give it back tomorrow. How are we going to sleep?”

“We’ll clear a few of our bunks. You’ll have to sleep sitting up. Even then there won’t be room for everyone.”

“And you?”

“We’ll stay outside. Later on we’ll wake you up and change over.”

Sulzbacher shook his head. “You won’t get them out once they’re asleep.”

A few of the newcomers were already asleep, their mouths open, in front of the barrack. “Leave them there,” said Berger, and looked around. “Where are the others?”

“They’ve already found room for themselves,” said 509. “We won’t get them out again in the dark. We’ll have to leave it this way tonight.”

Berger glanced up at the sky. “Maybe it won’t be too cold. We can sit close together along the wall. We have three blankets.”

“Tomorrow this’ll have to be changed,” declared 509. “We don’t use force in this section.”

They crouched together. Almost all the Veterans were outside; even Ahasver, Karel and the sheep dog. Rosen and Sulzbacher and about ten more of the newcomers squatted with them.

“I’m sorry,” said Sulzbacher.

“Nonsense. You’re not responsible for each other.”

“I’ll keep watch,” said Karel to Berger. “There are at least six of ours who’ll die tonight. They’re lying below to the right, near the door. When they’re dead we can carry them out and then take turns at sleeping in their bunks.”

“How can you tell in the dark if they’re dead?”

“That’s easy. I bend down close over their faces. You can soon tell when they stop breathing.”

“By the time we get them outside, there’ll already be others from inside in their place,” said 509.

“That’s what I mean,” answered Karel eagerly. “I’ll come and report. And then, while we’re taking out one of the dead, someone else can lie down right away in his place.”

“All right, Karel,” said Berger. “You keep watch.”

It grew colder. From the barracks came moans and shrieks of terror uttered in sleep. “My God,” said Sulzbacher to 509. “What incredible luck! We thought we were coming to an extermination camp. If only they don’t send us on!”

509 did not answer. Luck, he thought. But it was true.

“How were things with you?” asked Ahasver after some time.

“They shot everyone who couldn’t keep going. We were three thousand—”

“We know that. You’ve told us several times already.”

“Yes,” Sulzbacher answered helplessly.

“What did you see on the way?” asked 509. “What do things in Germany look like?”

Sulzbacher thought for a moment. “The night before last we had enough water,” he said then. “Sometimes people gave us something. Sometimes not. We were too many.”

“One night a man brought us four bottles of beer,” said Rosen.

“I don’t mean that,” said 509 impatiently. “What were the towns like? Destroyed?”

“We didn’t come through towns. Always round the outside.”

“Didn’t you see anything at all, then?”

Sulzbacher looked at 509. “One sees little when one can hardly walk and they’re shooting from behind. We didn’t see any trains.”

“Why was your camp broken up?”

“The front line was coming closer.”

“What d’you know about that? Do speak up! Where is Lohme? How far from the Rhine? Far?”

Sulzbacher tried to keep his eyes open. “Yes—rather far—fifty—seventy—kilometers—tomorrow—” Then his head fell forward. “Tomorrow—now I must sleep—”

“It’s about seventy kilometers,” said Ahasver. “I’ve been there.”

“Seventy? And from here?” 509 began to count. “Two hundred—two hundred and fifty—”

Ahasver shrugged his shoulders. “509,” he said quietly. “You’re always thinking about kilometers. Has it ever occurred to you that they can do the same with us as with those there? Break up the camp—send us away—and where to? What will happen to us then? We can no longer march.”

“Whoever can’t march will be shot—” Rosen had wakened with a jolt and was already asleep again.

Everyone was silent. They hadn’t thought that far yet. Like a heavy threat, it suddenly hung over them. 509 stared at the silver clouds moving across the sky. Then he stared at the roads in the valley shimmering in the half-light. We shouldn’t have shared our soup, he thought for a moment. We must be able to march. But after all, what good would it have done? Good at most for a few minutes of marching. The new ones had been driven on for days. “Maybe here they won’t shoot those who lag behind,” he said.

“No,” said Ahasver with gloomy sarcasm. “They’ll feed them on meat and provide them with new clothes and wave farewell to them.”

509 looked at him. Ahasver was perfectly calm. There wasn’t much left that could frighten him.

“Here comes Lebenthal,” said Berger.

Lebenthal sat down beside them. “Did you hear anything more over there, Leo?” asked 509.

Leo nodded. “They want to get rid of as many of the transport people as possible. Lewinsky heard it from the red-haired clerk in the office. How they plan to get rid of them he didn’t exactly know. But it should be soon; then they can write off the dead as having died as a result of the transport.”

One of the newcomers leapt up in his sleep and screamed. Then he sank back again and snored, his mouth wide open.

“Are they going to finish off only the transport people?”

“That’s all Lewinsky knew. But he sends us word to watch out.”

“Yes, we must watch out.” 509 fell silent for a moment. “It means that we should keep our traps shut. That’s what he wants to say. Or isn’t it?”

“Of course. What else?”

“If we warn the new ones, they’ll be careful,” declared Meyer. “And if the SS want to do away with a certain number and can’t find them, they’ll take the rest from us.”

“Correct.” 509 looked at Sulzbacher, whose head lay heavily against Berger’s shoulder. “Well, what’ll we do? Keep our traps shut?”