In the Mouth of the Wolf (17 page)

“I have an apartment,” she said shyly. “There's no one else there. You can come with me if you like.”

I did. It was a bare garret room with a sleeping alcove and a tiny kitchen equipped with a potbellied stove. The place was freezing. We lit a fire to take off the chill. I offered
her a box of cigarettes, but she refused. She wouldn't let me pay her at all. In fact, she acted as if I were doing her the favor instead of the other way around. I felt sorry for her. The poor woman was so lonely. She had no family, no friends, and here it was the Christmas season. She was thrilled to have company for even one night, even if it was only a stranger from the railway station. We talked for several hours before going to bed. She had to leave for work early, but she promised to leave the key under the doormat for me should I decide to stay another night.

I woke up early the next morning, but she was already gone. The woman had been very kind to me and I didn't want to take advantage of her, so just before leaving I left a pack of cigarettes on the table. Then I set out to find the camp.

It was located on the outskirts of Częstochowa, and I had to walk all the way there. I found the main office and asked for Renia. She wasn't available. All the detainees were out digging trenches and wouldn't be back until four. I saw no point in wasting the whole day, so I left a note for “Irena Zaporowska” saying that her friend Wanda Gajda had come to see her. Before leaving, I asked the clerk who had jurisdiction over that camp, Regular Army or SS. “Army,” he said. Now I knew what I had to do. I headed back to the city to find Army headquarters.

All the months I had worked for the SS stood me in good stead now. I knew more about the military and how it worked than most soldiers. I knew what to ask, whom to ask, and how to ask. An ordinary civilian could spend days running from one office to another, but I had everything I needed to know in five minutes. Once I located Army headquarters, I asked one of the soldiers coming out who the officer in charge of the labor detention camps was. Major
Bauer, he told me. I took that information around to the main entrance, where I told the sentry on duty that I had an appointment at nine o'clock that morning with Major Bauer.

“That's fine,” he said. “But I can't let you in now. It's too early. The offices don't open till nine.”

“I understand. But I've come all the way from Kraków for this appointment. The train got in early. It's so cold out here. Could I at least wait inside?”

He relented and directed me to a guardroom, where I could sit until the offices opened. I waited there until nine, then went upstairs to the major's office. A Polish civilian was sitting at the receptionist's desk. I guessed he was the major's secretary.

“I'd like a word with you, if I may,” I said to him. “I've come all the way from Kraków. I'd like to see the major.” “About what?”

“About a friend of mine who's being held in that camp ouside the city.”

He shook his head. “Those people are needed in Germany, and that's where they're going.”

“Wait! I'm not finished. My friend isn't trying to get out of anything. She already has a job in Kraków working for the SS.” He still refused to listen. I continued, lowering my voice. “There's something else I think you should know. She fought in the Warsaw uprising and went through hell. As one patriot to another, don't you think she deserves a break?”

“Go away! Save your breath! I can't do a thing for you!” He threw up his hands. “I don't even want to talk to you anymore!”

He was very stubborn, but I can be stubborn, too. “I understand your not wanting to discuss it in the office. Let's
get together privately where we can talk. I still have plenty to say. When do you go to lunch?”

“I don't go to lunch.”

“Is that so? Or maybe you just don't want to tell me when you go to lunch? Very well. I have nothing else to do. I'll sit here and wait. When you get up to leave the office, I'll follow. I'll stick to you like a burr until I get the chance to say everything I have to say.”

Seeing that I wasn't easily gotten rid of, he finally admitted he went to lunch at twelve-thirty. I said I would see him then. But I didn't trust him. He was just the type to try and sneak out ahead of time. I went back downstairs to the guardroom and asked the sentry if I could wait there, explaining that the major still hadn't arrived. He shrugged and let me in. I took a seat by a window overlooking the entrance to the building where I could see everyone going in or out. There was no way for that secretary to slip by me now. I waited several hours. Then I saw him. He came down the stairs with his head down and quickly stepped outside. I ran out and followed him down the street for a quarter of a block before catching up to him. He turned around when he heard me coming.

“Go away! Why are you bothering me? I don't want to talk to you!”

“And I don't want to talk to you either. All I want is an appointment with the major.”

‘When do you want it?”

“This afternoon.”

“This afternoon? You're crazy! You have to wait three days for an appointment.”

“Come on, don't give me a hard time! I don't have three days. I have to get back to Kraków tomorrow. Those other
people live here. They can come back in three days if they have to, but I can't. Just fit me in somewhere. You know you can do it.”

He still refused. I couldn't believe it! I started talking about the uprising again, hoping to play on his patriotic feelings. I got nowhere.

“Okay. I'm not finished yet, but there's no point standing here arguing in the middle of the street. Why don't we go to wherever it is you have lunch? Have a drink on me, and we'll talk some more. What do you say? A glass of vodka?” “I never drink during working hours.”

“Well, how about if I fix it so you can drink when you're not working?”

 

In the end I got my appointment, and all it cost me was a bottle of vodka. Everything worked out perfectly. The major showed me into his office and listened politely while I explained the situation. I showed him my papers and Colonel Roemer's letter to back up my story. “Besides,” I added as I finished, “it isn't as if my friend Irena were trying to get out of contributing to the war effort. We really need her in the infirmary because our other nurses are always being transferred. How often do you find someone who is qualified, experienced, and speaks German? You can always haul someone off the street and make him a factory worker, but how often do you find someone with the qualifications to be a good nurse? Don't you think my friend would be more useful serving as a nurse in Kraków than standing on some assembly line in Germany?”

The major agreed. He had his secretary write out an order for Renia's immediate release. By now it was four o'clock and starting to get dark, so he summoned a messenger
to escort me out to the camp. The messenger turned out to be a young Polish man about my age, blond and very handsome.

“Where are you from?” he asked as we started out.

“Kraków.”

“Really? I'm from Lwów myself, but I've lived in Częstochowa two years. It's a nice place.”

“Yes, it seems like a nice city. I'm sorry I can't stay a while.”

“Well, maybe you can come back some other time.” We continued walking. Then he said, “I couldn't help notice the name on these release papers. Irena Zaporowska, isn't it? I know Irena Zaporowska.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes! We had a Christmas party out in the camp a few days ago, and I danced with her a couple of times. She's nice. Very intelligent.”

I didn't reply. I wasn't sure where this conversation was leading and didn't want to be linked too closely to Renia in case anything went wrong.

“Do you know her identity card is a hundred percent fake?”

Now I had to be very careful. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. It's true. I used to live in Warsaw, so I know the city pretty well. When I saw the address on her card, I knew at once. There's no such house number on that street.”

I stopped and looked him right in the eye. “I don't know a thing about that, but I do know this: we're all Poles, and in these hard times we had all better stick together. I don't care if her identity card is forged. It's not my business where she's really from or what her real name is. I was sent up here to get her out of that camp so she can go to work as a nurse in Kraków. That's all I know. That's all I want to
know. Life is tough enough without people making trouble for each other.”

He didn't say anything further. We walked the rest of the way in silence.

But bad luck was dogging my footsteps. By the time we got to the camp the office was closed, so Renia's release had to wait for the following morning. The messenger returned to Częstochowa with the release order. But I wasn't ready to go back, at least not yet. I asked the guard if it was possible to speak with one of the detainees.

“Who?”

“Irena Zaporowska.”

“Go around to the fence, and I'll call her.”

I went outside to the barbed wire, and soon Renia came out on the other side to meet me. She was overjoyed to see me. I told her not to worry. Everything was set for her release tomorrow morning. Once she got out, we'd leave for Kraków together.

As long as you're here and everything is under control, I don't mind waiting another night,” she said. “But Ruszka, what about you? Do you have a place to stay?”

I told her about the woman I had met at the railway station the night before. I planned to go back to her apartment. Renia did not like that idea.

“Why walk all the way back to the city? It's dark already, and it will soon be curfew. Spend the night here. People do it all the time.” She went on to explain that some of the camp guards were Ukrainian auxiliaries who could be bribed to look the other way while a friend or relative of one of the detainees slipped inside. It so happened that one of those guards was on duty that night. Renia went back inside to arrange the deal. We worked it out for a bottle of vodka and a few packs of cigarettes.

I had never been inside a camp before, and even though I was just a visitor, the experience of hearing the gate clang shut behind me and looking out through the barbed wire was unnerving. The barracks where the women detainees slept was a long room with two rows of three-tiered bunk beds separated only by a narrow aisle. There were no mattresses. The beds were wooden boxes filled with straw. Renia was in the third bunk, the one at the top. I took off my shoes and coat and carefully folded my skirt before climbing up. Lying together in the straw, speaking in whispers, Renia told me about Mayer and my father, about the final liquidation of the Piotrków ghetto and how she ran away. She told me about Franka, who had come to the camp several times to see if she could help. But what could Franka do? I was the one with connections, and until I appeared, Renia lived from moment to moment, aware of the other girls' suspicions and knowing she could be betrayed at any time. She described her relief upon returning from the trenches to find the note I left for her. “Thank God!” she told everyone. “My friend Wanda has come from Kraków at last to get me out!”

I winced. Coming straight from the ghetto, Renia didn't know better. But I had been around Polish women long enough to know how their minds worked. “So her friend from Kraków is here to spring her, eh? Is this dirty Jew going to walk out of here while we get shipped to Germany? No way!” I knew we were bound to have trouble. I just prayed nothing would happen until morning.

It was 9:00
P.M
. Renia and I were lying in the bunk still talking, when I suddenly heard someone call my name. “Wanda Gajda! Wanda Gajda!”

The voice was loud and insolent. I knew instinctively that something was wrong.

“Wanda Gajda!”

“Here I am,” I answered calmly, as if I had nothing to be afraid of. “Just a minute.”

I took my time. Climbing down from the bunk, I got dressed, put on my shoes, and adjusted my skirt. Then I put on my coat, combed my hair, powdered my face, dabbed on a touch of lipstick, and arranged my hat at the perfect angle. If this was to be a confrontation, I wanted to look my best.

Only when I was ready did I start walking toward the corridor. Renia went with me. He was still yelling for Wanda Gajda when we came out: a drab little Polish man in shabby civilian clothes.

“I'm Wanda Gajda,” I said to him. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk with you. Come with me.” He turned to Renia. “You, go back!” Detainees were allowed only as far as the corridor.

I walked with him to the waiting room outside. There was trouble all right, and I knew exactly what it was. The papers were all in order, and Renia's release was scheduled for the morning. This man wouldn't dare make trouble, wouldn't dare use that tone of voice to someone from an obviously higher social class, unless he suspected I was a Jew. I had to be. My friend Zaporowska was obviously a Jew, and if I had taken the trouble to come all the way from Kraków to get her out, then it was a sure bet I was Jewish myself. I saw the game right away. He was trying to scare me, hoping I'd panic and try to bribe him. But I don't scare easily.

“I know who you are.”

“Really?” I replied in my haughtiest tone. “I'm sorry, but I don't recall ever having had the
pleasure
of meeting you.”

“You're not Wanda Gajda. I know you. I've seen you somewhere before.”

I walked over to the hall light, took off my hat, and held my head high so that the light was shining directly on my face.

“Now take a good look,” I said. “Are you sure you know me? That would be very surprising because I know I've never seen you before. I'm from Kraków. This is my first time in Częstochowa. Were you ever in Krarków?”

“No, but I know you,” he kept insisting. “I know you.” “Well, what can I say? Maybe you don't see right. Maybe you need glasses.” I showed no sign of being concerned at all. Finally he gave up arguing and told me to follow him. He took me down a dark corridor to an office reserved for German camp personnel. A soldier was sitting at the desk.