You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Companion Novel) (29 page)

Then an
officer wearing the death heads cap, and black SS uniform walked over.

“Enough.” He said
to the guard then addressing the girl. “Get back in line. And don’t try this again; next time will be your last time.”

“
Heil Hitler.” The guard said to the SS officer who looked drained from beating the girl. “You must be the new Arbeitsführer.”

“Yes, my name
is Manfred Blau.” Manfred said.

“Welcome to hell.” The other SS
officer said. “This is Treblinka.”

Manfred looked around him. He saw the buildings that housed the barracks.

“What is that terrible smell?” Manfred asked.

“The
crematorium, you have not seen it yet?”

“No”

“It’s constantly at work, burning night and day to dispose of all the bodies.”

Manfred had heard about the gas chambers when he was working with
Goebbels. But at that time, they seemed far away and unreal. Now he stood just yards away from the gassings.  The ashes from the crematorium fell like snowflakes into his hair and on to his black uniform. These were the ashes of the dead and murdered.   The very thought nauseated him.

“I am going to need one
of these women to help me keep house. My wife is not feeling well.” Manfred said. Christa had suffered some severe chest pain before they left. The doctor recommended bed rest.

“Pick one, y
our choice; to me they are all the same, Jews, good for nothing.” The other SS officer waved his hand indicating the line of women.

Manfred looked at the group, a
dirty, smelly bunch, matted hair, and filthy clothes. He walked up and back his heels clicking on the pavement until his eyes met Zofia’s. Her dark eyes glistened with anger, defiant for sure, but filled with life, and something else, a mystery, a dark sensuous mystery. Interesting, he had never really had much to do with Jews perhaps they really were magical. It had been said that they sacrificed Aryan babies and drank the blood. Would little Katja be safe? Well, he had no choice but to choose one of them, after all, Christa was no longer keeping the house. Besides, He never believed all that nonsense that he’d heard. Of course, if these silly Jews had any real power, they wouldn’t be in the situation they were in being led off to gas chambers and murdered like a herd of cattle. He looked at Zofia again.  The very idea of this girl intrigued him. She was pretty, even dirty, and disheveled, she was pretty.

“Her, I’ll take that one.” Manfred
said in German as he pointed to Zofia. She did not speak German; she could not understand what he said. “Clean her up a bit first, and then send her to my house.”

“Yes,
Arbeitsführer, it shall be taken care of for you.”

Chapter
50

The guard pushed Zofia to the head of the line where women and men were separated. Why was she being singled out? The Nazi had pointed to her, indicating something, but what? Terror came over her in waves of panic.

“Take
off your clothes.” The guard said in German

“I don’t understand you.” Z
ofia answered in Polish.

“Take them
off now, Schnell.” She knew the meaning of the word Schnell, but nothing else. She stared at him blankly.

He raised the club to strike her. The woman guard came forward.

“Hans she doesn’t understand you. This shipment just came from Poland.”

“Gretta, tell her to take her clothes
off and get into the shower. The new Arbeitsführer has chosen her as his house keeper.”

“Take
off your clothes and get into the shower.” Gretta, the female guard said in Polish. She handed Zofia a bar of soap.

Z
ofia did as she was told, ashamed of her nakedness, afraid of the shower. How could she be sure that this was not the shower that the woman had spoken of, the one that was gas instead of water? How could she be sure that this was not the line to the death chamber? She stood naked and shivering in a large room, waiting for the water, the water, or the gas. A dead silence came over the area. Others had heard the rumor too. Someone wept softly the sound echoed. What would it feel like to die? Would it be painful? Would it be quick? It was only a few minutes but it seemed like a lifetime before the nozzles began to spray water.  Sighs of relief filled the room.

Z
ofia came out of the shower to find her shoes gone.
“You should have taken them with you.” A prisoner said. How would she function without shoes?  She looked around frantic, hoping to find them.

A guard came up behind her, with a long iron rod. She pushed it into Z
ofia’s back. Zofia jumped.

“Keep moving, mach scnhell.”

Another line. Zofia, panicky and completely naked, was trying desperately to cover herself with her hands. At the end, a woman prisoner handed Zofia a stripped green and brown dress made of rough cotton. She bent over and flipped it over her head.  It hung like a rag but she was glad to be covered. Another line.

This time as she got closer to the end she heard screaming. It unnerved her. What could be coming next?

She would have run, but there was nowhere to go. Gun and club wheedling guards ushered her into the next room. The first thing Zofia saw was the floor, covered in hair of all colors, lengths, some curly, some wavy, some straight. Edging out of line just enough to see what took place at the front.  Three chairs, each with prisoners seated in them, behind the newly arrived, stood other prisoners who quickly shaved their hair leaving them bald. Some cried, others screamed, but the most unsettling were the ones who just remained silent.

Z
ofia felt the tears form in her eyes as she watched the locks of her full wavy hair fall to the ground. The shaving took only a few moments. But as painful as it was to lose her hair it felt wonderful to sit down. Her legs ached from standing.

Another line. This time, the group
was issued into the women’s barracks. Long lines of cots stood in rows on a wooden floor. Each of the women searched for an open bed. Zofia found one at the end of the row near the wall where she saw a black hairy spider crawling up towards the ceiling. She’d always had a terrible fear of spiders. Trembling she tried to look for another cot, but nothing was open.

“Take that one.” The girl across the row said. “If you don’t find one, you’ll end up on the floor and that’s worse.” She was young, Z
ofia noticed.

“
I’m Thelma.” The girl said.

“Z
ofia.”

“
Welcome, I guess.”

“Thanks. Is it as bad here as it looks?”

“Worse.” The girl said, and smiled. “But it could be even worse than it is, we could be on the other side.”

“You mean the gas shower? Is that true or is it a myth?” Z
ofia asked.

“It’s true. I’m sorry to say it, but it is. My mother and father were both sent to the gas chamber.”

“But how do you know. Maybe there is another work camp on the other side.”Zofia said.
“I work sometimes in the crematorium sweeping up the ashes. Believe me, I know.” Thelma said.

Z
ofia thought of Fruma and Gitel. They were probably already dead, their bodies on the way to be burnt. It felt unreal that she would never see them again. How could this be happening? It seemed like a nightmare, and yet here she was in this terrible place. The musty smell of unwashed bodies, and dirty bedding wafted through the room. Zofia looked around her. She ran her hands over her shorn head. The tiny bristles of hair felt alien against her fingers. Hopelessness began to creep in. The strength she’d been fighting to maintain slowly began to seep away.   Her friends gone forever, Dovid, he might be here, or he might be dead, Gitel, dear Gitel, with her warm protective smile. And Fruma, the mother she never had, Fruma. When she thought of Fruma, she wanted to cry out in anguish. Her mind going back to the time they spent sewing side by side in the shop together. Fruma, she remembered how worried she’d been when she found out that she was pregnant, she’d been so afraid she would lose her job. But Fruma knew. She always knew and she had her unique way of making things better. Dear God, help poor Fruma. Could she really be dead already, could that be possible?  I must try not to think about this, I must try to think of Eidel. When this is all over, Eidel will need me. Eidel, my daughter, my child, God, please be with her, protect her, keep…

“You!
” A guard pointed at Zofia. He spoke in German, but she understood by his facial expressions and hand gestures “Follow me.”

Z
ofia felt Thelma’s worried eyes on her back as she followed the guard out of the barracks.

As they walked across the field, Z
ofia saw that there was a barbed wire separating the men’s camp from the women’s.  She looked over, hoping to see Dovid, but knowing she would not.

The guard noticed that she’d slowed down and edged her side with his rifle butt. She looked forward and moved faster.

When they walked up to the exit, the guard explained something to the watchman in German and they were allowed out of the gate.

Z
ofia followed the guard to a gate that opened to the entrance of a comfortable country house that sat back on a quarter of an acre of manicured lawn. As they got closer to the door, she saw an old woman peering out of a picture window in the living room, her face deeply lined. Her hand fisted under her chin had purple veins that protruded from the thin pale skin.

They walke
d up three steps to a thick wood door painted black with a swastika in the center. The guard rang the bell and they waited.

Z
ofia stared at the sign of the Nazi party and shuddered.

A man opened the door. He
wore a stripped uniform. His head shaved like Zofia’s.

“Go and get the
Arbeitsführer.” The guard said.

The man nodded and walked away.

Zofia and the guard stood waiting.  The woman with the pale skin watched them from her window seat, saying nothing. From where she stood, Zofia could hear a baby crying. The sound brought back memories of Eidel. She felt tears forming in her eyes and forced the memories from her mind.

Several minutes
later, a pretty blond walked into the room. She carried a toddler in her arms. As soon as the child saw Zofia, she smiled. Zofia felt her heart melt as she looked at the lovely little girl with blond curls just like her mothers.

The woman called out and
the male prisoner who had let them in entered.

“Can you translate for me?” Christa
asked the prisoner

“Yes.” He said

“My name is Christa Blau. My husband is the Arbeitsführer. You will be working here at our home to help us with the house work and with Katja”

The prisoner translated from German to Polish.

Zofia nodded.

“This is
Katja” Christa indicated the little girl who smiled again. “Do you have any experience with children?”

The butler translated.

“Yes I do. I had a daughter of my own.” She told Christa then reached over to touch the tender baby cheek “Hello Katja, my name is Zofia” Zofia said pointing to herself smiling.

The baby laughed. It broke the ice and then the two women laughed too.

“You may leave us.” Christa told the guard. “She will work out just fine.”

Christa showed Z
ofia around the house, accompanied by the male prisoner who translated her explanation of the tasks to be done.

She was not well, she told Z
ofia. She had been ill and needed help with her daily workload. As she walked, her blond curls bounced. There was something good and kind about this woman; she was not cruel like the others that Zofia had encountered. She appeared to have a heart.

It seemed to Z
ofia, as if all would be well until the Arbeitsführer arrived at home. As soon as the door opened and he entered the house, Zofia could feel the tension in the air. She kept her head down, did not meet his eyes, but when he looked the other way she watched him, a slender man, proud in his uniform, demanding respect, as he walked through the house barking orders at the prisoner who served as their butler. She wondered if the Arbeitsführer’s overbearing manner had anything to do with his small stature. Perhaps, he needed to prove his manhood. He was abrupt with his wife and worse with his mother in law. She remembered him distinctly he’d been the one who’d beaten the redheaded girl with the club. Because he spoke in German, Zofia could not understand what he said; only his tone of voice, and that it made her shiver.

At the end
of the day, a guard from the camp came to take Zofia back to the barracks. Soon after her arrival, she was required to attend roll call. The prisoners stood in line as their names were called, then the dead were accounted for, their bodies carried out by other prisoners and lay at the end of the line to be counted and removed from the next roll call. Now, the prisoners lined up for dinner.