“At first the two men did not speak much. They left me to my thoughts, which were few: Shema Yisrael, Feiga, Mother. Why disinfect me if I was condemned? Would I dirty their bullets? Or did this mean that I was not going to die? It seemed unreasonable, after all, to wash and disinfect someone about to die. Then again, the Germans had already shown us quite clearly in the ghetto that they had their own logic, a very cunning kind, which became apparent only in retrospect — usually too late.
“The Jews gradually began to loosen their tongues. They whispered to me that they didn’t know much, but a Nazi general was waiting with the camp commandant. He had demanded to be given a German speaking inmate. They had heard him ask for ‘a short Jew,’ and they had no idea why. The car, over there, had I seen it? It was his. More than that they did not know.
“I was terrified. What did he need a ‘short Jew’ for? What was he going to do with me? My throat closed up, images darting between the walls of my imagination. What would the Nazi do with me?
“The Jews finished washing my body. I was freezing, naked in the night air. They rubbed me dry, then sprayed me with a foul-smelling disinfectant. Then they rubbed me again with a different rag, doing their work carefully like loyal servants. All that was left was to dress me. Not in a prisoner’s uniform, but in civilian clothes. They were instructed to dress me well, neatly and cleanly. As if I were a bride being lead to her chuppah. And my heart sank — what misdeeds would they inflict upon me? Why did they need someone short?
“First they put an awful pale pink shirt on me, as if I were a man of leisure in Krakow, one of those debauched people I had heard so much about, and had even seen in Brzesko once. And they gave me shoes that were almost the right size, a small consolation, and plain brown trousers. Then an overcoat to cover the pink shirt.
“I asked my fellow Jews where they were from, what their names were. But they were silent. Their eyes showed fear. They were forbidden to talk. A single word could result in lashings. But one of them, who must have been naturally garrulous, was eager to convey something, and he began to whisper. The general was very senior. He had earned commendations on the Eastern front. He was high-ranking. ‘And they say he has a lover,’ he whispered secretively. A little SS sweetheart somewhere in the north, and he was traveling to her. She had fled him, the lover, and he was pursuing her. A whole affair.
“‘A lover?’ I asked. The man said he had overheard the German policemen gossiping. More than that he did not know.
“More than that I did not need. Horrific images sprung up in my mind. My heart trembled. What would they do with me? Would he present me to his SS woman? A lover’s gift? And why did he need ‘a short Jew’? I had known great fear in the ghetto, but now I could no longer abide it. From the Kadosh Baruch Hu, from Him I asked for strength. Perhaps I will kill myself here and now, in the name of the Lord, I thought, before they do to me what they wish to do. But then I thought of Feiga. And like a white feather descending from a dark sky, I suddenly found determination in a new thought: I was going to Feiga. To rescue her. This whole journey, the plan of this Nazi general, damn him, was nothing but a trick being played upon me by the Kadosh Baruch Hu. He was making the villain lead me to Feiga. And so it was. I had asked my Lord many times: Take me, lead me to Feiga. And how had I thought my Lord would answer my prayers? Would he provide me with a private jet? An automobile? No. Instead, he had given me a Nazi general in pursuit of a fleeing lover. For some reason the bastard had concocted a need for a Jew, and he had to be short, and had to speak German fluently. Of the whole shipment he had chosen me. And now I was going to rescue Feiga!
“The newfound joy in my heart must have transferred a spark to my eyes and face, because the two Jews looked at me in amazement. My fortitude had sent a shudder through them.
“‘Are you not afraid, Reb?’ the talkative one wanted to know.
“‘With God’s help, chazak chazak venitchazek, be strong, be strong, and we shall be strengthened,’ I whispered, and they stood up straight in the darkness upon hearing the holy prayer. My strength imbued their limbs with power too. And that force that I showered upon these two poor Jews, servants of the Nazi camp, strengthened me even more. I had become a leader of sorts, a small-time leader, who saw the trouble of his people and gave them strength. Like Moses our Teacher, who smote the Egyptian, I whispered words of encouragement to them, now completely separate from the torture, the nightmare, the terrible fate of Jewish souls from all corners of the Nazi land. And me — I was going to Feiga. I could barely contain my impatience. Let the Nazi come, that evil Haman, and lead me like Mordechai on his horse.
“I was eager and excited, but they left me alone for two days in a frozen room with no windows, with only a waste-water container to keep me company. My heart was burning, my body freezing. The cement dug into my bones. The cold tortured me, but worse was the loneliness, the uncertainty, the harsh anticipation. I wanted a journey! Right then and there! Every twelve hours a door opened and a ‘black,’ which was what we called the Ukrainian guards, placed a dish of rotting food out for me. Two days later, in the evening, I was sent out to the yard again. They undressed me. Washed me in freezing cold water. Dried and disinfected me again. Gave me back my clothes, including the pink shirt. They added a hat. Even gloves. Yes, yes. Yosef Ingberg in kid gloves!
“After all these arrangements, one of the ‘blacks’ led me to the huts and then my eye caught sight of the black marble car, washed and shining, waiting. Oh horror and fear, an SS general was already sitting in the driver’s seat, his black uniform stifling my courage — perhaps I was wrong about Feiga. But a moment later I found encouragement. How could I be wrong about the Lord’s salvation?
“I was put in the passenger’s seat next to the general, a large upright Amalek, and when I shot him a trembling look the Ukrainian guard hit me. Kikes mustn’t look! The SS general had been still, but now he moved his hand slightly, as if brushing something off, and the guard who had struck me pulled away. I realized he had been ordered to leave me alone. There I was between two Amalekites, and one cancelled out the wickedness of the other. I was certain of the Lord’s salvation, but in such proximity to a Nazi’s body, the soul takes fright. His cap especially, shiny black on his head, put fear in me.
“The general reached out and turned the engine on. Policemen, Gestapo and Ukrainian guards bustled outside. And camp staff. They all came to see the general off on his journey. They did not realize it was my journey. My journey to Feiga. And off we went. An SS general holding the wheel, and me, Yosef Ingberg of Bochnia, beside him. Really and truly on the seat beside him. The seat was soft, made of fine leather. My fingers found pleasure touching it, feeling it. God forgive me for saying so, but it was as fine as the paroches that covers the holy ark. Through the windshield in front of me I could see everything clearly. Beneath the windshield, on his side, was the instrument panel with its dials and gauges. And the wheel — a butting ram, driving the engine that roared in its innards.”
Grandpa Yosef blushes slightly at his own excitation. After all, this is a car he is describing. The air is charged with a sense of confession.
“Nu, you see, back then I had never driven in a car before. It just hadn’t happened. And here was this wonderful carriage, all in black, and the whole world hurriedly making way for us. Trees, houses, even the clouds. Every time we passed a security point or a group of soldiers, they saluted us in fearful reverence. I had no idea where we were going. My heart was frozen. Was I bound for her? Terror struck me from my knees to my chest, but one sliver of thought did not abandon me: Have no fear, we are going to Feiga. But elsewhere was gloom and darkness. What would they do to me?