Truck engines throbbed in the distance, some setting off, others idling. Commands shouted into bullhorns competed for attention. Once or twice, Mama pulled me into the lee of a building, and we crouched as low as we could get. We were desperate to be invisible. Although we were some distance from the watchtowers on the perimeter fence, I knew that if the guards spotted us, they would open fire or alert soldiers below. And if we were caught, we would be forced into the line. Surrounded by the men and their dogs. Unable to escape the march that Mama said would kill her.
Where possible, we ducked into shadows and rode our luck. The density of the barracks helped to shield us. But more than anything, we were helped by the Germans’ panic. The Russians were coming. They weren’t far away. The vengeful Russians. The Nazis were in such a hurry to flee that they didn’t notice that prisoners A-27791 and A-27633, the girl with the white lace-up shoes, were making a break for it.
An adrenaline rush heightened my senses. My ears and nose told me almost as much as my eyes. What was missing was the stench that had hung over the camp ever since we had arrived. That sickening, lingering aroma. The sulfurous, bad-egg shtinkt—the stink of burning hair blended with roasting flesh that flew up the nostrils, fastening itself, limpet-like, to nerve endings and memory alike. For once, I didn’t have that nauseating taste in my mouth.
Today was much noisier than yesterday when I had been outside by myself for a few minutes. I had been intrigued by the silence from the other children’s hut, two buildings down the row from ours. It was eerily quiet, and so I’d peeked inside, despite the risk of upsetting the block elder in charge. But I wasn’t challenged. The building was empty. The children had simply disappeared.
As I clung to Mama’s hand, I found I couldn’t ignore the cold anymore. I wished I had some mittens. I had seen a pair of gloves attached to a string by a girl’s coat in the barrack next door. My fingers were freezing. I really needed some respite from the cold. Scavenging was the norm. It was an essential part of survival in this place. It wasn’t the same as stealing. But I hadn’t taken the gloves. As soon as I could speak and understand, I had been taught to be honest and kind. The girl to whom they belonged might need them if she returned; although I knew in my heart she wasn’t coming back. Still, I didn’t want to benefit from her death. And so I’d left the gloves hanging there.
After ten minutes or so, we reached the building Mama had been seeking. She pulled me inside. The block was a women’s infirmary, although there was precious little medical equipment to be seen. It was a staging post between life and death. Scores of beds were occupied by the dead and the dying. In their haste, the Germans had abandoned them. The room reverberated with moans and women sobbing.
Mama went from bed to bed, shaking the outlines of the blankets. Sometimes a woman twitched. Where there were signs of life, Mama moved on. I couldn’t work out what she was doing, and I was too scared to ask. Mama checked every bed, putting the back of her hand on corpses.
“That one is cold”, Mama said, resuming her search.
And I finally understood what Mama was seeking. She reached beneath a blanket and touched another body. This one didn’t move. But it was still warm. The woman had only just expired.
“Tola, listen to me”, said Mama. “You have to do everything I tell you. If you don’t, there’s a risk you’ll be killed”.
“Yes, Mama”.
“Take off your shoes and climb into bed”.
I unlaced the white lace-ups as quickly as I could. The bed was higher than the bunk I normally slept in, and I needed help to get onto the frame.
“Get under this blanket, cover yourself and lie down facing the floor. You’re going to lie next to the woman and I’m going to cover you so that nothing is visible. Not your feet or your head. You must lie here very quietly. Not a word out of you. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear. Do you hear me? I will be the only person who’s going to uncover you. Nobody else”.
She leaned in closer.
“You must breathe toward the ground. You stay there and do not move. Do not move. You stay there until I come to get you. Do you understand?”
“All right, Mama”.
Mama’s word was the law. Ignoring her could be fatal.
My bed companion must have been about twenty years old. She was not unlike hundreds of corpses I had seen. Bags of contorted, jagged bones held together by skin. Skulls with mouths locked in silent screams. The dead woman was pretty. And definitely younger than Mama.
“Put your arms around her”, Mama commanded.
She maneuvered my head beneath the corpse’s armpit and entwined our legs. Then she pulled up the blanket so the dead woman’s head was just showing.
“I’m leaving now, Tola”, she said. “I have to go and hide as well. But I won’t be far away. I will come back and get you. No matter what you hear, do not move until I return. Under any circumstances. Do you promise?”
“Yes, Mama. I promise”.
I did exactly as Mama said. I barely moved. I wasn’t afraid of the corpse. Why should I be? The pretty woman was dead and couldn’t hurt me. She was a friend who might save my life. My protector. So I followed Mama’s instructions, hugged the dead woman and waited.
At first, the corpse was warm. I was grateful for that. Feeling returned to my feet after tramping through the snow. But slowly, slowly, the corpse became cooler. I lay there listening, taking shallow breaths and waiting. I wondered why the pretty woman had died. I presumed it was hunger.
I was extraordinarily calm. A strange kind of peace came over me. I relaxed and began to visualize a doll with a green face. Not a complete doll. Just a head. I’d seen it sticking out of the mud as we ran. I didn’t know whether the head and body had become separated. Or whether the body was still attached to the head beneath the mud. I’d wanted to pick the head up. But we hadn’t had time to stop.
The head had friendly eyes and a kind mouth. I wanted that doll’s head. I didn’t have any toys here in the camp. I didn’t want to play. I didn’t know what playing was. Life was just about surviving. But I wanted the doll’s head to talk to and to keep me company. What pretty eyes she’d had.
My eyes began to feel heavy. I felt safe. Mama was nearby. The adrenaline from our adventure out in the open had subsided.
Then I heard the boots.
Chapter Two. Beyond the Tablecloth
My domain extended all the way under the kitchen table. The boundaries were defined by the ragged borders of a cheap cloth, draped over the piece of furniture that was the beating heart of life in our overcrowded home in the ghetto. Beyond the tablecloth was the world of adults — and their lopsided war between Nazi persecutors and oppressed Jews. When in residence in my personal realm, I rarely saw the grown-ups’ faces — from my perspective, the outside universe only existed from the knees down. But I heard them talking, and I made it my business to work out which voice was coming from which pair of legs.
I heard snatches of conversations. And key words repeated over and over again, with a mixture of fear, anger and venom. Words that stuck in my mind.