Page 43 of The Tattooist of Auschwitz
‘I’ll ask again, what do you want?’
‘We have a friend–’ the freckled boy stammers.
‘Don’t we all?’ Lale interrupts.
‘Our friend is in trouble…’
‘Aren’t we all?’
The two boys look at each other, trying to decide whether to continue.
‘I’m sorry. Go on.’
‘He got caught, and we’re scared they’re going to kill him.’
‘Caught doing what?’
‘Well, he escaped last week and they caught him and brought him back here. What do you think they’re going to do to him?’
Lale is incredulous.
‘How the hell did he escape, and how was he then stupid enough to get caught?’
‘We’re not sure of the full story.’
‘Well, he’ll be hanged, probably first thing tomorrow morning. You know that’s the punishment for trying to escape, let alone actually succeeding.’
‘Can you do anything? People say you can help.’
‘I can help if you want some extra food, but that’s about it. Where is the boy right now?’
‘He’s outside.’
‘Outside this building?’
‘Yeah.’
‘For god’s sake, get him in here at once,’ Lale says, opening the door.
One of the boys hurries outside and soon returns with a young man, head bowed, shivering with fear. Lale points to the bed and he sits. His eyes are puffy.
‘Your friends tell me you escaped.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How did you do that?’
‘Well, I was working outside and I asked the guard if I could take a crap. He told me to go into the trees because he didn’t want to smell it. Then when I went to return to my detail they were all walking off. I was worried if I ran after them I might get shot by one of the other guards, so I just walked back into the forest.’
‘And?’ asked Lale.
‘Well, I kept walking, didn’t I? Then I got caught when I went into a village to steal some food. I was starving. The soldiers saw my tattooed number and brought me back here.’
‘And now they’re going to hang you tomorrow morning, right?’
The boy’s head drops. Lale reflects that this is how he will look tomorrow when the life has been strangled from him.
‘Is there anything you can do to help us, Tätowierer?’
