Page 6 of The Tattooist of Auschwitz
‘About two months, I think. Hard to tell after a while.’
‘Where did you come from? I mean, how did you end up here? Are you Jewish?’
‘One question at a time.’ The Russian chuckles and the younger, larger worker rolls his eyes at the ignorance of the newcomer, yet to learn his place in the camp.
‘We’re not Jewish, we are Russian soldiers. We got separated from our unit and the fucking Germans caught us and put us to work. What about you? A Jew?’
‘Yes. I’m part of a large group brought in yesterday from Slovakia – all Jews.’
The Russians exchange a glance. The older man turns away, closing his eyes, raising his face to the sun, leaving it to his companion to continue the conversation.
‘Look around. You can see from up here how many blocks are being built and how much land they have to keep clearing.’
Lale pushes himself onto his elbows and observes the vast area contained within the electrified fence. Blocks like the one he is helping construct stretch out into the distance. He experiences a jolt of horror at what this place might become. He wrestles with what to say next, not wanting to give voice to his distress. He settles back down, turning his head away from his companions, desperate to bring his emotions under control. He must trust no one, reveal little about himself, be cautious…
The man watches him closely. He says, ‘I’ve heard the SS boasting that this is going to be the biggest concentration camp of all.’
‘Is that right?’ says Lale, forcing his voice above a whisper. ‘Well, if we’re going to build it together, you might as well tell me your name.’
‘Andor,’ he says. ‘And this big oaf with me is Boris. He doesn’t say much.’
‘Talking can get you killed here,’ Boris mutters as he stretches his hand out to Lale.
‘What else can you tell me about the people here?’ says Lale. ‘And who the hell are these kapos?’
‘You tell him,’ says Boris, yawning.
‘Well, there are other Russian soldiers like us, but not many, and then there are all the different triangles.’
‘Like the green triangle my kapo wears?’ Lale says.
Andor laughs. ‘Oh, the greens are the worst – they’re criminals: killers, rapists, that kind of man. They make good guards because they’re terrible people.’ He continues, ‘Others are here because of their anti-German political views. They wear a red triangle. You’ll see a few, not many, with a black triangle – they are lazy bastards and they don’t last long. And finally there is you and your friends.’
‘We wear the yellow star.’
‘Yes, you wear the star. Your crime is to be Jewish.’
‘Why don’t you have a colour?’ asks Lale.
Andor shrugs. ‘We’re just the enemy.’
Boris snorts. ‘They insult us by sharing our uniforms with the rest of you. They can’t do much worse than that.’
A whistle blows and the three men get back to work.
•
That night, the men in Block 7 gather in small groups, to talk, share what they’ve learned, and question. Several move to the far end of the hut where they offer prayers to their God. These mingle into something unintelligible.Are they praying for guidance, vengeance, acceptance?It seems to Lale that, without a rabbi to guide them, each man prays for what is most important to him. And he decides this is as it should be. He moves between the groups of men, listening, but taking no part.
•
By the end of his first day Lale has exhausted the knowledge of his two Russian co-workers. For the rest of the week he heeds his own advice: keeps his head down, does what he is asked, never argues. At the same time, he observes everyone and everything going on around him. It is clear to him, looking at the design of the new buildings, that the Germans lack any architectural intelligence. Whenever possible, he listens to the talk and gossip of the SS, who don’t know he understands them. They give him ammunition of the only sort available to him, knowledge, to be stored up for later. The SS stand around most of the day, leaning against walls, smoking, keeping only one eye on things. By eavesdropping he learns that Camp Commandant Hoess is a lazy bastard who hardly ever shows his face, and that accommodation for Germans at Auschwitz is superior to that at Birkenau, which has no access to cigarettes or beer.
One group of workers stands out to Lale. They keep to themselves, wear civilian clothes and speak to the SS without fearing for their safety.Lale determines to find out who these men are. Other prisoners never pick up a piece of wood or tile but instead walk casually around the compound on other business. His kapo is one such.How to get a job like that?Such a position would offer the best chance to find out what is going on in the camp, what the plans are for Birkenau and, more importantly, for him.
•
Lale is on the roof, tiling in the sun, when he spies his kapo heading in their direction. ‘Come on, you lazy bastards, work faster,’ Lale yells. ‘We’ve got a block to finish!’
