Amir Gutfreund - Our Holocaust

“At exactly four o’clock, Feiga would appear from down the street. She walked alone, with a straight back. In her heart she did not address the world, but the whole world turned to her. It was impossible not to join the breeze in the trees, the birds in the branches, the fallen leaves scattering at her feet. I practically flew out the window like one of the birds. If only I could be allowed to roll at her feet. But I did not fly, I was no bird. I leaned out of the window towards her like a deer yearning for rivers of water, and she, innocent and pure, walked along. She was modest and knowing, fully aware of the man swinging between life and death at Jozi’s window.

“Behind me, Jozi annoyingly complained that the stamps were too ordinary. His complaints increased from day to day, and the time came when he declared that he was sick of stamps. Stamps were for kids.

“And in what would the honorable Jozi take an interest now, if not in stamps?

“Jozi giggled. His eyes sparkled like two balls of grease. ‘ Nu , you know…’ He rubbed his palms together and the blood pulsed through his face as he pursed his lips. Then he confided the worst. Of all the women in the world, it was Feiga’s name that he uttered. He told me how every day at seven in the evening she hurried down the street outside his window on her way home, and that the little lass looked straight at his window.

“Alarms rang through my head. It turned out I was missing an entire show of Feiga at seven in the evening. I would have to stay longer at Jozi’s, missing one prayer service. Hashem would forgive me. And Feiga was apparently interested in Jozi. If that was true, what good were prayers?

“Imagine, before I knew how many obstacles there were and how difficult it would be. Nu, her family, and mine too, they thought we should wait. And imagine the joy in my heart, imagine how I thanked the Lord, when finally everything fell into place. Feiga agreed to marry me. ‘I will love you,’ she said. What happiness my Feiga gave me. And after the war, as you know, we were married. Almost fifty years of marriage I had with her, and every day was good. And then her strength failed her and my Feiga passed away. I would have liked twenty more years of marriage. I did not have my fill, my thirst was not quenched.”

Grandpa Yosef walks to the end of the hallway. Coffee. Ahasuerus’s car drives on north through low fields and creeks. Little villages. A flat landscape.

Grandpa Yosef has left a few words behind:

“For one moment there, while the Jew’s body was being dragged away and I waited in the car for Ahasuerus, I felt some anger at Feiga, as if the prolonging of this journey was her fault, and the sacrifice of the Jews was unacceptable.”

While he is gone at the coffee machine, the story continues without him. Grandpa Yosef and Ahasuerus pass through Mielejewo camp. Ahasuerus gets out to surprise the personnel with an inspection. His appearance is harsh, but his steps slacken, this whole adventure is a loss. If only he could turn back the wheel of time. He cannot. The obligations. The damned Jews. At home he has a wife and child, but without his beloved, life is intolerable. The officers salute, the car is welcomed with respect and amazement. The general’s presence is unwanted — in this damned place there is no good time for an inspection. Fortunately, he only goes through the list of staff, enquiring, where is this one? Where is that one? Transferred where? And where was this woman transferred to? Ravensbrück? The answer satisfies him. He gets up and leaves without even finishing his meal. Did they pass the inspection? Would he give a good report? Ahasuerus leaves. The gates shut. And the journey continues. Pruchnik camp, Nadbrzeże camp. Tiny satellites of Stutthof camp on the shores of the Baltic Sea. The journey has only just begun, it transpires. They are traveling to Ravensbrück. Ravensbrück. In Germany, not in Poland. A long journey west, to the heart of the Reich, less than seventy miles from Berlin. Ahasuerus oscillates between relaxation and anger.

Grandpa Yosef comes back with a cup of coffee.

“I feared for my life. This Ahasuerus, there was no telling what he would do when he was angry. Again I found myself afraid to look up, trying to diminish myself. During my hours of rest, I thought up a job for myself: I would sweep the floor of the car and polish the windows and mirrors with my sleeve. That was my instinct — to be necessary. Learn it once, and it will never leave you. I tried out different ideas. I very much wanted to open the hood and glance at the engine, at the bird’s hidden organs. I was innocent, I had hardly ever seen cars, and to see one exposed beneath its robes, I had not even imagined possible. I was so close, longing to get to know the mechanism, the technique, to reach out and touch it, to see where the power flowed.

“And so we drove on, swallowing up countries. And then finally we were close to Ravensbrück, where the Little Lover was — where, my heart fluttered, my Feiga might be. But just before the camp, Ahasuerus stopped, as if to gather his strength, to remind himself who he was, an omnipotent general — why should he fear one woman, a minor staff member? He got out of the car with great momentum and walked out into the cold air. He strode confidently, his SS boots creaking in the mud. He stood beside a bush, his hand hovering over the leaves, as if examining his fingers to see whether he was still capable of touching a delicate body. His hand flitted over the bush and I could see he liked the touch. His chin was turned down, his eyes shut tight. And suddenly I saw that Ahasuerus was crying. His hand made a fist around the tendrils of that poor bush. His entire body was trembling.

“Thoughts spun through my mind. Nu , such a general, a creature in love, and he was a murderer. How could these two things flow together in his blood? Hot and cold, poison and tenderness. How did his strength not run out? Every hour without her was worse than death and harder than hell.

“Ahasuerus walked away from the bush and came back. Upright, he opened the door and sat down regally. Only his face disclosed the shock, the annihilation to which he was leading himself, betraying his duties. This whole journey was just false hope, and there was no telling how it would end. A moment passed. Another moment. Ahasuerus sat without making a sound. I felt that time was running out, convinced that in Ravensbrück camp I would find Feiga. Ahasuerus would soon start the car and our hearts would be reunited. But Ahasuerus was lost in thought. His breathing was quiet, slow. I turned to look at him, thinking perhaps I could divine his intentions. Would he have the strength to start the car, to go as far as the camp gates? And then another thought ignited — what did he need me for? Once he found his Little Lover, what would he need me for? My fright increased. He will kill me. Why not here? What need is there for me? Two trees along, the side of the road grew large in my eyes. Perhaps he would shoot me beneath one of them, without the traditional escort, without a kaddish prayer, without a Jewish burial. Nu , Jews were dying in the thousands, and I wanted a Jewish burial. And where were my parents? I no longer believed, of course, that they had been taken East. The truths that had penetrated my ears in the Lodz ghetto, the killings, Chelmno, had slowly connected with my parents who had been sent away. What Chelmno had been for the Jews of Lodz, Belzec had been for my family. Lost, all my loved ones were lost, and there I was, dressed in fine clothing.

“I sighed. And my sigh drew a look from Ahasuerus. He quickly turned back to look at the road, removing me from his field of vision. I froze. I had reminded him of my existence, my unnecessary existence. A mistake.