Trains to Treblinka Page 5

  Chapter 7

  Tchechia had been at Treblinka for several weeks. During that time, she had eaten better at the camp but had still lost weight from all the running and working from dawn until dusk. She worked first in the laundry, washing the linens of the Nazi overlords and the Ukrainian guards. She and three other young women also washed items from the kitchen and were often asked to either help the mess staff during meals or attend to patients in the small medical clinic. Tchechia’s distinctive blond hair drew the attention of the SS guards, but she was mostly left alone by the workforce of the camp.

  The job she liked the best—though not assigned to her very often—was sweeping the SS quarters and emptying their trash. Tchechia felt it was her duty to try to spy on the Nazis to see if she could discover anything about the war, or about the future of the concentration camp where she worked. Once, she found a newspaper left open on the kommandant’s desk. She could not make out all the German words, but she determined it was about the war in Stalingrad, and that the Germans were stalled out and not making much progress.

  Bronka was managing to get by as a seamstress and performed limited tailoring. She worked alongside Rudi Masarek and several other Jewish men who had been chosen out of a transport to perform camp labor. Rudi was a master with clothing since he had worked in the shirt business with his father in Prague. He taught Bronka trade skills since she had never worked as a seamstress before.

  “You are much more talented than I will ever be,” said Bronka.

  “You will learn,” Rudi responded to her in a kind tone. “The important thing to remember is to keep one eye just ahead of where you are stitching so you do not veer off course and make a mistake.”

  “Like I have already done a few times,” said Bronka with a slight smile.

  Bronka appreciated Rudi’s kindness to her. She knew he was in similar despair as she, mourning the loss of loved ones. At first Bronka thought that perhaps her parents and siblings could be somehow working in Camp 2, and that maybe she would see them again. But as time marched on and every day she continued to see the masses pour out of the trains, stripped, chased down the tube by guards with whips, and no sign of any of these thousands of people, she knew only one fate had befallen her family.

  Bronka felt encouraged by Rudi while at work, but she realized that he had his own emotional stressors. Everyone at Treblinka mourned the loss of loved ones. It was especially hard for her at night before going to sleep, when she had time to think about her family. She wept just after lights-out, before she slept, as she thought of her younger sisters and sweet mother. One of the women in her barracks hanged herself to escape the pain. Bronka was slightly envious of her, yet she recognized she herself did not have the capacity to end her life that way.

  Rudi had confided in Bronka that there may be a day coming when they could escape, and this gave her some hope. He whispered to her one day, “Remember to always feel the fabric for aberrations where there might be gold. We are saving it to help those who escape.”

  “Who gets to escape?” asked Bronka. She was encouraged for the first time since she could remember.

  “No one who would be obvious to the guards,” Rudi answered. “We can only send out people they have not noticed, those who stand at the back of the formation. In this way we can fake the numbers for the head count without them knowing. I don’t think any women could be sent out because there are too few of you. Suchomel would know immediately that you had escaped if you did not show up for work in the morning.”

  Rudi and Bronka worked for a thirty-five-year old SS guard named Franz Suchomel, who had previously served in Germany’s euthanasia program, and of this fact he reminded his team often. It was a veiled threat. Suchomel was not as physically abusive as some of the other guards such as Miete or Kuttner, but he kept discipline with verbal threats and attempted to guilt the Jewish workers into performing well for the camp. Rudi and Bronka did not feel liked by Suchomel, but he tolerated them more than the others, and tried to protect his team from the more sadistic guards. However, he failed to give them what they so desperately craved: reason to believe they would survive Treblinka.

  Bronka spoke to Tchechia at night and told her about the escape plans being worked on by Rudi and some of the other men.

  “I wish I could leave tonight,” said Tchechia one evening. “I cannot stand the way the guards all look at me. I don’t think I will last much longer.”

  “I am sure that it can’t be tonight,” said Bronka thoughtfully. “Rudi said there are too few of us women, that it would be too obvious if one of us vanished. With the men, if the head count is questioned at the end of the day, they just lie and explain that the Doll or Miete sent someone to the Lazarette. But that wouldn’t work for us.”

  “Maybe one day there will be a revolt,” said Tchechia. “Until then, I will continue to look for ways to steal secrets from the guards. They do not realize that as they watch me, I am also watching them. I see their patterns, when they are gone and how frequently.”

  “Be careful, Tchechia!” warned Bronka. “Don’t cross them, and don’t stare back at them. They will hurt you.”

  “I want to kill these pigs, every last one of them. They are murderers and deceivers. You know, they tell the women that the water is getting cold so they must hurry down the tube. They also have the Star of David above the bathhouse door so that people are not afraid—the liars!”

  “Please be careful,” said Bronka. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  One day, Tchechia reported to work at the infirmary to assist Dr. Chorazycki, the fifty-seven-year-old camp physician. When she walked into the room, the doctor took a good look at her and said, “You do not look Semitic.”

  Tchechia attempted a smile that failed and replied, “I’ve been told that before.” She tried to keep in stride with the doctor as he walked through the small clinic, checking on his patients, most of whom had typhus. “You are the opposite of me; you look Jewish, but I hear you are not,” said Tchechia.

  “I was born Jewish,” countered Chorazycki, “but I converted to Catholicism as an adult.”

  “Why are you here?” asked Tchechia. She wondered about this man who, according to Bronka, was complicit with the men organizing escapes.

  “Already a doctor, I was procured by the Russians during the great war. Then I was a captain and chief physician in the Polish army during the Bolshevik war. During peacetime, I started a private practice in Warsaw. My family and I worked to help rebuild our sovereign nation. For thanks I was forced into the ghetto, and lived there for over a year. You know the rest,” he said soberly, connecting eyes with her for an instant.

  Tchechia nodded.

  “We are the lucky ones,” he declared sarcastically, glancing away again.

  Tchechia thought about what he said. She felt that she herself was just beginning at life, but he had already lived a full one. Unfortunately they were both at Treblinka at the same point in time. And would likely never leave, she thought.

  Tchechia wondered about this man, so confident in his medical skills and his worldview. He had seen so much, yet he was forced to work for sixteen hours a day in a cramped infirmary, never knowing which day might be his last. She found it admirable that he kept a strong, defiant attitude.

  Over time, Tchechia grew fond of Dr. Chorazycki and was always glad when asked to work in the infirmary. She felt the doctor also liked it when she helped him. This made Tchechia happy and gave her something to look forward to. But there was something in his actions, and in his tone when he spoke. Something desperate. She knew that, like Bronka’s Rudi, the doctor would be important if there was an uprising.

  Chapter 8

  Franz Stangl walked over to the SS table carrying his white porcelain plate filled with meats, small potatoes, cauliflower, and fresh bread. He sat across from his deputy, Kurt Franz, along with August Miete, Willi Mentz, Franz Suchomel, and Kurt Kuttner. No one spoke while they put their first few bites into th
eir mouths. It was a long day, having processed so many prisoners.

  Stangl had taken his beautiful mare for a ride around the countryside that morning. It was one of the few pleasures he enjoyed at the camp. It reminded him of when he was a young man, before the war, and before he had ever heard of the name Treblinka.

  He had seen good times and bad times throughout his life. Working with a man named Christian Wirth at the euthanasia center at Hartheim was terrible. He had met coarse men before, but Wirth was absolutely foul and degenerate. Some of the other leaders had put Stangl’s mind at ease when he arrived at Hartheim. He was told the patients being euthanized were carefully selected by a team of physicians as unrecoverable. Wirth, however, countered all of their words as sentimental rubbish. “We must do away with useless mouths!” Wirth would proclaim. Stangl was thankful he was in charge of Treblinka, and Wirth was miles away. But dealing with subordinates could also be a challenge.

  Stangl finally started the conversation. “I have spent some time at the upper camp today. They are running out of room for their work. I called Globocnik. He said if we have no more room we are going to have to start burning.”

  The Germans sitting around Stangl gave a slight moan at the thought of it.

  “How?” asked his number two, also known by the camp workers as the Doll. “We do not have a crematorium. It is easy to say something from a distance, but Globocnik is not here having to manage it.”

  “We are going to have the workers make ovens, essentially large roasting pits,” said Stangl. “It will be quite an operation. They will probably need more men there to get this up and going. A crematorium will be built eventually, but until then we will use the roasting pits.”

  “And what do we do with all the ash?” Kuttner asked. He was a staff sergeant in charge of day-to-day operations. Before his tenure at Treblinka, he had worked as chief of police at a German military prison.

  “Spread it around,” replied Stangl evenly. “The workers will have to devise a way to blend it into the earth. Perhaps a layer of ash, a layer of soil. Have them experiment. Or we could take wagonloads down to the river, but I would prefer to keep it in the fields.”

  The men continued to eat their meals, thinking of the upcoming change to operations. They all knew it would bring an unbearable stench to both camps. Working at Treblinka would become all the more a hardship tour if they were forced to smell death every day.

  “There is something else,” continued Stangl. “It is time to tweak our practices with the workers.” Before he could get out his next words he noticed an eye roll from Miete. “What I mean to say is that since operations are running smoothly, it would be good to keep most of the workers we have now.” Stangl could tell by their faces that they wanted more explanation.

  “They are specialists. They have overcome the shock of arriving at Treblinka and are useful to us. For instance, the gold Jews. They are craftsmen. We need to keep them around.” Stangl then glanced at Suchomel, who ran the tailor shop. “I hear there are some tailors who are quite skilled. We also have a Viennese baker who made us this fine bread tonight. I want to keep him.”

  “We have a concentration camp to run, and that requires discipline,” said Kuttner carefully.

  “I realize that more than any of you, and infractions, of course, will not be tolerated,” countered Stangl. “But for the day-to-day operations we want to keep most of the workers we have.”

  “This is how revolts happen,” cautioned Kuttner. “If we keep the same prisoners together for a period of a time, they form relationships and begin to trust each other. Routinely moving them around and making examples out of them is how we keep them loyal and obedient.”

  Stangl waved his hand a little at Kuttner as if he was annoyed. Then staring down at his food, he said, “Just humor me. Let’s keep the majority of the workers we have. They are serving us well. I hear we have recruited two concert violinists and an operatic tenor from Warsaw. Let’s keep them! Perhaps we can have a concert. These workers know their jobs and perform them quickly. Just cut back on anything unnecessary, that’s all. Cut back.”

  The other officers all left en masse, having a few words with each other outside the mess building. Stangl knew it would be hard for a couple of them to adapt, but they hopefully got the point. He wanted efficiency, even at the risk of an uprising, which was minimal at most. In order to have a revolt the Jewish workers would need strong leadership, something impossible in a place like Treblinka.

  Chapter 9

  Soon after Rudi and Hans arrived, another former Czech army officer alighted onto the rail platform. His name was Zelo Bloch. Out of five thousand people on the morning train, Zelo was the only man chosen by the SS to stay and work; the other men were stripped and departed down the tube. Zelo’s young wife was also not chosen, and after a piercing look into her husband’s eyes she ran into the wooden barracks and was never seen by him again.

  That night, the Czech men invited Zelo to bunk in their area. When it came time for lights-out, Zelo asked them about the passengers who were not selected to work. Richard cleared his throat and began to share with Zelo what most likely happened to his wife once she was out of his sight. The other men were curious what the newcomer would say, or if he would weep, but Zelo remained calm. The lights were turned out and they could not hear him whimper.

  Richard continued. “This is not a work camp, Zelo.”

  “I understand,” Zelo said softly.

  They were his last words of the evening, and he was lying.

  Zelo was unique in that the Nazis did not need any additional workers on the specific morning he was picked out of the line. It was most definitely his brute strength and magnificent strong jaw the Nazis noticed. Zelo looked like a winner with his flowing black hair and mustache. Thankfully for the Czech contingent, not only did Zelo look like a leader, he brought with him a military mind, a winsome personality, and a forcefulness the group did not know they were missing until he arrived.

  There were designated leaders, such as camp elder Galewski, but Zelo quickly became the one from whom others drew strength. People trusted him. His attributes made Zelo their leader, not only of the Czech contingent, but of the entire male barracks. It was not just his looks and mannerisms; it was something deeper, intangible, and it gave Zelo much respect. There was a lot to adore about Zelo: he honestly cared for other people and looked them in the eye when speaking to them. Because of this, people bestowed authority on him and looked up to him for leadership.

  While all the Czech men had befriended Zelo at once, it was Robert who became the closest to him. The two men became thick as thieves. Zelo was the idea man who brought strength, will, and determination. Robert was the intellectual who thought everything through and analyzed the individual pieces. With this combination, it wasn’t long before all the Czech men were conspiring about escaping from Treblinka.

  “So what is the situation here?” asked Zelo, his brown eyes shining in the candlelight.

  Richard started. “We have seen several people escape in ones or twos to send word back to Warsaw regarding what this camp is all about. We are able to smuggle from the luggage almost as much gold and currency as we need to bribe the Ukrainian guards. But they are sometimes not very dependable.”

  “What about weapons?” Zelo was obviously thinking larger than just one or two.

  “All the extra weapons and explosives are stored in the arms room,” said Robert. “However, the challenge is that it is located right next door to where the Germans sleep. If we do anything, it will have to be during the day and include a decoy operation.”

  “Any sympathizers among the Germans?” asked Zelo hopefully.

  “Not really,” said Karel. “There are some who don’t beat us as badly as the psychopaths, but there are no trustworthy Germans, if that’s what you mean.”

  “What about key people in the workers’ group?”

  “We have Galewski who is honorable and we can trust,” Karel answered. �
�He has already had a positive influence, helping with the escapes so far.”

  “There is Dr. Chorazycki who I work with,” said Robert. “He hates all the Nazis and has already spoken to me about a revolt. He said that he will do whatever he can to help if there is a plan. Plus, the SS come to him for medical attention and to seek his advice, so if the SS trust him then he will be able to help us.”

  “That’s good,” said Zelo. “We need to plan a larger-scale assault on the camp leadership. Regarding the weapons, do you think we can get a key made for the arms room somehow?”

  The question itself injected a shot of excitement into the small group.

  Rudi, as if awakened from a dream, answered with a gleam in his blue eyes, “I will check it out and see what I can do about the key.”

  “Excellent!” said Zelo. “On the day of the grand revolt, we will cut their phone lines and somehow barricade the entrance to prevent reinforcements from coming. If we take all of their weapons, we could do quite a lot of damage. I think that if we unite together, not just a few of us, but the entire group, we could kill most of the SS and guards, and then escape into the woods beyond this camp. Every night let’s meet to tally our inventory of what we have stolen and discuss how we have progressed with our strategy.”

  The men looked at each other with new hope and resolve. Their minds were forced to think about the necessity and reality of actually escaping, and what that would be like. The workers all understood that the guards were liars; the promise that they might live to see their freedom did not hold any truth. Treblinka was a killing machine. No one who was ever sent to Treblinka could escape it. The Jewish workers had been told by one of the guards the camp was a top-secret mission, and each of the SS were handpicked for this assignment.

  Robert speculated that perhaps it was not only the workers who were in danger of being eliminated but also the guards. He wondered if at some point, when Treblinka ever ran out of Jews to kill and had to close down, that Hitler might also kill all the SS and Ukrainian guards, simply to cover up his tracks and hide his dirty secrets. Perhaps no one was ever meant to live after Treblinka.