The Tattooist of Auschwitz (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #1) - Heather Morris Page 0,53

way to Birkenau.

Chapter 20

Lale is helped from the truck and dragged into Oberscharführer Houstek’s office. The two SS officers hold him by an arm each.

‘We got nothing out of him even after the big Jew had a go,’ one of them says.

Houstek turns to Lale, who raises his head.

‘So you really didn’t know their names? And they didn’t shoot you?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Returned you to me, hey? Now you’re my problem again.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Houstek addresses the officers.

‘Take him to Block 31.’ He turns to Lale. ‘We will get some hard work out of you before your number is up, mark my words.’

Lale is dragged from the office. He tries to keep pace with the SS officers. But halfway across the compound he gives up and sacrifices the skin on the top of his feet to the gravel. The officers open the door to Block 31 and toss him inside before taking their leave. Lale lies on the floor, exhausted in body and soul. Several inmates approach him cautiously. Two try to help him up, but Lale cries out in pain and they stop. One of the men pulls up Lale’s shirt, revealing the large welts across his back and buttocks. More gently this time they pick him up and place him on a bunk. He soon falls asleep.

‘I know who this is,’ one of the prisoners says.

‘Who?’ another asks.

‘It’s the Tätowierer. Don’t you recognise him? He probably made your number.’

‘Yeah, you’re right. I wonder who he pissed off.’

‘I got extra rations from him when I was in Block 6. He was always handing out food.’

‘I don’t know about that. I’ve only been in this block. I pissed someone off the day I arrived.’ The men chuckle quietly.

‘He can’t make it to supper. I’ll bring him some of mine. He’s gonna need it tomorrow.’

A short while later Lale is woken by two men, each with a small piece of bread. They offer it to him and he gratefully accepts.

‘I’ve got to get out of here.’

The men laugh.

‘Sure, my friend. You have two options then: one is quick, the other might take a little longer.’

‘And what are they?’

‘Well, tomorrow morning you can go outside and throw yourself on the death cart when it comes around. Or you can come and work in the fields with us until you drop or beg them to shoot you.’

‘I don’t like those options. I’ll have to find another way.’

‘Good luck, my friend. You’d better get some rest. You’ve got a long day ahead of you, especially in your condition.’

That night, Lale dreams of his departures from home.

The first time he’d left home he was a young man full of promise, in search of a future to make his own. He would find a job he enjoyed and could grow in. He would have rich experiences, visiting the romantic cities of Europe that he’d read about in books: Paris, Rome, Vienna. Above all, he wanted to find that one person he would fall in love with, shower with affection and the things his mother had said were important: flowers, chocolates, his time and attention.

His second departure, full of uncertainty and the unknown, rattled him. What lay ahead?

He arrived in Prague after a long, emotionally painful journey away from his family. He reported as instructed to the relevant government department and was told to find accommodation nearby and to report back weekly until his role was decided. On 16 April, a month later, he was told to report with his belongings to a local school. There he was housed with a number of young Jewish men from across Slovakia.

Lale prided himself on his appearance, and his living situation did not prevent him from looking his best. Each day he washed and cleaned his clothes in the school toilet block. He didn’t know where he was headed but wanted to make damned sure he looked his best when he arrived.

After five days of sitting around, bored, frightened, mostly bored, Lale and the others were told to gather up their possessions and were marched to the railway station. They were told nothing of where they were going. A train designed to transport cattle pulled up, and the men were ordered to climb aboard. Some objected, explaining that the filthy wagon insulted their dignity. Lale watched the response, seeing for the first time his fellow countrymen raise their rifles at Jews, and strike the ones who continued protesting. He climbed on board along with all the others. When no one else could be

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