The squads return before dawn, with the abducted doctor, a man named Krinitski, in their hands. Werner, a fighter I didn’t know well, was wounded in this action. He occasionally takes part in the study evenings. Like the rest of us, his knowledge of things Jewish is limited, but he is greatly sensitive to the text, to words and their intonation. A reticent man, he examines the words meticulously. He had been an excellent student in high school. He didn’t complete his second year at university because of the war. He had been studying French literature. Sometimes he cites a French proverb or saying with perfect pronunciation.
I like to watch the way Werner sits, smoking a cigarette and sipping tea. In our evening debates each side tries to enlist him. Werner is not a creature of ideology. Words do not come easily to him. He would rather observe than speak. Whenever he hears something worthwhile, his eyes smile.
THERE WERE SURPRISES during this operation, but the squads led by Felix were highly alert. They returned fire at the right moment and killed the attackers. Werner was wounded in his stomach. He was quickly given first aid and placed on a stretcher and was closely supervised the whole way home.
Kamil stood at the entrance to the camp, hugged each one of the fighters, and thanked them for the successful action. Werner lay on the stretcher, his eyes half open. When Kamil asked if he was in pain, he nodded. Salo immediately admitted him to the infirmary. The captured doctor was ordered to see to the wounded man. He examined Werner and said, “Without a hospital, his chances of recovery are very slim.” Salo and Maxie did not accept the doctor’s opinion and continued to care for Werner.
The squads, the captured doctor, and Kamil went into the kitchen tent. Tsila, Miriam, and Hermann Cohen served everyone a sandwich and cup of coffee. The fighters were thirsty and hungry and ate silently.
When they finished the sandwiches, each fighter was served a handful of dried fruits and another cup of coffee. The doctor looked around with a suspicious squint. He asked no questions and was asked none.
After the meal and a cigarette, Kamil turned to the doctor and said, “We are a group of Jewish partisans. We have decided to take our fate into our own hands, and we have now been joined by a group of men, women, and children whom we rescued from a death train. These survivors spent five days in locked cattle cars, without food, water, or air. They arrived here in terrible condition. We have brought you here, Dr. Krinitski—and forgive me for the way we did so—so you can help us heal the few who have survived the great slaughter.”
The doctor narrowed his eyes and turned his head to the speaker, as if to say something, but then changed his mind and said nothing.
Kamil studied him, then said, “Would you like to help us with this holy mission?” To which the doctor replied, “This is how you bring a doctor? This is how you bring a criminal! I did no harm to anyone. I even used to have Jewish patients.” It was obvious that anger was blocking his words and what slipped out was just a fragment.
“Dr. Krinitski, don’t be angry with us. You know what the criminals did, also in your village.”
“I am not to blame for that.” He jumped up from his seat.
“We don’t blame you.”
“But manners, where are your manners? To wake a man in the middle of the night and kidnap him from his home? This is manners? This is culture?”
“And everything they did to the Jews in your village—this is manners? This is culture?”
“I am not to blame.” He remained firm.
Kamil did not continue to argue. After a few minutes, he looked back at the doctor and said, “From a doctor we expect a little consideration, a little humanity. You saw with your own eyes what the criminals did to the Jews, how they abused them, killed them and their children.”
“I am not to blame,” he repeated.
Felix, who stood to the side, could not contain himself and shouted, “We don’t expect you to be considerate or humane or to identify with us. We expect you to be a doctor, to suppress your feelings and do your duty as a doctor. If you act with negligence or malice, we will set up a tribunal to judge you. We are Jewish fighters, and I advise you to act wisely.”
The doctor understood that he had best keep quiet, and he did so.
Danzig returned to the children and spoke with them. They were suffering from malnutrition, but their curiosity was undiminished. One of them asked if we would always stay in the land of the Jews.
“We’ll really try,” he said with a chuckle.
Karl brought sweetened porridge and began feeding the hot food to the children. The children are so thin that it’s frightening to look at them, much less touch them. Ever since he was wounded, Danzig has been sensitive to every sight and gesture. “God, teach us to take care of these little birds,” he cried out in a voice not his own. “Teach us what to say to them, what songs to sing to them. Teach us how to be parents, grandparents, and uncles. They are so thin, so weak.”