Dr. Krinitski refuses to accept his situation. He keeps muttering angrily to himself. Now and then he asks Salo and Maxie, “When will you let me go? I have a family, a clinic, and patients.”
“At the end of the war. You are performing a great humanitarian service.”
“Admit it—an involuntary service.”
Victor knows Dr. Krinitski. He’s a notorious anti-Semite, a close friend of the German officers. He plays poker with them and attends their wild parties. Victor often heard Dr. Krinitski praise the Germans for eliminating the Jews from Slavic lands. “The Slavs will breathe free from now on,” he said.
WERNER IS OUT of danger. He sleeps most of the day. His friend Karl visits him often and whispers into his ear, “Dear Werner, we must struggle a bit longer; victory is not far off.”
The raids continue with great intensity, night after night. Ever since the refugees joined us, we have needed more food, especially nutritious food. “More fruits and vegetables,” implores Salo.
We avoid eating meat.
In one of the raids, before the snows began, the raiders brought a cow. “Free it!” Kamil ordered at once. The thought of slaughtering the cow and eating its flesh repelled many of us. The raiders set her free, but the cow just stood there without moving, and for many days she grazed at the base, as if she knew we would not harm her.
More and more we are eating fish. Tsila and Hermann Cohen have become experts in grilling fish—which, in Salo’s opinion, keeps us healthy.
The great peril: the cold. We have a number of stoves, but they cannot heat the tents. We saw and chop wood from trees, but the fresh logs are smoky and suffocating when we burn them.
Krinitski complains that he is cold at night and will soon fall ill and require treatment. He does not inspire trust. Salo and Maxie are suspicious of his advice. He insults the elderly. “It’s impossible to save old people in their condition,” he claims. Salo dismisses this opinion and has informed Krinitski that we will care for the elderly the same way that we care for the young, and with even greater attention.
After a week of devoted care, we see the results. Several of the survivors have raised their heads from their blankets, and their eyes light up. “Where are we?” they ask. There has also been improvement among the children. For the time being, Milio and Michael are not permitted to come near them.
Milio doesn’t speak, but the sequence of sounds that he utters makes Danzig happy. Danzig prefers not to push him. The way Milio observes things and people proves that he is thinking, gathering information, and the day will soon arrive when he will surprise us.
“What sort of surprise are you expecting?”
“One doesn’t ask about surprises,” Danzig replies with a smile.
“You have a hunch?”
“I do, but I won’t reveal it to anyone.”
Maxie, on the other hand, is very pleased with Michael’s accomplishments. At the end of the war, when Michael returns to his parents and school, he will skip at least two grades.
EVERY TWO DAYS I go out on a raid. Even while walking I get drowsy and sometimes doze off. Mostly I go out with Felix. Felix doesn’t express his beliefs or opinions. He is all about action, but during breaks on the way back to the base, he hums entire symphonies. His musical memory is extraordinary. I sometimes think that if someone brought him a cello he would sit in the middle of the snow and play. His physique fits the cello; the music is in his body. Speech and the written word do not move him. When he is not humming symphonies, he is silent. He steers clear of arguments as one would avoid fire.
“What is there to say when there’s nothing you can do,” he says, quoting a famous author.