We urgently need supplies. Though we know quite little about the pharmacy, it has been decided to raid it anyway. The spirit was upon Kamil, and after announcing the password, rofeh holim, healer of the sick, he reminded us that the mission was to save lives, plain and simple. “We are not now able to go down to the lowlands and derail the trains from their tracks. But if we can get drugs, we will help those in pain.”
Snow was falling, and the cold burned the skin. Kamil’s clear voice echoed in our ears from far away. We were visible to the patrol that would come to our aid if we were ambushed.
It must again be said—with a measure of guilt, as always—that it’s easier to go on a mission with Felix than with Kamil. When Felix is in command—with his silence, his rhythmic pace, his keen alertness—you’re confident that the operation will go exactly as planned, that we’ll return to base without cries of joy and uplifting words but satisfied with what we did.
The way there was shorter than we’d imagined. We stood about two hundred feet away from a small darkened building with a sign in front that said PHARMACY. The name of the owner was blotted out, but with some effort we could make out AARON SHMULEVITZ. The surrounding houses sat peacefully amid mounds of snow.
The moment before a break-in is like a dive into dark water. The body shakes, but the hands fill with power and will soon overcome the fear.
We broke in through the back door without making noise. We made our way in the darkness and quickly began filling the sacks we’d brought. We did this methodically, shelf after shelf. Half the squad was positioned outside, standing guard. After half an hour, all the medicines were loaded into seven sacks. We left and closed the door.
Felix was pleased. But he, unlike Kamil, doesn’t show his satisfaction. The sacks were full but not heavy. They smelled like medicine.
WHEN MAMA LAY SICK in bed, Papa ran from doctor to doctor, from pharmacy to pharmacy, and if he was able to buy medicine, he would run home and arrive out of breath.
The money ran out. First Papa sold his gold watch and then Mama’s jewelry. The doctors were inconsiderate and charged the full amount. The pharmacy owners also didn’t give any discounts. We had been an affluent family and became poor overnight. Papa’s hands trembled on the table.
I didn’t take part in this pain. I was wrapped up in my uncanny happiness and refused to share my parents’ desperate struggle.
Then, suddenly, I saw my father as I had never seen him before: Sitting at the table, his fist blocking his mouth, he abruptly raised his head, looked at me, and wordlessly asked, Edmund, what wrong have we done to you that you cut us off like this? We’re not asking for your help; your happiness is important to us. But if you’d take a minute to ask how Mama is, that would be very kind. She’s very ill and about to undergo surgery; a good word will perk her up.
I felt Papa’s imploring look throughout my body. But I hadn’t the strength to do what he wanted. I escaped his gaze and ran outside to meet Anastasia. Anastasia conquered me instantly with her big eyes. Only later, under the tree whose top was bent to the ground, did I see Papa’s look clearly. The burning passion stored in my body was snuffed out, and my toes were seized with cold.
ISIDOR HAS TOLD ME that he, too, is now uncertain about whether he did the right thing when he escaped and left his parents behind. Isidor’s words are painfully clear. His prayers, which move people so deeply, apparently do not affect him. “The prayers are not mine,” he has told me. “They are my grandfather’s.” I didn’t want to ask too many questions. You can hurt someone even with a careful question.
A while ago one of the fighters let out a heartbreaking shriek when he was asked a thoughtless question. Even solid, quiet Karl snapped at someone who innocently asked how long he had been in the ghetto. We have learned it is better to be silent.