Chapter 21
Tea in Hell
August 7, 1942
Treblinka, Poland
Klaus did his best to ignore the endless chatter from the engineer. His seat was uncomfortable, crammed into the space near the train’s driver. Peter sat next to him. The area was intensely hot, adding to the scorching heat of the August afternoon. The train shimmied and rattled. All of this was bad enough, but the engineer was an incessant chatterer, rambling on about his job and the importance of transportation to the war effort.
Klaus didn’t need to be here. He was beginning to regret his decision to come, but he wanted to see the entire process from beginning to end. He had learned long ago that understanding all aspects of an operation, not just the elements he was responsible for, helped him to improve efficiencies, and gave him an advantage over others in the same department, who were often not as thorough as he was.
The engineer continued. “You don’t know the troubles that we encounter,” the man said. “We are constantly called on by multiple departments for transportation at the same time. Everyone thinks their project should be first, and nobody is sure who is really in charge at the top. Besides the Führer, of course. So I’m stuck taking what I consider to be the most important projects. I was in Russia for a long time. But I didn’t like it. Different gauge of rail and everything. Did you know that? Damn train doesn’t feel natural on it. I was more than happy when a job came up in Poland. This is a milk run. Just seventy-five kilometers in and back. No bombers, no tanks, no attacks on my train. And we don’t even have to help unload it.”
“That’s quite enough,” said Klaus, reaching the end of his patience.
“Well, I see I have another high-and-mighty officer on board,” the man said, almost under his breath. “Never mind then, I’ll just do my job. Nobody appreciates us.”
“You heard the major,” said Peter. “Quiet your mouth.” He turned his head away from the man, giving Klaus a wink.
The engineer finally shut up and Klaus felt his pounding headache begin to dissipate slightly. He stared out at the countryside for a few minutes. The landscape was dotted with little farms, the houses a light yellow color with low thatched roofs. The structures were foreign to him, so different than the tidy farms near his home in Germany. The Poles lived so close to the fatherland, but they were so different. Perhaps that is why they had often been enemies.
“How much farther?” he asked.
“Oh, now you want to talk to me.”
“Just answer the question,” ordered Peter.
“Not too far now,” the engineer said, pointing. “See just ahead, we veer off on that rail line.”
The train slowed gradually and lurched as it shifted lines at a rail spur. A worn sign near the track said “Treblinka.” Once the train completed the shift, it picked up speed again.
“Not much longer now,” said the engineer after a few minutes. “Look ahead, there’s the camp coming up just past those trees.”
Klaus stood, holding on to a metal bar for balance. He leaned forward, straining his eyes. In the distance the forest parted, and he could make out a long rectangular wooden structure on the right. It was a train station with one tapering gable in the middle. The sign at the station said Obermajden in large letters and indicated that Białystok was the next stop and Walkowysk was the terminus.
The train slowed down, and it took another ten minutes before they were at a complete stop. Then Klaus and Peter stepped off the train. They were met by a delegation of SS in crisp dress uniforms, led by the camp commander, SS Ober-sturmführer Irmfried Eberl. The commander was perhaps a touch over thirty, with a handsome face and a short mustache clipped in the Hitler style.
“Guten Nachmittag, Herr Sturmbannführer,” he said, greeting Klaus in crisp German, albeit with an Austrian accent.
“Heil Hitler,” Klaus said in return, giving a salute.
“We’re excited to have you,” said the lieutenant. “We haven’t had many visitors yet.”
“Thank you for having us, Doctor,” he responded, remembering Eberl was a physician. “You’ve only been in operation for a couple of months, correct?”
“Less than that, actually,” said Eberl. “We’re still learning as we go. But I’m excited about the progress we’ve made. Would you like to have some refreshments now?”
“I’d like to see your operation,” Klaus said in response.
“Excellent.”
Eberl turned to one of his men and gave a command. The soldier turned and yelled toward a group of SS clustered a few meters away. They rushed forward, ripping open the cattle car doors. The cars were jam-packed with people, terrified expressions on their faces, huddled together with no room to move.
“Raus!” The scream came up and down the line, ordering the Jews to step out of the cars. Klaus noticed men running forward past the SS to assist them.
“Who are those people?” he asked.
“Jews,” said Eberl dismissively. “We use them to assist with the luggage and get everyone moving on their way.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Klaus. “With what they are witnessing?”
Eberl laughed. “Don’t worry about them. They don’t last long. Every couple of weeks we select a new group, and these ones go up the chimney. That way there are no tales to tell.”
The unloading took almost an hour. Klaus recognized Dr. Korczak amidst the crowd. He stepped down from the cattle car with a four- or five-year-old girl in a white dress in his arms. He turned to Eberl. “What’s next?” he asked. The unloading was lasting longer than he’d expected and his headache had returned with a vengeance.
“We have the processing center itself,” said Eberl. “I have set up some tables and chairs nearby, so we have a good view. Would you like to go there now, or watch the rest of the unloading?”
“Let’s go to the viewing area,” Klaus said. They started in that direction, moving past the long line of Jews already queued up and moving down a long narrow pathway with barbed wire. The path was well raked and the two-meter fencing on either side was covered in greenery.
“That’s the Himmelstrasse,” said Eberl. “The road to heaven! It’s a little joke, but they are under too much stress to understand the humor of it.”
Klaus heard an audible groan and he looked over at Peter. His assistant was green faced, and he was grimacing in obvious pain. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, sir. This is a lot to take in.”
“No stomach for this kind of thing, eh?” asked Eberl.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” said Peter.
“Why don’t you wait in the train,” said Klaus. “You don’t need to be here for all of this.”
Peter nodded gratefully and turned to leave, moving rapidly back toward the engine compartment.
“Not much of a man, is he?” said Eberl. “My boys handle this just fine.”
“He’s a good man,” snapped Klaus. “I don’t need your commentary about my staff. Just show me the process.”
“Yes, sir,” said Eberl, his face blanched. “It’s just this way.”
They stepped around the barbed wire trail and out into an open part of the camp. They walked for another hundred meters and approached a long set of portable tables with about twenty chairs, all facing a long barnlike structure about fifty meters distant. This structure was painted light brown on the lower half and the gable contained a large star of David. The table was set with a white cloth, china, and silverware. There were four silver tea sets and five trays laden with meats, cheeses, and bread.
Eberl gestured to a couple of seats in the middle of the table and Klaus sat down to his right. The rest of the officers and men in Eberl’s group took their seats and a group of servants hastened up, pouring tea and serving an afternoon meal. Klaus waived off any food, gesturing to his cup. A soldier poured some tea for him. “Sugar and milk?” the soldier asked.
“Just sugar,” Klaus said.
The soldier looked around on the table for a few moments. He moved up and down the line, finally returning to Klaus. “I’m sorry, sir, there doesn’t seem to be any sugar here. I can go get you some.”
“Yes please,” said Klaus in irritation.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Eberl asked.
“What’s next?” Klaus said, ignoring the question.
“I just want to make sure you are comfortable.”
“I am fine, Lieutenant. What is the next step in the process?”
“Look over to those buildings,” said Eberl, gesturing to some structures near the barn that looked like barracks. “Ah, here they come now.”
A line of Jews was being herded out of the barracks. They were naked, and even from here Klaus could see their fear and misery.
“Why bring them out naked in public?” he asked.
“Logistics,” said Eberl. “We have separate structures for undressing and processing. In fact, we don’t have room for the men to undress indoors. They disrobe in between the barracks.”
The male Jews moved quickly into the barnlike structure. In ten minutes, they were all inside and the doors were closed. An order from one of the men standing nearby rang out and he heard an engine rumble to life.
“That comes from a Russian tank,” Eberl explained. “They used to use truck engines, but they are too small.”
From the barn Klaus could hear screaming. The engine revved, partially drowning out the yelling. He checked his watch. Where was his sugar? Minutes passed and the sounds began to wane. Eventually he could hear nothing. He checked his watch again. Twenty-five minutes.
Klaus noticed a pile of bodies near the gas chamber. “What is that?” he asked, pointing toward the corpses.
“Just runoff,” said Eberl. “The limiting factor isn’t the chamber. The problem is disposing of the bodies.”
“And you leave them out there for anyone to see?”
“By the time they get this far, it doesn’t matter anymore,” said Eberl, laughing. “There’s no place to run.”
“What happens next?” Klaus asked.
“The Jew workers will remove the bodies and take them to the structure over there for burial.”
“How many can you handle a day?” Klaus asked.
“Three thousand,” said Eberl.
“But not without this mess?” he said, gesturing to the stacks of bodies outside.
“We are doing our best. Each week we come up with new procedures. Would you like to stay to watch the disposal process?”
“No, thank you,” said Klaus. He rose. “I’ve seen everything I need to see.”
Eberl stood with him, extending his hand. “I hope you will give my superiors a favorable report.”
“I certainly have much to tell them. Thank you again, Doctor, this has been an illuminating day.”
He turned to leave. The soldier/servant was just rushing up with a small cup, full of sugar. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I just found this and came right back. Can I bring you a cup for the train?”
“No, thank you,” said Klaus. “Don’t worry about it. You’re learning more every week.” He turned and walked back toward the train. Peter was there, sweating in his uniform, still looking ill.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “Please forgive me. I don’t know what got into me. I wasn’t expecting this.”
Klaus took his hand. “Don’t you worry, Peter. This is a regrettable process with a noble purpose.”
“Did you learn anything?” he asked.
“Yes. Eberl is a pig. This whole camp is a sloppy mess. I’ll be giving a full report immediately when we get back. This will be changed.”
“You’re going to shut down the camp?” said Peter.
“No. But the process will be made more efficient.” He took his friend’s hands. “The war will be over soon. All of this will be over.”
“If we win,” said Peter.
Klaus looked back at the camp. “We must win. If we lose, the world will make us pay.”