18

FROM THE JOURNALS OF STANISLAW KABBELSKI, CHIEF OF POLICE, STAROVICHE.

Children and Danielle went under escort to a party given by Willi Ganz at his apartment. Occasion: young Radislaw’s ninth birthday. Delightful event. I looked in and spent over half an hour. My leisure not as great as our dear Kommissar’s. Pathetic to see the joy of young Radek—a joy threatened on all sides by the partisans. Last night for example, in fortified village of Krotinitsa, the jewel of our pilot scheme, partisans raided police outpost and took my men to a barn and shot them. Left them obscenely arrayed, flies open and hands placed as if engaged in self-abuse. Cold night, and villagers did not dare move the dead; hence found them frozen this morning in these horrendous postures. Spent the morning lying to their relatives in town here.

Partisans further hanged the Krotinitsa mayor from a telegraph pole. Have moved in stronger detachment of my men, and Kuzich appointed young Daskovich from the city office here to look after Krotinitsa’s civil side, since none of local people willing to take risk. All this barbarity continues; both Germans and Russians behave like savages; we bear it for the sake of Bela Rus. And in the midst, like the well-known jewel among the dungheap, my son smiles. Genia more sullen, no longer a child, suffering the double assaults of womanhood and the awful life we are forced to lead here.

Ganz fantastic—parties are his especial gift. Got out his violin and played the famous theme from Midsummer Night’s Dream, even thoughMendelssohn, grandson of a Jewish philosopher of assimilation, is scarcely on the approved repertoire for SS Oberführers.

Anyhow, really waltzed the theme along, and the boy’s eyes glittered in a way that would have brought pure joy to any parent if it were not—as I say—for the omens which surround us. The Russians counterattacking in the Don bend—Comrades Vatutin, Rokossovsky, and Eremenko. German Sixth Army now isolated in Stalingrad, and if that place falls, far as it is from Staroviche, increase in partisan activity will stretch us till we squeak. SD documents say 65,000 partisan operatives are loose in the Ukraine and Belorussia. A German debacle in the Don bend could double that figure. Ganz still pushing the Wehrdorfer and the plausible concept that when the SS and SD try to get even with a village which has harbored partisans by sending in the Correctional Battalions composed of German, Austrian, and Hungarian psychopaths, partisan numbers are actually swelled (vide the assassin of Mrs. Kuzich).

And in the midst of all these monstrous balances, my son listens to jazzed-up Mendelssohn with such certainty of a bright future. Have such certainty myself, though by now a little tainted. Was just about to leave and return to office when Wehrmacht sentry came pounding in. Something in the Herr Kommissar’s garage across the courtyard had exploded. The place was in flames. Asked was it partisans but was told consensus among my police (including my driver Yuri), who were fighting fire with Yakov, was that a can of shellac had exploded.

All the children clamoring to attend fire, but self and Danielle forbade it. Self, Ganz ran downstairs. Saw string of German soldiers and Belorussian police handing buckets across the courtyard until they reached Yuri’s hands, who threw them into the face of fire surging through open doors of garage. Ganz’s driver Yakov stood by screaming orders at Yuri—I could not catch what he was saying. In the end though Yuri tipped three buckets of water over his head, cursing the Jew as he did it. Yakov then stopped pestering Yuri and, taking a breath like a man about to dive, raced into the banks of chemical-looking smoke. “Shit my aunt!” screamed Ganz uncharacteristically. “Leave it, leave it!” He ran across the courtyard. The bucket line had heard his roar and thought he’d been talking to them. On orders from the Kommissar they were quite willing to let a garage burn down. Level with Yuri and staring at the revived flames, Ganz yelled, “Pour it on, you fool!”

Saw that the children had now arrived despite orders, and Danielle grabbed Radek and tried to cover his eyes in case Yakov ran out of garage burning.

Ganz’s limousine all at once emerged from fire and smoke at perhaps 35 km/hour, nearly skittling poor sweating Yuri. It rolled two-thirds of way across courtyard and braked. Yakov toppled from it, wheezing horrendously, hacking and retching. Ganz stood by him clapping his back and occasionally lifting his right arm upward as if Yakov had just won a race or a prize fight. When Yakov breathing well enough to stand upright, Ganz pulled him to him by the shoulder and kissed him on the side of the face. There was nothing sexual in the kiss. Nonetheless Ganz ill-advised to break his country’s race laws in front of so many men.

If anything, fire added to Radek’s excitement in the day. Got home that evening to find wife upset. Seems Hirschmann the tutor has been showing children his Iron Cross as a means of acquiring leverage over them. Radislaw started on Danielle in Ganz’s car, the one rescued by Yakov, on way home. All the more embarrassing for the revived and scrubbed Yakov being the driver. Hirschmann and his wife exist through my intervention—most of the rest of their shipment has “gone east.” Seems Radek reminded of Hirschmann by sight on way home of fifteen Jewish escapees being marched down Bryanska Street, a sight in which Yakov may well read his own potential fate. Radek on seeing them began to weep and cry out, “If I ask Daddy as a special birthday present will he let Mr. Hirschmann stay? Mr. Hirschmann is a hero and killed twenty Americans.”

Shall speak to Hirschmann—that part easy. What to say to Radek, how to explain the limits of my influence? What does Radek know of SS activities. Possible of course for children in a sense to know more than they actually know they know.

If Hirschmann has told the children anything distressing it’s the end of him.