40

The train slowed, then stopped. The spotters at the peepholes reported that dawn was a half hour off, that the countryside was covered with deep snow, the thick hilly forests could be distinguished in the distance.

The cold was bitter; the emigrants huddled against one another for warmth. The two-day supply of food had long disappeared. So had conversation. Now they waited in darkness, chill and silence.

The train crept forward. The spotters announced that they were passing under a large wooden arch, passing through metal gates, that lights could be seen ahead, that the tracks had spread into three spurs, that the ground was frozen and littered with debris, that double lines of barbed-wire fences could be seen on either side, that barracks stretched endlessly beyond. The car bumped to a stop. Shouting was heard outside. The door slid open. The light was blinding.

“All out, good friends, all out,” ordered the smiling man in striped cap and overcoat. “Welcome, and bring your possessions with you. Deposit them at the other side of the ramp. Claim them later. All out quickly, and form nice lines, five abreast. Do what you’re told. Nothing to worry about if you obey quickly. Treat you better than you think here. Plenty to eat,” he assured, patting his double chin.

The passengers poured out under the glaring shielded white and red bulbs strung over the long platform. Baggage and possessions were quickly deposited in front of a detachment of prisoners in striped uniforms.

“Achtung! Achtung!” a voice called through a megaphone as the new arrivals hurried to form in lines. “We must have silence. You will obey immediately on command. You have arrived at Concentration Camp Birkenau. The motto of Concentration Camp Birkenau is ‘Work frees you.’”

Columns of prisoners in striped overcoats marched, arms swinging rigidly in unison, between the scurrying new arrivals and the empty carriages. SS men sauntered nonchalantly along, hands behind their backs, observing the proceedings, barking an order every now and then.

“If you work hard, there is little to fear,” the voice from the megaphone continued. “Hard work and obedience are rewarded. Food and lodgings are abundant.”

The prisoners in striped overcoats stopped, did a sharp right turn and walked briskly forward to begin searching the empty cars. The line of new arrivals already stretched well beyond the length of the train.

“A hot meal is waiting. You will fall into two columns to speed things. If your name is called, move to the left of the ramp. No talking in ranks. Eyes straight ahead.”

The line to the right was still lengthening when the first seventeen names were read. Only sixteen men moved across the ramp. The missing name was repeated. Someone announced that the man had died in transit.

“All doctors, dentists and veterinarians move to the left.”

Screaming was heard. The prisoners in striped overcoats were pulling a woman from a forward car by her feet. She clutched an infant close to her. Other striped prisoners moved around in a wall. The screaming stopped.

“All electricians, carpenters, mechanics, plumbers, masons, move to the left.”

Spangler moved across the ramp and took his place in the new line.

Nine more categories were shouted through the megaphone. SS officers strolled up and down, picking people almost casually to go to the left.

Two more categories were called. The megaphone was laid aside. The line to the left was counted.

Spangler focused his attention at the head of the ramp. Two officers were conferring over a clipboard. The one with the riding crop stepped back and motioned over his shoulder. Then Spangler realized that the second officer was a brawny prisoner, whose striped uniform had been cut in a replica of the SS tunic and breeches. The face was too distant to be distinguished. The bright-yellow scarf at his neck and the SS boots were distinct.

The yellow-scarfed prisoner waved as he stepped forward. Other prisoners with SS cut uniforms followed him onto the ramp. Spangler counted eight in all. Jackboots clicking, the men strutted down the corridor between the two lines. As they neared, Spangler could see that all were massive and powerful. Their wrists were wrapped in white tape. Their huge faces bore scars and bruises. Most of them had broken noses.

The man directly behind the leader drew Spangler’s attention. His hair was silver-blue and cut close to the square skull. The nose was wide. The deep-set eyes were crowded by thick bushy brows. The jaw was tight and slightly protruding. He stood a hulking six-foot-five, not as large as the leader, but bigger then the rest. He strode with fists clenched. Rings glistened on the fingers of both his hands. Spangler knew it was Friedrich Tolan.

The yellow-scarfed group split in half. One contingent began inspecting the line to the left; the other, including Tolan, examined the line to the right.

“Eyes straight ahead,” a voice barked in Spangler’s ear.

Spangler shot his glance forward, but not before glimpsing the yellow scarf.

“Occupation?”

“Mechanic.” Spangler answered.

“Mechanic, sir. You say ‘sir’ to us,” the voice snapped.

“Mechanic, sir.”

Spangler’s arm was felt, then his stomach and upper legs. “Step out.”

Spangler moved to the side.

“Strip to the waist.”

Spangler did as he was told.

“Drop your trousers and underwear.”

Spangler obeyed the order. He stood naked as the man moved around him and studied his body. It was the leader of the yellow-scarves.

“No operations? Hernias? Things like that?”

“No, sir.”

A chalk mark was made on his forehead and chest.

“Dress,” the man ordered as he walked on.

Farther up the line, other prisoners were dressing or undressing for the yellow-scarves. Spangler could see that the inspection over on the right was somewhat different. Tolan had ordered a young woman to the side. When she hesitated he slapped her across the face. The woman slowly took off her clothes. Tolan studied the body, felt it and then made a chalk mark on the breast and the forehead. He pointed, and the terrified girl hurried across to the left line. Other girls were standing naked farther on while yellow-scarves inspected them.

An order was shouted. Spangler’s line began to move forward.