Chapter 8
1945
They’d met at the river. Ordinarily, he would have waited for him to move on but he seemed in no rush, and thirst was getting the better of him. Best to approach wide so he could be seen in his peripheral vision, less of a surprise.
Sitting on his haunches in the same manner as his neighbour, he began to fill the canteen. They nodded at one another.
He sat back and gulped the cool water then refilled the bottle. His neighbour smiled at him. He smiled back. Silence.
Pulling the cheese from his pocket, he broke a piece off and offered it. The man got up and came to him. Squatting down, he took the cheese.
They shook hands and introduced themselves. A small tin box was produced from which came two cigarettes and they sat in the grass on the river bank whilst they washed their feet and talked.
They shared a recent past; Auschwitz. One, an early arrival, moved on to Monowitz where his instincts had provided him with a safer post in the administration block. The other, by comparison, had been a late comer and when the guards hadn’t been looking his father had forced him to stand in the other line. A tall boy for his age, he’d found being bilingual an advantage it had never seemed to be before; the guards found him useful for conveying instructions and the only selection he hadn’t been able to avoid had been for Neu-Dachs sub camp and the mines.
He’d never seen them again, Mama, Papa and beautiful little Hanka. Papa hadn’t looked back. With his daughter nestled on his arm, peering over his shoulder, he’d just hugged his wife tightly as they trudged off in the opposite direction. Little Hanka had waved.
“Stick with me. I’ll get you through.” His companion smiled at him. “I could do with some good company.”
He scowled back. “I’ve done alright so far.”
A pat on his shoulder. “Believe me, it’s not going to get any easier. The closer we get, the harder it will become.”