8 Haman said to King Achashvairosh, "There is a nation scattered and separated among the nations throughout your empire. Their laws are different than everyone else's, they do not obey the king's laws, and it does not pay for the king to tolerate their existence. 9 "If it pleases the king, let a law be written that they be destroyed, and I will pay to the executors ten thousand silver Kikar-coins for the king's treasury." 10 The king removed his signet ring from his hand and gave it to Haman son of Hamdoso the Agagite, persecutor of the Jews. 11 The king said to Haman, "Keep the money, and do whatever you want with that nation." -Book of Esther, 3:8-11- ------ The Corporal looked around uneasily at the women around him as he slung his M1 Garand rifle over his shoulder and headed to the other two men of his platoon stationed here. Like some of the other Americans, he had a bandana up over his face in an attempt to try to escape some of the stench of Dachau. The measure met with minimal success. One of the two men of the platoon, noticing the short Corporal making his way over between the recently liberated inmates, smiled at him, "Hey Paco," the Lieutenant said, "You got any smokes left on you?" The Corporal shook his head, "None," he said as he pointed with his thumb behind him, "I bummed one off a Sergeant near that guard tower earlier." Looking past the Lieutenant, he cocked his head when he saw the face of the other one, "Don?" he asked, "You okay? You don't look so good." The soldier turned to him, a haunted look in his eyes, "All these people," he muttered, "My God, look at them. Did you see all the dead in that one building? Or in the cattle car? Look at them," he said again as he turned away from him, "They're still dying. I overheard one of the doctors say they lost a few within just the last five hours." Both the other soldiers fell silent at that. "God damned Nazis," the Corporal growled under his breath. "Corporal Rodriguez," a voice called over. The three soldiers turned and saluted Major Sanmartino, who returned their salute. "Corporal, are you still having trouble with that rifle of yours?" "No sir," Corporal Rodriguez answered, "I got rid of the clunker a while back and got my hands on this baby," he said as he motioned with his head to the M1 strapped over his shoulder, "That piece of junk I had earlier kept getting jammed up on me, remember?" "Yeah," the Lieutenant spoke up, "But then again, it must have been hard unjamming with those short stubby arms of yours..." "Hey, why don't you back off," the Corporal said, both he and the Lieutenant chuckling a bit in spite of the surroundings. Major Sanmartino smiled a bit at the two before turning away, looking around for someone in the sea of faces surrounding them. "Anyone seen Stinky?" he asked. The men of the platoon suddenly became quiet as they looked amongst themselves. "Stinky?" Corporal Rodriguez asked, "You mean Lieutenant McFarlane?" The Major raised his eyebrow, "Yeah, why? Where is he? I haven't seen him since I left here this morning looking for doctors and nurses." "The Lieutenant is with the M.P.s," the Private spoke up, "He's in custody." The Major focused his attention on the Private, "You mind explaining that to me private?" "Well sir," the young soldier began hesitantly, "He just kinda snapped sir. Shortly after you left he saw the dead bodies piled like kindling round the crematorium of the men's camp, came back here and got a look at that there train car with all the dead women in it, and he snapped. He ordered a whole bunch of the SS guards who had surrendered to exit the camp and line up against the far wall out in the field there, took his machine gun, and killed them all sir. From what I heard, he kept firing at them even after they were dead too sir." Major Sanmartino looked away from the Private and down at the ground, "Shit," he muttered. "Major Martini," the Lieutenant asked, "you got any smokes?" The Major looked silently at the Lieutenant for a few seconds before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a pack. He passed a cigarette to him, lighting it as he once again addressed the men, "Word is that some of the men around here are disobeying H.Q.s orders and are giving food to the prisoners." "With all due respect Major," Corporal Rodriguez said, "Look at them. I mean, it's hard not to feel sorry for them." The Major sighed, "I know. But when stories come back to me of the men sharing their K-rations with the prisoners..." "K-rations?" the Lieutenant asked sarcastically, "Good God, if we give them our G.I. food these women are going to die for sure." Major Sanmartino smirked a bit, "Just pass the word; no more food for these women, understand? They're systems are so messed up at the moment that any real food could kill them. That's an order," he added firmly. "Major Sanmartino," a woman's voice called over. The Major turned around and saw Lieutenant Shore coming over to him, the nurse's hair looking unkempt as she yawned. " Lieutenant Shore," the Major said with a smile as she finally reached him, "You can call me Martini like everyone else, you know. And from the looks of things I take it your relief has finally arrived?" Sarah nodded wearily. The young nurse had now been up almost twenty-four hours straight, and was physically exhausted. She was leaving with several of the other doctors and nurses, and would be returning tomorrow. All through her time by the doctor's side, one image kept replaying itself in her mind over and over again. "Major Martini," she asked, "I saw a prisoner earlier today, a young woman a bit taller than me, who was wearing a star of David with a pink triangle. What does the pink mean?" "Pink?" the Major asked thoughtfully, "Let me think... Black is for gypsies and poles, red is for the commies... Hey Corporal," he called over, "Come here a minute." Corporal Rodriguez came over, "Yes Major?" "Corporal, you were over at the men's camp for a while earlier today weren't you? Did you see any prisoners with pink triangles over there?" "Yes sir," the Corporal nodded, "Not many though." "I understand," Major Sanmartino answered as Sarah yawned once again, "Corporal, did you find out what the pink ones meant?" The soldier looked from the Major over to Lieutenant Shore and back, "Sir, are you sure you want me to answer that in front of a lady?" he asked. As a large green ambulance truck with a red cross painted on the side of it entered the gate, Sarah spoke up, "Corporal, I'm a nurse. I've seen and heard plenty of terrible things by now, so you don't have to worry about my delicate sensibilities." The Corporal looked at Sarah for a moment before looking away, "They're for fairies," he mumbled. "I'm sorry Corporal," the nurse said, "I didn't quite catch that." "They're for fairies," Corporal Rodriguez repeated louder, clearly embarrassed to be talking of such things in front of the nurse, "You know, fags." "You mean homosexuals?" Lieutenant Shore asked. The now blushing Corporal simply nodded as Major Sanmartino interjected. "Thank you Corporal," he said, "Your dismissed." As the Corporal quickly turned and rushed back to the members of his platoon, Major Sanmartino turned back to the nurse, "It looks like your ride's here," he noted, motioning with his head towards the ambulance where Sarah's fellow Medical Corps. Nurses were busy finding seats for the ride back. Sarah turned away from the ambulance to face the Major once again. "Major," she began, "Can... Can you locate her for me? The prisoner I mean." "What?" the Major asked incredulously. He looked at the Lieutenant in disbelief as she continued. "She has a Star of David made up of a pink and yellow triangle," Sarah said hurriedly, "Wire frame glasses, grey eyes, and she was wearing a grey scarf over her head, if I remember correctly." "Well you're not asking for much, are you?" the Major asked acerbically, "I mean, between both the men's and women's camps and subcamps there are only about thirty-five thousand prisoners. Looking for a needle in a haystack would be easier than..." "Please," Sarah interrupted, "Just try. Please?" Major Sanmartino looked from her to the now nearly full ambulance and back, "Alright," he said reluctantly, "I'll pass the word around. Now hurry before you miss your ride." "Thank you Martini," Sarah said gratefully as she turned and hurried towards the ambulance. "Hey, wait!" the Major yelled. Sarah turned back towards him as he called out, "What do you want with her anyways?" Sarah stopped, "I'm not sure myself," she answered honestly with a shrug. Ignoring the questioning look Major Sanmartino gave her, she turned back around again and ran the rest of the way to the ambulance. Once in the vehicle, she soon found a seat for herself near the back. Elsewhere in the camp, as the sun was slowly setting over the horizon, a young Private who'd just arrived at Dachau looked about him in a daze. Less than four months ago he'd been drafted; and now he found himself here, in a place that looked like the bowels of hell. Turning to his right, he saw a young woman staring silently at him. He started to walk slowly towards her, at which point she nervously took a step back. "Wait," the Private said in a low, soothing voice as he held the palms of his hands up to the inmate. "Friend, freund," he said, remembering the German word for friend someone had taught him. The prisoner stopped, focusing on the young soldiers face as he once again came forward. "There you go," he said in a tone of voice one might use to speak to a puppy. Taking in her thin appearance and sad grey eyes that looked out at him from behind wire-framed glasses, he slowly reached over and pulled his backpack off, making sure not to make any sudden moves that might scare her off. "Freund," he repeated as he opened up his backpack and pulled out something wrapped in aluminum foil. "Chocolate," he said, holding it out to the young woman, "Freund, chocolate." The woman looked from the soldier's face to the chocolate bar. She timidly came forward on her thin legs, and took the offered chocolate. "Dziekuje," she muttered, stepping back as she saw a second soldier come over. "Private Briggs!" the Sergeant yelled out angrily, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" "Sergeant Page," the Private answered, "I..." "Damn it Briggs," the Sergeant interrupted, "Don't you know the orders? No food to the prisoners!" The Private looked angrily at his superior, "Sergeant, you shouldn't swear in front of a woman." "I what? Look hayseed, in case you hadn't noticed she don't speak English. She doesn't know what the hell either of us are saying." "And as for the ‘no food,'" he said as he pointed at the now nervous prisoner, "If you want to take that away from her, you go right ahead!" The Sergeant scowled angrily at the Private. He then looked over at the prisoner, his features lightening as he saw her pathetic condition. "Next time," he muttered, "Remember the regulations." And with that he turned away and left. The Private breathed a sigh of relief as he turned back to the prisoner. "Sorry," he said regretfully. The prisoner didn't answer him; she simply turned around and headed for her barrack, soon becoming lost in the crowd as dusk continued to creep over the camp. The Private turned around and was about to rejoin his platoon when the Sergeant came running back up to him, followed by a Hispanic Corporal. "Private Biggs," the Sergeant asked, "That prisoner that was just here, did you notice her star?" "Star?" the soldier asked. "Yeah, the star," the Corporal spoke up, "the one on her prison dress. Did it have a pink triangle in it?" The young soldier looked thoughtful, "Well, now that you mention it..." "Quick," the Sergeant said, "Where did she go?" "Off in that direction," the Private answered, motioning to the teeming throng of female inmates wandering about the compound. "Shit," the Sergeant growled as he and the Corporal headed in the indicated direction. As the two men ran around among the prisoners in the waning light, Gilda sat down on the steps of her barrack next to her friend Anja. The older woman looked over at her curiously, "What do you have there?" she asked, pointing to the object wrapped in foil. Gilda shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know," she answered, "One of the American soldiers gave it to me." She carefully began to unwrap it, her eyes widening as she realized what the G.I. had given her. "Chocolate," Anja whispered. "Looks like it," Gilda answered. Breaking the bar in half, she gave half of it to the older woman as she took a bite of it herself, closing her eyes as she savored the bitter-sweet taste. Opening her eyes again, she asked, "So now that we're free, are you going back to Barlinek?" Swallowing a mouthful of chocolate, Anja shook her head, "No," she answered vehemently, "I'm not going back to Barlinek, or any other Polish city. I plan on joining some of the other communists here and head for Soviet Russia." Gilda looked away from her, "Oh," she said. Anja looked over at her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," she said, "I'm not leaving yet, remember? We'll be together for a while longer." Gilda looked back over at the older woman whom had become almost a surrogate mother to her in the camp and nodded. "I know," she answered, leaning her head on her friend's shoulder, "But it doesn't make it any easier." Anja patted her head as she took another bite of her half of the chocolate bar, "You know, you could always come with me. A lesbian Jewess would probably have a better chance in the Soviet Union than in Poland once this is all over. Besides, I doubt there's much of a home left for you to go back to." Gilda sighed; not much of a home to go back to was an understatement, "I'm tempted," she answered, taking another bite, "But I don't think I can. I'd make a lousy communist." "Really?" "Mmm," the younger prisoner answered, "I mean, I understand most of what you talk about as far as universal brotherhood and communal property, but I think I'd rather be somewhere where I can actually own things instead of having the state own everything." Anja started to laugh, "You do realize that you're oversimplifying things a bit, don't you?" "Perhapse," Gilda responded as she took another bite, "But I also think I'd have a problem with accepting atheism." "What?" Anja asked bemusedly as she finished off the chocolate, "I thought you told me you lost your faith in God when you came here." "Maybe," Gilda answered, smiling to herself as she added, "But I recently learned I do believe in angels." ... ----- 1924. Christmas Eve in Manhattan. The five year old looked up at her papa, the snow falling around them as he held her tiny hand in his. She wore a red scarf her mother had knit for her, and blue mittens to keep her hands warm. Looking over to her right, she saw a playground where a group of boys were having a snowball fight. Elsewhere in the park, a girl was lying on her back as she made a snow angel. "Tateh," she said as she pointed at the girl in the snow, "Tateh, can I go play too?" Her father looked down as he removed his ever-present pipe from his lips, "Maedeleh, you should get yourself a cold that way, shleppen around in the snow like that. We go only to your Aunt Edith for the chicken soup what she made, then back home with mameh before she worries for us." She frowned a bit at that, looking back over at the children in the park who were running around laughing as their parents looked on. As the men and women of the crowded city sidewalks walked back and forth, an elderly man with a big bushy beard came up to her father. "Shalom," he said warmly as he shook her papa's hand, "Bernie, what are you doing out on an evening like this?" "Shalom Almos," her papa said. Almos Kovacs was an elderly Jew who immigrated to the United States from his home in Hungary shortly after the Great War, and whom got along quite well with her parents. "Oy, my little girl and I are out for some soup what my wife's sister made for us." "I see," Almos answered as he stroked his beard. "Don't be staying out too long Bernie, your little girl should end up sick if you do." "I know," her papa answered, "I..." her papa's voice died off as he saw a car come around the curve onto the street they were on too fast. He grabbed the little girl and pulled her back as the vehicle hit a patch of black ice and began to spin out. Almos likewise ran back as the car suddenly slammed into a streetlight not more than twenty feet away from them. A nearby traffic cop ran over as another ran to a nearby phone to call for help. As people began shouting and screaming, the five year old became frightened, clinging to her father's arm as she could see the driver through the smashed driver's side window. It was a woman, with blood trickling down her forehead from a cut just above her eye. Next to the woman she could see a boy a little older than she was. He was crying, which caused the young girl to start crying too. Bernie, after checking to make sure Almos was alright, looked down at his scared little girl clinging to him as she wept, and bent down to pick her up, "There, there," he said consolingly as sirens began to fill the air, "I should think enough excitement you've had Sarah. Let's go home," he said as he turned and took a few steps. "Wait right there!" a voice called over. Bernie Shore looked over as a police officer came up to him, "You saw the accident, didn't you?" he asked as the siren in the background got louder. "Well yes," her papa said as he held Sarah up with one arm while removing his pipe with his free hand, "But my girl, she's scared what with the crash and..." "I understand," the officer said as he pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil, "Unfortunately I'm still going to need a statement." As her papa reluctantly began to explain what he saw, the ambulance arrived, its siren finally dying off as it came to a stop. Sarah wiped her eyes with her mittens as she watched the men in the white suits rush over to the car, opening the driver's door and checking on the occupants as a woman with a funny white hat ran out the back of the ambulance carrying a bag. She'd never seen doctors before, or a nurse for that matter. But as the snow fell and the people in the white suits worked away, she watched wide eyed as they bandaged the lady's head, placed her carefully in a stretcher, and then brought her into the ambulance. The boy was still crying, his arm looked like it was twisted in an unnatural way and his lower lip was cut open. As the doctors placed him in the stretcher and picked him up to put him in the ambulance with his mommy, the lady in the funny white hat came over to him. "Don't worry," she said in a Brooklyn accent as she tenderly patted him on the head, "We're going to make it all better." The next day, after coming home from work, Bernie Shore went into the kitchen where he saw his wife busy at the stove preparing dinner. He hugged her from behind as he pecked her on the cheek. She turned to him with a smile, telling him to go and tell their daughter Sarah that dinner was ready. He left the kitchen, headed for his girl's room, and stopped cold when he opened the door. There, on the floor, was his five year old daughter wrapping toilet paper around the arm of her Raggedy Anne doll, the doll's head already crudely bandaged. As she finished, she pulled the doll into a hug. "Don't worry," she said, thinking of the words the nice lady in the white hat had uttered the day before, "I'm going to make it all better." ------ ... Sarah opened her eyes as the round alarm clock next to her rang out. She rubbed the sleet from her eyes and slowly sat up to turn the alarm off, rewinding the internal mechanism within before getting dressed, grabbing her towel, and heading out into camp to try and be one of the first in line for a shower. She smiled a bit as she remembered her dream; it had been ages since she last thought about the childhood incident. As the sun slowly crept over the horizon, she took a deep breath of air, reveling in the absence of the ever-present stench back at the horrid camp in Dachau. Her face fell a bit when she saw that, in spite of getting up at o-six hundred hours, there was already a line of fifteen people waiting to get a shower. " Lieutenant Shore," a woman's voice said behind Sarah, "I see you're up early." Sarah turned around and smiled, "Yes Major Gabriel," she answered, adding, "I was hoping to get here early enough to get a hot shower for once, but it looks like I've failed." Major Joan Gabriel, head of nurses at the military outpost Sarah was currently stationed at, made a face as she saw the line, "Well," she quipped, "I suppose a quick cold shower is better than nothing." Turning back to Sarah, the redhead looked seriously at the young Lieutenant as she asked, "Is it true that you ran out on Captain Stevens yesterday at the women's camp?" Sarah looked away from the Major as she nodded. "Lieutenant," Major Gabriel said, "I understand that what you saw was shocking. I myself was over at the men's camp yesterday. There were piles upon piles of dead bodies outside the crematorium building because the Krauts ran out of coal to burn them all. But you have to try to divorce yourself from the horror of it if you're going to help those still living." Sarah cocked her head as she looked at the Major, "Are you able to divorce yourself from it?" she asked. Joan let out a breath, "No," she admitted, "But I try, and you just have to try too." A half hour later, Sarah finally made it into the now freezing cold shower. After grabbing a quick breakfast in the mess hall, she and a group of other nurses boarded an ambulance to head back to Dachau, the nurse secretly thinking of a pair of grey eyes and hoping the soldiers had found her girl with the pink star. ------ -End Notes- I want to thank everyone here and elsewhere for the warm reviews thus far, especially Dancer431, Love-is-god, Kettu, Clj667, Harlequin and Viridia. And to Breaktherules- thanks for the compliment, but actually I'm the lucky one for having a sweetheart like her - -Vocabulary- -Yiddish Words- Tateh- papa Maedeleh- affectionate term for a little girl Mameh- momma -Polish Words- Dziekuje- Thank you -German Words- Freund- Friend
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