The Vogels: On All Fronts (The Half-Bloods Trilogy Book 2) by Jana Petken

Author:Jana Petken [Petken, Jana]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2018-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

Paul Vogel

Łódź, Poland

February 1942

Paul left Berlin alone for Łódź, Poland’s second largest city. Valentina, Biermann, and Olga were to join him four days later because his father-in-law had loose ends to tie up from an ongoing investigation in Berlin. Paul had suggested that Valentina travel with her mother and himself, but Biermann had made other arrangements for the ladies.

“They will travel in comfort, Paul. I have arranged a private compartment for us. You don’t want your pregnant wife to sit for hours on the crowded Wehrmacht trains that you have to use, do you?” Biermann always seemed to finish his questions with a do you or a don’t you think? Like a challenge to contradict. Paul, though desperate for Valentina to join him, was secretly pleased to have four days to himself in which to settle in and track down Kurt, who’d been deported to the Litzmannstadt-Łódź Ghetto at the end of January.

Fewer than half the train carriages carried Wehrmacht soldiers, SS, and Gestapo on this, the last leg of his journey. The windows in the last four ancient third-class carriages were blacked out, and inside they were crammed with deported Jews. Paul had many outstanding questions regarding the fates of the Jews going to Łódź, but the failure to learn about the ghetto was entirely his. He’d been too busy enjoying himself with Valentina in Dresden, and he hadn’t wanted to spoil his leave by thinking about what was to come. Paul now wished that his father-in-law had given a bit more background into the place. He’d been cagey about the whole thing, especially when Paul had specifically asked about Kurt’s fate.

“I told you, he’s got off lucky.” Biermann had deemed that was all his son-in-law needed to know.

Only one other man was sharing Paul’s section of the carriage, an SS officer eating a ham sandwich. He must be from an affluent family, Paul deduced. It was not a common sight nowadays to see a thick cut of meat wedged between slices of bread, nor was the sterling silver tea flask the man was using.

“Have you been to Łódź before?” Paul asked, noticing snowflakes slicing into the windows.

The young, fair-haired Untersturmführer finished chewing his ham and peered at Paul.

“Before? Hah, I was born there. I’m Polish on my mother’s side. My Father was German, but I didn’t know him. He died just after the Great War. I was in Berlin visiting my German cousins. One of them got married yesterday to an Oberstleutnant. She’s done very well for herself.”

“Do you have anything to do with the Łódź ghetto?”

“I’ve been there for over two years. In fact, I was there right at the beginning.”

“The beginning of the ghetto?”

“The beginning of everything.” The man smiled displaying white teeth and thick lips spotted with breadcrumbs. He seemed friendly enough, but then, so had Hauptmann Leitner when Paul had first met him.

“How many Jews were in the city before the ghetto walls went up?” Paul asked.

“Over 230,000 when our forces occupied the city in ‘39.

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