When We Were Innocent: A totally heartbreaking story about a wartime family secret by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt [Hewitt, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803143859
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-09-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

OCTOBER 1942

Sobibor, Poland

His third day at Sobibor, the day after the transport of Polish Jews, Hans went to see the camp commandant, Reichleitner. Yesterday, he had counted the money that had come in—the Polish zlotys and the precious gold pieces, the assortment of German Reichsmarks, French francs, even some Hungarian pengös. He had kept his head bent over the bills, his mind focused only on the task at hand, yet he could not escape the sounds of the shouts and cries he heard from outside the building, the whistling of the whip, the occasional, awful gunshot.

This was not like the first day, when the Dutch Jews had traipsed merrily down the camouflaged tunnel—the Road to Heaven, he recalled one of the guards calling it, and he’d stupidly assumed it was simply called that because it was the road to freedom, at least of a sort. He’d been so absurd, so deliberately obtuse, as naïve as Niemann thought or Anni accused, or really, worse. Far worse. No wonder his sister had looked at him with such scorn.

Do the math.

When he’d finally emerged from the administration building, he saw a couple of raggedy-looking prisoners on their hands and knees, scrubbing blood from the yard where the men had stripped. One looked up at him warily, his expression haunted before he ironed it out into smooth blankness and quickly looked back down again. The others didn’t look up at all.

Hans had watched them for a moment, wanting to say something—but what? What could he possibly say to these people? He had thought of the man, spitting in his face. And then he had thought of Wagner, pulling out his pistol and shooting the man in the head with the same dispassionate indifference one might swat a fly. He had turned from the prisoners and walked on.

He didn’t speak to Anni of what he’d seen on the ramp; he couldn’t. In any case, he saw the truth of it in her face—the anguish in her eyes, followed by a flash of anger. She knew, and she knew he knew, as well, and yet neither of them spoke of it.

And so, the next morning, he walked heavily to Reichleitner’s house, only to discover the man wouldn’t see him.

“The commandant is busy,” his housekeeper stated flatly, a dour-faced woman with lips pursed like a prune. “He says if you must speak to someone, to go find Hauptscharführer Niemann.”

Hans did not want to talk to Niemann again. He did not want to see the contempt in the other man’s eyes, the lazy mockery, and yet he had no choice if he wanted to get out of here. Still, he did not want to admit Niemann had been right. I’m not sure you’re cut out for this, Brenner.

No, he was not, and he told himself he was glad of the fact. He did not want to become the sort of man who found killing commonplace, who could murder a baby, even a Jewish one, almost with a yawn.

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