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healthier. Less than a
third were Nazi Party members, and most were from the lower orders
of society: laborers, clerks, and street merchants. Some were as
old as Wolfram’s father, and one, Drukker, reminded Wolfram of his
own youth as he looked into the hard blue eyes.
“ We have been selected for
an unpleasant task,” Wolfram began, attempting to mimic the words
of Captain Herrmansbiel, his immediate superior. “The Jews here
have been involved with the partisans. Further, their discontent
has led to the Amerikanner boycott of Germany’s goods
and services. There’s even talk”—Wolfram wasn’t sure how to add the
next part without risking damage to morale—“that the Americans will
join England and Russia as allies.”
“ Mein
gott ,” came a voice from the rear ranks.
“ Fick der juden .”
“ The Jews are confined to
the ghetto, and per standing orders, any attempting to escape will
be shot. We are to round up all the Jews and gather them in the
marketplace for processing. Healthy males of working age are to be
loaded onto trucks and transported to Lublin. Those who resist or
are too frail to march will be summarily executed.”
Scherr licked his lips. He’d already shown an
appetite for killing Jews and was always quick to volunteer when
there was the possibility of an organized firing squad. Wolfram
found him distasteful, but such men made the entire operation
easier to manage, and also required less of Wolfram’s presence
during the most brutal actions.
“ This duty is necessary, and
we must be strong,” Wolfram said. “I don’t want to see any cowards.
However, any man who doesn’t feel up to the task may step forward
now and be reassigned.”
Some of the men exchanged glances while
others stared at the ground. Someone coughed. The train engine
clanged. After a moment, Drukker stepped forward, shoulders
sagging.
“ Anyone else?” Wolfram
asked. Only Drukker met his gaze.
“ Very well,” Wolfram said.
“Drukker, you will help guard the train. The rest of you men,
proceed to the marketplace in the center of town. Scherr, give them
their orders there.”
Scherr grinned, saluted, called the men to
attention and led the platoon away. Wolfram lit another cigarette.
“Drukker, you will be happy later on. You might be the only one.
Before this Jewish business is over, the German nation will be
shamed in the eyes of God.”
“ Yes, sir,” Drukker said,
subordinate despite being nearly twenty years older than his
lieutenant.
Wolfram knew, as an officer, he shouldn’t
speak on equal terms with the men, especially on matters of
philosophy. After all, the truth could be construed as treason.
“Resettlement is a question of military efficiency, Drukker.”
“ Yes, sir.”
Wolfram tossed his cigarette off the platform
and checked his watch. He glanced at the forest that covered the
rise of land above the village. “We will be efficient.”
He walked into Jozefow. The village was
quiet, many of the Poles still sleeping under the thatched straw
roofs. Curling pillars of sleepy smoke rose from a few chimneys.
The men of Second Company had already fanned out to surround the
village, as per Hermmansbiels’s orders.
Already the shouts and cries
could be heard inside the narrow white houses of the Jewish
section. Scherr had posted four guards in the market
square , where the
Jews were to be collected. The other men conducted door-to-door
searches, and from a small stone house came a woman carrying an
infant. Hermmansbiel specifically stipulated that the infants were
to be shot along with the elderly. Gunfire erupted along the next
block, sending more cries into the morning sky.
Worker Jews were driven at bayonet point,
most with beards and thin faces, wearing long, filthy robes. They
had already suffered plenty of hardship, but nothing like what they
would see today, Wolfram thought. He saw Scherr lead a small
squadron of men into a long, low building that could have been a
hospital or an
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