Touching the Wire by Rebecca Bryn Page A

woods were
Poles willing to aid an escapee. The Carpathian Mountains seemed almost close
enough to touch, but for the ever-present wire that tore rents through the
landscape, ripping them from the outside world. Only the blue sky promised that
elusive freedom. The days had grown shorter, as mercifully had the hours of
hard labour that caused the infirmary to overflow, but winter hung on a bleak
horizon. Every fine day was clung to as if they could stretch summer to its
utmost limit.
    Figures appeared on the road
between the barbed-wire fences. A man cowered beneath raised rifle-butts as he
was beaten towards the command centre.
    Miriam and the other women
stretched to see and the collective breath separated into a thousand sighs.
    Ilse was in tears. ‘Poor
devil.’
    Miriam comforted her. ‘We’ll
pray for him.’
    They went back into the
infirmary. Miriam handed him a still-warm package from inside her blouse.
    He put inside his shirt,
next to his heart. ‘You do trust your contact?’
    He’s rarely the same
person.’ She fingered the bootlace tied around her neck. ‘He wears one of
these, too. It’s how we recognise each other.’
    ‘I wish I knew how long we
have to do this. It gets more and more dangerous. If you’re caught… After the
bombing of Buna, they need no excuse to make an example of someone.’
    ‘You think I care?’
    ‘I care, Miriam. Ilse
cares.’
    ‘You said the Allies knew
what is going on here. So why do they bomb Buna? Why don’t they bomb the gas
chambers and the crematoria?’
    ‘Maybe the world prefers to
believe Nazi propaganda.’
    ‘Then we have no help but
ourselves. If I can strike a blow against these monsters I’ll die happy.’
    ‘When this is all over… if
we survive… I want to take you to England. Take Arturas and Peti with us. We
could start a new life there. Be a family… have a little house with roses in
the garden…’
    ‘Chuck…’ Her hand was soft
against his cheek, her voice soft against his heart. ‘I dare think no further
than today.’ She nodded to where the book of truths was hidden, moved for
safety to a space hollowed in the floor beneath a stand of shelves. ‘If I die,
make sure that book gets out. Promise me.’
    ‘I promise… and, if I die
and you survive, you must tell everything… and I mean everything.’
    She nodded. ‘You are a good
man, Chuck.’ The sound of heavy feet echoed on floorboards and she stepped
away.
    He framed himself in the doorway and studied Miriam. ‘You are
so efficient you have time to stand idle?’
    He drew himself up. ‘My
nurses are the very best, Hauptsturmführer.’
    ‘My friend, I don’t doubt
it.’
    He quelled the desire to
shrug the camp physician’s hand from his shoulder. ‘How may I help you?’
    ‘I’m carrying out certain
medical… comparisons.’
    ‘I’ve heard as much.’
    ‘You don’t approve?’
    He framed his answer
carefully. ‘I question the usefulness of your work and the validity of your
results.’
    ‘Then come and see for
yourself. The facilities are much better in my surgeries than in this midden. I
need an assistant and you’re an able doctor. I’d value your help… your
opinion.’
    ‘I’m needed here.’ He paced
across the small room, anger mounting, and turned to face the immaculate SS
doctor. ‘And you know my opinion. Your methods are abhorrent and the whole
principle is flawed.’
    The good-humoured smile
disappeared. Dark eyes narrowed. ‘You question the Fuhrer’s vision.’
    He swallowed the words that
were on his tongue. ‘It’s limited.’
    The doctor tapped his cane
against a polished boot. ‘We have research opportunities most doctors can only
dream of. I need an assistant and you, my friend, would be wise to consider
your position.’
    ‘I want no part of it. It
goes against everything I hold sacred.’
    He put a hand on Miriam’s shoulder: she froze. His finger
stroked her neck. ‘And what if this pretty little nurse you are fond of was to
come