Killers Moon

262

Killers Moon

10/09/12

David William Kirby

Killers Moon

Copyright David William Kirby 2012

The Dogbreaths Publishing

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781310444531

Smashword Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This work is a piece of fiction

some scenes are based on actual historical events

Characters and names are

fictional.

Any resemblance to

persons living or dead

is purely coincidental

A Killers Moon

dwkglynrde5@yahoo.co.uk

Chapter 1

It’s time come for roll call

time for us to part

Darling I’ll caress you

press you to my heart

there "Neath the lantern light

I’d hold you very tight

we’d kiss goodnight

my Lily of lamplight

my own, Lily Marlene

(Marlene Dietrich- Lily Marlene)

Poland 1943

They stood for two weeks in filth, with the stench of faeces and death up their noses, the ooze from fetid corpses squashed between their ice-cold, dirty feet. They were starved and thirsty with only the snow-melt that collected around the frozen window to keep them watered.

Now filthy and confused, they looked through starved, red-eyes at a crack of light shining through the cattle truck door. Some called to an unconcerned god; their prayers unheard.

When in Warsaw they had begged the German soldiers to be released, they moaned about the cramped quarters, the lack of sanitation, the food; anything and everything but with good reason.

They demanded to be moved out, relocated somewhere then, out of the blue, the order came. Some say you get what you wish for but none of them expected to be shunted into cattle trucks and left to die.

I can hear music. What can you see? One of the ragged asked from the shadows.

We have stopped at a station. The taller one replied as he peered through the slats at the scene beyond. There’s an Edison playing music.

Not sidings again? Another croaked and then, hearing the locks being pulled aside, the huge door pulled back; a gasp rang through them. Sunlight hurt their eyes as the doors were pulled back causing a shudder to pass through those assembled.

They squinted to make out beyond, above the singing crackling from the Edison disc player, the sound of dogs barked as the steam engine chuffed; soldiers looked in at them with disgust .

In the bright sunlight streaming through the door they could see the dead laying between their legs. The piles of filthy clothing that used to be human were now just stinking piles of meat rotting underfoot.

Those women who were mothers shielded the children’s eyes from the horror of it all.

Get out, get out. A Ukrainian armed with a baton shouted as he banged on the side of the truck with his weapon.

They fell from the truck and gathered together frozen and dazed after such a long and arduous journey. A woman with two children stopped one of the Ukrainians and asked politely.

Will we be looked after now?

Yes mother. The Ukrainian replied. These bastards are going to look after you good.

Myriam? The woman said to her daughter, a tall, thin girl with sullen features and dark rings around her eyes. Kocham Cie.

Yes mother, I love you too?

If Oscar and I get separated from you...

No! The young girl cried. Don’t say that, we must stay together.

Listen to me girl! Myriam’s mother replied urgently.

Look. You may be able to work here, look there.

She nodded to a metal sign over the camp gate which said in long black iron lettering

Arbeit macht frei (work makes (you) free).

But I am still a child. Myriam replied.

You’re 14 and tall for your age. Her mother said with desperation in her voice.

I cannot work Darling, I have to look after your brother, Oscar; but you can, please, listen to me!

All women with young children and the elderly line up to your right. A tall uniformed SS officer shouted as he played with a leather riding crop.

If you cannot walk there is a cart for you to sit on. This line on the right will go to our hospital section. Everyone else line up to the left.

Go Myriam. The girl’s mother insisted. If you get a chance in the future, remember to say Kaddish for me and your brother. Will you remember to do that for me darling?

She pushed her daughter to the line on the left and whispered. Prosimy przetrwany.

The girl did as her mother asked and stood in the work line with the words Please Survive ringing in her ears. She watched in shock while her mother, brother and all the other parents with small children were led away following a cart full of dribbling invalids and shivering infirm.

They walked in the cold, following that cart, to a set of trees in the distance.

Just before they disappeared around the far distant corner her mother turned, waved with a tense expression, and smiled. Oscar also waved at his sister and lifted his cap cheerily; seemingly oblivious to the scene around him.

Leave your luggage. The SS officer shouted. It will follow you to your barracks.

Myriam looked about her and saw ragged clothed inmates in striped uniforms dragging the dead from the railway trucks. Piling them high upon carts while others threw people’s cases and bags upon other carts; dragging them into the camp.

Guards with dogs mingled uneasily with the Ukrainian capos who bullied the line into some order with their batons.

Get in line Jewish bitch. One shouted to a middle aged woman who was dazed by the hellish scene.

You want this? Fucking Jewish whore. he threatened her with his baton and spat on the floor by her feet.

Listen up! The SS officer shouted. "You are now in a work camp just outside Oświęcim. There will be no escape from this camp, only work.

If you work well you will be fed and taken care of. If you do not work, make trouble or try to escape you will die."

The others are probable dead already. A man whispered just behind Myriam’s shoulder.

Don’t speak such evil. Another replied in a hush. They have gone to a hospital block. Why would they lie?

In a moment... The officer continued. ...I will ask you to step forwards and you will give me your name and age, then I will decide what work you shall do while you are here with us. Understood?

He then indicated for the line to slowly move forwards before placing each person in a different group beside the iron gates. When Myriam reached the table at the head of the queue she gave her name as Myriam Wolanski, aged 19.

She thought it sounded better then 14, her real age, and nobody seemed to care. She was told to stand in a group of other woman. When the group reached 20 or so the SS officer stopped the line and addressed his staff.

This lot for Canada. he shouted at a capo dressed scruffily in a faded, dirty gray shirt and blue pants who had been watching the women intensely.

Canada... The capo laughed sarcastically as he directed those at the front of the group into the camp.

...The land of plenty.

Oh, Myriam said to no-one in particular as she followed the other women through the iron gates.

Perhaps they will feed us now; in this place of plenty?

As they were led through the arched gate a fresh bout of snow began to fall and the whole scene was cast in a white, antiseptic glow. The women filed through the gaps between single story barracks.

They past huddled men, who clutched their caps with dirty fingers and held lost looks in their eyes, past the bodies of half starved children dying in the snow drifts.

Eventually they reached a clearing under a corrugated awning open to the elements along one side. Here several women already worked unpacking suitcases and sorting the contents into piles. Another SS officer, wearing his green day uniform, sat at a desk in front of them.

Next to him an inmate in a striped uniform wrote in a ledger any significant or valuable finds under the watchful eye of his SS companion.

You! A capo shouted towards Myriam. Work with this bitch, she will show you what to do.

Myriam joined the woman the capo’s baton pointed at, aged in her early twenties, with thin white skin and bony features, her hair was tied tightly behind her head with a piece of string. Myriam watched as the woman took a case from the cart wheeled in by a male inmate.

Linens go in that pile... The woman said her breath freezing instantly on the icy air.

...Cottons over there, silks there, children’s goods there... She quickly indicated the separate piles of clothes with an expressionless face white and stress worn, her thin lips stretched over her teeth.

... and the leather goods over there. Quickly girl; get yourself a case.

Myriam walked to the cart and removed a suitcase, it had scrawled in chalk upon the front Bernstein, Kam Ulicia Kracow. She opened it and went through the neatly folded shirts and suits within.

Quickly. The woman next to her shouted. Or that fat bastard will beat you.

Myriam threw the shirts from the case into a pile of shirts, white shirts, blue shirts, shirts with ivory buttons, shirts with silver tipped collars; all manner and quality sat in the pile for her to examine but she just scanned it quickly and continued her work; worried she’d be beaten..

The woollen trousers went into their pile, the cotton pants in another. As she made her way through the layers within the case she came to a photograph of an elderly man with a friendly face and long white beard.

What shall I do with this?

Drop it. The woman shouted. Myriam looked down and saw the floor was littered with old photographs. A record of happier times snapped with small Lica cameras which were popular at the time. There were pictures of children with their parents, young lovers, the elderly and the gone.

She saw a wedding photograph and faded pictures of long dead relatives. Items which had been treasured through the generations, were now lying underfoot; dirty and stamped into dust.

Family treasures turning into trash.

Suddenly, toward the very bottom of the suitcase, Myriam found a small fold of cloth. She was about to pull it open when the woman that worked with her snatched it and put it under her shirt near her breast.

What was that? The capo asked banging his stick upon Myriam’s suitcase.

He’d seen something but was unsure what. The woman next to Myriam pursed her lips and gave the young girl such a stern look that she knew instantly that to tell the truth was wrong.

What shall I do with this? The young girl asked holding up a dog-eared copy of the Torah which was at the bottom of the case.

Ah. The capo looked at Myriam, then at the case, then back toward the girl and laughed.

Take it to wipe your arse.

He turned and walked away muttering about seeing something going on.

After a few moments the woman approached Myriam and whispered

Thank you for keeping your mouth shut, stay with me after we have finished, I will look after you.

Later that day as they were led back to a barrack the two women walked together. Soon they were filing single handed through the door into a dank hut. Inside women were laying three deep and three across on sets of bunks stretched out the length of the barrack.

The smell of body odour and death filled Myriam’s nostrils and she felt slightly sick walking from the outside into such a thick and fetid atmosphere.

Follow me. Her friend said leading her to the end of the barracks.

I have a bunk up the end near the stove; my friend died last night so there is room for you.

Both women found an empty shelf at the end of the barrack with blankets. Although the bunk was next to a wood burning stove not much heat could be felt coming from it.

When Myriam reached out to touch the stove she felt some warmth but it needed more wood or coal to make it effective.

It’s not very good. Her friend stated. It just keeps the frost out and in this weather you need all the help you can get. That little bit of warmth is the difference between living and dying here.

They climbed up to the bunk and lay under a blanket as the woman she had worked with all day introduced herself.

My name is Helena, Helena Volska.

Polish? Myriam asked.

Of course. Helena replied. From Gdansk, you?

My mother and I are from Kracow.

Dzien Dobry. Helena smiled.

Dobry. Myriam replied.

Now. Helena whispered. Let’s see what we have here.

She reached into her bra and pulled out the small wrap of fabric which she had secreted earlier and unfolded it closely guarding it from the other bunks.

Neatly hidden within the silk bundle were four large, white, glittering diamonds.

Thank you, Mr Bernstein? Myriam sighed before whispering a silent prayer for him.

Keep your voice down. Helena whispered. These other bitches will kill for these.

What are you going to do with them? Myriam asked.

I will swap them for food of course. Helena replied as if Myriam should have known.

These beautiful rocks will keep us alive for a week.

Chapter 2

The following evening, after a long day of sorting, the women made their way back to the barracks. Myriam looked towards the tall clump of trees in the distance and saw smoke rising there.

Is that the boiler for the hospital? The young girl asked her elder friend.

I think of my mother and brother when I look over there, all warm and well fed. When do you think I will be allowed to see them?

What are you going on about, girl? Helena asked throwing Myriam a strained look.

Helena was deep in thought about something else at the time and stared at Myriam with expectation to labour the point.

The hospital over there? Myriam nodded to the trees in the distance.

The Hospital? Helena replied.

Yes.

Is that where your family were taken? Helena asked placing her arm around the girl’s shoulders.

Yes, with the elderly people.

Myriam. Helena said slowly. This place...

Yes? The girl replied.

This place is a work camp... Helena took a deep breath and sighed.

...If you work they keep you alive, even then it is barely. If you don’t work they kill you.

What?

That place... Helena continued, stopping for a moment to cast a sombre look towards the snow laden trees in the distance.

...There is no hospital over there... She said softly. "...just death.

The smoke you can see is where they are burning bodies. These fucking murderers are killing people every day, thousands of them. Including any family you have."

No. Myriam replied with as the colour drained from her face. It’s too horrible.

Yes, but it’s true... Helena replied urging her to continue to walk. "...your people are dead.

They were probably killed within minutes of arriving here. The German’s take them through the trees and gas them. It’s true, my friend has seen it with his own eyes. The smoke you see is from furnaces they use to destroy the evidence of their crimes."

Don’t say such horrible things, please. The young girl cried, with more tears welling up in her eyes.

Mother, Oscar. No!

Calm down... Helena insisted holding the young girl tightly in her arms.

...If they hardly feed us, the ones who work for them, what makes you think they will waste food on others who do nothing for them?

But my mother and my little brother. Myriam shrieked. It can’t be true how will I ever be happy again?

Go on cry little one.... Helena sighed as they stepped into their barracks. ...But after the tears you must get angry, that anger will keep you alive.

Later that night after collecting their meagre bowl of soup Helena disappeared for a few moments, when she returned she dived under the blanket next to Myriam and dug about under her shirt. Eventually she pulled out a meat covered bone.

What is it? Myriam asked as they both bit into the soft cooked flesh. It’s delicious.

It could be dog, cat, cow or pig. Helena replied. I don’t know and I don’t care.

You mean it may not be kosher. Myriam said hesitantly looking at the succulent piece of meat.

God will forgive you girl. Eat.

Both women gorged themselves on the bone and imagined it was the tastiest piece of food ever cooked. A woman in the next bunk, hearing the sound of jaws sucking marrow from the bone, tapped on the wooden structure that separated the bunks and whispered.

You, what have you got in there?

Mind your own fucking business. Helena shouted. Then she looked out to make sure no one was going to bother them.

Fucking bitches, let them get their own food. If she comes here I have the thing for her.

What? Myriam whispered looking worried. You have a weapon here?

Helena held out her greasy hands and strained the fingers into claws.

I will strangle the bitch with these. She said scarily. While you have hands you have weapons. Just remember that.

You are frightening me. Myriam smiled. How did you become so hard, have you been here long?

Too long. Helena replied.

She cast the child a knowing look which said clearly that she did not want to talk further about her past and so the conversation ended there.

A few nights later Helena disappeared again, Myriam knew she was going to climb out the barrack window where she had arranged to meet someone from the cook house; a capo.

He was going to swap meat again for another diamond. When she returned she dived under the blanket next to Myriam and smiled.

Look at this one. Lifting her shirt she pulled out nearly a whole leg of mutton which had just a few slices taken off the side.

It smells delicious. Myriam said as she tore a piece of meat from the bone and ate. Just then both women heard someone beside the bunk. They carefully lowered the blanket and saw a grey haired old woman standing there holding her hands up to beg.

Please. The old woman rubbed one thin hand on her belly and simpered. Just a little for an old woman.

Myriam looked at Helena and pulled a strip of meat from the bone.

We must. She whispered. Look, she is dying.

Helena sighed loudly and threw the blanket to one side, she jumped from the bunk and put her hands around the old woman’s neck and started to strangle her. Both women danced, here and there, until the old woman sagged to her knees and gasped. Then she keeled over backwards.

Now you don’t have to worry. Helena panted towards Myriam. She is dead already. Helena turned to the other ghostly faces that had watched the scene in stunned silence and screamed.

Listen, you fucking bitches. This is what I will do to any of you who bother us again. Understand?

The women in the other bunks looked away and some pretended as if nothing had happened.

Why did you do that? Myriam said in a hushed voice. She looked at the dead woman in a state of shock and then towards Helena again. Why?

See this. Helena said lifting the dead woman’s skirt, under it tucked into the top of her stockings was a piece of glass with fabric twisted around one end making a crude dagger.

If she knew for sure you had food this would have gone in your throat.

Helena jumped back onto the bunk and pulled the blanket over them both as others crept from the shadows and stripped the body of its clothing; leaving it unwanted and naked for the collection next day.

Chapter 3

January 1944

The women were working in the area called Canada as usual when another SS officer joined the usual one at the ledger table. He casually examined a set of silver candlesticks which had been found in bag moments earlier but his eyes wandered over the female workers and eventually focused upon Myriam.

The SS guard looked clean and smart in his green day uniform and Myriam could tell that he was more senior than the other officer by the studs on his collar. She felt slightly uncomfortable as the young man looked at her so intensely; then he whispered something to the other guard who also looked directly at her.

You! The guard at the ledger table shouted. Helena stopped what she was doing and took in the scene.

Me? Myriam asked pointing to herself.

Yes you. The guard shouted.

Come and speak to the Haupscharfuhrer.

Be careful. Helena whispered as Myriam left the line of women and joined the two SS officers.

What is your name, Girl? The Hauptscharfuhrer asked with a coy smile.

Myriam, Sir. Myriam replied lowering her gaze towards the floor. Myriam Wolenska.

Can you cook, Myriam Wolenska? the officer asked taking her chin in his fingers and lifting her face gently so he could look into her eyes.

Cook, Sir? She replied trembling slightly. Yes, I can cook very well, my mother showed me.

Good. The officer smiled. I will send a boy to fetch her later.

With that the officer turned and walked away leaving the officer at the ledger desk open mouthed.

You lucky bitch... He smiled sarcastically. ...someone up there must be looking out for you.

Some hours later a young boy, dressed in a clean shirt and tight trousers came to the area where the women unpacked the cases. He spoke to the SS guard and handed him a piece of paper which the guard read in silence.

His eyes slowly rose and found Myriam who was trying to look inconspicuous among the other workers.

Girl! The guard shouted. Come. The Captain wants you.

Myriam looked at Helena and the thought crossed both their minds that perhaps this would be the last time they saw each other. Helena smiled and whispered through the side of her mouth.

Good luck. as Myriam walked to the desk.

Follow this boy. The guard said nodding towards the youth.

With that the young man turned and walked swiftly away, Myriam had to run to catch up with him before saying.

What’s the rush?

My feet are freezing. The boy replied. It was only then that Myriam looked down to see he had no shoes upon his feet and in the thick snow his toes were red raw.

They came to the camp gates and without a word the guards opened them and allowed the two to leave. Myriam felt slightly odd being allowed to leave the place that had been her prison for a year and she wondered where the boy was taking her.

They came to the train platform she had said goodbye to her mother and brother at only a few months earlier; Myriam looked towards the trees in the distance and saw thick white smoke rising.

Her heart sank as she remembered the last sight she had of Oscar, her brother, being dragged away with the other women and children. The shoeless boy then turned, took her hand and led her across the railway lines.

It was only after crossing the lines that she saw a small red brick house with windows and a chimney on the other side of the lines. It stood alone next to a wire fence and reminded her of the farm her family once owned in Kracow.

That seemed a long time ago, she remembered the cow they kept in an outhouse and the chickens she used to feed. This had been before her father had died and Mother and Oscar moved with her to Warsaw.

Mother had thought the move would lead to a better life for them. In the city she may have been able to get work, even training for some skill; but all that had changed once the Germans came. Such a lot had changed since then, she thought.

When they got to the house the boy opened the back door and allowed them entry, it was so warm inside the kitchen beyond that she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It was the first time in twelve months that she actually felt warm.

Oh, that’s better. The boy said as he walked to a stove and rubbed his feet. Well, come in and close that door. He said looking at Myriam. There’s some coffee in that pot if you want some.

What? Myriam replied. Real coffee?

The boy sighed and shook his head. He went to the coffee pot and poured her a steaming drink into an old glass before sitting on a chair next to the stove.

It’s lovely and warm here, isn’t it?

Like heaven. Myriam replied warming her hands by the stove.

The Captain’s wife is ill. The boy continued. She used to cook for him but she’s gone back to Berlin; she hated this place. So, you’ll have to make him breakfast and a dinner each day. Can you do that?

Has he food? Myriam asked looking slightly confused. She had eaten so little herself over the past twelve months it hadn’t occurred to her that others actually still ate well.

Nothing special, but it’s what he likes. The boy ran his fingers through his thick dark hair and