The Commandant of Lubizec: A Novel of the Holocaust and Operation Reinhard Read Online Free Page B

The Commandant of Lubizec: A Novel of the Holocaust and Operation Reinhard
Pages:
Go to
the case. He went home and took care of his family. Many Nazi officers were like this. They killed—then they played with their children.
    “I saved dinner for you, Hans.”
    “Oh?”
    “Potato dumplings, red cabbage, and pork hock.”
    He rubbed his hands and sat down at a long table. He snapped open a linen napkin and placed it gently into his lap. He rubbed his hands again and smiled. “Oh, it’s good to be home.”
    Jasmine rang a little brass bell and this made a Polish woman appear in the doorway as if by magic. She stood with her hands balled up against her generous belly. With a nod from Jasmine, the Polish woman backed out of the room and returned a moment later with a large silver tray. She lifted the domed top and said a single word: “Enjoy.”
    Guth picked up his knife and fork and was ready to cut into the pork hock, but Jasmine touched his arm. He immediately folded his hands and bowed his head.
    The four of them said the Lord’s Prayer, and when they finished, the Commandant of Lubizec picked up his silverware again and went back to work. He cut into the veiny meat and speared it with a fork. He ate. He cut. He reached for a glass of red wine and swallowed it down.
    A clock gonged in the hallway and this made Jasmine glance at her wrist. “My God. Is it nine already? You kids should be in bed.”
    They groaned and complained and whined as Guth swirled bits of pork hock into cabbage juice. Jasmine tapped her fingernail on the table and, slowly, Sigrid and Karl came over to kiss their father good-night.
    They thumped up the wooden stairs and could be heard stomping above the dining room. The crystal chandelier jiggled.
    “Quiet!” Jasmine yelled up to the ceiling. “Get your pajamas on. And brush your teeth.”
    We know what happened next because Sigrid—rather than going to bed—crept downstairs to watch her parents. As she says in
The Commandant’s Daughter
, she missed her father and wanted to be around him. She also talks about being in awe of his charcoal-gray uniform and she wondered about the pistol he carried on his hip. She knew he was in the SS but beyond that, her father’s life was a deep mystery. She tiptoed down the stairs on bare feet. The hallway was dark and the dining room looked like a lighted stage.
    Guth brought his wine up to his nose and took a deep sniff. He closed his eyes and drank it in. “Gorgeous stuff. Where’d you get it?”
    “You still haven’t answered my question, Hans.”
    He unbuttoned his collar and the silver threads of his SS insignia caught the light. He rubbed his face and said, “We’ve gone over this a
thousand
times. Lubizec is a transit camp. There’s nothing more to tell.”
    He snapped his fingers for the dishes to be cleared away, and when the Polish woman emerged from the doorway he studied her rough, gnarled hands. His plate had globs of fat shimmering in little pools. Curly shreds of cabbage were left behind and the potato dumpling was untouched. His knife and fork made an X.
    “Thanks,” Jasmine said. “You can go home now.”
    Guth leaned back when she was gone. He yawned and stretched. A heavy silence fell between them and it began to rain, slowly at first, then more quickly. The rain was soon coming down so hard it sounded like static.
    “Has the new radio arrived?” he asked.
    Jasmine shook her head. She went over to a liquor cabinet for a wineglass. She gave it a little twirl of inspection and sat down again, motioning for the wine bottle with a flick of her finger. She poured out a measure and stared at the red patterns of crystal light that shimmered on the tablecloth.
    “Sometimes I think about those people … the ones in Berlin. The ones at the mental hospital where you worked. Did they really need to be put down?”
    Guth picked a bit of meat from his teeth and nodded. “They were crippled in the brain. We can’t have half-wits and idiots running around the country.”
    “Well, I’m glad you’re not involved in

Readers choose