Germans] pounding on a door on the first floor. Our hearts are hammering,
hammering. We cannot hear anything, only the hammering of our hearts.
We wait. I can hear the kitchen door open. The maid comes in. About time,
because [the Germans] are already pounding fiercely on the front door with
their boots and revolver butts. The maid opens up. A moment longer and the
door would have burst open anyway. Polen?¹⁰⁵¹ Yes, yes. Polen. Three young soldiers come into the bedroom. [6] Jude?! Polen, my mother says. Wo ist der mann?¹⁰⁵² “I don’t understand anything. What do you want from me? I’m sick. My husband has gone to the doctor after dinner and he hasn’t come back.” Mum
intentionally pretends that she does not speak German because she is afraid
that they will take her for an interrogation. One of the soldiers steps up, illuminates
the corners of the room with his torchlight (there is only a bedside lamp on), looks under the bed and goes into the dining room. The maid follows him. Suddenly, they are dumbfounded. On the wall there is a portrait of my grandfather, an old man with a patriarchal beard. The soldier who lit all the corners with his torchlight casts an angry glance at me but does not say a word. They go into the kitchen and my room, knocking everything upside down as they walk. Finally, they leave. We are afraid to take a deeper breath, fearing that they could come back. Oh, if only they would not. We are slowly regaining our composure. Oh, let us hope that they will not find father. Oh! It is better not to think about it. But we have to. It is some strange inner imperative. The imagination is working, working. Suddenly, we can hear a horrifying scream from downstairs. A moment later we hear rowdy, bestial laughter. Our hearts miss a beat. Was it not my father’s scream? We cannot check.
After a moment we hear footsteps on the stairs again. Aufmachen!¹⁰⁵³ The SS!
They are coming. This time the maid is faster and before they manage to
knock on the door she opens it before them. [7] Three different men come in.
A short, fat soldier moves to the fore. He stinks of vodka. A stream of words
comes out of his throat, hoarse from screaming and drinking. Jude, Männer.¹⁰⁵⁴
He puts an enormous black revolver at the maid’s temple and pants: Zeige,
1051 (German) Poles? The German quotes are written incorrectly in the original, but corrected in the duplicate.
1052 (German) Where is your husband?
1053 (German) Open up!
1054 (German) Jews, men.
