If only Mindel could remember…but as much as she tried, nothing came up. Laszlo suggested jogging her memory by tossing out all the last names he and the gang could think off, but nothing. One name sounded as unfamiliar as the next one. The one thing Mindel learned from her renewed efforts to find her sister was that the most likely place where Rachel could be was the Women’s camp.
“I’ll go and ask there,” Mindel said, but the other children only laughed.
“It’s impossible to go there, there’s a fence between the two camps,” Laszlo said.
“Well, unless you have money or goods to bribe the guards,” Ruth added.
Mindel wanted to cry. She possessed no money or anything else save the clothes she wore and her doll Paula. And she sincerely doubted a guard would be interested in her doll.
“I don’t know why you’re still worrying about this. Your sister is probably dead by now, anyway.”
Mindel looked at Ruth and burst into tears.
Laszlo wrapped an arm around her shoulder and snarled at Ruth, “Why did you say that?”
Ruth pouted, murmured something and left, while Laszlo hugged Mindel close, trying to comfort her. “Don’t worry. Ruth doesn’t know anything. I’m sure your sister is still alive and we will find her.”
“You will help me?” She looked at him from behind a veil of tears.
“Of course, we’re in the same gang, remember?”
Suddenly a warm feeling surged in her chest and she leaned her head against his shoulder. At least she had him and wasn’t all alone in this world. He might be obnoxious and annoying at times, but he always stuck to her when it counted – just like her brothers. Thinking about them had her bursting into fresh tears.
Fabian came around and noticed her crying. Everyone in the camp knew that bad things happened when one cried, so he tried to cheer her up. “Hey, Mindel, how about we play a game?”
“What game?” she sniffed, hoping it wouldn’t be Jew and SS, because she had no energy to run around.
“Who’s going to die next?” Fabian suggested. It was another favorite game and the winner received a spoonful of soup from everyone else’s bowls when it came true. It was a game that didn’t require energy and they could talk for hours about the pros and cons of each death candidate.
Mindel smiled. “Yeah, that’s a good game. I go first: the old hag in the lower bunk next to the latrines.”
“No, that girl with the loud coughing who shares her bunk with her aunt,” Clara said.
They all took turns guessing, and filled the afternoon with speculation. Once they were done, there was nothing left but to wait until someone died and see who’d gotten it right.
By the end of summer, the strangest thing happened. A long line of shiny black vehicles arrived at the camp, and several SS officers in uniforms adorned with blinking medals disembarked. The members of the gang and some older children crept close enough to watch and eavesdrop, without being seen.
The boss of the new arrivals had so many medals pinned to his chest that Mindel ran out of fingers counting them. After the corpse counting, Laura had taught her to count to twenty without fingers, but in exciting situations like this one, she returned to using her hands.
“Have you seen his medals? He must be someone important,” Mindel whispered, barely able to contain her excitement.
“Shush,” Laura scolded her. “You don’t want them to notice us.”
Moments later Lagerkommandant Adolf Haas stepped up, shot his right arm into the air and barked, “Heil Hitler, Obersturmbannführer Krumey.”
Mindel had always thought this salutation looked ridiculous, but these adults took it very seriously. They even stood motionless for a few seconds, before the hands came down.
The group of men began walking in the direction of the children, who were hiding behind an empty water tank. Mindel’s heart beat so fast, she feared the men would hear it. Thankfully Laszlo’s hand sneaked into hers and his presence gave her the confidence to stay completely still, barely breathing.
Krumey handed a list to the Kommandant. “These are the people selected for the blood-for-goods exchange.”
“Three hundred?”
“Yes, three hundred of these deplorables have been paid for and will be sent to Switzerland.”
Three hundred sounded like many, many people. Definitely more than she could count and probably Laszlo too, who claimed to be able to count to one hundred, although he’d never actually proved it to the other children.
The grapevine in the camp worked fast and Mindel was perplexed when mere minutes later throngs of grown-ups threw themselves at Krumey’s feet, begging him to take them to Switzerland.
“Glückspilze,” sighed Laszlo. “These lucky ones are allowed to leave the camp and go to Switzerland.
Mindel nodded, albeit she had no idea what exactly Switzerland was, but if everyone wanted to go there, she reckoned it was a nice place. “How do you know it’s a good place to go?”
“Switzerland is neutral, which means they are not in this war. And, according to my mom, it’s paradise on earth. Enough food, clothes, a roof over your head, and no persecution. It seems Jews there can live just like anyone else.”
That indeed sounded like a good thing. Maybe living in Switzerland was like living on the farm of her parents, far away from all the horrible things she’d seen since the fatal day Herr Keller had taken her parents. For a moment she considered going to Switzerland, too, but then she remembered her sister.
How would Rachel find her there? No, it was better to stay. With all these people gone, the camp would be all but empty and it would be easy to find her sister. Then a cold shiver ran down her spine. What if Rachel travelled to Switzerland without Mindel? Tears
