17
Laszlo grabbed Mindel’s hand and pulled her behind the kitchen barracks. They hadn’t come here since living with Mother Brinkmann, because she kept a close eye on the older children, always cautioning them to stay away from the guards and outbuildings, lest they get caught in some sort of trouble. But as always, Laszlo paid attention to her only when it suited his plans.
“We need more food,” Laszlo whispered to her.
Mindel agreed, because the rations had gotten smaller with every arriving trainload of prisoners. But she was also scared. There were too many people around, both prisoners and guards. “Let’s not do it today, please. You will get caught.”
“I’m quick. Nobody will even know I was there.” Laszlo puffed out his chest. “You and Tina can keep watch.” He nodded to one of the girls from the orphans’ barracks who had taken to following them both around like a puppy.
“What’s he gonna do?” Tina asked.
“Scrounge food,” Mindel whispered back, watching as Laszlo stood up and walked toward the back of the building. From their position, they couldn’t see the back door, just the corner of the building. Laszlo turned and waved at her before he disappeared around the side.
The girls waited in the shadows, pretending to be sitting on the ground playing with Mindel’s doll when several SS guards passed them by. Mindel had learned never to look them in the face, because that only seemed to invite their interest and that was the last thing she or Laszlo needed right now.
But she let out a loud whistle the way Laszlo had taught her, as soon as the SS walked down the path toward the kitchen barracks, hoping her friend would be quick enough to disappear before they entered the hut, if they even did. Most of the times they just marched by, looking grim.
Long minutes passed and Laszlo didn’t return. Mindel grew ever more anxious, wanting to go and see what had happened. Only Tina’s small hand on her arm kept her from storming into the kitchen. All of a sudden she heard shouts and a kerfuffle and moments later saw the SS guards coming out of the back of the kitchen.
She gasped with horror when she saw Laszlo dragged behind, covered in blood. They gave him several more knocks with their batons for good measure, before they left him weltering on the ground.
“Oh no,” Tina cried out.
“We have to bring him to Mother Brinkmann,” Mindel whined. She tucked Paula away in her too-small dress and scampered across the open space, stopping just before rounding the corner of the building that housed the kitchens. She swallowed several times and then peeked around, making sure the SS was gone.
“Laszlo!” she screamed and rushed to his side. He was so battered, she stopped her hand midair before touching him, not wanting to hurt him.
“They got me…” he whispered, barely able to keep his eyes open.
“Shush. We’ll get you back to Mother Brinkmann. She’ll know what to do,” Mindel said. Mother Brinkmann always knew what to do; she would be able to fix Laszlo.
“I can’t walk.”
Well, that was a problem Mindel hadn’t considered.
“We’ll help you,” said Tina, who’d caught up with them. Both of them were much smaller than he was, but somehow they managed to drag him up and with his arms slung over their shoulders he hobbled back. Despite their best efforts, holding Laszlo up became harder with every step and Mindel had to bite on her lips in order not to cry out from the pain. She almost collapsed in relief when two of the older boys saw them and took over.
Mother Brinkmann came out of the barracks and assessed the situation with a single glance, ordering, “Karl and Thaddeus, you get him inside on my bunk. Sandy, you bring me the first aid box, and with you, Tina and Mindel, I’ll have a word later.”
Mindel knew she was in for a serious scolding, but for the time being she didn’t worry about her punishment, and quietly observed how the bigger boys settled Laszlo on the bunk.
Sandy came running with a cardboard box used as the first aid kit. It contained a few strips of cloth, ointment and small white pills that were cut into quarters and given to seriously ill children. Sometimes they helped and the child got better.
Mother Brinkmann returned with a small bowl of clean water from a secret stash the children weren’t allowed to ever touch and began to clean Laszlo’s wounds.
Mindel wrung her hands as she watched her friend wince and cry out, but was too fascinated by the efficiency of Mother Brinkmann’s actions to look away. When Mother Brinkmann finished cleaning the wounds, she gave Laszlo a quarter of the white pill, and then turned around to glare at Mindel and Tina.
“Now, care to tell me what happened?”
“The SS…” Tina whispered.
“Yes? And why did they beat him?”
Tina stuttered and Mindel felt her ears burn under the scrutinizing gaze. “He was in the kitchen…”
“What on earth was he doing there?” Mother Brinkmann’s voice raised.
“Organizing food.”
“He got caught stealing?” Mother Brinkmann looked so positively angry that Mindel almost wished to face an SS guard instead of her. Lost for words she merely nodded.
What followed was a long sermon about proper behavior that ended with, “There will be no more stealing while you live in my barracks. Let Laszlo’s injuries be a lesson to you all. Anyone caught stealing from here on out will have to find another place to live.”
All the children looked shamefaced, except for Laszlo, who’d dozed off, groaning. Mindel had no idea how he could sleep in such a grave situation. Now Mother Brinkmann would get even angrier at him.
Surprisingly, she didn’t. Instead she covered him with a blanket, shooed the other children out of the barracks and said, “He needs rest. You go and play outside.”
Three days later Laszlo was able to get up from the bunk and came limping
