فصل 81

joana

Throngs of wounded were emptied from the cars. As the trains unloaded, a convoy of ambulances arrived. Soldiers, still wrapped in mud-encrusted field coats, had been brought straight from battle. They howled with pain, reaching for me, for anyone, with desperate eyes.

Some I could identify quickly—typhus, dysentery, pneumonia. Others required the opening of their coat to discover missing limbs, gunshot blasts, and tank treads.

Dr. Richter’s instructions were explicit: “If you are certain they can survive the voyage, log them for registration. Only if you are certain.”

Many would not survive the voyage. They wouldn’t survive the hour. Their bodies and voices trembled with the delirium of death.

“My son wants the book Max und Moritz for his birthday,” a soldier repeated, eyes closed, blood leaking from the sides of his mouth. “Please, Max und Moritz for his birthday.”

“How many do you have?” asked the doctor following our rapid examinations.

“Seventy-three to register. Two hundred and twelve unable.”

“Seventy-three? Then with my list, we’re full. Are you sure they all have a chance?”

“Yes.”

I spoke without hesitation. I wasn’t sure, but I was sure I wanted to try. I leaned down to tell the soldier that he would see his son and give him the book. He was already dead. The condition of the soldiers spoke to the fate of the Reich. The voice was clear.

Defeat.

But I would get these wounded men on the big ship.

The Wilhelm Gustloff would save them.