The Auschwitz Escape
“You have an asset that tipped the balance for us,” Jacob said.
“What’s that?” Luc asked.
“Your grandfather.”
“My grandfather?”
“We understand he served as the French ambassador to Washington until Prime Minister Reynaud was forced from office and the Vichy government took over. Is that correct?”
“Well, yes, it is,” Luc said. “But how did you know my connection to him? I haven’t told anyone.”
“The underground is fairly resourceful,” Jacob replied. “It’s critical once we escape that we be able to take the intelligence about what’s really happening here to a trusted source, particularly in Washington. We need to be able to secure a private meeting with President Roosevelt, inform him of the situation, and insist that he take action. We believe you could play a vital role in this. If you can get us to your grandfather, then hopefully he can get us that meeting with the president. Will you help us?”
“Absolutely,” Luc said. “Whatever I can do, I am ready.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” Jacob smiled and shook Luc’s hand vigorously. “Welcome aboard.”
67
Jacob had thought that would be the high point of the meeting.
But he was wrong. Steinberger and Frenkel weren’t merely bringing Luc onto the team. They were also ready to explain their own specific plan to escape.
“We’ve found our route,” Otto said. “It’s time to go.”
Jacob’s pulse quickened. He and Luc listened carefully as their team leaders laid out the specifics of their plan.
“You know the big construction site they’re calling Birkenau-III?” Abe asked.
“You mean in the outer camp?” Jacob asked.
“Right.”
“The one where they’re pre-positioning all that lumber for the new barracks?” Luc clarified.
“Exactly,” Abe said. “We were watching them out there a few days ago, and we suddenly got an idea. We bribed some kapos to stack one of the lumber piles in such a way that there’s a cavity in the middle. From the outside, it looks like a solid stack of wood. But actually it’s got room inside for two grown men to hide, with all of our provisions.”
“The entrance is on the top,” Otto said. “There’s no other way in or out. What we’ll need one of you to do when we give you the signal is to remove a few planks off the top of the pile. We’ll be able to lower ourselves down into the hollowed-out area. Then you’ll put the planks back, and everything will look normal.”
“Once we’re in, you need to sprinkle a bunch of the Russian tobacco on the top of the woodpile and around the sides,” Abe explained.
“The stuff we soaked in petrol?” Jacob asked.
“Yes,” Otto said. “Is it all dry now?”
“Dried and stored in bags and hidden at the bakery,” Jacob said.
“Excellent.”
“I don’t understand,” Jacob said. “What does that do?”
“It throws off the dogs,” Abe responded. “They can’t stand the stuff. They hate the smell of tobacco—the Russian kind, anyway—and the stench of petrol makes it even worse.”
“You’re sure about that?” Luc asked.
“No,” Otto conceded. “But that’s what we’ve been told, and we’re going with it.”
“Told by whom?” Jacob asked. “Leszek? He didn’t even smoke.”
“No, by a Russian sergeant we met a few months ago,” Abe explained. “The guy escaped from a German POW camp by using this trick. Unfortunately, he got so excited after he got out of the camp that he was laughing and singing as he ran through the woods on the other side of the river. Poor fool. He stumbled over a German colonel who was making out with his girlfriend in the tall grass. Anyway, he said the Russian tobacco and petrol worked just fine. Dancing through the woods? Not so much.”
“Okay, fine,” Jacob said. “But I still don’t understand how this is going to work. How are you going to get through the electric fences? And even if you do, why hide in the woodpile? Why not just double-time it to the Soła River, and then to the train tracks, and ride the rails south to the Czech border?”
“It’s simple,” Otto said. “The only way to get beyond the electrified fences is during the day when the guards are out there with all the men who are working, building those new barracks, right?”
Jacob and Luc nodded.
“But here’s the thing. At night, that outer camp and all those half-finished barracks are unguarded. Why should they be? All the prisoners are back in the main camp behind the electric fences. So here’s our plan. We hide in the lumber pile during the day.”
“While there are guards patrolling all over?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Abe said. “But if we can pull that off, then at five o’clock the guards will take all the men back into the main camp for roll call.”
“And you’ll already be hiding?” Jacob asked.
“Right. Then they’ll figure out we’re missing and the sirens will go off. At that point, the troops will start moving. The dogs will start running. But what are they expecting? They’re expecting two men on the run. So that’s where they go. They’ll scour the camp for sure. But they’ll also scour the surrounding countryside. For exactly three days and three nights—that’s what the regulations say, seventy-two hours, no more, no less—they will search every field and river and house and barn, convinced that we’re running. But they won’t find us heading to the Soła River or near the train tracks or hiding in a barn or under a bridge. They won’t find us at all.”
“Because you’ll still be hiding in the woodpile,” Jacob said.
“You got it,” Otto said. “We’ll be hiding right under their noses.”
“And then what?”
“When the seventy-two hours are up, Von Strassen will call off the men and dogs. They’ll stand down like they did after Leszek broke free. That’s when Abe and I will make our move. That should be around dinnertime of the third day. We’ll wait a few more hours for darkness, of course, but then it should be relatively easy.”
“Easy?” Jacob asked, far from convinced.
“Well, we’ll already be out beyond the two fences, and no one will be chasing us,” Otto explained. “The manhunt will be over. We’ll have a good eight or nine hours of darkness ahead of us. We’ll head south with our backpack of provisions. After a week or so, we should reach the Czech border. We’ll head for Žilina. We’ve got good sources there. We’ll link up with the Jewish council, then head to Budapest. We’ll tell them of everything that’s happening here—all of it. We’ll warn them not to get on the trains, no matter what they’re told. We’ll convince them to start a rebellion if they have to but not to get on those trains under any circumstances. After that, if God is with us, we’ll head to London and then to Washington to make our case to Churchill and Roosevelt to liberate Auschwitz-Birkenau and every other camp before it’s too late.”
“And if you don’t make it?” Luc asked, breaking his silence.
“Then you two and the other team will.”
For nearly a minute, Jacob and Luc sat in silence. It was an audacious plan, Jacob thought, but the more he pondered it, the more impressed he was. Rather than try to outrun the Nazis and their dogs, Steinberger and Frenkel would hide nearly in plain sight. If they survived the first seventy-two hours without being caught, and if Von Strassen really did call off the manhunt after three days, according to the regulations, then maybe they were right. Maybe they’d have a real shot at freedom.
The four men spent most of the next hour going over the plan in even more specificity. As Otto and Abe answered every one of Jacob’s and Luc’s questions, the initial elation of hearing a credible escape plan began to morph into a weight on Jacob’s shoulders. This was it. This was really happening. Steinberger and Frenkel would soon be gone. Very soon they’d either be free or dead. Either way, Jacob and Luc would be on their own. Jacob hoped they were ready. In the meantime, he knew that he and L
uc had to understand the plan in all its nuances and be ready to adapt it at a moment’s notice.
Steinberger and Frenkel explained that Fischer and Kopecký had developed an entirely different escape strategy and planned to make their attempt a few weeks later, though they didn’t go into the details. Indeed, for operational security, they didn’t want Jacob or Luc even to meet the other men, much less know their plans. Instead Steinberger and Frenkel went over the last-minute preparations they needed help with, and then they dropped their bombshell. They announced they were leaving Friday night.
Jacob tensed. That was just two days hence. The clock was ticking. But the two men stressed that by all indications, the Nazis were going to start rounding up the Hungarian Jews in just two months. They could wait no longer. They had to move now if they were going to get to Budapest in time.
– – –
“So what do you think?” Luc asked when Steinberger and Frenkel had gone back to their barracks and he and Jacob were alone for the first time.
“It’s risky, but I like it,” Jacob said. “What about you?”
“I like it well enough, but there does seem to be a major problem,” Luc said.
“What’s that?” Jacob asked.
“If it doesn’t work—if Otto and Abe are captured and killed—they haven’t come up with a plan B for us to escape,” Luc noted. “I mean, they just said that they’ve helped Fischer and Kopecký come up with an entirely different escape plan from their own, right? But they haven’t told us what it is. So if I’m hearing them correctly, they want us to escape using their plan as our blueprint. That’s fine, if it works. I mean, if they get out safe and sound, that’s fantastic. We can follow their plan as well. But what if it doesn’t work? What if the Russian tobacco doesn’t work like they hope? What if the dogs find them in the woodpile? What if something else goes sideways? What do we do then?”
68
Jacob tossed and turned all night.
Finally, unable to sleep, he just got up. It was Friday, April 7. This was it. This was the day Otto and Abe had decided to go for it.
Jacob could hardly believe it. His palms were sweaty. His stomach was in knots. On the one hand, he was very excited for them. On the other hand, Luc’s questions weighed heavily on him. What if it didn’t work? What if Steinberger and Frenkel were caught? Luc was right. They didn’t have a plan B.
It didn’t matter, he told himself. There was no time to come up with one today. To the contrary, he knew he had to stay focused on the task at hand and not let himself get bogged down by a bunch of what-ifs and if-onlys.
Something else Luc had said just before they parted paths on Wednesday night now rang in his ears as well. “There’s no point worrying about tomorrow,” Luc had concluded. “Today has enough trouble of its own.”
Luc was right, Jacob decided. There were very real and enormous problems facing them in the days ahead if this operation failed. But they would have to deal with those in due course. For now, they had to do their jobs and do them with great care and precision.
Jacob knew the biggest challenge he would face that day was going through the usual motions of his normal routine while not giving anyone the impression that this day was different from any other. There were a hundred things that could go wrong, but most of them were out of his control. Steinberger and Frenkel had repeatedly stressed—much as Avi had done in the past—the importance of going over the plan again and again and staying focused on the objective. Don’t get flustered. Don’t get rattled. Don’t worry about the things that are beyond anyone’s control. Just stay calm, keep moving, and pay attention to the littlest details. That was the recipe for success, they argued, and Jacob tried his best to be faithful to the task they had entrusted to him.
Morning went fine. He did some errands and took care of some paperwork. He made sure he was out and about the camp, chatting with prisoners and politely acknowledging guards who knew his face and saw him all the time. The goal was to be visible, to be building an alibi that he had been doing his job all day, doing what he was supposed to do when he was supposed to do it. Dozens of people would be able to vouch for that. A lot of time had passed since Leszek and his team had escaped. Thus, so far as Jacob knew, the guards weren’t seriously anticipating more escapes. They were just looking for things that were out of the ordinary, little things that didn’t seem right. That’s why Jacob had to be so careful about even seemingly insignificant details. Those were the things that could give the whole operation away.
Jacob made it a point to have lunch with Josef, something they tried to do at least once a week. Josef, who had somehow managed to get himself taken off outdoor work duty and assigned to the Canada warehouse, had known for weeks that something was up. Indeed, he was the one who had found the Russian tobacco for Jacob and gotten him access to a barrel of petrol. Still, Josef didn’t know what was actually happening, and he certainly didn’t know when.
Today Josef was distraught.
“What is it?” Jacob asked. “What happened?”
Josef leaned in and whispered over his bowl of soup. “It’s Von Strassen. He’s gone berserk.”
“What do you mean?”
“I talked to a friend who’s been assigned to the records office. Von Strassen is convinced all the women in the office are talking about him behind his back.”
“The ones he’s sleeping with?” Jacob asked.
“Right,” Josef said.
“So what?”
“So apparently two days ago he had his men round up all the women in the office at gunpoint and lead them to one of the gas chambers, where they were forced to strip naked. Then they were herded inside, the doors were locked, and they were just screaming and crying in there for nearly an hour. Finally the pipes started creaking and suddenly water started coming out of the showerheads.”
“Not gas?”
“No. Water. Warm water, even.”
“So what happened?”
“The doors opened a few minutes later, and the guards gave the women towels to dry off, and then they were sent back to the office, where Von Strassen and his deputies were laughing and carrying on and having a birthday party for one of Hoess’s kids, complete with cake and ice cream.”
“That was it?” Jacob asked. “Von Strassen didn’t say anything?”
“What does he have to say?” Josef asked. “He’d made his point. But he’s an animal, I tell you. A man with no soul. He should burn in hell. Someday I hope to send him there myself. In the meantime, he’s on edge—worried. I think he’s afraid another escape is coming. He’s afraid Hoess will fire him, or worse. So he’s got all his men on high alert, and he’s driving everyone crazy with his constant talk about keeping the camps as tight as a drum.”
Jacob hoped his face didn’t betray him. He’d been operating on the assumption that the guards were not on heightened alert. Now Josef was telling him the opposite was true. Still, there was nothing he could do about it. The day had come. There was no turning back.
69
At precisely one o’clock, Jacob began to move into position.
An afternoon spring rain began to fall, and he was soon soaked to the bone, but he refused to let anything dissuade or distract him now. He carried two large jugs of fresh cold water and several sets of clean socks wrapped in newspaper to keep them dry. The first set was for the guards manning the gate out of the main Birkenau camp en route to the construction site at Birkenau-III. The second set was for the guards overseeing the prisoners slaving away on the new barracks. They were bribes, pure and simple. Jacob had experimented with such things in the past, and they worked. This time was no different. The gate guards waved him through without incident.
Out on the work site, the guards were huddled in a small wooden hut, smoking cigarettes and playing cards. The harder the rains fell, the less time they spent standing outside. They would poke their heads out for a moment and make sure the prisoners weren’t starting a riot, but they certainly were not givin
g them their full attention. Luc would say that was the hand of Providence, Jacob thought. Abby would too. Maybe it was. Or maybe it was just good luck.
Next he handed out small bags of Swiss chocolates to some of the kapos on the work details and made small talk with them about the weather and the new group of Frenchwomen that had just arrived in the main camp. Jacob wasn’t doing much of the talking, of course. By this point he had learned to ask a few provocative questions to get a conversation started. Once the men started talking, it was hard to stop them.
So far, his plan was working like a charm.
Just before two o’clock, Jacob spotted Steinberger and Frenkel heading from different directions toward the pile of lumber.
This was it. Moving sure and fast, he met the men and scrambled to the top of the pile. The wood was wet and quite slippery. He glanced around to make sure no guards were watching, then quickly moved the top planks, revealing the hole and the cavity below. He grabbed Otto’s hand and pulled him to the top. Two seconds later, Otto dropped into the hole and disappeared from view.
Next was Abe’s turn, and moments later he was in and safe as well. They had already pre-positioned their backpack of supplies in the small space, and they now had everything they needed.
“Good luck, boys,” Jacob whispered.
Five seconds later he was gone. He was halfway back to the guard hut when his heart nearly stopped. He had been so nervous and so wet and so focused on getting the men into the woodpile that he had completely forgotten to sprinkle the Russian tobacco. Cursing himself for making such a foolish mistake, he turned around and raced back to the pile. When he got there, he said nothing to the men but rather pulled out the small burlap satchel of tobacco and did what he had promised to do in the first place.
When he was done, he left in a different direction, his heart racing, terrified he would be spotted and captured and that everything would be for naught.
Then another fear came to mind: would the rain wash away the tobacco scent, allowing the dogs to find Steinberger and Frenkel after all?