The man shook his head and uttered words Reilly didn’t understand. “Don’t worry, buddy,” Reilly said, patting the man’s bony hand, still tightly clenched on his coat. “We’ll get to you real quick, I promise.”
Mustering all of his strength, the inmate shouted, “Nein, nein,” followed by a long string of incomprehensible phrases. Tears ran from the man’s sunken eyes, and his body shook in desperation. “Captain,” Reilly said, “this fella’s trying to tell me something pretty important, but I don’t know what the hell he’s saying. I think he’s talkin’ Kraut.”
The captain motioned to a tall soldier at the other end of the building. “Steiner, what’s this man saying?”
Corporal Steiner walked over and listened to the inmate’s pleas. He nodded. “I don’t think he’s speaking German, Captain. It could be Yiddish. They’re similar. I think he’s saying his name is Eli. He’s saying we have to find Izaak. That’s his son. He says Izaak is in the children’s building. He says there’s a thousand children in that building.”
“A thousand children? Holy shit, where are these children? Which one of these buildings?”
“He says Block Eight.”
The captain stood in the doorway and looked out over the huge complex. “Hell if I know which one’s Block Eight. Can he show us?”
“I don’t think he can get up.”
The captain nodded his head and started to walk away when Eli spoke again. Steiner translated. “He says he can take us there, Captain. He just needs a little help.”
The captain sighed. “I don’t know how much help we can give him. He’s barely alive.”
“Izaak, Izaak,” the man cried. “Meyn zun.”
Reilly looked at Eli, at the desperation on his face, and said, “Captain, I can lift him. He’s okay. He needs to find his son. I’ll take him. I’ll carry him if I have to. He can lead us to Izaak and the rest of the children.”
Eli grasped the meaning and smiled. Reilly lifted him down off the bunk, conscious that the man weighed less than a field pack. He helped him to his feet. With his arm around Eli’s back and under his shoulder, he started to slowly lead him out but stopped abruptly. “Jesus, he’s got no shoes on. He’s got rags wrapped around his feet. Anybody see any shoes?”
Eli looked at his feet and waved it off. “Nein, nein, nein.” He pointed sharply to the door. “Izaak,” he said. “Der kinder.” The captain nodded. “All right, Reilly, take him out. Find those kids.” The corporal unzipped his coat, placed it over Eli’s shoulders and walked him out the door.
Other soldiers of the Super Sixth were converging at Block 8 and were starting to attend to the children. All sizes, all ages. Some as young as six. Some of the children were being gathered into groups for transport out. Eli’s eyes scanned the hundreds of children. His fear was palpable. What were the chances he’d find his son? There were so many. Suddenly, his whole body stiffened. “Izaak, Izaak!” he screamed, and stumbled forward. A boy, no more than ten or eleven, came running. “Papa! Papa!” Eli dropped to his knees as the boy ran into his arms. Reilly watched the two hug each other, and the hardened soldier broke into tears.
“Come on, Eli, Izaak,” Reilly said, bending down. “We gotta get you out of this cold, muddy prison camp and let some doctors fix you up.”
Reilly waved for a stretcher, and two corpsmen were quick to respond. One of them patted Izaak on the head and said, “You go with the other kids, little guy. We’ll take care of your pops.” But Izaak wouldn’t leave his father.
Reilly placed his hand on the corpsman’s shoulder. “Martin, how many of these kids still have a parent? This boy needs to stay with his father. Let’s make an exception this time.”
Martin pulled Reilly aside and whispered, “His father’s in bad shape. He’s probably not going to make it. A lot of them aren’t.”
“All the more reason to let his son stay with him,” Reilly answered.
The corpsman shrugged and placed Eli on the stretcher. Eli looked up at Reilly and in little more than a hoarse whisper, through cracked lips, he said, “A dank, a sheynem dank.” The two corpsmen carried Eli with little Izaak in tow toward a line of white canvas-covered trucks bearing Swiss license plates with Red Cross stenciled on the transom. Reilly smiled and rejoined his squad.
CHAPTER THREE
REIMS, FRANCE
MAY 1945
On the seventh day of May, 1945, at 2:41 Central European Time,