She nodded before sitting at the foot of my cot. “Izaak works as a locksmith. I have an SS connection who transferred him. When we first arrived, he was part of the road crew.” One of the most arduous positions, where prisoners pulled heavy concrete cylinders to level the grounds.

“You can get labor reassignments?” I asked, genuinely impressed.

“As long as I offer the proper repayment. In a place like this, you have to give something to get something. It’s not always pleasant, but I’ll do anything to return to my kinderlach.” A sad, fond smile tugged at Hania’s lips, then she translated for me: “My children.”

“How many children do you have?”

“Two, both sons. Jakub and Adam.” A faraway look crossed her face, so I waited for her to continue. “They were three years old and four months old when my husband and I handed them over to the resistance. Eliasz, my husband, said it was for the best, but I wasn’t so certain. Not until we were arrested.”

“You saved their lives,” I murmured. “How did you get arrested?”

Hania studied a small hole in her uniform before explaining. “In the ghetto, my elder sister, Judyta, lost her husband and newborn to dysentery. Her four-year-old daughter, Ruta, was all she had left, and she refused to give her up. One afternoon, my family and I were walking down the street, and four SS men were coming our way, so we kept to the gutter. My niece was chasing a pigeon, and when it flew onto the sidewalk, she followed. Judyta called to Ruta and tried to stop her, we all did, but Ruta wasn’t paying attention. As my sister fetched her from the sidewalk, she apologized to the SS men for violating the law and assured them it was unintentional. It didn’t matter. The officers didn’t say a word before they threw them back into the street and started beating them.”

“For being on the sidewalk?” I asked softly, and she nodded.

“Izaak, Eliasz, and my parents tried to protect my sister and niece, but they were attacked, too. As I watched, those men beat my family. I screamed at them to stop, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed. All I could think about was the same thing happening to my sons if I hadn’t sent them away.

“When the SS men relented, my niece was dead, right there in the gutter. They’d crushed her skull. Judyta wouldn’t stop screaming over Ruta’s little body, so the officers shot her and arrested us. My parents died in Pawiak from their injuries, then Eliasz, Izaak, and I were transferred here.”

“I’m so sorry.” My words sounded trivial and useless. No apology could change such injustice. “What labor assignment does your husband have?”