After six weeks of recovery from her beatings, Bela was moved to the sick ward. Nearly blind from so much time in darkness, she was given sunglasses so she could get used to the light gradually. Then she was moved to a cell.
There was Lonka. Skeletal, no meat on her body, pallid face. Of course, they could not run to each other, so for a few minutes they just stared, embarrassed, tears filling their eyes. Bela could not stand it any longer. She went over. “I think I know you from somewhere,” she said in Polish.
Lonka nodded.
Soon, when everyone else was distracted, they had a moment. “Were you caught as a Jew or a Pole?” Lonka whispered.
“A Pole.”
Lonka sighed in relief. “How did you end up here?”
“I came looking for you.”
“Is it not enough that I’m suffering? Why should you suffer too?” Lonka stopped Bela from speaking further, lay down on her mattress, and cried.
“Why are you crying?” the Polish cell mates asked.
“My teeth hurt,” Lonka replied.
Bela found that her time in solitary had earned her the admiration of her cell mates. She got down on her knees and prayed with the Poles; she befriended them, including older women from the Polish intelligentsia. She grew close to a painter who had been ordered to make images for the Germans; the woman drew a portrait of Bela in front of the window overlooking the ghetto. This painter was religious, and Bela trusted her keen eyes. One night as bombs fell on Warsaw like snow, one blowing up the men’s jail next door, she confessed to the painter that she was Jewish. The painter hugged her and promised to help. After she was released, she sent Bela food packages through the Red Cross. The guards confiscated the meat, but Bela appreciated her notes. Knowing that someone on the outside was thinking about her made her own life feel real.
On the other hand, Bela was rarely able to speak to Lonka. She was constantly aware that collaborators circulated in their midst. The couriers tried to work near one another in the yard, and chatted mostly on the way to and from the bathroom, exchanging info about friends and family. Lonka was beloved in the cell for her upbeat demeanor. Still, Bela hated noticing how Lonka, who had come from a wealthy, pampered life, was not able to endure the physical hardships of prison reality. Diarrhea, bouts of stomach pain—her body was deteriorating.
Bela’s window faced the ghetto; they were across from Freedom. “I feel like they’re watching us,” Lonka used to say, and they’d imagine that Zivia and Antek could see them. Lonka dropped notes outside the window; she once saw someone pick one up, and prayed the others knew where she was. From the window, Bela could see Jewish children playing in the orphanage, but she also saw police terrorizing Jews. Bela had to pretend to be happy about this. Once, she heard wild screaming and pulled over a chair to stand on to get a better view. She witnessed Nazis beating Jewish children to death, then bludgeoning an older man who’d pleaded with them to stop. After they shot him, his son said, “Kill me too, I have no reason to live.” The Gestapo agreed happily, but first made him bury his father. The son bawled, kissing his dead dad on the forehead. The Nazi shot him and ordered all the nearby Jews to wash away the blood. Bela was frozen, overcome with desire for revenge, unable to tell her inquiring cell mates what she’d seen, too afraid she would break down and cry.
The conditions in the nearby cell for Jewish political prisoners were even worse. The Jews lay half-naked on the floor, barely ate, and were forced to clean toilets. Twice a day they were taken outside to do calisthenics while being beaten. Lonka recognized one of the prisoners as sixteen-year-old Shoshana Gjedna, the only daughter of a Warsaw working-class family. She had joined Freedom at a young age and participated in underground activities in the ghetto. Shoshana had been caught while carrying a movement newspaper. She tried to catch Bela’s and Lonka’s eyes from the courtyard, elated if she met them in the bathroom, telling them they needed to be witnesses after she was killed.
One night Bela heard screams spiral to the sky. She could not sleep, terrified for Shoshana. First thing in the morning, she requested permission to go to the bathroom. Pale, crying, Shoshana told Bela that the Jews were taken out during the night in their nightgowns, and dogs were released on them. She lifted her dress: a whole piece of flesh had been ripped off her right leg. She was in debilitating pain but kept cleaning the toilets. Bela went straight to the female doctor and had her secretly bandage Shoshana’s wounds in the bathroom. Bela covered the bandage with a scarf.