The Old Guard

Mieczysław Lurczyński, Gerald W. Speca, Alicia Nitecki, Gerald W. Speca

• Publisher: Excelsior Editions
• Year: 2010
• ISBN:
  9781438430836
• Topic: Geschichte
• Subtopic: Geschichte des Holocaust

Brutally and unflinchingly honest in its depiction of the effects of concentration camp life on the human psyche, Mieczys?aw Lurczy?ski's The Old Guard is one of the earliest works of Holocaust literature and one of the few works written by a non-Jew who was also a survivor of the camps. Begun during his imprisonment on fragments and scraps of paper and completed immediately after the war, in 1945, the play is based on Lurczy?ski's experiences in Buchenwald and its subcamp in Eschenhausen, SS-kommando Hecht. The action takes place in the Block Elder's room at Hecht, where the prisoners who hold privileged positions in the camp—old-timers from Auschwitz, Majdanek, and other camps—play cards, drink moonshine, and steal from one another. The play's hero, based on the pre-war Polish actor Fryderyk Jarosy, who was also interned at Hecht, attempts to uphold the values of Western civilization in this depraved environment, an impossible task that ultimately leads to his death at the hands of the Camp Elder. As Lurczysnki writes in his preface, the play contains no great atrocities: "The focus, rather, is on internal experiences and on depicting pained, sick, desparate, and resigned psyches, on depicting the methods by which people were turned into beasts, and beasts into freaks of nature." Available for the first time in English, The Old Guard is an important and compelling work of Holocaust literature that stands on a par with the work of Tadeusz Borowski and Primo Levi.

Act I

Evening. GENIEK sits on the armchair, his feet against the legs of the table. The top buttons of his trousers are undone. A cigarette dangles from his mouth as he riffles and studies the cards in his hands. After a moment:

GENIEK: Clubs, I said.

CZESIEK: P-p-pass. Like from here to M-M-man … churia.

(He chuckles.)

ERNEST: Pass.

(He stretches out his hand and waves smoke from Geniek's cigarette toward his nose trying to inhale the aroma.)

FRYDERYK: Two diamonds.

GENIEK: Three spades.

CZESIEK: Pass.

FRYDERYK: Pass.

ERNEST: Pass.

GENIEK: C'mon, dammit. Play.

CZESIEK: At least Fryderyk says something sometimes. Me, I d-d …

(stutters; abandons the idea)

… and if I say something, th-then I l-lie without … Three.

GENIEK: Three's already been bid! Jesus Christ!

They play a round, throwing cards on the table and picking up discards.

FRYDERYK (laying a card on the table): S'il vous plait.

CZESIEK (throws down a card, humming): Tum ta-dum dee dum. Ta ra ree, ta ra ra

ERNEST (plays a card): We're going to play diamonds …

GENIEK (counts trick): Three, four.

CZESIEK: Th-th-that's life.

GENIEK: It's the only play, stupid ass. I just said three clubs out of desperation.

The card game continues during the following dialogue.

CZESIEK (feels the fabric of Geniek's trousers): Nice. Say, did you organize these from me?

GENIEK: Uh, uh. Most definitely not.

CZESIEK: Oh. B-b-because I had a pair just like them in the storeroom. I remember the color clearly …

ERNEST: Pass.

GENIEK: Bullshit. Yesterday, these trousers hung off the ass of some Yid on Block 4, the latest Zugang. I dropped in while Heniek was having them processed and I saw this gimpy fucker pulling them off. I liked them as soon as I saw them and told Heniek I had to have them. Today the tailor pressed them and brought them to me.

FRYDERYK: Pass.

CZESIEK: So probably someone else took the ones from my place. Did they give the Jews Zebrakleidung because of the latest escapes?

GENIEK: Pass. Of course not. The Hebes never escape. They're fucking cowards. The Russkies, now? They'll break out of here in a heartbeat; but the Jews? They just get their clothes exchanged. And they get searched. All the fucking time. They have what's hard and soft, stuff of value. Hey, look. I saw an opportunity and I took it. Excellent worsted. French … military blau …

CZESIEK: Th-three spades.

Jędrzej slides down from the top bunk and studies Geniek's trousers. He frowns and shakes his head.

JĘDRZEJ: They're stained.

GENIEK: What?

JĘDRZEJ (pointing to a spot on the trousers): See for yourself. Geniek bends over and rubs the stain vigorously. Jędrzej, with a casual ease, pulls a twist of tobacco from the box on the table next to Geniek and returns to the bunk. Despite his youth, Jędrzej is an experienced Lager thief.

FRYDERYK: Two left the Steinkommando yesterday, starving; the day before that, one from Duman. Within two days five people have died on the Revier. And we play bridge.

GENIEK: And what would your rather do, limpdick? Stroke your weenie? Go ahead. Who knows? It might do you some good.

CZESIEK: Old g-gray beard is a decent fellow.

ERNEST: Our only comfort.

Geniek gets up and goes to the Schreibstube. He examines a document and at the same time pulls Głowak's hair.

GENIEK: What hard hair he has! Like pig bristles.

JĘDRZEJ (drawling): Maybe a pig played a part in the black shepherd's conception.

GENIEK: Sure seems that way, doesn't it?

(returning to the card game)

That's ours. An eight …

Geniek puts down the tricks and counts them.

FRYDERYK (quietly intoning): The scent of lilacs through the night.

GENIEK: It seems we're short one.

He arranges the cards to count them. Fryderyk rolls a cigarette out of sage and lights it.

GENIEK (wrinkling his nose): Smells like old people.

CZESIEK: D-dirty diapers …

ERNEST: Palm Sunday.

GENIEK: No. Chopin's “Funeral March.” Pum, pum, pa pum.

CZESIEK: … or “In a Dark Grave.”

FRYDERYK: I'd rather smoke sage than steal tobacco from other people's parcels.

GENIEK: Not me.

CZESIEK: You're playing like a horse's ass with a s-s-secondary education.

ERNEST: Which he is.

FRYDERYK: I have the one and the other, bridge scum.

GENIEK: Instead of a brain.

Netter, the Schreiber on the Revier, enters with a death announcement and gives it to Głowak.

GENIEK: What's new, Mr. Schreiber “Judas Maccabeus” Netter?

NETTER: An announcement. About Ulrich's death.

GENIEK: Ulrich's gone?

NETTER: Yes. A moment ago.

He exits.

JĘDRZEJ: I told him straight away when he came six months ago that he wouldn't get out of here alive. Cocksucker didn't want to offer me any chocolate. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on.

GENIEK (with irony): Evidently the old man was cheap and didn't care to share any of his Red Cross packages.

JĘDRZEJ: He had a lousy last name.

GENIEK: He was a frugal man. Scraped crumbs from his clothes with a toothpick. Did you know he had false teeth?

JĘDRZEJ (slowly getting off the bunk): Really? Now, that has to be dealt with. Before his neighbors get interested.

He slips out of the room.

GENIEK: Any of you birdbrains know how much gold goes into a bridge?

No one responds.

CZESIEK: I guess the game's over. Shall we sing a song?

ERNEST: Don't start fucking around, Czesiek.

Jędrzej returns and sits by Geniek. He reaches behind him, finds a small mirror on the shelf and looks at himself in it, picking at his blackheads, examining his teeth, stretching and picking at his lips. Geniek, looking at his cards, suddenly smacks Jędrzej in the face and knocks the mirror out of his hand and onto the floor.

GENIEK: —And I told the kid not to mess around either.

Jędrzej doesn't react. He shakes his head and smiles.

JĘDRZEJ: I've said more than once that the prick in you would show up sooner or later. Nicht war?¹

(Jędrzej grins broadly, revealing his gums.)

A moment of silence. A Jewish prisoner in terribly torn, stained prison stripes comes into the room and takes off his hat.

JEW: I wish to ask Mr. Lageraeltester for some clothing. Mine is completely ruined.

CZESIEK: And wh-where were you yesterday wh-when the new garments were being distributed?

JEW: Where was I? I don't know where I was. They distributed clothing yesterday?

GENIEK: Give the Abyssinian something.

Czesiek gets up and goes out; the Jew follows him. Jędrzej starts after them, then pauses at the door. He crosses back to the table and takes half the tobacco out of the box Czesiek has left behind, hiding it in his own cigarette case. He sits down nonchalantly on the stoop. He wags his head from side to side smiling.

ERNEST: So, it wasn't worth it to follow Czesiek, organizing?

Geniek takes tissue from his pocket; he and Jędrzej roll a cigarette out of the stolen tobacco.

GENIEK: Jędrzej has great respect for the old Polish adage that a bird in hand is better than looking at jackets at Czesiek's.

Jędrzej lolls his head and grins. He takes a piece of gold out of his pocket and examines it carefully.

JĘDRZEJ: The sonofabitch couldn't afford a bigger bridge, and the gold isn't the best.

He tests the hardness of the gold with his teeth, then stuffs the bridge in his pocket. He crawls onto the bunk, hangs his jacket on the rail, and lies down. He falls asleep instantly.

GENIEK: What's with that fucking Bloedeaeltester!² Czesiek!

CZESIEK (O.S.): In a minute.

GENIEK: Kill the fucking Jew and come play.

CZESIEK (O.S.): S-stop shouting! Głowak'll hear you and a-after the war he'll curse us from the pulpit!

Fryderyk takes a table knife and sharpens the pencil used to keep score during the card game. Geniek snatches the knife away from him and weighs it in his hand. Then he aims at the door with the knife.

GENIEK: First man through that door gets a knife in his belly. What d'you think? Fryderyk. Go stand by the door. Don't be afraid. I'll aim to the side. I won't even graze your eye. You can recite a martyr's song.

Fryderyk shrugs and peers at the cards. Geniek looks around and sees the sleeping Jędrzej. He aims the knife at him.

GENIEK: What's the wager that I get him in the gut?

Geniek throws the knife at Jędrzej, hitting him in the chest and waking him.

JĘDRZEJ (turning his head lazily): It's rather amusing, the way you old farts carry on.

FRYDERYK: You could have wounded him, Geniek!

GENIEK: It's Arbeitszeit now, shitheads. Everyone is to work restlos.

Did you hear that, Lagerkapo?

Jędrzej raises himself up and leans his head on his hand.

JĘDRZEJ: Do you have your head up your ass, you old eunuch? Or are you finally going out of your fucking mind?

GENIEK: How dare you speak to the Lageraeltester like that? Get off that bunk on the double!!

JĘDRZEJ (not laughing): Very funny.

Geniek gets up from the table.

GENIEK: What, Missgeburt?

JĘDRZEJ: It's all very interesting. Głowak, say the prayers for the dead.

Geniek crosses to the bunk.

GENIEK: Now, du Arschloch, Bloedehund?

JĘDRZEJ (in the same position): Have you prepared the valerian? The opium? I'll finish you off in two days.

GENIEK: Me?

He rolls up his shirtsleeves and reveals his muscular arms.

There's still grit here, asshole. Off the bunk on the double! I could pick up ten like you with one hand. Old Auschwitz, that's what I am.

JĘDRZEJ (still unmoving): Hey! Me too. Have you got the valerian?

Geniek grabs Jędrzej's arm. They wrestle. An unexpected resistance on the part of the tuberculoid Jędrzej. He fights and clutches stubbornly as Geniek drags him off the bunk. Finally, slipping, he falls to the ground and then sits up gasping and coughing.

GENIEK (pale and worn): I told the little fuck not to get excited.

JĘDRZEJ (smiling wickedly): Have you got the valerian? Or the opium?

(as opposed to Geniek, he quickly recovers)

I'm only twenty years old. I'll finish you off.

Geniek seizes the knife and aims it at Jędrzej, who flinches.

GENIEK: That's what you think. I'll smoke you.

Jędrzej takes the box of Geniek's tobacco and begins to roll a cigarette, slowly and deliberately as usual.

GENIEK: Get to work, shithead!

He hefts the knife. Jędrzej smokes the cigarette, and calmly monitors Geniek's movement. Czesiek enters.

CZESIEK: I used to th-throw the knife like this—

(He demonstrates.)

GENIEK: Stand by the door, Jędrzej. We're going to throw at you.

Jędrzej, still smoking, leans against the door and deftly defends himself against the knives thrown at him.

JĘDRZEJ: What's the matter with you douche bags? Why don't you go buy some paper shields and toy arrows. This shit isn't funny.

(He frowns and nods seriously.)

GENIEK (warming to the game): I'm telling you, Jędrzej, stay by the goddamned door!

Jędrzej clucks...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Act I
• Act II
• Act III
• Concentration Camp Terms