Free In the Mouth of the Wolf by Rose Zar Page A

important tip.
    â€œYou know you’re going about it all wrong,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s no point in going from office to office. The individual offices don’t do their own hiring. All military jobs are filled through the Arbeitsamt , the Central Labor Office. If you really want to get a job, go down there and fill out an application. Your name will go on the employment list, and when there’s an opening they might send you over for an interview.”
    Thank goodness she told me that! I could have gone from office to office for months, filling out hundreds of applications and never knowing why I wasn’t being hired.
    I looked up the address of the Central Labor Office and went down right away to fill out an application. The typist at the registration desk who took care of the forms was a pleasant, dark-haired woman in her early forties. Since shewasn’t busy, we began talking. She told me she was from Zakopane, a beautiful resort in the Tatra Mountains. I knew the region because I had been on a camping trip there one summer. We talked about the mountains and the beautiful scenery, and I guess the woman took a liking to me because before I left she assured me my name would get on the proper list. In fact, she promised to see to it herself. It might be several weeks, but I was sure to get a job eventually. She suggested I check back at the office every few days to see if there were any openings.
    By this time I had applications everywhere. If there was any sort of manual labor available for a woman—janitress, laundress, hospital orderly—I applied for it. Now there was nothing for me to do but wait. I started thinking about going back to Piotrków for a short visit. It made sense. I was paying Mrs. Mokryjowa ten zlotys a night for a place to sleep and had to buy my own food as well. At that rate I would be out of money in a few weeks. In Piotrków I could stay with Mrs. Banasz for nothing and sell some of the things my father left with her to get more money. I would also learn what happened to my family.
    That night I mentioned the idea to Mrs. Mokryjowa, telling her I was thinking of going back home for a few days, and would it be all right if I left my suitcase and most of my clothes with her? I made it clear I didn’t mind at all if she wore any of my sweaters or dresses. Her face brightened up when I said that. We were almost the same size and, while she was a very attractive woman, my clothes were a lot nicer that hers. I knew she was dying to get her hands on my beautiful gray coat with the sealskin collar. She adored it. I once let her borrow it for a date. I knew she would probably have it on two minutes after I left the house. I didn’t mind. She was doing me a favor. I knew she wouldtake care of my things, and if any letters from the Central Labor Office came for me, she would keep them until I returned.
    In truth I didn’t plan to leave for at least a few more days, but the next night the drug salesman showed up, the man whose bed I was renting. Mrs. Mokryjowa apologized profusely—she really didn’t expect him for another week. But now that he was here, I needed another place to sleep. She told me not to worry. The elderly couple who had the apartment in the basement had an empty bed I could rent for the night. I went downstairs, told them Mrs. Mokryjowa had sent me, and, sure enough, they let me stay. By this time I had made up my mind to leave the next morning. Mrs. Mokryjowa would take care of my things and my mail, and when I came back I hoped to have a job and a permanent place to stay. I packed an overnight bag and caught the next train for Piotrków.
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    It was early December 1942, a few weeks before Christmas, when I returned home. I went directly from the train station to Mrs. Banasz’s apartment. This time, though she wouldn’t say it to my face, I could tell from her expression and her conversation that she was