Yanek’s number, B-3087, represents the erasure of his identity. Yanek receives his number at Birkenau concentration camp (hence the B), and it is tattooed into his skin. From then on, Yanek is identified only by this number. He recognizes that this serves as the loss of not only his name, but the things that make him an individual person. Yanek describes how he is “Not Yanek Gruener who loved books and science and American movies”—instead, he’s merely Prisoner B-3087 to the Nazis. Yanek’s number thus emphasizes how each prisoner is viewed only a Jew, essentially indistinguishable from one another.
But the number represents a loss of individuality on a deeper level. Yanek is hesitant to tell his real name to other prisoners in the camps, because he worries that any connection to another person could catch the attention of the Nazis. He thinks, “I had to be anonymous. I had to be no one, with no name, no personality, and no family or friends to care about.” The number accomplishes this, serving as a means of eradicating not only a person’s identity, but also anything that brings meaning to their lives. The end of the book, by contrast, shows Yanek regaining that identity. When he and the other prisoners are liberated from Dachau by American soldiers, one soldier asks him his name. In tears, Yanek tells him his name, revealing it for the first time in years. This symbolizes his return to his identity and individuality, as his number no longer defines him.
Yanek’s Number Quotes in Prisoner B-3087
That’s what the Nazis carved into my skin. B for Birkenau, 3087 for my prisoner number. That was the mark they put on me, a mark I would have for as long as I lived. B-3087. That was who I was to them. Not Yanek Gruener, son of Oskar and Mina. Not Yanek Gruener of 20 Krakusa Street, Podgórze, Kraków. Not Yanek Gruener who loved books and science and American movies.
I was Prisoner B-3087.
But I was alive.
I fell to my knees and wept. Had I really made it? Had I actually survived the Kraków ghetto and ten different concentration camps? […]
“What’s your name?” he asked me.
“Yanek,” I told him. “My name is Yanek.”
“Everything’s going to be all right now, Yanek,” he told me, and for the first time in six years, I believed he was right.