by Rob Currie
“Uh-huh.” They crawled out from under the tree.
“Eat it slowly,” Dirk said.
“Why?”
He guided her toward the street. “It’ll fill you up more if you eat it slowly.”
“Oh.” She nibbled her apple. A few more cyclists passed by on the road. “Where are those people going?”
When Mama died, Els was away at university and Papa was gone, so Dirk had to tell Anna about Mama’s death. Still in shock from finding Mama’s body, he couldn’t remember the words he’d used, but her reaction was etched in his mind.
“No, no, no, no!” she had cried, shaking her head emphatically from side to side. “Mama’s not dead!” She’d pulled away from Dirk and dashed toward their parents’ bedroom. Dirk ran after her and found her standing frozen in the room that was as empty as Dirk’s heart felt. Her body quivered and then convulsed with grief. Dirk turned away, unable to bear the burden of both his sorrow and hers. Then Anna pushed past him and shot up the stairs, shouting, “Mama’s not dead!” before taking refuge in her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
It was true the apple would fill her up more if she ate it slowly, but there was no way he would tell her about the starving people in the cities. Or that we’ll soon be out of food too. When they reached the road, he studied it in both directions.
“Why are we going to Tante Cora’s?”
“She’s Papa’s sister. We need to be with someone we can trust, and she lives a lot closer than Tante Jans.”
“That’s not what I mean. Why did we have to leave our farm?” she asked between bites.
Dirk cleared his throat. How could he explain to a six-year-old about the Gestapo? If he tried now, she would scream, and people would ask questions. The wrong people. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get to Tante Cora’s,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
“Are we going to live with Tante Cora and Oom Steffen?”
“We’ll live there for a while, but Oom Steffen isn’t there anymore. The moffen took him, remember?”
“The moffen?”
“You know, the Nazis.” Dirk sighed. If Anna didn’t know the Dutch called Nazis moffen, what else didn’t she know? The family had tried to shield her as much as possible from the war and the occupation, but things were different now. How could he protect her from the enemy when she knew so little about them? So in addition to keeping a step ahead of the Nazis, getting to Tante Cora’s, and finding Papa, it’d also be Dirk’s job to tell Anna the truth, a little at a time, about the Nazis. Great.
“They took Oom Steffen?” Her face fell.
“He was my favorite uncle too, Anna.” He took her hand. “Hey, do you want to play hide-and-go-seek when we’re at Tante Cora’s?”
“I love playing that at Oma and Opa’s,” she said.
“We can play it at Tante Cora’s too.”
“Uh-huh. I always use the same spot at Oma and Opa’s, and you never find me.”
He smiled. “I guess you’re just a really good hider.”
“Yeah.”
Anna munched her apple and chattered about Tante Cora the whole way to town. As they entered the town, off to the left, in the distance, lay Doorwerth Castle. They couldn’t see it clearly, but that was fine by Dirk. He had enough questions from Anna already without the sight of the castle triggering fearful inquiries about it being haunted, like Franz, the bully in Dirk’s class, had told some of the younger children.
As they walked toward Tante Cora’s neighborhood, Dirk only half listened to what Anna said. Despite it being midmorning, most of the shops were closed and many houses were empty. Their darkened windows looked like the eye sockets of skeleton heads.
Dirk gaped at the abandoned buildings. Where did all the people go?
Anna seemed to read his thoughts. “What if we get to Tante Cora’s, and she’s not there?” she asked.
“She’ll be there.” But what if the Gestapo was there too, waiting for Dirk and Anna after searching their empty house last night?
“Are you sure?” His sister looked up at him.
“Yes,” he said. I hope. “Come on. We’re almost there.”
Across the street and ahead a bit, two soldiers warmed themselves by a barrel fire. One stared at Dirk and Anna, then prodded his partner. Dirk’s pulse sped up, but he tried to act casual as they walked past. They just had to make it around the next corner, and then they could run or hide. A minute later, right after they turned the corner, an engine sputtered and started.
“Run!” He tugged Anna’s arm, and they sprinted up the steps and through the open doorway of an abandoned house. A few seconds later, a motorcycle rumbled by. It didn’t shoot past the house but instead crept by, like the soldiers were looking for something. Or someone. He strained to listen. The motorcycle came back, closer and closer, until it stopped in front of the house where Dirk and Anna hid.
“Hurry!” he said. He glanced over his shoulder as they raced to the rear of the house. As the soldiers approached what used to be a home, Dirk and Anna reached the back door. With a finger to his lips, Dirk tried to quiet his breathing. “Kapitulieren Sie!” a soldier shouted, his rough voice echoing in the empty house. He’s calling out to us to surrender because he thinks we’re here, but he’s not sure.
Anna opened her mouth, but Dirk’s hand shot up and covered it. He shook his head and slid his hand from her mouth. Maybe they’ll leave if they don’t hear or see anything. But the army boots thumped closer.
Dirk tested the doorknob at the back of the house. Locked! He couldn’t see a key or any other way to open it. They were just a few blocks away from Tante Cora’s, and he couldn’t let them be captured now. He dashed to the nearest window and slid it open. He helped Anna crawl through it, then followed her and shut the window again as silently as he could. He motioned for Anna to lie down on the ground next to the house, right under the window. The seconds dragged. Why would soldiers be suspicious of two kids? Did someone tip them off? Finally, the motorcycle started. Dirk sighed with relief.
They waited a few minutes and then scurried down several alleys until they saw a familiar brown house ahead on the right. Dirk ran to the front door, pulling Anna by the hand, and knocked. No response. He flinched when he heard voices coming behind him, but it turned out to be Dutch people riding by on bicycles. He kept an ear cocked for any vehicles coming as he knocked again. What would he do if the soldiers came by? If the soldiers went on patrols, they could be coming up the street any minute.
Finally the door opened. “Dirk! Anna!”
“Tante Cora!”
Dirk pulled Anna into the house without waiting to be invited in, looking over his shoulder at the street.
“What are you two doing here? Are you all right?” Tante Cora hugged Dirk and Anna. A short woman in her late forties, she had more gray than blonde in her hair now, and even with her coat on, she looked much thinner than the last time they had visited her.
“We need help,” Dirk said.
“Oh my. Come in. Come into the kitchen and tell me,” she said.
Dirk and Anna sat at the kitchen table. The house felt only a little warmer than the late-autumn morning outside. Tante Cora stood facing them, rubbing her hands together for warmth.
“Tell me what happened,” she said.
Dirk looked at Anna. It would break her heart to hear the truth, but he had to say it. Tante Cora put a hand on his shoulder. “Did something happen to Els?”
His mouth quivered. “Gestapo,” he got out.
Tante Cora’s mouth dropped open. She reached behind her for a chair and sank into it. “They took her?”
Dirk nodded.
“Oh my, oh my.”
Anna looked at her aunt’s stricken face and burst into tears. “Nooo!” She threw her arms around Dirk, and he hugged her tight. He wanted to say Els would be all right, but how could he?
Tante Cora shook her head a few times. She got up and hugged both of them, brushing away tears.
“A
neighbor said they would come for us next so they could get to Papa,” Dirk said, looking at the floor. He lifted his head. “Do you know where Papa is? He’ll know how to help Els.”
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t heard anything.”
Dirk’s shoulders fell. Anna sobbed in his arms. “I want to go back home,” she said.
“Els told me many times that if anything happened to her, we should come here, Anna. That bullet has already passed through the church.”
“What?” she asked, sniffling.
“It’s an expression that means this thing has already been talked about and decided upon.”
“Oh.”
Tante Cora stroked Anna’s hair. “You’ll be safe here, but I’m almost out of food,” she told Dirk.
“We brought some,” he said, showing her.
“What do you have?”
“Apples, bread, and potatoes.” But how long would this food last for three people?
Tante Cora reached into the bag and pulled out an apple. She turned it over in her hands, held it to her nose, and inhaled. “Ohhh. I haven’t had one of these in months.” She put it back in the bag and rubbed her hands together. “I’ll light a little fire so you can warm up, and I can cook lunch. I’m glad you’re here, but I’m surprised Els told you to come.” She pointed to the pantry. “The Germans cut off our food two months ago.”
“I know,” Dirk said, his attention riveted on the nearly bare shelves. Had he made a mistake by bringing Anna here?
“The food you brought will help,” Tante Cora said, standing up, “and we’ll make the best of things.”
She walked over to a metal tube that rested on the stove. Twice as tall as a drinking glass and as wide as a dinner plate, it had a hole near the bottom to insert little pieces of wood. Tante Cora struck a match and held it to the wood until it caught, then she started to slice a potato into small pieces.
When Anna headed to the bathroom, Dirk stepped closer to his aunt. “Where’s Heinrich?”
Tante Cora stopped cutting. “Somebody stole him.”
“What?! Why would someone steal a dog?”
She set the knife down. “People do desperate things when they’re hungry.”
“Ohhh.” He turned away.
Tante Cora resumed cutting the potato, but more slowly than before. Dirk looked around the kitchen until Anna returned from the bathroom.
“While you’re waiting for the soup to cook, why don’t you two play a game?” Tante Cora said. They walked into the living room, where a Sjoelbak board rested on the large table. Dirk was in no mood for a game, but he played anyway. Maybe it’ll help Anna. They took turns sliding the disks toward targets, and he grunted whenever she made a better shot than he did. Each time it happened, she clapped, jumped up and down, and said, “I’m good at this game!” Tante Cora gave Dirk a knowing smile. Twenty minutes later they returned to the kitchen for lunch.
Dirk should have enjoyed the meal. He was hungry enough, but they had just used two potatoes. At that rate, the food he had brought wouldn’t last the week. How would he take care of Anna when the food ran out?
CHAPTER FIVE
DOORWERTH
THAT AFTERNOON as they sat in the kitchen, Tante Cora said, “Dirk, I want you to dig up the tulip bulbs from our front yard before someone else does.”
“Why?”
She glanced at Anna, who was in the living room, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. “With three mouths to feed, our food will be gone soon, and we need the tulip bulbs to make soup.” She raised her voice. “Anna, you can help me sort clothing scraps. We’ll sew them together so my favorite niece and nephew can have more blankets to keep warm.” She winked. “You could drape one over your shoulders and call yourself a princess.” Anna beamed.
For supper they had apples, bread, and more potato soup. Dirk’s stomach still growled after the meal, but he knew they had to make the food last as long as possible, so he didn’t complain.
That night, Anna shivered under the covers. “I’m cold.”
“Come over by me,” Dirk said. She hesitated, then dashed across the room, crawled under the covers, and nestled next to him. He pulled the blankets up to her chin and adjusted her pillow. Two minutes later, her breathing became slow and regular.
The next morning, Dirk waited in line with a bucket at the soup kitchen, his breath forming clouds in the cold morning air. He kept his free hand in his pocket and stamped his feet. When he received his portion of soup, he studied it. Tiny bits of vegetable swirled in a broth that looked like gray water. Despite his hunger, the soup didn’t smell good, but the steam rising from it warmed his face.
After breakfast, they rested. “We have to save our energy,” Tante Cora said.
“Take the wheelbarrow and saw to the park,” Tante Cora told Dirk after lunch. “Cut down a small tree. Thanks to the Nazis, we have the unholy trinity—the cold, the dark, and the hunger. But tonight we’ll have heat.”
At the park, Dirk stopped in front of a small oak tree. After he sawed for twenty minutes, the tree wavered, the trunk crackled, and it hit the ground with a thump. Despite his tired arms, he didn’t rest. He sawed the trunk into pieces for another half hour and loaded the wood into the wheelbarrow. When he finished, he took a moment to visualize sitting by a fireplace while the wood burned. He held his hands in front of him and warmed them over the imaginary flames.
“Was ist das?” a voice said from behind, but it wasn’t a friendly greeting. It was more like a growl. Dirk jumped. When he turned around, three soldiers were behind him. One pulled a pistol from his holster. “Gib es uns!” he said and nodded at the wood. Dirk stepped back, raised his hands, and stared at the weapon. This can’t be happening to me!
An army truck approached. “Gib es uns!” the man repeated. With the gun still aimed at him, Dirk loaded the wood into their vehicle. He gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything. When the soldiers left, one of them laughed and pointed at him. The moffen weren’t satisfied to steal the food and fuel of the Dutch. They wanted to crush their spirit, too.
Dirk trudged back to the house, his insides feeling as empty as the wheelbarrow he pushed. “It’s not fair,” he said.
Tante Cora put her arm around him. “You’re right, but we’ll figure out another way to scrounge some wood. At least you’re safe.”
Anna entered from an adjoining room. She had a blanket wrapped around her, and her teeth chattered. “Where’s the wood?”
“The Germans took it,” Tante Cora said.
“But you said we’d have a fire tonight.” She hurried to the living room and grabbed another blanket. “Why’s your house so cold?”
Tante Cora bent down and looked Anna in the eye. “After the invasion, when our country surrendered to the Germans, they were very polite and pretended to be our friends. But when Dutch workers went on strike to protest sending Jews away, things changed. That’s when the monkey came out of the sleeve.”
“What monkey?” Anna asked.
“It means the Germans’ true intentions finally showed, and they treated us a lot worse. And a couple of months ago, when the Dutch train workers went on strike to keep the German army from getting where it wanted to go, the Nazis punished us by cutting off food and fuel.”
She adjusted Anna’s blanket so that it covered her head like a makeshift hood.
Anna frowned. “Can’t we make them give us what we need? I’m cold and I’m hungry.”
“Not until the Allies come and kick the Nazis out.”
The next morning in the food line, a man told Dirk he’d heard there would be meat in the soup. When Dirk got his bucket filled, there was a bit of meat floating on the top of the broth—a mouse’s tail. He dumped the soup on the ground.
“You did the right thing,” Tante Cora said when he returned. “But now I need you to go to a farm just outside of town and buy grain.” She grabbed a coin out of her purse. “I can spare only one rijksdaalder, but see how much they will give you.”
“Hurry. We don’t want the farmer to run out of food before you get there.” She gave him a pillowcase, and he headed for the farm.
As he walked out of town, he saw many people going the same direction. Some walked, but most were on bicycles. He had to make up for coming home from the soup kitchen empty-handed. As he got close to the farm, he saw people leaving with full pillowcases or buckets.
When he reached the line for food, more than twenty people stood ahead of him. Was he too late? Uh-oh.
“How much are they charging?” he asked the woman ahead of him.
“Two rijksdaalders,” she said.
Dirk grimaced, reached in his pocket, and fingered his lone coin. His right hand, which touched the rijksdaalder, shook. His mouth got dry. What if he returned home again without any food? How would he explain that to Tante Cora and Anna? By the time he reached the table where a farmer sold the grain, his stomach was twisted in knots. Every person in front of him had paid two rijksdaalders.
“Next,” the farmer said.
Dirk stepped into the barn and handed the man the coin, but his words stuck in his throat. When he managed to speak, his voice cracked. “I only have one rijksdaalder.”
“Only one rijksdaalder? Hmm.” Chatter in the line stopped.
Dirk wrung his hands. “It’s for my aunt and my little sister. Please, sir.”
“Follow me,” the man said with a stern expression, and he walked to a stall. He paused dramatically, filled Dirk’s pillowcase to the top, tied it with string, and burst into a big grin.
“That’s how we treat a young man with only one rijksdaalder.” He tousled Dirk’s hair. “Now go on home and be safe.”
Dirk’s right hand immediately stopped shaking, and he grasped the heavy pillowcase with both hands.
He strode back to town, smiling broadly. If he hadn’t been carrying ten kilos of grain, he might have run the whole way. When he arrived, Tante Cora was sitting at the dining room table sewing rags together. She saw Dirk’s big bag, dropped her needle and thread, and nearly jumped out of her chair to give him a hug.