Hunger Winter

by Rob Currie

He started to speak twice but choked. “Go on,” he finally got out. “I’ll find you when it’s time to eat.” He waved her forward, fighting back tears of his own. As she walked away, he patted his pants pocket and felt the outline of the stone. Then he joined the line to receive his new clothing.

  While he was in line, Dirk talked to the man from the truck. “Where are we?”

  “We’re close to Nijmegen. Maybe sixteen kilometers. I recognized a few landmarks on the way here.”

  Dirk’s heart felt a bit lighter. “My grandparents live in Nijmegen.” He lowered his voice. “That’s where I’ll go if I get out of here.”

  “Not if. When,” the man from the truck said. “My name’s Lars Joosse,” he added.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Joosse. I’m Dirk Ingelse.” They shook hands, but a guard approached, so they stopped talking and walked away from each other.

  As he stood in line, Dirk looked left and right. He retrieved the stone and orange ribbon from his pocket and slipped them into his mouth. When he got to the front of the line, the guard searched all his pockets and patted him down. With the stone under his tongue and the ribbon in his cheek, Dirk stood statue still. I hope he doesn’t ask me to talk.

  The guard took Dirk’s clothes and gave him a uniform—pants and shirt with thin vertical stripes of light and dark gray. The front of the shirt had a red triangle and a five-digit prisoner identification code under it. He walked away and coughed into his hand to get the stone and ribbon out of his mouth. A few moments later, he shoved them into his pocket.

  “Arbeite!” a soldier shouted and pointed Dirk to a work station. He caught a glimpse of Anna in the distance. She still wore her own pants, but her new shirt hung loosely on her small frame, reaching her knees and looking like a dress that was several sizes too large. They didn’t have her size. He got a lump in his throat as she walked away with her head down. Mr. Joosse was right. We will escape.

  By the time Dirk and the other new workers were assigned to their positions, it was nearly one o’clock. A supervisor ordered Dirk to lift ten-kilo boxes of rifle parts and carry them to the head of the assembly line. They got one five-minute break at three o’clock to go to the bathroom.

  Dirk’s arms and back ached after the first hour, but he said nothing. I have to find a way out. He looked around at the layout of the factory and the positioning of the guards. When they wrestled, Papa always said, “Study your opponent. Find a weakness.” Dirk clenched his jaw. I will, Papa.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AT SIX O’CLOCK, the guards sent the workers to the lunchroom for ten minutes. Dirk looked for Mr. Joosse, but his table was full, so Dirk and Anna took seats near the door. Half of the overhead lights didn’t work in the dingy room filled with ramshackle tables and chairs. As Dirk sat with Anna, guards gave each worker two hard biscuits and a small glass of water.

  Dirk stared at the food. It’s even less than at Tante Cora’s.

  “I want Els and Papa.”

  “Shh. You have to be quiet,” Dirk said. “We’re not supposed to talk.” He took a bite.

  Anna nodded. Then she stood and put her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Ask the Germans where they took Els.”

  “Sit down, and don’t put your mouth to my ear. Turn your head a little toward me when you whisper. I’ll hear you, and it won’t be so obvious. And we can’t ask the Germans where they took Els.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t want them to know who we are. So don’t ask them.”

  “Why?”

  Dirk shook his head. “They’re the enemy, and now that Els is gone, I’m in charge of you,” he said sternly. He held her gaze, hoping she was taking his warning seriously.

  A guard walked toward them. Dirk tilted his head slightly in the direction of the guard, hoping Anna picked up on the silent warning so he wouldn’t have to shush her with the guard so close. By the time the man walked past them, they had both finished their meager rations.

  Anna picked up the few biscuit crumbs remaining from her meal and popped them in her mouth. She stared at the spot on the table where the crumbs had been. “I’m still hungry, Dirk,” she said.

  “I know, I know.” He looked for the guard and then quickly patted her on the back. “I’m hungry too. But I’ll get us out of here,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “We have to be strong. Can you do that until I figure out a way to escape?”

  “I guess.” A tear slid down her cheek. She turned her hands palms up, revealing large blisters. “It hurts,” she whimpered.

  Dirk grimaced. “Yes, it hurts, Anna.” I hate the Nazis. He pounded his fists into his thighs.

  “Your hands will get tough, and then they won’t hurt so much.” He turned his head away so she wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

  A loud bell rang. Workers trudged back to their stations.

  “Don’t forget,” a quiet male voice behind Dirk said.

  Dirk snapped his head around to see Mr. Joosse.

  “Don’t forget. You will escape.” He left for his work station.

  When the dismissal bell rang at nine o’clock, exhausted laborers shuffled to a nearby empty warehouse.

  The low-ceiling cinder block structure was three times the size of the Ingelses’ barn on the farm. Each worker received one small blanket, just big enough to cover two-thirds of Dirk’s body. All around them, the workers, weak with fatigue, staggered into the warehouse and collapsed into sleep. Dirk was as tired as any of them, but before surrendering to sleep, he scanned the building with wary eyes. He noted the only door to the building, guarded by two soldiers, and the small windows four meters above the floor.

  He put his arm around Anna’s shoulder. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

  “You should ask God to help us,” she told him. “That’s what Mama and Papa would do.”

  It’s hard to believe in that with everything that’s happened. He fidgeted with a button on his shirt. “I have something to show you,” he said. He reached in his pants pocket and pulled out the orange ribbon.

  Anna’s tired face brightened. “My ribbon from Papa!” she said, reaching for it. “The one he sent us to let us know that he still—”

  “Shh. Not so loud.” But it felt good to see her happy. “I have the stone he sent me too.” He tapped his pocket.

  “Can I sleep with the ribbon?”

  “Sure. But cover it with your hands so the guards won’t see it.”

  “Why?”

  “Papa sent you an orange ribbon because the Dutch royal family is the House of Orange,” Dirk said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The orange ribbon shows you’re loyal to the Netherlands, not Germany.” He paused. “The soldiers will be really mad if they see it.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But I’m still hungry.” She’d grown thinner since leaving the farm. Everything was thinner—her arms and legs. Even her face was thinner.

  Compassion washed over Dirk like a big wave from the North Atlantic. Anna looked up at him with her big blue eyes. If only he had something to give her to eat. Anything at all.

  He adjusted her blanket. “Close your eyes, Anna, and I’ll tell you a story about Princess Anna and the petticoats.”

  “Make her play hide-and-go-seek, and nobody knows where she hides.”

  “All right,” Dirk said.

  Anna held Papa’s ribbon tightly against her cheek and closed her eyes. By the time Dirk was one minute into the story, she’d fallen asleep. He scanned the room and noted that the guards were still by the door. He kept his eyes on them as he reached into his pocket, pulled out the stone, and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. This stone and Anna are all I have left from Mama and Papa.

  For the next few days, the long hours of work dragged on for Dirk. One day he and Mr. Joosse carried boxes to the other end of the factory. In a low tone Mr. Joosse said, “We’ll find a way out of here.”

  “How?” Dirk asked.

  “I don’t know. But I
’ve been in worse situations. When the Germans bombed Rotterdam, there were flames everywhere. I escaped being burned alive by jumping into the river. After the bombing, the city burned for three days.” He looked Dirk in the eye. “We will escape. Keep telling yourself that.”

  “I will, but I’m worried about my sister. Every day she’s a little thinner, and I’m getting weaker too,” Dirk said.

  “I know,” Mr. Joosse said. “But we will get out of here.”

  Though Dirk and Anna worked in different areas, they ate together, and they slept next to each other every night. Five days after they were brought to the gun factory, the sergeant limped up to Dirk when the workers were lined up for morning roll call. “I have wonderful news,” he said, flashing his hungry shark smile again. “My friend has decided to adopt your sister. First thing tomorrow morning I will put her on a train to Germany. She’ll have a family again.”

  Dirk scowled. “She has a family now. I’m her family!”

  Mr. Joosse was standing next to Dirk. He glared at the sergeant. “There will be a war crimes trial after Germany loses the war,” he said.

  The sergeant smirked. “But we are winning the war.”

  “If you’re winning, why are the only planes we see overhead Allied bombers and fighters on their way to crush your war factories?”

  “I don’t have to listen to you.”

  “Apparently you don’t have to listen to your conscience either, since you’re sending a little girl away from the only family she has left.”

  “Is this true?” the sergeant said to Dirk.

  He nodded.

  “Well then, it is for her good that she will go to a bigger family. A better one.”

  Raising his voice, Mr. Joosse said, “Only a weak man would try to show his strength by picking on a little girl.”

  The sergeant shook his head. “Your words don’t threaten me at all, but I find you dull. Guard! Take this man to solitary confinement as punishment for boring me.”

  As the guard led Mr. Joosse away, the sergeant turned to Dirk. “I could lock you up too, but I won’t. Instead I will allow you to have the privilege of telling your sister the good news.”

  Dirk held the sergeant’s cold gaze. “You can’t take her! She’s my sister.”

  The man poked Dirk’s chest with his index finger. “A young boy is in no position to tell an officer of the Wehrmacht what he cannot do.” He turned and walked away.

  Dirk had to figure out a way to escape right away, and now he couldn’t even ask Mr. Joosse for advice. What could he do? Despite what Mr. Joosse had kept saying, it seemed to Dirk like there was no way to get out.

  A memory flashed. He and Papa had been in the barn. After they’d finished chores, they’d wrestled for a few minutes. The last thing Papa said to him that time was about avoiding getting pinned in wrestling. He’d looked Dirk in the eye and put his hands on Dirk’s shoulders as he said, “Never give up. Your opponent may get overconfident or careless. Keep trying.”

  I will, Papa.

  That night, when he met Anna in the warehouse, Dirk steered her to a wall. She stumbled with fatigue as she walked, so he scooped her up in his arms. He winced as he put his arms around her skinny body. They’re starving her! It was one more reason they had to find a way out.

  “Let’s sleep here,” he said. He looked around the large room, then leaned close to Anna and whispered, “We have to escape tonight. You sleep. In a little while, I’ll wake you up, and we’ll get out of here.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want Oma and Opa,” Anna said as she lay down on the floor.

  “I know,” he said. He tucked her blanket around her shoulders. “I’ll get us out of here and figure out a way to go to their house. It’s not that far.”

  “Can I have my ribbon?”

  “Sure.” He fished it out of his pocket but held it out of her reach. “Promise me you’ll run when I tell you to?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. She clasped the ribbon with both hands and pulled it to her face. “I’m hungry, Dirk.”

  How many times had she said that to him? But he had no good response to give her.

  “Uh . . . Pull your legs up and scrunch them against your stomach, like I’m doing, so your belly won’t feel so empty.” He lifted his legs to his midsection and held them there with his arms.

  “Will that help?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said, avoiding eye contact, “but it may take five or ten minutes before you feel the difference.”

  He put her head in his lap, spread her blanket over her, and started the Princess Anna story. “You don’t tell it as good as Tante Cora,” she said.

  “You miss her, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh. Give Princess Anna a pony,” she said. “A talking pony, and the pony only talks to the princess.”

  “Once upon a time there was a princess named Anna.” She closed her eyes. “One day the king gave her a beautiful pony, for her birthday.”

  “Don’t forget, it’s a talking pony,” she said with a big yawn.

  “And as soon as the princess and the pony were alone, it talked to her.”

  Anna smiled. Soon her smile faded and her breathing slowed.

  “And that night Anna and her brother rode the pony away from the Germans,” Dirk added in a whisper.

  Two guards stood by the warehouse exit. If he waited, maybe they would get sleepy. Leaning against the wall, he dozed off several times. He pinched himself and shook his head. In the dark, it was hard to tell, but a guard seemed to stare at him.

  They would be suspicious of anyone who was awake. The best way to fool them was to look asleep. Not only that, but Dirk and Anna could be walking all night, and a little rest now would do them good. Dirk relaxed and let his chin drop to his chest. He could open his eyes, but what if the guard was watching? He might as well give the guards a chance to get sleepy. Just a few more minutes.

  CHAPTER NINE

  NOVEMBER 22

  A PIERCING ALARM shattered the silence as morning rays entered the warehouse windows. Dirk winced at the noise, rubbed his eyes, and stretched his arms and legs to get rid of the stiffness from sleeping on the hard floor.

  Then with a jolt, he sat up. No! I fell asleep!

  The sound he was hearing was an air-raid siren! The factory was under attack! If they somehow survived, the Germans would send Anna away.

  “Dirk!” Anna wailed. He pulled her close, snatched her orange ribbon off the ground, and stuffed it into his pocket. Workers huddled in corners of the building, trying to shield themselves from the coming attack. But that wouldn’t help if the whole building got destroyed. There was no sign of the guards. Dirk shuddered and stood.

  An explosion outside their building shook the ground, and he almost lost his balance. Anna clung to him, her nails digging into his skin.

  Boom! “Agh!” they cried out and clutched their ears. Jagged beams and shingles fell from the roof on the other side of the building and landed on the floor with a loud whump.

  “What do we do?” Anna cried.

  “We’re getting out of here. Run!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. The guards have taken cover. Go!”

  “But what about the bombs?”

  “There’s no bomb shelter for us workers. They don’t care what happens to us. If we die in the attack, they’ll just grab more workers.”

  Some of Papa’s words sliced through the chaos: “Sometimes you have to take a chance, because it’s the only chance you have.” He had said that more times than Dirk could remember.

  “Come on!” He grabbed Anna’s hand. Moments later, they were outside the building. Another bomb exploded, and they stumbled.

  Dirk and Anna flinched at the sudden blast of a truck exploding. Red and orange flames from the vehicle shot three meters high.

  A bomb had blasted a big hole in the fence, and Dirk veered toward the opening. But after they ran through the gap, he skidded to a st
op. He stared at the sign between them and the road—Achtung! Minenfeld.

  “Why did you stop?” Anna asked.

  “We’ll get blown up if we walk through that minefield.” He looked left and right. “But there has to be a way of getting through.” He had to find a way out quickly, or they would be recaptured after the attack ended. Why isn’t God helping us?

  He bent over and stared at the ground in front of him. A series of footprints zigzagged through the dirt all the way to the other side of the minefield.

  “That’s it,” he said.

  “What?” Lines of fear creased Anna’s forehead.

  “There’s a path through the minefield. See?” He pointed. “Let’s go!”

  Her lower lip quivered. “I’m scared! What if I step in the wrong spot?”

  “Follow me,” he said. He took her hand and carefully placed his feet in the footprints. “Step where I step, Anna.”

  A few moments later, he stopped suddenly. Anna bumped him from behind and nearly knocked him over. “Be careful!” he said.

  Dirk kneeled and squinted at the ground. Where is the path? He could see the footprints a couple of meters ahead, but just in front of him they had been smudged so they were unrecognizable.

  Another blast echoed behind them. We’ve got to keep going. Dirk lifted his foot to continue.

  Just then the sun burst through an opening in the clouds. The sudden brightness revealed a portion of metal that poked out of the dirt less than a meter in front of Dirk. That could only be one thing. He swallowed hard as he stared at the place where he had almost put his foot.

  “This way,” he said and headed toward the place where the footprints clearly showed. He released Anna’s hand and motioned her to stay a little farther behind him, just in case. But they both had to make it through. What if something happened to him—how would Anna escape on her own? Dirk advanced slowly, placing one foot barely in front of the other, hardly daring to breathe. Finally he reached the place where he could see clear footprints. He resumed his pace and turned each time the prints did, all the way to the road.

  “We made it!” he exclaimed. “Come over this way.” He motioned toward the weeds and bushes along the side of the road. “They’ll see us if we keep walking on the road. We have to run.”