by Tricia Goyer
He paused and looked up to the starry sky, and Amity knew he was thinking over the details of this master list.
“You do what you said—start that master list—tomorrow. When I return to London, I’ll let everyone at the Home Office know that we will only have to work from one list from now on. Yes, Amity, by God—I think you’re on to something. Or more likely because of God. I think He gave you this idea. It’s nearly the new year, and I have a feeling 1938 will be the last one of freedom that Czechoslovakia can claim for a while.”
SIXTEEN
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Sunday, December 25, 1938
The notice of the money wire from Clark had arrived on the day before Christmas when Amity had been away. When the notice had arrived at the front desk, the clerk of the Hotel Evropa had gone to the bank himself and had tried to talk the bank manager into allowing Amity to come by the bank at nine on Christmas morning to withdraw the money. The hotel clerk had pleaded, stating that he knew she would be using part of the funds to take gifts to the refugee children. Still the bank manager had refused. He, like everyone else, would be spending time with his family.
“Not everyone,” the clerk, Yuri, had protested. “All these families are away from their homes. Some have lost their family members. And what a shame that an American must do for our own refugees what we are not.”
It was that last line, Amity had been told later by the excited Yuri, that had gotten the man’s attention. The manager stated that he did not have the authority to open the bank, but he did something even better. He promised to call all around the city to friends, asking them to sacrifice and provide what they could to the refugees. Amity hadn’t known the night before that many had promised to bring gifts and supplies to the lobby on Christmas morning. And it was this happy scene, with boxes and packages piled all around the hotel lobby, that Amity found after descending the stairway that morning.
Seeing her, Yuri rushed to her with arms open wide. “These are for you! These are for the refugee children!” It was then he told her the story. Amity stood amazed as Yuri handed her the notice, and they watched in gratitude as more families entered with items.
Tears filled her eyes, and she thanked those who’d come out on their Christmas morning to give. Then she rushed to the small office just a few blocks away.
Andrew was sitting in the back room talking to Emil. Their chairs were scooted together, and their heads were nearly touching as they spoke.
“Well, there you are—just the two people I wanted to see. You will never believe what just happened. First, I have money coming in for our work that I can pick up at the bank tomorrow. My employer sent it to me. But more than that, we have deliveries to make—wool for knitting, medical supplies, books for the children, warm clothes. Do you think we can get a driver to take us out to the villages?”
Instead of being excited, the men cast a glance at each other and then looked back at her. With a forced smile, Andrew attempted to join in her joy. It took longer for the tension to ease from Emil’s face.
Amity knew she should ask them what was wrong, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to hear any more bad news.
“Yes, I believe we can call around for a car and driver or taxi,” Andrew finally stated, rising from his place at the table. “Especially if we promise the driver a bonus since it’s Christmas Day.” Emil didn’t move from his chair.
“What’s happening?” she finally dared to ask. “Is something wrong?”
Emil shook his head. “In this world there is always something wrong. There isn’t much right, is there?”
“But something is different. I can see it in your faces.”
Andrew looked to Emil, and another knowing look passed between him. Then he turned back to her. “We were just discussing Christmas, wishing we could do something to help some of the families.” He sighed. “I’m thankful for everyone’s generosity, Amity, but even with what’s been gathered it will only go so far.”
“I know. We can’t do something for everyone, but we can do what we can to help a few,” she said in defense. But even as she said the words, she wondered who. Who, out of everyone, would they pick to receive the gifts?
The men rallied, and their excitement grew over the deliveries they could make that day.
As the two men put on their jackets and scarves, Amity again wondered if she should press to know what they’d been discussing, but in the end she decided not to. Today was Christmas, and the hard truth would come out soon enough. She didn’t want bad news to ruin her day of gift-bearing.
Two hours later, with arms laden with gifts, Amity and her brother walked up the worn steps of what had been a grand staircase of a former private school on the outskirts of Prague, lit by the light of a single oil lamp. A once opulent land, and the seat of the Austro-Hungarian and Holy Roman Empires, the crumbling buildings were evidence of how far things had fallen.
Andrew and Amity had chosen this location to deliver the presents because they’d been there in the last week, and the needs of the people, especially the children, had not left Amity’s mind.
They entered the room with arms laden with gifts, and it was a subdued scene that met them. The large open area, which had been a reception area for a fine school, was set up as a sleeping area on one side and an eating area on the other. Some of the local villagers had provided old mattresses, but most refugees had created beds out of old bedding. Worn tables and benches from the city park had been brought in to be used for meals, which Amity heard happened once a day, twice if they were lucky. Mothers’ and children’s faces turned their direction, and everyone was silent, as if trying to understand what they were seeing.
One young boy, standing within arm’s reach of Andrew, jumped to his feet. He called out something Amity didn’t understand. His mother patted his back, her eyes wide, as if waiting to hear the response.
Emil smiled and answered him, sweeping his arms toward everyone else in the room. Smiles broke out, and Amity stepped closer to Emil, eager to find out what was being said.
Emil turned to Amity and laughed. “He was asking if those gifts were for him…at least one of them.”
Amity smiled and looked down at the boy. Emil continued, “I told him we have something for everyone…even him…even if it is just a small gift.”
The mothers and their little ones were overjoyed to see the gifts. Each one waited patiently while the items were passed out. Everyone was thankful for what was given to them, no matter how small. Amity was pleased to see that the women were most excited about the wool yarn. She imagined them knitting hats and mittens for their children.
They passed out all the items, but before they left, the woman who was overseeing the refugee center pulled Andrew and Amity to the side. Her hair was tied back from her face, and her weariness was clear. One child clung to her leg, and a baby could be heard crying from a nearby mattress. No mother rushed to the child, and Amity guessed that this woman was the only caregiver the child had left.
The woman grabbed Andrew’s arm in desperation. “We have children we need you to take—tonight, if possible.”
Andrew’s brows furrowed. He rubbed his forehead. “What do you mean take?”
“We have no place for them. Some have been abandoned. Some are lost. There are two who need special care. There are some with parents in jail.”
“But we have no room for them and no one to care for them. In fact, I’m heading back to London in just a few days. There are no other places to take them. Can’t you care for them? The best thing we can offer is to—”
“To add them to the list. I have heard that so many times. Just last week I gave you their complete files and photos, but what difference is it making? No one has left. When are these transports going to take place?”
“We are working on that.” Andrew sighed. “Like I said, I’m heading home the day after tomorrow to find more sponsors.”
The woman’s hands were trembling now. Her eyes were fil
led with tears. “I hope you find them soon. I—I’m just not sure how much more we can handle.”
Andrew nodded his acknowledgment, and as he gave one last look around the room, his eyes widened. He sighed. “Why does it seem like every time I come there are more children?”
“Seem to be?” The woman scoffed. “There are more children.”
Emil finished passing out the last of his presents, and with heavy hearts they hurried back to the car. Snow was falling harder now, and it was bitter cold.
“Did you see how their faces lit up?” Amity tried to keep it positive. “I am glad we could give them even a small bit of joy today. I imagine they are all thinking back to how things were last year, though, when they all still had families and homes.”
Emil nodded, but his usually bright smile had been replaced by a sad scowl. “I was talking to one of the workers, and she told me about a diphtheria epidemic in one of the other camps. Four children died. And more are going to die.”
Amity didn’t argue with him. She didn’t remind him of the plan of the new master list. We simply have to keep believing, keep trusting, she told herself.
As they entered the city again, Prague was so beautiful in the snow that the gentle white eased her heart. God had to make a way—He just had to. Surely He wouldn’t have brought these people so far just to abandon them now.
SEVENTEEN
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Monday, January 2, 1939
As expected, Emil loved Amity’s idea, and on Monday they worked together to call all the other relief agencies to tell them about the new master list. They stated that if any of the agencies wanted their children on the master list, they must have the children’s files to them before nine the next morning. Andrew was leaving by plane Tuesday afternoon, and he would be taking with him all the files of those who still needed sponsors.
The first few hours they received no response. With each minute that passed without word, Amity worried. Had she cut off ties rather than unite the groups? Did they trust her? After all, who was she to take the fate of all these children into her hands? Who was she, a mere volunteer, to try to bully these organizations into trying to save lives by her demands?
Yet they did take Amity’s deadline seriously. Throughout the day, representatives from each organization came to her with their lists and files. All the representatives seemed satisfied to see how she was organizing their most urgent cases into one master list. Hope buoyed within them that with Andrew and Amity working together, the transports would soon start in earnest.
With a tearful goodbye, Andrew left by flight back to London Tuesday evening. He left with promises that he’d do everything he could to make the British Home Office work quickly through the master list. And in his luggage were hundreds of photos and details of children who were on his priority list—some files they’d created from the families they’d met and others provided by various organizations.
The week after Andrew left, things progressed quickly. One morning Amity arrived at work to find a young woman who claimed to be a representative of the Swedish Red Cross. With a wide smile and eager exuberance, Märta said she had the authority to arrange the transport of twenty children to Sweden. It didn’t take long for Amity to join in Märta’s excitement.
With Emil by her side, Amity consulted the master list. “Please, Emil, tell me that woman in the front foyer is real. Please tell me that some of our children will really be getting out.”
Emil did one better, wrapping his arms around her in a large hug. “Yes, Amity.” He lifted her off the ground and twirled her in a slow circle. “It is happening. You did it. Just think, instead of living in refugee camps, twenty children will soon find themselves sleeping in real beds and waking up to the faces of their new parents.”
At the mention of new parents, Amity’s heart stung. For the first time she understood even more what these mothers faced. Not only would they have to worry about their children being taken care of in loving ways, they also were heartbroken at being replaced. Having a child’s love seemed like the greatest gift, and now that would be shared with another. Amity’s lower lip trembled. Her great success meant that others would be facing their greatest pain by sending their children away into the arms of another.
With both joy and a touch of sadness, Amity consulted her master list and contacted the various agencies, telling them to have their children ready for transport by the following Monday, January 16. Some agency workers were thrilled like she was, but she didn’t receive the same response from all.
“I have heard of this Red Cross worker,” one man explained with annoyance in his voice. “I have it on good authority that Märta can’t be trusted.”
Amity held the phone receiver tighter to her ear and turned her back to Emil. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s working for the Germans. Maybe they think that you are a fool to believe her, but we are not.”
Anger rose with Amity, and her heart pounded a steady, heavy beat within her hollow chest. Sensing something was wrong, Emil placed a hand on her shoulder, and his fingers felt as cold as ice. Not able to explain to him now—or hold back her anger—Amity quickly brushed off his hand and tried to control her voice as she spoke into the phone. “I’m not sure if Märta is working for the Germans or not. I’m not sure why she’d be undercover for them, rescuing children. But from what I can tell from the information I’ve been given, a transport is going to happen. These children from the master list have been chosen, and they do have sponsors waiting for them. If you do not want your children included, I am willing to cross those children off and move down the list.”
“Please, no.” The man’s tone softened. “If that is the case—if you say the transport will happen—our children will be there.”
Not too many days later, the representative stood beside Amity’s side at the airport. Together they watched as the transport left with twenty children. Märta joined them as they flew away. Joy flooded Amity’s heart, knowing those children were safe. For the time being they were far from Hitler’s grasp. As the airplane disappeared into the gray and blue horizon, Amity said a prayer over each one.
“Still, it was only twenty,” she complained later when she arrived back at the office to check on Emil and the others.
With a frown he grabbed her shoulders. “Only twenty? Do you hear yourself, Amity? Because of your hard work, twenty children now have the chance at life. They have a chance that they wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t come.”
They stood there for a minute, face-to-face, and she allowed the joy of his smile to seep into her heart. Emil was right. With God watching over them, hopefully those children would grow into men and women who would have children of their own.
You are rescuing generations, God spoke in the quiet of her heart.
Please help me save more, she pleaded. Deep down, she knew the hard work had just begun.
In addition to organizing the master list, Amity also worked with Emil, Madeline, and Marek in their continued effort of interviewing families and preparing children’s files.
The days flew by, and as the second date that Amity had given Clark for her return neared, she knew she could not return to London as promised. Although she missed Clark and Celia, and wondered how things were in London, she knew she had to stay. The work was too much for Madeline, even with Marek’s and Emil’s help. Also, Amity was the person the other agency organizers now trusted. She couldn’t risk everything falling apart if she left.
Amity knew she had to write yet another letter to Clark and Celia. But before that, she decided to pay a visit to Mr. Gibson, the passport control officer for the British legation. She wore her best suit and joined him for tea. Yet instead of asking her about the work she was doing—or even about the recent transport—Mr. Gibson chatted on about all the historic sites that might be of interest during her stay. He also carried on about his longing to see friends and family back in England. The whole time he prattled on, Amity w
anted to interrupt their talk.
Don’t you realize how many children are in need just beyond the city gates? Let’s hurry and get down to business, she wanted to say.
When they did finally come around to the worries about refugees, Mr. Gibson was all too happy to keep the responsibility heavy on her shoulders.
“I am glad you are getting some headway with a master list,” he declared, pushing his spectacles farther up on the bridge of his nose. “We are thankful to have you working so hard for this cause, Miss Mitchell. I am not certain what we would have done had you not come.”
Amity left the meeting disappointed, but it was just another confirmation that she was doing the right thing by staying longer. At least the agencies were working together now. It was a step in the right direction. And thankfully her new friends at the British legation trusted her opinion. Even if they weren’t willing to go into the streets and do the hard work themselves, they were now willing to follow her recommendations for the transports. And deep down she understood. The government officials had enough worries about what Hitler was up to next. The fears had increased within Prague. Every person seemed to be walking on pins and needles, waiting for Hitler’s next move.
Just two days prior, Czech foreign minister František Chvalkovský had traveled to Berlin to see Adolf Hitler, who made a series of harsh demands. It was all the radio spoke of. All the people could talk about.
Czechoslovakia was ordered to quit the League of Nations and drastically reduce the size of its military. Hitler was also twisting their arm, instructing them to pass German foreign policy and anti-Semitic legislation within their borders. This was not good news for the Jewish families trapped in the refugee camps. Now was no time to leave her work half done. That would only mean hardship and possible death for those unable to escape the borders.