“We are Americans,” he said. “The war is over. Hitler surrendered last week. Come on, get in. We’ll take you to a refugee camp with a hospital where you can get yourself some food and medical care.”
Shlomie turned to Zofia. She told him what the man had said. He began to cry. She patted his arm, stunned. The Americans had arrived!
The American extended his hand to help Zofia up into the truck, then again to Shlomie.
As the vehicle rocked along the dirt road, Zofia thought of Isaac. She would have given her own life to have him sitting in the back of this army truck, safe and alive. They drove past the forest and the farms where she had spent the last several years of her life. It all seemed like a dream. She folded her hands together in her lap and squeezed, trying to grasp the reality of it.
“Where are we, what country are we in?” Zofia asked. They’d walked so far and for so many months.
“You’re in Germany. In a few minutes we’ll be entering Berlin,” one of the soldiers answered. She turned to Shlomie and gave him the news. “Don’t worry. I will translate everything for you.”
“I am lucky to have learned English. It will make things much easier when dealing with the Americans,” she said to Shlomie. “Don’t worry
As they drove through Berlin they were surrounded by bombed-out buildings. Russian troops filled the streets, as well as American and British troops.
They arrived at a large makeshift camp. A few Red Cross trucks sat parked, surrounding a tented area. Nurses in white uniforms scurried about, carrying food and medicine. Men and women in concentration camp uniforms wandered aimlessly or sat against the walls of the buildings. Even though the camp had been liberated and the prisoners set free, many of the survivors had no place to go, no families, no friends, no homes. The Red Cross set up hospitals for the sick or injured inside what once was the Nazi officers’ quarters, but there were so many people in dire need that caring for all of them was a constant struggle, and many waited in line for help. Zofia looked around. She saw a group of men, dirty and half-naked, sitting against a building, with their rib cages so pronounced that they protruded from their bodies. Their arms and legs were so skinny that they were the size of a normal wrist. Dead bodies lay in corners, covered with masses of flies, their numbers increasing daily. The stench of death, urine and feces hung like a cloud of misery over the area.
At the front of the tent stood a folding table with two chairs occupied by two volunteers, one was a survivor, the other a Red Cross worker. A long line of people waiting for help had circled around the tent. The American soldier who had brought Shlomie and Zofia to the camp pointed to the line of people.
“You ought to get into that line right there. That’s where you gotta go to find out if any of your family have come in and registered at this camp. They have a list of folks come lookin’ for their families. Maybe someone you know came through here already.” The well-fed American looked at Zofia with compassion.
Zofia’s heart leapt. Could Isaac be on that list? Was it possible he might be alive and searching for her? Oh, dear God, anything could be possible.
“You might want to get something to eat first. The line looks pretty damn long,” the soldier said. Zofia saw the sympathy in his eyes. She knew she was dirty and painfully thin.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much for bringing us here, to this camp.”
Shlomie nodded. “Yes, thank you.” He knew that much English.
“We’ve seen some terrible things comin’ over here to Europe, the likes of which I ain’t never seen before in my life.” One of the other soldiers with a slight twang to his voice said. “We liberated one of them concentration camps. Was the first ones in after the Nazi’s tucked their tails between their legs and ran. Well, I’ll tell you, I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it. If I live for a hundred years, them horrible sights will stay in my mind.” He shook his head and looked as if he might vomit.
The other soldier jumped off the truck and lifted Zofia by the waist, then put her down on the ground. He helped Shlomie off the truck.
“There’s food right over there,” he indicated with his hand.
“Thank you again,” Zofia said.
The soldier nodded, got back into the truck, and the truck pulled away.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Shlomie said
“I can’t eat. I have to get into the line first to see if Isaac has been here. Maybe he has put his name on the list.”
“You can do it afterwards.”
“No, you go ahead. I have to do it now.”
“How about if I bring you something and you can eat while you wait in line?” Shlomie said.
“Oh yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you, Shlomie.”
“I’ll go and get in line for food. You get in line over here. As soon as I get something to eat, I’ll find you and bring it to you.”
Hours passed. Zofia stood in line. It seemed as if there might be a million lost and frantic people in search of loved ones, hoping that somehow, someone they knew had survived. Refugees continued to pour into the camp every hour, it seemed. And the lines continued to grow. The smell of unwashed bodies and perspiration mingled with the smell of desperation, as people cried out in anguish when they learned that their loved ones had not registered, or worse, were listed as dead.
It took Shlomie over three hours to return with a hunk of bread and a bowl of soup for Zofia. She ate it while they stood in line, Shlomie beside her, the two of them waiting to find out if there had been any news of Isaac. The lists grew constantly: one list of those who’d been displaced, and the other a list of the murdered. Because of the ever-growing crowds, it was hard to maintain organization. So, many people returned to the line day after day, in case a loved one had been found since the last time they’d checked.
Finally, it was almost eight that evening when Zofia came to the front of the line and stood before the two women who’d been working all day looking up names. She could see that they were weary, ready to retire for the night. This made her doubt how thoroughly they would check the endless lists of papers.
“Who are you looking for?” the woman asked.
“Zuckerman, Isaac. Isaac Zuckerman,” Zofia’s voice cracked.
“Let’s see what we have.”
“Please, may I look too?” Zofia asked
“Sure,” the woman said, her accent clearly American. She handed Zofia a pile of papers.
Zofia scanned the lists of names. For the most part, they were written in English making them difficult for her to read. Still, she had to try. And sadly, she recognized the word ‘deceased’ even in English, written over and over again next to most of the names.
“I’m sorry I don’t see any Isaac Zuckerman. But you can feel free to check back tomorrow.”
Zofia nodded, defeated. She turned to walk away. Then she got an idea.
“Missus?” Zofia said.
“Yes,” the American volunteer answered.
“Can I help you here at this desk? I can read in Polish, and also a little bit of English. Perhaps, I can help with the language when you have Polish refugees come through this line,” Zofia said.
“We are not paid.”
“That’s all right. I want to help. And who knows? My, Isaac may come through here to register.”
“Yes, it’s very possible that he might. If you want to help, you are welcome to. We are closing this booth for the night in a few minutes. But come in the morning, if you would like. We could certainly use the extra manpower. I warn you, though. It’s demanding and heartbreaking work.”
“I’ll be here,” Zofia said.
And she was.
Chapter 78
Zofia worked tirelessly. She put her heart and soul into helping, with a determination and understanding for the survivors that the Americans and the British could not match. They tried, but they could not really comprehend the horrors forced upon these people. Zofia knew them firsthand.
She rose
early to begin her work, and did not rest until well after sundown. She ate at the registration table, not leaving to take a break. This gave her purpose and more importantly, it gave her hope. She planned to continue volunteering, but first she must find a ride to Warsaw. It was time to go to Eidel.
“Please,” Zofia said to the young nurse, Marion, who worked with the Red Cross, and who’d been kind and befriended her. “If you know of anyone who is going to Warsaw, I must go there. Not to stay, but to see someone.”
“Oh honey, I doubt anyone you knew is still in Warsaw. I’m so sorry to have to tell you that.”
“No you are wrong, she is there. It is my daughter. She was living as a gentile with a Gentile family. They were protecting her, caring for her, God bless them, until I could return.”
“Hmmm, that does make a difference. She just might be there in Warsaw. Let me see if any of the fellas are going that way. If they are you could go along with them.”
“I would like to find Eidel, and then bring her back here with me. I want to stay here at the camp and do what I can to help others find their lost loved ones, for a while anyway, until all of this is settled. And maybe, with God’s help, my Isaac will show up.”
The nurse nodded. The humanity Zofia saw in Marion’s eyes made her look away. It was hard to face such kindness without tears.
“Very well, give me a day or two and I’ll find you a soldier headed that way. And we’ll see if we can’t get you a ride back here with your daughter when you’re all done in Warsaw.” Marion smiled and winked. Then she walked away.
“Next,” Zofia said aloud. She was speaking to the people waiting in line. A boy of fifteen, covered in filth, wearing a ragged, torn, striped uniform walked forward.
“Please, ma’am,” he said in broken English “I look for my parents. Their names are Gretchen and Hymie Mikelsky. Also, you can please add my name to the list of people searching for their families. My name is Yankel Mikelsky.” Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. “You can help, please?”
“You speak Polish?” Zofia asked in Polish.
“Yes,” he answered. “I am good for speaking Polish. I am born in Lodz.”
Zofia nodded, answering in Polish. “I’ll do what I can. Let me check the lists.” She began to scan for The Mikelskys.
Chapter 79
The following week Marion, the nurse, with her pressed white uniform, blonde finger-waves, and perky little hat approached Zofia as she sat at her table. “I’ve got great news. Two of the fellas are going to Warsaw next week. They’ll be there for the day, and then they’ll be heading right back here. That would be a perfect opportunity for you to go and get your little girl.” Marion had a pretty smile, with perfect white teeth. Her eyes twinkled like stars.
“Oh, that’s wonderful news, Missus Marion. I am so happy. I will finally see my Eidel. I cannot thank you enough for arranging this for me,” Zofia said in her broken English
“Would you like to bring your boyfriend along with you?”
“My boyfriend?” Zofia looked at her confused. “Oh, you mean Shlomie. He is not my boyfriend, just a very good friend. But, yes, if it is possible, I would like him to accompany me. And thank you so much. It is so kind of you to do all of this for me.”
“I’ll arrange everything for you. Zofia, you have been such a help to us that this is the least I can do. They are going on Thursday.”
“Just tell me where I should go to find these men, and what I should do, and I will be there on Thursday,” Zofia said.
“I’ll get you all the info.” The young American nurse squeezed Zofia’s shoulder. “I wish you the best in finding your little girl. And I’m glad that I can be of a little assistance, anyway.”
“Oh, yes, you are a great help.”
Zofia’s heart leapt with anticipation. It was difficult for her to concentrate. All she could think of was Eidel. She’d waited for so long, and through so much. She’d dreamed, hoped, and prayed for her child. Now, within days Eidel would be in her arms. She asked one of the other volunteers to watch the desk for a few minutes. Zofia had told someone, someone who knew her, someone who would understand. She ran to find Shlomie.
He sat under a tree reading, a book. Before she approached him, she watched from across the path, smiling at how peaceful he looked. Of course, she knew his inner demons continued to haunt him, and probably would forever, as her own demons would walk with her for the rest of her life. It was part of surviving this, a part every survivor would have to learn to accept. Shlomie missed his loved ones, and told her as much. Worse, although they only discussed it briefly, both of them felt tremendous guilt at having survived while so many others had perished.
“Shlomie!” Zofia called out. He looked up from his book and smiled. “I have to talk to you.”
“Yes, of course. Please come and sit down.” He patted the ground
She sat beside him.
“One of the American nurses has arranged for me to go to Warsaw next week to find Eidel and bring her back here. Would you be willing to go with me?”
He took her hand in his. “Of course I will go with you Zofia. I wouldn’t let you do this alone.” His eyes showed genuine concern.
“What is it, Shlomie? Why do you look so troubled all of a sudden?”
“Zofia, I don’t think you have given this meeting with Eidel a great deal of thought.”
“I have, I have thought of it every minute of every day. Eidel has kept me alive…” Her voice cracked.
He squeezed her hand then patted it. “Yes, I know that. But, Zofia…you realize that when you last saw her, Eidel was just a baby. She isn’t going to know you. It will be hard for her to just get up and leave her family, the family she has come to know and love, and go with you. Zofia, to Eidel you are a stranger.”
Zofia stared out in front of her. Shlomie was right. How could she not have realized this? What was she thinking? She would rather die than hurt Eidel. Yet, that was just what she was about to do. Still, how could she not go back and see Helen and Eidel, see how Eidel reacted. Maybe, just maybe, Shlomie was wrong. Not to try to find to her child was unthinkable. She must go, she must see. Maybe Eidel had been a burden on Helen’s family, and Helen might be glad that Zofia had finally come to claim her. But what if Helen was attached to the child? Zofia’s presence would serve to break up a family. Would it be better for Eidel if she grew up with Helen and her husband? Was it better if Eidel never knew her mother? If she did not return, Helen would assume she had died, and their lives would go on. But, what if, Helen was only hanging on and waiting for Zofia’s return? What if she’d told Eidel about her mother? Zofia was filled with questions without answers.
“Oh, Shlomie, what am I going to do? I don’t know what to do…”
“Give it some serious thought. If you decide to go to Warsaw, I will be there at your side to help you.”
“I must go, Shlomie, I must know how Eidel is doing. I must know if she is alive, if Helen is alive. When I get there, and I see things for myself, I will know better what to do.”
Zofia was silent the entire ride to Warsaw. She sat in the back of the open army truck beside Shlomie, her slender shoulders hunched in worry. He held her hand as they moved along with the rhythm of the bumpy road.
“We’ll meet ya’ll back here in four hours. Now don’t you be late ‘cause we got to be getting back, and we just won’t have time to wait for you,” An American soldier with gold stripes on his shoulder told them.
“Yes, thank you. We will be here on time,” Zofia said. Zofia and Shlomie, both silent, began to walk down the old streets so familiar to Zofia. The streets she’d taken to school, strolling beside Lena, young, carefree, and giggling… The same roads she’d meandered along with Fruma and Gitel, talking as they pushed Eidel in her buggy to the park. Zofia felt a chill run down her spine as she passed the old bakery where Isaac’s mother had once sold her bread and hamantaschen. So long ago, so many ghosts… Now the bakery was a general store owned by a
man with a Gentile name. Zofia sighed. Isaac, my love, and my friend, how I miss you, how I wish you were beside me. Zofia let out a small cry of pain, then she looked at Shlomie. “Ever since that man, Karl, took Eidel out of the ghetto and to Helen’s house in the middle of the night, a day did not go by when I did not think of her. Sometimes, I wanted to die, I wanted to kill myself and end the misery, but I thought, ‘My Eidel needs me,’ and so I fought back the urge to give up. And now, that this is all done and over, I can’t believe how afraid I am to see her. How afraid I am of what lies ahead.”
Shlomie said nothing. He nodded and squeezed Zofia’s arm.
The apartment building where Helen lived seemed exactly as Zofia remembered it. Somehow, it had gone through the war untouched. Except for a subtle difference, a small change that no one would notice, unless of course they were looking for it as Zofia was. As her eyes scanned the bells and mailboxes inside the door, Zofia saw there were no Jewish names of occupants. It was as if Jews had never lived in Poland at all.
They stood in the lobby. Helen would have to press the buzzer to let them into the entrance of the building.
Zofia could hardly steady her finger to ring the bell under the name “Dobinski.” Her hand was trembling so hard that she needed to use her other hand to hold it firm enough. She pressed the small gray button.
“Yes…” It was Helen’s voice, a voice so far away so far in the past that Zofia felt her heart pounding in her ears.
“Helen.”
“This is Helen.”
“Helen,” her voice croaked, barely a whisper. “Helen, it’s Zofia.”
There was a long hesitation. Then the buzzer rang and Shlomie pulled the door to the apartment building open. Zofia could not breathe deeply; she could only inhale shallow breaths. It was as if her lungs had shrunk and would not allow the intake. Her legs felt like jelly. She was afraid they might collapse beneath her. She was only a few steps away from Eidel. After all this time, after all she’d endured. It she was still alive… God, please let her be alive.... Eidel was here, right here in this building.
You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Book 2) Page 34