The Young Survivors

by Debra Barnes

  ****

  ‘For goodness sake!’ said Maman, sucking her finger where she had stabbed it with a sewing needle. Claude and I had arrived home from school and found her sitting under the cherry tree with Bubbe. Our sisters were playing with their rag doll Bernadette, handed down by a cousin. They shared everything, and I had never seen them fight with each other, unlike Claude and me – we loved a good spat! It was a warm and sunny afternoon in June, yet the mood seemed dark. Maman had her sewing kit next to her, at least what little was left of the buttons, needles and threads after darning and altering our clothes since we had first arrived in Sarry. She was working on some yellow patches and appeared to be having trouble with them.

  When Maman saw us arrive she seemed to brighten a bit. ‘Hello, boys. How was school?’

  Claude gave our mother a hug and kiss, as he always did. ‘Madame Noyer said my reading is getting good, but I need to practise more at home if I can. She told me I can take home books from school if we don’t have anything for me to read.’

  ‘You’re very lucky to have such a nice teacher. Next time I get the ingredients I shall bake some biscuits for you to take her,’ said Maman, although she had not been able to get any sugar or butter for ages now.

  ‘What are you sewing?’ asked Claude.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ said Maman with a strained smile. ‘We have to wear one of these silly things on our clothes. Right here, over our heart,’ and she placed her hand on her chest.

  ‘Ha! No one is going to tell me what to wear!’ announced Bubbe.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Claude.

  ‘It’s a Star of David,’ Maman said as she held up one of the yellow patches for us to see. Her hands trembled.

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘You tell me. You’re the one doing well with your reading!’

  ‘OK. J-U-I-F. Juif. Jew? Why do we have to wear that?’

  ‘You know what, these days it is better not to ask why. This is the law now and if we do what we are told then we will be fine. If the Germans want us to wear a yellow star on our clothes, then we will. What harm can it do us? Now, hand me your jackets please so I can sew on these stars. I have a lot to do. Thank goodness I don’t have to worry about your sisters’ clothes too.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s only the law for adults and children over six years old.’

  ‘Not fair!’ exclaimed Claude.

  ‘No indeed,’ agreed Maman. ‘It really is not fair at all.’

  The next day, Claude and I went to school with a yellow star on our jacket pockets, as did the other Jewish children. Madame Noyer called us into class.

  ‘Good morning, children.’

  ‘Good morning, Madame,’ we all chorused.

  ‘This yellow star has no place in my classroom and I won’t allow it to be worn here. I suggest all of you take off your jackets – yellow star or no yellow star – and put them under your desks next to your gas masks.’

  We did as we were told.

  ‘Be careful not to put your dirty boots on your jackets or I will have your mothers coming to see me! In my classroom all my students are treated the same. Religion does not make a difference to your schoolwork and therefore I do not need to see any stars other than the stars I put in your workbooks for excellent writing! And that is the end of the subject.’

  When it was time to go home, I put my jacket back on, but, before leaving the classroom, Madame Noyer called me up to her desk.

  ‘Samuel, I suggest you throw that yellow rag away.’

  ‘But Madame, Maman only sewed it on yesterday and it made her quite angry to do so. I don’t want to upset her by removing it; she might need to sew it on again.’

  ‘Very well. We do not want to upset your mother but if you leave it on please make sure you take your jacket off before you come into my classroom. I shall tell the same to all the children.’

  ‘Yes, Madame. I don’t care about wearing it anyway. We all know who is Jewish and who isn’t, but we’re no different.’

  ‘That’s right, Samuel. You may leave now and please send my regards to your mother.’

  Samuel

  Sarry

  July 1942

  When school finished for the summer, Claude and I were sad to say goodbye to our wonderful teacher. The school in Sarry was to close, so Claude and I would go instead to school in nearby Cerneux, where I would graduate to high school. I hoped my new teacher would be as kind. Meanwhile, I looked forward to the long summer break.

  It turned out to be a pretty hot summer after what had been a freezing winter. On one particular day the temperature hardly dropped at all after the sun went down. Supper was the usual cabbage soup with a few carrots and potatoes and the added treat of a tiny piece of chicken mince which Maman had queued for hours to buy. She paid for it with one of her few remaining pieces of jewellery; money was practically worthless now. I promised Maman I would buy her new jewellery when I was older. After supper the twins went to sleep while my brothers and I played a card game. Maman read a book she had borrowed from a friend and Papa sat looking at an old newspaper which had been passed on by a neighbour.

  We missed our radio terribly. We had been forced to turn it in to the Germans a few months earlier. Signs had been posted outside the ticket office of the railway station announcing that all radio sets were to be handed in to the authorities and threatened severe punishment for anyone who didn’t follow the order. Papa had suggested hiding ours so we could listen to it in secret.

  ‘But, Albert, why risk our safety because of a radio? It’s not worth it. Please just get rid of it. We’ll still have each other, and that is all that matters.’ And, as usual, Papa did as Maman asked.

  It was hot indoors, but our house was so isolated we felt safe keeping the windows open, so there was at least a slight breeze.

  Claude and I were playing the best game of hide and seek. I found a little cupboard to hide in and he had been looking for me for so long that I was beginning to get bored. Then someone started banging on the cupboard door and I heard shouting. I woke up and realised it was the middle of the night and I had been asleep. I was in bed and the game of hide and seek had been nothing more than a dream… but the banging continued as did the shouting.

  ‘Öffne die tür!’ ‘Open the door!’

  Papa was out of bed.

  ‘Stay here,’ he said to us all.

  He went downstairs as Uncle Isaac came sleepily out of his ground-floor bedroom. They opened the front door together. Bubbe and the twins hadn’t woken, but the rest of us watched from the top of the stairs as two German officers with rifles barged their way into our home. Through the front door I could see German soldiers and French police waiting by a truck right outside. It was one of those military trucks that drove along the Nationale 10 which we could hear in the classroom so I couldn’t imagine how this one hadn’t woken us. They must have turned the engine off and coasted down the driveway.

  ‘I am looking for Jankiel Laskowski,’ one of the officers said in a harsh voice that made me flinch.

  ‘That’s me, but my name is Albert now.’

  ‘Jankiel Laskowski,’ repeated the officer, ‘I have a warrant for your arrest. You must come with me now.’

  We were shocked and looked to Maman for reassurance, but her face was unreadable. She was hardly breathing.

  ‘But I have done nothing wrong, Monsieur. I am an honest and law-abiding citizen.’

  ‘That is a lie. Our records state you are Polish…’

  ‘I was born in Poland, but I’ve lived and worked in France for over twenty years. My life is here, my children were born here. My application for French citizenship is being processed.’

  ‘THAT IS ENOUGH! None of this is of any interest to me. Your application for French citizenship was denied. You disobeyed an order to return to Poland and join the army, so your Polish citizenship has been revoked. You are now stateless and, as such, you’re considered a threat. You may pack a small su
itcase to bring with you – I suggest you bring some warm clothing as it can get very cold where you are going.’

  ‘Do you mean he will be away all winter? Where are you taking him?’ demanded Pierre from our viewpoint at the top of the stairs.

  Maman grabbed him and begged him to be quiet.

  ‘Don’t worry, Son, I’ll sort this nonsense. It must be a mistake,’ said Papa.

  A dreadful silence followed, quickly broken by the German officer shouting, ‘Now! You have five minutes to pack your belongings or you won’t be allowed to bring anything.’

  The soldiers outside took a step closer to the house, their rifles raised in the air. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Papa hurried upstairs followed by the two Germans. As they entered the bedroom, Papa spoke quietly to the officers and he gave them items which they stuffed in their jacket pockets. Then he turned to us. There were so many things to say, so many questions to ask, but there was no time. Maman recovered her composure first and helped Papa pack. ‘Take this photograph of us all,’ she said, with tears on her cheeks.

  ‘When will you come back?’ asked Claude, usually the quietest of us but now the only one who managed to find his voice.

  ‘I’ll be back before you know it. Pierre, you help Uncle Isaac look after the family until I return.’

  We all kissed and hugged him. The twins were half-awake by now. They didn’t understand what was going on but their eyes were big as they looked around at us all weeping. Only Papa didn’t cry. He held us tight and then, when one of the officers shouted, ‘Come now!’ he stood up, holding his head high and put on his jacket with the yellow star on the pocket. Taking his small suitcase, he walked down the stairs, nodding to Uncle Isaac and Aunt Dora on his way out of the door. Flanked by the policemen, he was led into the back of the truck. They started its engine and drove off, leaving the outside of the house in darkness as we stood there in stunned silence.

  Finally Uncle Isaac spoke. ‘There is nothing we can do tonight. Go to bed and, first thing in the morning, Pierre and I will go to Poitiers and sort this out.’

  ‘What on earth is all this racket about? Some of us are trying to sleep!’ boomed Bubbe, who had at last woken up but was without a clue as to what had happened.

  ****

  Pierre and Uncle Isaac went as soon as the curfew was lifted, while the rest of us waited anxiously at home. It was another hot day but Maman begged Claude and I not to leave the house and we did as she asked. We spent most of the time sitting at the table, not knowing what to do with ourselves, apart from Maman who walked constantly, to and fro.

  My brother and uncle came back at midday.

  ‘We went to the police station and they told us that Albert is being held in the camp de la route de Limoges. Then we went to see Rabbi Epstein who promised to speak to Father Bisset. He’ll try to find out what is happening. There were quite a few people with the rabbi: Albert wasn’t the only one arrested last night. There have been arrests all over France.’

  ‘I don’t know what to think. Does that make it better or worse, that Albert wasn’t the only one?’ said Maman, pacing up and down as she had been doing all morning.

  ‘Better, I think,’ said my uncle, although he did not sound very sure.

  ****

  Rabbi Epstein came to our home the next day.

  ‘It’s not good, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Albert has already been taken from the camp at Poitiers. A large group of men and women were put on buses and driven away. We haven’t been able to find out where they were taken. I’m so sorry.’

  We were stunned by this dreadful news. I had been planning to go to Poitiers to see if I could spot Papa through the barbed wire. We’d written letters to him in the hope they could be smuggled into the camp. Now all we could do was wait for him to get a message back to us, from wherever he’d been taken.

  Maman was so distraught she could hardly speak. Aunt Dora tried to lighten the mood: ‘It’ll be like old times in Metz when your papa was always going away. We can pretend he’s away on business and coming home soon.’ Maman just stared at the wall.

  Pierre

  Sarry

  August 1942

  The news was that thousands more Jews had been arrested: 13,000 men, women and children in Paris had been taken on the same night as Papa. Maman was inconsolable and while it was my priority to look after her and my brothers and sisters, I was desperate to find a way to both bring Papa back and fight the Germans.

  Four weeks after Papa was arrested, the German officers and French police returned to our house. It was the middle of the night again, the same loud knocking and shouting at the front door instantly striking fear into our hearts. I scrambled out of bed, told Maman and the children to stay upstairs, pulled on a pair of trousers and went downstairs to open the front door with Uncle Isaac. With Papa gone I was now the head of our family. The same two German officers stood there with their stooges waiting behind them by the backed-up truck which, once again, we had not heard arrive.

  One of the officers said, ‘We are here for Anna Hofman and Gabriel Hofman.’

  Aunt Dora wailed from inside their ground-floor bedroom.

  Uncle Isaac said, ‘Why them? They are only young. Take me instead. I am strong. I can work hard.’

  ‘That is not possible. Anna Hofman and Gabriel Hofman. Are they here?’

  ‘Yes, we’re here.’ My cousins came to the front door.

  ‘NO! I won’t allow it!’ Aunt Dora pulled her son and daughter back.

  ‘Maman. It will be OK. We have done nothing wrong,’ said Anna.

  ‘No, please. Not them.’ Aunt Dora put herself between her children and the Germans, who were tiring of this family drama and motioned to the armed French police to come closer. They were instructed to forcefully grab hold of Anna and Gabriel. The officers stood in the doorway, holding back my helpless uncle and aunt in the house. Aunt Dora fell to the floor, sobbing hysterically as her children were taken away and when Uncle bent down to comfort her, one of the officers hit him on the head with the butt of his rifle. Aunt Dora screamed as her husband fell to the floor next to her. Meanwhile, Bubbe had started singing loudly some sort of prayer which only led to the confusion. Before we knew it, the truck had gone, and my cousins with it. Uncle Isaac recovered from being struck, but he was a broken man. There was no logic to this cruelty. We couldn’t understand why Anna and Gabriel had been taken.

  The following days were sheer torture. Cousin Simone and her family, Papa and now Anna and Gabriel too had been taken. I wondered who would be next. We thought about leaving, but where would we go? Nowhere was safe now, and we should stay in case the others returned.

  Several weeks passed as the excruciating dissection of our family continued. The officers returned, this time with a list. ‘The following people will come with us now: Isaac Hofman; Clara Hofman; Dora Hofman; Rosa Laskowski; Georgette Laskowski; Henriette Laskowski.’

  I waited for my name to be called, but the officer continued: ‘You are to come with us. We will give you a few minutes to prepare your belongings.’ I turned to Uncle Isaac but he had already gone to organise his wife and elderly mother. I looked up the stairs and saw Maman and my brothers staring down at me in confusion. I ran up to them.

  ‘What is happening? Why are they taking you, Maman?’ whispered Samuel.

  ‘Why are they taking the twins and not us?’ asked Claude. ‘I want to go with you too,’ and he grabbed hold of her tightly around the waist.

  Maman gently released herself from his hold and gathered us around her. ‘Listen to me. I don’t know why they didn’t call your names, but we must thank God for that. I’m sure they will take us to be with Papa, then he can look after us and you boys must stay here and look after each other. Now, help me get the twins ready.’

  We helped our little sisters get dressed, while Maman packed a small suitcase. The girls each held a hand of their beloved doll Bernadette. ‘Make sure you don’t pull Bernadette too tight,’ Claude said,
‘you wouldn’t want to pull her arms off!’

  ‘We promise,’ said the girls sweetly in unison, each releasing their grip on the doll slightly.

  ‘Maman, this is madness. I won’t allow you to go. I promised Papa I would protect you,’ I said.

  ‘We can’t refuse to go. I’ll send a letter as soon as I know where we end up. Let’s say goodbye here,’ said Maman, ‘I don’t want them to see us.’ She hugged Claude and Samuel and then last of all me, whispering in my ear as she held me tight, ‘Look after your brothers, Pierre. I know you will.’

  She went downstairs with the twins following closely behind, clumsily and sleepily climbing down one stair at a time. I told Samuel and Claude to stay upstairs while I went down to watch our mother leave. The Germans just ignored me; my name was not on their list and so they had no interest in me. It was inexplicable – why weren’t the rest of us on their list? Maman walked silently out the front door with the girls in her arms. The policemen nodded towards the back of the waiting truck. Maman lifted my little sisters, one at a time, onto the vehicle before she climbed on herself and disappeared behind the tarpaulin.

  Isaac, Dora and Bubbe hadn’t come out so the German officers went inside to hurry them up.

  I heard screaming and crying from inside the house. One of the Germans rushed out looking agitated and barked at two of the policemen to come in with him, leaving the other two guarding the truck. Uncle Isaac and Aunt Dora were pushed out through the front door, wearing their hats and coats and carrying a small suitcase each. Aunt Dora was crying. They were ushered onto the truck, but Bubbe was still in the house, sitting in her chair and refusing to leave.

  ‘Madame Clara Hofman, you must come with us now!’

  ‘I am not going anywhere!’ she screamed, her blindness sparing her the knowledge that there were rifles pointing at her.