“You’re right. His name is Yitzhak Ahronovitch, and he is a very good friend of mine,” Yossi confirmed.
Zofia watched as Yossi led the children, answering their questions with patience.
“He’s very handsome, isn’t he?” Shana mused aloud.
“That he is,” Zofia answered. She noticed that a slight pink blush had come over Shana’s cheeks. Zofia smiled. “He certainly is.”
Chapter 15
Although the ship had just set sail, two children had already been born on board, and even with the poor living conditions and lack of adequate food, everyone rejoiced. New life was surely a good omen. However, later that week, Zofia heard the hush of whispers circulate amongst the passengers.
She had fallen asleep on the deck from the heat of the mid-afternoon sun. Isaac and Katja had fallen asleep, too. Isaac and Katja remained sleeping, but the buzz had stirred Zofia awake. She rose and went to find Shana to see what was going on. Before she left, Zofia turned and took a last look at her little family. A smile crept over her face, all the way from her heart. Isaac and Katja were growing closer every day. Everything would be all right; they would be a family, safe together for the rest of their lives, in Palestine.
Shana was sitting on the edge of the cot she shared with Rachel, who was also asleep.
“Is something going on here or am I imagining things?” Zofia asked Shana.
“A woman died in childbirth earlier this afternoon. A lot of the passengers are saying that it is a bad sign.”
Zofia raised her eyebrows. “It’s terrible, that’s for sure. But, sadly, women die in childbirth quite often. So, I don’t believe that this tragedy is in any way a foreshadowing of our journey.”
“I wish I could be as optimistic as you are,” Shana said. “I am afraid all the time.”
“I am afraid too,” Zofia agreed, as she sat down beside Shana, careful not to wake Rachel, “but we can’t let old superstitions get in the way of our future.”
“Then how do you do it? I don’t even know half of what you have seen and experienced, but I know it has been hard. How do you smile and laugh and go on even with everything that you have been through. I am only asking because I want to know your secret. I want to do the same thing, but my life stopped that day when I saw my family killed. Yes, I go on living and I try for Rachel’s sake, but inside I am dead.”
“You are not dead. You are alive. That is the gift. Don’t you see?”
“I see, but I feel so depressed and guilty that I survived while the rest of my family died.”
“You must not feel that way. Your family would want you to go on, to live, and to bring children into the world. They would want that.”
Shana nodded. “I suppose.”
“Do you want to know how I know you are still alive?” Zofia said, massaging Shana’s upper arm. Shana shrugged.
“Do you remember the other day when that handsome Mr. Harel came over to us and took the children to see the wheel house?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Your face, when you looked at him, your face told me you are not dead. You are hurt, I know, but you are not dead, Shana. You must pick up the pieces of the past, and for the sake of your dead loved ones, you must live. You must bear children and name them for your family members so that those that you have lost will have a namesake in the new Jewish homeland.”
A tear fell from Shana’s eye. Zofia reached up and wiped it away.
“Shanala, mine kind, my sweet child. Live . . . You must live,” Zofia whispered.
“My mother called me Shanala.” Shana smiled through her tears at Zofia. “Even though you’re far too young to be my mother, Zofia, you are like a mother to me.”
“Let us just say I am an old soul,” Zofia said.
Shana laid her head on Zofia’s shoulder. “I will try, Zofia. I will try to start living again.”
Chapter 16
“It is imperative that you leave Europe as quickly as possible. We found it rather simple to pay the jailers to overlook your true identity. However, now that you are out of prison and visible to the world, it will not be so easy to keep you safe. There are people who will remember your face, Manfred Blau. People who will want to see you dead. If you are recognized as Manfred Blau rather than Dolf Sprecht, you will be back in prison before you can blink an eye. And perhaps you will be executed for your attempted escape. Therefore, you will leave Europe as quickly and quietly as possible. Be prepared to leave Berlin for Hamburg tonight. Once you arrive at the port, you will be traveling by U-boat to South America.”
“I thought I would be leaving from France,” Manfred pressed.
“As I told you, there has been a change of plans.”
“Any reason?”
“We have our reasons. It’s none of your concern. Just be ready to go when it gets dark. A car will come for you. You won’t be seeing me again. So, best of luck to you. Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler,” Manfred echoed, wondering if Hitler were actually dead.
It took Manfred almost no time at all to pack. He only had a few possessions, and whatever he needed would be provided by the party once he arrived at his destination. During better times, when the party was flourishing, he’d heard Himmler and some of the other officials talking about Argentina. He recalled them saying that it was a lot like the Swiss Alps. When Manfred thought about the Alps, his mind went immediately to Christa and to their honeymoon. Christa, his one true love, so long ago. Manfred sighed. It was time to stop reliving the past, time to move forward. Christa was dead, he would never see her again, and that way of life was over. Now he must start anew.
Chapter 17
Descending upon each rung of the wrought iron ladder felt like climbing deeper and deeper into a coffin. Manfred did not dare look any of the other men in the eyes for fear they would see the terror he felt being enclosed within this vessel that would soon slide deeper and deeper into what felt like a grave under the sea.
Manfred had never been in a submarine, and until now, he’d never known that he had claustrophobia. As the vessel submerged deeper, his ears rang with a low constant din, and then they felt as if a needle was being shot through them. The rooms surrounding him had been painted a pea-soup green color, and that added to the dizzying nausea he already felt.
His bunk was so small that it would fit inside a closet.
Days became nights and nights became days, and because there were no windows and no natural light, it was hard to tell them apart. Manfred lost track of time. He slept and awoke without knowing what day or what time it was. All he knew was that it seemed as if he’d been aboard this ship for a lifetime.
The other men kept their distance, hardly speaking to him other than to bring him his food, all of which was dried or canned. He wondered how these sailors lived like this for years, moving like sharks beneath the depths of the waves, never seeing sunlight.
Being alone in this capsule gave him far too much time to think . . . to remember. Sometimes he would close his eyes and remember his beautiful wife dancing with Himmler at one of the galas they’d attended. His mind ran away with him, and he wondered if Christa and Himmler had slept together. Himmler had been so helpful in securing the adoption of the little girl from the Lebensborn for Christa. Manfred sighed. His heart hurt him when he thought about how much Christa had loved that child. He had no idea what had even happened to the little girl, little Katja. Well, no matter. Perhaps she’d gone back to her birth mother. That would be the best thing for her. Manfred knew he could not take care of a child, nor would he want that responsibility. Katja. Why could he not forget the little girl?
Manfred’s nightmares became more frequent. He would close his eyes and awaken in a cold sweat thinking that he’d died and gone to hell. His heart would palpitate, and it would take several minutes for him to realize that he’d been asleep. The faces of the Jews he’d murdered would not let him rest, and he began to dread closing his eyes.
Soon he would be in S
outh America, where he would find a whole community of like-minded people. Perhaps he would begin to feel more at peace when he had others around him who understood what the Third Reich was trying to achieve. What the rest of the world refused to understand was that in order to create a perfect world, first there had to be an ethnic cleansing. In order to build fresh, the old must first be destroyed. It was hard work—dirty, messy, disgusting work—but in the end if the Reich had achieved what they set out to do, a race of superior men would have ruled the earth. Superior Aryans without tainted blood, without handicaps and diseases. Only the strong and healthy would have been bred to create a race that was invincible in body and mind.
Manfred was to meet with Konrad Klausen when he arrived. He’d been given a little background on Konrad. He was told that Konrad had worked on the punch card system and then had been transferred to work on the “Final Solution.” Manfred had listened, but he didn’t care much about Konrad’s past. Konrad was nobody to him. However, he did have a secret wish that Dr. Goebbels had not really committed suicide with his entire family. If only somehow Goebbels had escaped from the bunker and the bodies that were found had been substitutes, fakes placed there by ODESSA so that Goebbels and his family could escape. How wonderful it would be if he got to Argentina and found out that Goebbels was still alive. He’d heard rumors when he was in Spandau that Hitler and Eva Braun had escaped to South America by a U-boat that was probably very similar to the one he was on right now. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps it was the same boat. Maybe Hitler had slept in this very bunk. Even better, maybe Joseph Goebbels had slept here . . . What a splendid thought.
Chapter 18
Although Exodus had undeniable problems, the broken-down vessel was a ship of hope. It had been a week since the boat had set sail. Because of lack of private space, and Katja’s presence, they had only made love once. Since that time under the stairwell, they could only exchange brief kisses, brushes of hands, and looks of longing. However, one night as the passengers sat on deck singing along with a guitar player, Shana offered to watch Katja so that Zofia and Isaac could take a walk alone. Zofia accepted gratefully. She was glad that Katja was comfortable with Shana and Rachel. And she was relieved that she could trust Shana to take care of her child.
Zofia and Isaac left the crowd quietly. They slipped down the stairs and ducked under the stairwell to their secret hiding place, where they could embrace and kiss freely.
“Zofia, my love . . .” he whispered, his voice hoarse in her ear. Then he gently kissed her cheek. “Can you believe it? We’re almost there. I heard the Captain say that we are about 20 miles off the southern coast of Palestine. Soon, my darling, we will see the land that we have dreamed of for so long.”
She nodded. “I can’t believe that it is all really happening. I remember when we were in the forest, you and I and Shlomie, and we used to talk about Palestine. Then, it was nothing more than a fantasy. But it did keep us going. Do you remember?”
“Of course, I do. How could I ever forget? I used to wonder what Palestine was like. I’d heard so many different stories about the place, ever since I was a little boy.”
“Yes, me too. I heard that it is a desert; that the climate is hostile. It’s very hot and dry, and nothing grows. At least that is what I’ve heard.”
“It won’t matter. We will find a way to survive. Now, we are finally safe. We will be a family, you and little Katja and me. Together we’ll build a life in our Jewish homeland.”
“I am glad that you and Katja get along so well,” Zofia said
“I am, too. I was afraid she would resent me coming into your lives.”
“So you made an extra special effort to make her feel important and loved. Oh, Isaac, you always know what to do.”
“I don’t know if that’s all true. I mean, I did everything I could do to let Katja know that she is loved. I wanted her to know that she was not going to lose you, but she was going to have two parents instead of one. I am glad it worked, but I don’t always know what to do. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life,” Isaac confessed.
“You know what to do for me. You know what to do for me, always.” She smiled. “Remember when we were in the forest, and all we could get was that raw meat and I couldn’t eat it; it made me sick? But you knew what to do. You helped me by telling me a story that reminded me of your mother’s bakery. And because of your story I was able to swallow that nasty meat.”
“Yes, I do.” He smiled. “I also recall the fat little boy I was growing up. I remember how I’d sit in the back of my mother’s bakery watching you when you came in to buy bread. I was so shy. I couldn’t get over how pretty you were. You never noticed me then.”
“Isaac, I was just a child myself. I didn’t notice much at that time in my life.”
He laughed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re mine now, and until my dying day I will do everything I can to make you the happiest woman in the world for having chosen me as your husband.” Gently he let his lips brush hers and she felt her entire body tingle with desire.
Isaac took off his shirt and rolled it into a pillow. Then he gently lifted her head and placed the pillow beneath it. He began to unbutton the top of her dress. She reached up and touched his face. “Isaac . . .” she whispered.
He took her in his arms. No matter how many times they made love, the magic of their bodies coming together, the ecstasy of his body against hers never failed to amaze her. When they had been separated, the memory of their moments together sustained her. But the reality far surpassed the memory. Isaac made love to Zofia, slowly, tenderly, holding back in order to savor every precious second. His desire was as strong as the current of a wild river. She felt the power of his yearning and her own need for him possessed her. And once again, as it was the first time in the forest, and every time since, she felt the electric spark of the union of their souls as their bodies became one.
They lay together for a long time, just holding each other and reveling in the miracle of being together again. Zofia lay with her head on Isaac’s chest, and he ran his hand through her hair.
As the music began to die down upstairs, Isaac said, “We should get back. I don’t want Katja to worry or to come looking for us.”
“Yes, I suppose we should,” She agreed.
As they dressed, they could not help but smile at each other.
When they returned to the deck, nobody seemed to have noticed that they had been gone.
Isaac and Zofia sat side by side on their small cot while Katja sat in front of them in a circle with Rachel, Mendel, and Abe. The crowd was clapping and singing a song in Yiddish. Even though the ship had only been at sea for a week, everyone seemed to be getting to know each other and there was a feeling of family amongst the passengers.
Then a slender man with a long, pointed nose and dark hair, stood up. Zofia thought he must be in his early thirties. His face and body indicated as much, but his eyes, his eyes were ageless. He turned to the guitar player and requested a song. Then, in a haunting tenor voice, he began to sing. It was a song that told the story of the Jews, of their plight throughout history, and of their endless wandering in search of a homeland. When he finished, Zofia felt a tear fall upon her cheek. She turned to Isaac. He looked at her, his face wrinkled in thought. Neither said a word. He just took her in his arms and held her tightly.
That night as Zofia slept, a cool breeze danced up from the emerald waters of the Mediterranean. She cuddled deeper into the crook of Isaac’s arm as Katja spooned into her stomach. The water gently rocked the boat while the sound of the waves played a soothing melody. The sky was a black silk blanket filled with sparkling crystal stars.
Then a thunderous crash came out of nowhere. Zofia jumped up to a sitting position, followed by Isaac who awoke immediately. Katja opened her eyes but did not move. She looked around her still groggy with sleep.
“What was that?” Zofia asked Isaac.
He shook his head, “I don’t know.”
On July 19th, 1947, a Friday morning at two a.m., Exodus 1947 was attacked by the British. It was 20 miles off the coast of southern Palestine. The old worn-out vessel carried more than 4,500 souls who thought they had finally seen the end of Jewish persecution. Little did they know that their battle had just begun.
Chapter 19
A loud voice came from out of the darkness. “You are in territorial waters. Stop your ship immediately; we are going to board you.”
Zofia grabbed Isaac’s hand.
“What is going on?” She said, her voice hoarse. “Oh my God, we’ve been boarded!”
“This is the last chance you have to stop this vessel and turn back. The passengers onboard are attempting to enter Palestine illegally. This is the British Navy. We must have your word that you will turn your ship around or we intend to board you.”
Lit firecrackers were being hurled onto the ship’s deck, exploding in a burst of fire and smoke. Someone screamed.
“Watch out, come here, stay close,” Isaac said to Zofia.
“This ship has no intention of turning around. We are going forward to Palestine,” a man’s voice from the loudspeaker of the boat answered.
Then it happened. Something rammed into the boat, catching it on a wave and suspending it in mid air. The force of the impact jolted Zofia off her cot and onto the floor. She shielded Katja so the child would not fall also. The ship, trying to right itself, wobbled unsteadily in the water. People were wandering the deck, some panicked, others still groggy with sleep. The old vessel swayed, listing heavily to one side. Then, Zofia saw that a large group of English sailors had boarded the ship. The sailors kept coming, more and more of them. To Zofia, it seemed as if there might be a thousand. She looked out across the sea and saw the British flag flying from the bow of the attacking ship. Before anyone had a chance to move, Exodus was flooded with tear gas. Katja awakened, disoriented, and gasping for breath. Men wearing Royal Navy uniforms and carrying guns were all around the deck, forcing people out of their beds at gunpoint and pushing them into a line.
The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3) Page 8