The others stood again, clapping their hands.
“HEIL HITLER,” Konrad yelled above the applause.
“HEIL HITLER . . .”
Standing behind the microphone, Konrad looked small. His thick glasses had slipped down his nose, and he pushed them back up before raising his hands to silence the crowd.
“Thank you for your generous applause,” Konrad said. “Please be seated.”
Once everyone had quieted down, Konrad began.
“My esteemed colleagues: you have been brought here because I have information for you that is vital. It is for your ears only, and that is why this meeting is by invitation only.”
Manfred looked around. The others were hanging on Konrad’s every word. He had them on the edge of their seats. After having worked with Goebbels, Manfred could not help but appreciate the staging of this event: the large picture of Hitler that hung on the wall behind the speaker; the Nazi flags strategically placed throughout the room. Everything was arranged to recreate a feeling of camaraderie amongst the guests, a feeling that the Reich would rise again.
For a moment Konrad stood in front of them, silent, drinking in the anticipation of the crowd.
“Gentlemen, the news I am about to share with you was delivered to me by a very reliable source. Therefore, I know it to be factual.” He hesitated for effect. The crowd leaned forward, waiting . . . “Our leader, Our Führer, Adolf Hitler is not dead.” Many of the guests let out a gasp. “The other people who were with the Führer in the underground bunker perished that day, but ODESSA arrived just in time to spirit our Führer away to safety. Presently he is in hiding. I need to ask several of you to aid me in bringing him here to South America. I have carefully selected a few men to be involved in this very secret mission. If you are one of those who I have already chosen, you will be notified over the next few months. But for now, rejoice; rejoice in the knowledge that the Reich will rise again.”
Manfred gasped, a hush fell over the crowd. Could it be true? Hitler was alive.
Chapter 42
Although Israel was attacked only a few hours after she had become a nation, Israel’s army was already in place. It was formed from the militant groups that the British had considered terrorists while Palestine was under British rule. But, now that Israel was an independent state, these groups of Jews who had engaged in guerrilla warfare, banded together and, because they were united under one rule, they were strong. A navy was formed. Then Israel purchased three B-17 bombers from the United States. The little strip of land in the desert that the Jews had fought so hard to possess was surrounded by enemies on all sides. However, these Jews had seen evil and they’d lived through hell. In order to survive Hitler, they had had to be the strongest of the strong. Anyone not had already perished. So, the Israelis became a force to be reckoned with.
In July of 1948, David Ben-Gurion, the Prime Minister of Israel, gave the order for Israel to bomb Cairo.
This time the Jews would fight back; they would not go like lambs to the slaughter as they did in Germany. Now they had a country, a home, a land worth fighting for. It had finally come to pass. The Promised Land was theirs. And although the loss of life was substantial, Israel won the war.
Chapter 43
Zofia watched Katja playing with Mendel and Rachel. They were running after each other playing tag; it was nice to hear children laughing in the DP camp. Shana was in the barracks lying down. Since her relationship with the American, she’d turned inward, becoming quiet and depressed. Dark gray circles indented the skin beneath her eyes, and she rarely attended meals. Zofia tried to speak to her, sitting beside her bed, but Shana would just turn away and face the wall without answering.
It was a bright autumn day; the sun cast a golden glow over the fallen leaves. Many of the people who had been living in the DP camp began to make plans, plans to go to their homeland. When Israel became a state, every Jew was granted automatic citizenship. On the day that the declaration that Israel was now a country arrived, tremendous elation had traveled throughout the camp, like a warm golden light. The people cheered, some fell on the ground on their knees giving thanks to God. Women and men were crying, hugging each other, laughing; it had finally happened.
The children’s giggles rang out again causing Zofia to turn toward them. Rachel and Katja were laughing and Mendel was frowning; then he began laughing, too.
They had become such good friends.
Zofia went to help prepare dinner in the kitchen. She was slicing cucumbers when Isaac came flying through the door.
“Zofia…Israel is in trouble!” He shouted then he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the main building where the radio was stationed. Isaac was running so fast that Zofia could hardly keep up with him. His eyebrows were drawn together and his hands were clammy.
Within hours, bliss had turned to fear as the Jews sat together listening to the news that Israel had been attacked and she was now battling for her existence . . . once again.
Isaac and Zofia sat with the others who had gathered on the sofas, on chairs, on the floor, standing in the back of the room, all of them listening to the radio. Zofia’s and Isaac’s hands were clasped together, white knuckled. They shot glances of terror at each other as they waited for news of the war. The room was in total silence as everyone listened to the radio announcer. Their eyes traveled from one to another, searching for answers, answers no one was able to give. Would Israel survive?
Well, no matter what dangers Israel might face, Zofia knew that she and Isaac wanted to be there. They had discussed the matter and agreed that they would rather die fighting for their country than live anywhere else in the world. But even as they awaited the outcome of the horror of the present situation in Israel, Isaac and Zofia faced another dilemma. They must decide what to do about Shana, Rachel, and Mendel. None of them had any money of their own. Zofia and Isaac had spent half the night sitting under the stars discussing the problem.
As soon as he was able to get into town and find a buyer, Isaac sold all of the jewelry that they had stolen from Koppel; everything except the ring that Zofia wore. She’d tried to convince him to sell that, too, but Isaac had refused. Someday soon he would replace it. During their stay in the DP camp, Isaac had also saved a nice sum of money from his earnings from working at the odd jobs he’d taken in town. The money he’d saved, plus the money from the sale of the jewelry, was just enough to pay the passage for everyone to go to Israel; their own family plus Shana, Rachel, and Mendel. However, Isaac and Zofia had hoped to use the extra money to open a bakery in Tel Aviv. If they paid the passage for everyone, there would be no money left over to start their lives once they arrived. It was a difficult predicament.
As they sat on the floor, holding hands, listening to the voice of the radio describing the current situation in Israel, Zofia flashed back to the night before. Parts of the conversation she’d had with Isaac replayed in her head.
“We can’t just leave them behind,” Isaac had said, referring to Shana, Rachel, and Mendel. Good-hearted Isaac. He never put himself or his own needs first. Sometimes Zofia wished he were more selfish, more centered on taking care of his own family and not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Zofia had not answered. She felt guilty. She liked Shana and Rachel, and she thought Mendel was a nice boy, but she wanted the best life for her family, and she was struggling with the sacrifice. If they opened a bakery in the city, they would have a financially secure future. I am a terrible person; I hate to use up all of our money. If we do, then we have to start over in Israel with nothing. No business, no bakery. What will we do? she thought, crossing her arms over her chest. How can I feel this way? I am so selfish. Shana has been like a sister to me, and Katja is so close to Mendel and Rachel.
What a choice, what a decision. If she left the others behind in the DP camp to fend for themselves, their young faces would haunt her forever, but if she paid their passage, then she and Isaac would arrive in Israel with n
othing. Where would they go? What would they do? How would they survive? She had told this to Isaac, and he’d said, “We should trust God. God has brought us this far; he will help us.”
She had shaken her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“All right, let me talk to some people from the joint commission. Let me find out what kind of work is available, if any, in Israel. If there is something that I can do there, some way that I can provide for us, then I feel we can start over without any money.”
If only she could be more like Isaac. With everything that they had been through, somehow he still trusted God. She had a hard time admitting it to him, but sometimes she had doubts. It was hard to understand how God had let all of this happen, and why. The Nazis had burned babies, they’d murdered her friends, and Manfred Blau had abused her and stripped her of her self-esteem. It was hard to comprehend God’s plan. Still, even with all that she’d endured, she had to believe there was a God, because God had brought Isaac back to her. Yet, sometimes she had doubts. Why now, after all the Jewish people had suffered, did they have to fight another war? Zofia hated herself for losing faith. If only she could lean on God the way Isaac did. His faith was such a comfort to him. Isaac said that he believed that the Third Reich had happened in order to force Jews to build a state of their own. It had given them the strength, the will, to build the state of Israel.
When Israel was given statehood, she and Isaac had appealed to the Jewish Joint Commission for help to pay for the passage for Shana, Rachel, and Mendel, but they were denied. The commission had paid Shana, Rachel, and Mendel’s passage once already; there were not enough funds to pay again. Now it was up to Zofia and Isaac. Still, Isaac would go to the commission and ask about work; perhaps they could offer him that.
Before sunrise, Isaac dressed quietly, as he did every morning, and set out in search of day labor. After he’d left, the small cot that they shared felt so empty. Zofia tried to fall back to sleep, but she couldn’t. Quietly, she dressed and went outside to walk and think. The camp was quiet. She let herself see it again as she did the first time. This very same DP camp had once held Nazi officers and Jewish prisoners. People had died and suffered here at the hands of the kapos and guards. And although she’d not been in this particular camp, she shivered with the memories of the camps where she had been imprisoned.
The sun was beginning to rise as she sat under a tree watching the sky light up. She was desperate to try to make a decision that would affect the rest of her life. Slowly people began to come out of their barracks and head toward the latrine or the main building. Still unsettled, undecided, she went to the kitchen to help serve breakfast. She watched the children as they came rushing in, carrying their trays. As she spooned the thick porridge into their bowls, she thought of Shana again. What would become of the others if she and Isaac took Katja and left them behind? Her mind drifted back to Fruma and Gitel. How kind they were. They’d helped her when no one else would. They’d even put themselves at risk for her, a young girl they hardly knew. Why was she not as generous? She wanted to run away from the invisible but binding threads that wove her life with those of the others; threads of guilt were wrapping themselves around her neck and strangling her.
All day long Zofia kept her distance from Shana. She wanted to be by herself, to decide without the influence of the others. She did want to be with Katja so she took Katja walking and read her stories. They sat together and Katja taught Zofia the game that Katja and Rachel always played with strings.
“I want to buy some yarn and teach you to knit,” Zofia said.
“Would I be able to make sweaters?”
“Yes, eventually, but first let’s make a scarf. It’s easier.”
“I could make a scarf and give it to Papa for Hanukah. He would be so excited, because I made it myself.”
Zofia smiled at Katja, and leaned over to kiss her. “I will ask one of the volunteers if she can get us some yarn and two knitting needles.”
“Can I make a doll for Rachel, too? She says she hates dolls, but I think she only hates them because she never had one that she loved like I loved Ethel.”
“Yes, perhaps. We’ll see.” Zofia said.
“Do you remember Ethel, Mama? I miss her so much.”
“Yes, I remember Ethel.”
“Do you think she’s all right in France?”
“I think she is doing fine. She is probably living with the royal family.”
“Do you really think so? Do you think Ethel is a princess?” Katja asked, her young face so serious.
“Of course I do. After all, she looked very royal.”
“She did, didn’t she, Mama?”
When mealtime arrived that evening, Zofia did not go to help serve in the kitchen. She stayed in the barracks waiting for Isaac. She had done preparation work and so she’d had the opportunity to bring him a plate. Most nights this was her routine. She would help in the kitchen, then bring a plate back to the room for Isaac, where she would leave it for him on their cot. Although eating in the rooms was discouraged, she wanted to make things as easy for him as possible. He would eat when he returned. However, Zofia usually ate with the others.
Tonight Zofia had no appetite. She’d sent Katja to the dining area with Shana and Rachel. The silence in the barracks was unnerving. In fact, it made her want to scream. A strong smell of perspiration always filled the air, and for the most part, she’d grown so used to it that she no longer smelled it, but tonight it was exceptionally strong and nauseating. Everything about the DP camp—the people, the feeling of desperation that she would never escape this life—had her wound tight. She felt that if Isaac did not arrive soon, she might explode.
Zofia began pacing the room, her body stiff, occasionally looking outside to see if Isaac might be on his way up the walkway. When she finally saw him enter the camp, her shoulders relaxed and she sighed with relief. Something about the familiar sight of his large muscular frame made her feel safe.
Isaac entered the barracks to find Zofia seated on their cot, waiting.
“Why aren’t you with the others?” he asked.
“I wanted to see you.”
He walked over and kissed her while his hand gently caressed her chin. She could see the concern in his eyes, but he said nothing. Instead, he sat down beside her.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
“I brought you some food,” she said, handing him the plate, but not meeting his eyes.
“Thank you.” He took the plate and laid it down, still studying her face.
More moments of silence passed.
“Zofia,” he whispered. “No matter what you have decided about Shana, Rachel, and Mendel, it is all right with me. I love you and I’ll respect your decision. No argument.”
She got up and walked over to the window, looking out. “I wanted to run away, just the three of us, you and me and Katja. You know how I feel? You understand?”
He nodded. “Of course, I understand.”
“But I can’t. I can’t do it. We must take them with us. All of them: Shana, Rachel, and Mendel. Somehow we’ll find a way to survive. We always do,” she said. A single tear fell down her cheek.
“I am glad that you made this choice. We will be all right. I’ll find work right away when we get to Israel. I’m strong, there is nothing I can’t do, and I am willing to do anything. I am glad we aren’t leaving them behind.”
She turned from the window, her cheeks glistening with tears. “You’re such a good man, Isaac. You’re heart is so big.”
He laughed. “Yours is just as big Zofia, but you don’t want to admit it.” Then he got up and took her in his arms, kissing her.
“Aren’t you hungry?” She asked, as he gently lay her down on the bed.
“I am. I am hungry for your love.”
“You always have my love,” she whispered.
He kissed her neck and began to unbutton the top of her dress. She sighed and arched her back. Oh, how she lo
ved this man.
Chapter 44
Israel, 1950
“I knew we would be just fine,” Isaac said, smiling at Zofia as they entered the kibbutz. “Only here, here in our homeland could such a wonderful place exist, a place where you don’t need money to survive. A paradise. Who could have imagined?”
He took her hand. Shana and the children ran ahead.
“It’s beautiful,” Zofia said. “Look at those trees. The leaves look like silver drops in the sunshine.”
“I wonder what kind of fruit they bear.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like them. But they are magnificent. “
“Shalom and welcome.” A short, slender woman with a pixie haircut, dark skin warmed by the sun, and a big smile, walked over to them. “My name is Noa, and you are?”
“I am Isaac Zuckerman, and this is my wife, Zofia. The children are Katja Zuckerman, Rachel and Shana Perlof, and Mendel Zaltstein.”
“A warm welcome to all of you. I suppose you want to know a little about this place, and how we live. Let me explain how things work here. As you already know, we are a kibbutz. Here we are like one big family. We work together, and together we build our lives. Everyone has a job, a job that is suited to his or her abilities. You do what you can do. We find that often people are willing to work extra hours, do extra jobs when they see the necessity, because they are so invested in seeing our home prosper. For work, we have many choices. You can work the land, or cook, or help with the children who live in their own small children’s house. On the other side of the kibbutz we have an ostrich farm. As you can imagine, there is plenty to do there. Among us, we are blessed to have teachers, doctors, and rabbis; many of them survivors of the Nazis.
When the children turn eighteen, if they are healthy and capable, they serve for two years in the Israeli Army. It is an honor to serve, and it is everyone’s responsibility to help keep Israel safe. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we would give our lives for this little piece of land in the desert. Our people have come from all over the world, but mostly from Hitler’s bowels of hell. This is our home, our land. Finally.”
The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3) Page 17