by Kathy Kacer
Spring was trying desperately to appear after having been gone for the long winter. Some days it succeeded. The sun was warm, the wind was gentle, and tulip buds poked through the earth in the little boxes that hung from Hetti’s windows. On other days the air was still icy cold, as if winter was hanging on with all its might, not wanting to disappear for the year.
There had been no more raids in the factory in those intervening weeks. But that did little to ease my fears. I lived with a never-ending, fierce belief that, any minute, the warning bell would ring, and we’d all have to make a mad dash for the secret room at the back of the factory. The fear was with me every day and all day long. I could never ignore it. It nagged at me, reminding me not to let my guard down.
I didn’t say much to Papa about any of this. I could see that he was worried enough for himself, and of course, for me. His skin had become gray and sickly. And, despite Hetti’s cooking, he looked as if he was losing weight. His jacket hung loosely on him, and I noticed that he had cinched in his belt to keep his trousers from falling down. I was afraid he might be getting sick. I knew he was sick with worry, and I didn’t want to add to the burden that he was already feeling.
“How are you doing, my darling?” he would ask from time to time.
“I’m fine,” I would lie. “I’m just so grateful that Herr Weidt is protecting us.” That part, at least, was true.
In between all of this, there were moments that were unexpected and almost joyful. One day, Herr Weidt appeared in the factory carrying a big jug in his arms. He gathered all of us together.
“I’ve managed to find something that I think will be a treat for each one of you,” he said.
Then, he reached for a small glass, tilted the jug, and poured out a thick, golden looking liquid. He passed the glass from worker to worker. Each one took a small taste, smiled, and handed the glass along to the next person. When it was my turn, I held the glass in my hands and then sniffed cautiously at the liquid inside. There was something familiar about that smell; I couldn’t quite tell what. Then I brought the glass up to my lips, tilted it back, and let the thick liquid pour across my tongue.
It was cool and sweet, and almost silky in my mouth. It wasn’t honey; it was something else, I thought, desperately trying to place it. And then it came to me. Maple syrup! I couldn’t remember the last time I had tasted this scrumptious liquid, not since all the trouble had started, not since Mama had died.
“Where did you get this?” I called out.
Herr Weidt smiled. “I can’t give away all my secrets,” he said. “I think it’s best not to know everything.”
He was right. It really didn’t matter where it had come from. The important thing was that this was a moment when we could all laugh and be joyful and appreciate some sweetness.
Herr Weidt had some small jars and gave each of us a bit of syrup to take home.
Hetti made sweet pancakes that night that were made even sweeter with the maple syrup that Herr Weidt had given us.
But that happy moment didn’t last for long.
It was a cool day in April, 1942 when everything changed again.
Chapter 16
There was frost on the window that morning, a reminder of the last gasp of winter. Someone had left the windows of the factory open overnight, and it was as cold inside as it was outside, maybe colder. As soon as Papa and I arrived, I rushed around closing the windows up tight. But wintry air still hung in the building. I shivered, rubbing my hands together as I pulled my sweater closer around my body, and buttoned it up to my neck. Meanwhile, the other workers had all arrived. I was just about to start packaging a new order of brushes when the doors to the factory burst open with a loud bang. An icy wind flooded the room joined by four soldiers with rifles pointed in our direction. The Gestapo!
“Stop what you’re doing!” one soldier shouted.
Workers who had their faces pressed down to the brushes they were assembling lifted their heads in the direction of the harsh command.
“We have orders to arrest all Jews. You’re coming with us.”
“No, no!” Papa cried. “You must know Otto Weidt? We work for him.”
“We have permission to work here,” I added. Where was the warning bell? Where was the trusted friend who was meant to guard the door?
“I don’t care who your boss is. Someone tipped us off that there were Jews in this factory. And here you are. We’ve been ordered to round up all of you.”
The soldier doing the talking was tall and thin as a pole. His black uniform hung loosely on his body as if it were three sizes too big.
“You can’t hide from us anymore. Los! Out now!” the soldier bellowed.
My heart pounded in my chest like thunder, and my body shook from head to toe. This was my dreaded nightmare come true. Papa clutched my arm so tightly that I cried out in pain.
“I’m so sorry, my darling,” he whispered, loosening his grip.
Just before leaving the factory, the soldier walked up to me. He stopped, inches from my face and stared into my eyes. He had a long, bony face that ended in a pointy chin. It was the first time that I noticed his cap with a pin in the shape of a skull and bones. It was the emblem of death. I flinched under his glare. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed my blue cornflower pin, ripping it from the dress that Anneliese had made for me.
“What’s this?” he asked, bringing the pin to his face and peering at it.
“No!” I cried. “Please, it was my mother’s.”
“Just a trinket,” Papa added. “Won’t you let my daughter keep it?”
The soldier stared at it another second. Thin lips curved into a devious smile. Then, he threw the pin down. It plunked onto the factory floor and rolled for a couple of seconds before stopping. “You won’t need any jewelry where you’re going.”
I stared down at the floor where my pin lay. The yearning to reach down and grab it pulled at me with a force I could hardly resist. I glanced up at the guard and then back at the pin. All I needed was a second and then I would have it back. I pushed away my father’s arm, and my own arm inched forward.
“No, Lillian! Don’t!” Papa’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts. He knew what I was thinking, as he always did. I stared again at my pin as every last bit of hope drained out of my body. Mama’s pin, so dear to me, was lost—and so were we.
We grabbed coats and followed the soldiers out the door, through the streets of Berlin. Shopkeepers and café owners were just beginning to open their stalls and stores. They swept the pavement in front of their shops and turned their faces away from us. Men on their way to work quickly moved to the other side of the road, avoiding us altogether. Mothers shielded their children’s eyes from staring.
“Hand on the shoulder of the person in front of you,” Anneliese said, just as she had guided us to the back of the factory when the Gestapo had come to search. “I’m here if you need my help.” This time her voice was shaky. She and her sister held on to each other. Herr Bromberger muttered that the end was near, which made me nearly sick to my stomach. Erna Haney was as pale as a ghostly moon. Only Willy Latter walked tall and said, “I won’t let them see that I’m afraid.”
We shuffled in a line, heads down, prodded by soldiers on all sides, and led by the skinny one in the ill-fitting uniform. If someone faltered or stepped out of the line, Anneliese was there to guide them back. I helped wherever I could, all the while never letting go of Papa’s arm. We walked down Spandauer Strasse, crossing over the footbridge at the Spree River. With each step we moved farther and farther away from the factory and from Hetti’s refuge. I wondered if Hetti knew what was happening to us. I hoped she didn’t. It would break her heart. I thought about her, waiting for us that evening with a meal that would remain untouched. I thought about Mama who wasn’t here to see all of this. And I thought about Ruth.
“My parents are g
etting more and more scared,” Ruth had said to me one day as we walked home from school many months ago. “They think we should try to get away.”
I nodded. “My Papa’s worried too. But get away where?”
“I don’t know. My parents aren’t saying much to me. But I overheard them talk when I got up from bed to get some water last night. We have a cousin who lives in America.”
“America!” My mouth dropped. “How would you even get there?”
“I don’t know that either.”
We walked in silence.
“If you go to America, how will I find you?” I finally asked.
Ruth looked at me, eyes full of hope. “Maybe you can come too?”
I gulped. Our home was here. Mama was buried here. Papa would never leave Berlin.
“Sure,” I finally said.
We both knew that would never happen.
Ruth disappeared a week later.
On we walked, now on Leipziger Strasse, then turning this way and that for nearly an hour until we rounded a corner, and I could see the sign for the Anhalter Bahnhof, the train station from where people were deported to the concentration camps.
“Halt! Stop here!” the soldier finally ordered. Train cars waited in front of us in a long row.
Our line staggered to a stop. The soldiers gathered in a huddle to talk.
“What’s happening?” Papa asked. Usually my father could hear the softest whisper a hundred paces away. But fear had blunted his senses.
“Shhh, Papa.” I strained to listen, catching only a few words. I heard the soldiers say, “Theresienstadt,” and then, “Get rid of them, once and for all.”
We’re doomed, I thought as my heart fell into my stomach. The trains are headed for those terrible concentration camps. Soon, we’ll be on board, and then our fate will be sealed.
“What did they say?” Papa asked again.
“We’re going to stay here for a while until they figure things out,” I lied, keeping my voice as steady as I could. For once, I was grateful my father was blind. He couldn’t see the tears pooling in my eyes. He couldn’t see how my hands were shaking. And for once, he didn’t seem to sense how I was feeling.
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Papa said. “We’ll be back at the factory before you know it.”
“Of course, we will.” I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing we were both lying to each other.
Chapter 17
Time passed in an endless blur. One hour? Two? It was hard to tell. And still, we stood on the train station platform, huddled in a group, waiting for something to happen. The sky was filled with gray clouds that hung low in the air. Any minute now, the rain will come, I thought. Our already-cold bodies will be drenched through.
“Lean on me,” Papa said, and I pressed closer to him.
I shivered again, feeling as though electricity was passing up and down my spine. My eyes searched the station platform, desperate for a way out. The guards had moved to unlock the train doors. Their backs were to us, their rifles lowered. I needed to do something, to take charge, to get us out of here. And then, an idea came to me, impossibly dangerous, but the only thing I could think of.
“We need to run away,” I whispered to Papa.
“No!” he said, his voice rising.
“Shhh!” I glanced at the guards across the platform. This was the only moment we would have. With their backs to us, they might not notice if we slipped away and ran. We could disappear into the morning crowd, I thought, my mind racing wildly over this plan. No one will pay attention to a young girl and her father. I didn’t know where we’d go after that, where we could hide.
Maybe we would find our way back to Hetti’s house. She’d be so happy to see us. She’d pull us inside. She’d call me Mäuschen, and she’d make delicious food for me and Papa. And Schatzi would be waiting for me on my bed.
One step at a time, I thought shaking my head. First, we need to get out of here. It’s time to move. “When I say go, I want you to start running,” I commanded my father.
He pulled on my arm. “It won’t work. I can’t see where we’re going, and you can’t drag me fast enough.”
“The soldiers aren’t looking our way. They won’t see us go.” I took a step away from the platform.
Papa pulled me back again. “It’s impossible!”
“But we have to try!” My resolve to run was turning to desperation. Of course, it was dangerous, maybe impossible, as Papa had said. But I wanted to make him agree that this was the only solution. “We’re going to be taken away,” I said. “The soldiers are getting the trains ready. You know what that means.” I knew I didn’t have to say more. Papa understood exactly what I was saying. Yet still, he resisted.
“They’ll shoot us before we can take five steps,” he said, his voice hopeless and filled with despair.
The guards were still inspecting the train. But, in another minute, they would come for us. Being shot might be better than a different end, I thought. If we run, we might die. If we stay and get on the trains, we will die. What choice did we have? No choice at all.
“And what about the others?” Papa said. “We can’t leave them here.”
I glanced at Anneliese and her sister, holding one another, foreheads touching, and at Erna, her head hanging so low I couldn’t see her face. My heart sank once more. Papa was right. If we made a run for it, how could we leave our friends behind?
Herr Bromberger and Willy tried to sit, but just as they were about to sink to the ground, the skinny soldier rushed over and ordered them to their feet.
“You’re not here for a rest,” he said, roughly.
The moment to get away had passed. There was no escape.
Chapter 18
The soldiers stood in front of the trains talking with each other as we continued to stand and wait. But this time there was a new voice among them, one that was familiar. I leaned forward, straining to hear once more, and caught the unmistakable voice of Herr Weidt! Where had he come from? At first, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. He and the soldiers had their heads so close to each other. It was only when I saw him shake his fist in the air above his head that I realized how angry he was. And then, all the voices rose.
“What do you mean you’ve arrested the workers from my factory?” Herr Weidt demanded.
The skinny soldier who had led us here puffed out his chest. “We’re under orders to arrest all Jews.”
“I am Otto Weidt, a very important businessman in this city,” Herr Weidt said, pulling himself up and glaring at the soldier. “I run the factory that makes brushes for the military…your army.”
The soldier’s eyes narrowed and scanned Herr Weidt from head to toe.
Herr Weidt ignored him. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me and my factory?”
“Well,” the soldier replied. “I really don’t—”
“The brushes I make are essential for the war effort,” Herr Weidt interrupted. “I have orders from the top to produce these products.” He punctuated that word, pointing a finger to the sky. “These blind men and women are the only ones who are trained to produce those brushes. And if my products don’t get to the front, there will be trouble. Do you understand me?”
The soldier wrinkled his brow and shifted from one foot to the other. He glanced at the three others who were with him, each one avoiding Herr Weidt’s stare.
Seconds turned to minutes while the soldier considered what had been said. Meanwhile, Herr Weidt stood absolutely still, staring at the soldier with a knife-like glare.
“Well?” Herr Weidt finally asked. “You’re wasting precious time. I need these workers back at my factory.”
The soldier shifted again, lowering his head, shaking it, then raising it once more. Meanwhile, Anneliese and her sister cried silent tears. Willy Latter still stood tall and straight. I held my
breath. Suddenly, Erna moaned out loud, a low, deep, and desperate cry. And that snapped the soldier to attention.
“I don’t care about your products. I’ve got my orders,” he said, jutting his chin and matching Herr Weidt’s stare.
Herr Weidt took a step forward. His face had tightened and his nostrils flared. “Your superiors won’t be happy with you when they hear that you’ve arrested Otto Weidt’s workers. Perhaps you didn’t hear me before. I said, you’ll be in big trouble with your superiors if my brushes stop getting to the army. Are you willing to take that risk?”
This time, the soldier frowned. He stepped back from Herr Weidt’s glare, and ran a shaky hand across his forehead.
For a moment, I dared to think we might be saved. I thought that the soldier might set us free and let us return to the factory. I couldn’t have been more wrong. A second later, he pulled himself together and faced Herr Weidt once more.
“Step aside. These Jews are getting on this train, and I don’t care what happens to them after that.”
My stomach clenched as the soldiers surrounded us.
“Move forward. Don’t stop!” they ordered.
The train doors slid open on their rollers with a loud bang. We shuffled toward the blackness inside. My throat was so tight I could barely breath. A voice in my head was screaming, Don’t let us die.
The skinny soldier pushed Papa from behind. He stumbled and nearly fell.
“Papa!” I screamed.
“Stay next to me, Lillian.”
“I’m here. I won’t leave you.” I clutched my father.
The open door to the train was only steps away, ten more, then five, then two. In another moment, we would be inside the blackness. My legs twitched with fear as I moved forward.