The Sound of Freedom

by Kathy Kacer

  would that be enough to protect them as they passed

  through that country? Anna hoped so.

  She slept for much of the first part of the journey.

  Her stomach felt strange. Just nerves, she told her-

  self, like the time she had once performed for a few of Papa’s colleagues at the academy. Her stomach had practically seized up then. A nap would calm her, and help pass the time. They had a small compartment for just the three of them, and the train lulled her to sleep with its gentle rocking motion.

  Once, she opened her eyes to see Baba stand-

  ing over her, peering down. “Your face is hot, my

  Annichka,” Baba murmured as she pressed her lips to

  Anna’s forehead and laid her hand on Anna’s cheek.

  Anna shrugged the hand away and turned to look out

  the window. Outside, the countryside of Poland sped

  by. Over and over, Anna wondered if she would ever

  see those rolling hills and green pastures again. She whispered good-bye to each and every rock and tree

  that they passed.

  As they approached the German border, Papa ap-

  peared to grow more anxious. They were obviously

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  not going to be staying in Germany, but they would

  have to pass through border security in order to get to Italy. And that meant they would have to show their

  papers to the German authori ties. Papa checked and

  double-checked the travel documents, making sure

  that the three certificates were there, names were

  spelled correctly, the dates were accurate, and everything was in order.

  Once, he caught Anna staring at him and laughed.

  “You know how careful I tend to be about these

  things, Annichka,” he said. “Everything is fine. No

  need to worry. It’s just me being extra cautious. That’s all.”

  He didn’t fool Anna. She could see the sweat

  beading up on his forehead and his fingers twitching as he thumbed through the documents for what seemed

  like the millionth time. Baba was muttering to herself and spitting through her fingers, and her eyes darted from Papa to Anna and back again. The whole scene

  made Anna feel sick to her stomach. Or maybe she

  was already feeling that way. Whatever it was, the tension in the compartment was only adding to the sick

  feeling rising up inside of her. By the time the train came to the border, she thought she might throw up.

  The train eased to a stop and steam hissed out

  of the engine as silence descended on Anna and her

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  family. The three of them sat in their compartment

  for what felt like an eternity, saying nothing. Finally, they heard footsteps outside and the door to their

  train car was pushed open. A German soldier entered.

  He wore a brown army uniform with badges across

  his chest. He had a gun in the holster of his waist belt, and he wore tal , black boots that he clicked together as he came to attention. Anna’s eyes were fixed on

  the bright red armband of his uniform, emblazoned

  with a black swastika, the symbol of Hitler’s army.

  A second soldier waited outside the compartment.

  He wore a similar uniform, but on his head he had a

  helmet that looked like an upside-down pot that Baba had used to make stews.

  “Papers!” the soldier demanded.

  Anna shrank back and pressed against her father.

  Papa handed over the documents, and the soldier

  began to scan them.

  “Where are you traveling?” the soldier asked.

  “To Genoa,” Papa replied. He doesn’t even sound

  nervous, Anna marveled. His voice was calm and in control.

  “And where will you be going from Genoa?”

  That was the question that hung in the air. To

  reply that they were boarding a ship for Palestine

  would instantly identify them.

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  Papa hesitated for just a brief moment and then

  said, “We are sailing to Haifa.”

  “You are Jews,” the soldier said.

  “Yes,” Papa replied.

  There was a long pause before the soldier con-

  tinued talking. “You’re lucky you have these papers,”

  he finally said. There was something sinister in

  his comment.

  Up until that moment, the soldier had barely even

  looked at them. Now he looked up and his eyes moved

  across each of their faces, starting with Papa, then over to Baba, and finally coming to rest on Anna. She pulled even further back.

  “The young one doesn’t look well,” the soldier

  said. “Are you feeling sick, kleine Mädchen?” He was calling her a little girl, and smiling when he said it.

  He leaned down until his face was just inches from

  Anna’s. His breath smelled like cigarettes.

  Anna was frozen with fear. Her heart was pound-

  ing so loud that she could barely hear what the sol-

  dier had asked, let alone respond. She couldn’t even open her mouth to try. Her stomach, which had felt

  tense before, was now tumbling around inside of

  her, churning up in a way that made her feel light-

  headed. Her father jumped in for her. “Perhaps she’s just a little sick from the train ride. Nothing serious.”

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  The soldier nodded. He continued to study each

  of their faces, looking back at their papers and then up again. Back and forth, up and down, for what

  felt like forever. Finally, he handed the papers back to Papa and turned to go. Just before leaving their

  compartment, he turned once more, snapped his

  boot heels together, and raised his arm in a salute to Adolf Hitler.

  And then he was gone. It felt as if another full

  minute passed before Papa exhaled a slow and long

  breath. Baba looked up to the sky and closed her eyes.

  And that was when Anna did throw up, lurching

  forward and retching into the small trash can that

  Papa managed to grab and place in front of her in the nick of time. Anna hung her head for some minutes

  after that, still feeling her stomach heave and groan.

  Baba held her head until she finally leaned back,

  unclenched her jaw, and buried her face in her father’s arm. The image of the soldier with his arm raised in that salute was seared in her mind. Within minutes,

  the train whistle blew and the train began to slowly chug its way out of the station. Anna barely looked

  out the window for the entire time that the train was passing through Germany. The faster we get out of here, the better, she thought. It took the better part of a day to get to the Italian border. Crossing through

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  to Italy was not a problem, and after several more

  hours, the three of them finally arrived in Genoa,

  headed for the pier, and boarded the boat for Haifa.

  As soon as they found their small cabin, Anna

  went straight to bed. Whether it was the soldier on

  the train or having thrown up, she felt terrible. Her head pounded, her stomach ached, and her cheeks

  burned. She wasn’t even able to stand at the rail with all the other passengers as the ship slipped its moor-ings and sailed into the Tyrrhenian Sea. The journey to Haifa would take ten days, sailing the passengers south and around the tip of Cypress, then across the Mediterranean. Anna could hear the other passengers whooping and cheeri
ng. She longed to be next

  to them, but every time she tried to raise her head, the pounding began again, and she sank down deeper

  into the pillow and closed her eyes.

  “Better to sleep, my darling.” It was her father’s

  voice. Or perhaps it was Baba. She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was all a dream, and she would open her eyes and

  still be in her bed in Krakow, waiting for a letter to arrive from a famous violinist. Or maybe, just maybe, the next time she opened her eyes, they would be

  in Haifa.

  Chapter

  21

  Anna didn’t know how long she slept. The cabin grew

  dark, and then light, and then dark again. Every

  once in a while, she would open her eyes to find Baba standing over her, clucking and cooing and trying to force a few spoonfuls of hot soup down her throat.

  She turned her face away. Once, she awoke to find

  a doctor sitting next to her on the cot. At least, she thought he was a doctor. He had a stethoscope in

  his hand, which he pressed to her chest. There was a fuzzy image of Papa standing behind him. Papa’s face was creased with worry lines.

  Don’t look so scared, Papa, she longed to say. But no words came out of her. She simply closed her eyes and drifted away again.

  Another time, she awoke moaning. She had seen

  the soldier again, the one from the train. Had he

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  followed them on to the boat? He was shouting in

  German, ordering her to get up and follow him. His

  arm with the swastika armband was still held high

  in the salute to Hitler. “No,” she shouted. “No, I won’t go. I have to stay here. Please don’t make me go.”

  “Shhh, my darling.” It was her father’s voice,

  soothing her back to reality. “You’re here with me

  and with Baba,” he crooned. “Everything is okay. Just sleep, sleep.”

  She wanted to tell her father that the soldier was

  chasing her, but each time she tried to speak, he

  hushed her, and again she drifted away.

  Then she dreamed she was in the audience of a

  great concert hall, listening to a group of musicians onstage. At first, the song they were playing was

  beautiful. But slowly, the musicians began to turn

  into barnyard animals and the sounds that filled

  the concert hall were the sounds of geese and ducks

  and cows. A man who looked like Mr. Huberman

  was standing on the stage shouting, “None of you

  are good enough to get into my orchestra!” Make the horrible sounds stop, her mind screamed. She pressed her hands to her ears, turned to the wall, and felt herself sleep once more.

  Still another time, she dreamed about Mama, and

  a time when she’d taken Anna to see a puppet show

  at the Krakow Park. Anna was only five years old

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  and she had become frightened at the sight of one of the puppets, which was dressed to look like a witch.

  It chased two smaller puppet children with a broom

  held high over its head. Anna had whimpered and

  clung to her mother, who calmed her and whispered

  in her ear. “Don’t be frightened, Annichka. I’m here to protect you.” Was that really the voice of her mother that she now heard in her dreams? Or was it still Papa stroking her forehead and telling her that she would be fine?

  Finally, Anna woke to a bright beam of sunlight,

  filled with bits of dust particles, shining across her cot. It poured in from a porthole on one side of the small cabin. She hadn’t even noticed the opening

  when they had arrived. How many days ago was that?

  She had no idea. But her mind felt fresh and clear.

  And when she pressed her hands to her face, her

  cheeks were cool.

  “Well, hello!”

  Anna rolled over to see Papa sitting in a small

  chair on the other side of the cabin. “It looks like you’re back.” He was smiling, a grin so big that it

  made Anna smile as well.

  “How long have I been here?” she asked.

  “Nearly four days!”

  What! Had she really been sleeping for that long?

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  The journey was practically half over, and she hadn’t even stepped foot outside the cabin!

  “You’ve been quite sick, Annichka,” Papa con-

  tinued, noting the look of surprise on Anna’s face.

  “Thank goodness there was a doctor on board. He gave you medicine that finally brought down the fever.”

  Yes, she remembered the doctor. But everything

  else was a blur.

  “Where’s Baba?”

  At that, Papa smiled again. “Baba has not left your

  side, except to go and get food for you. That’s where she is now. Every day, she’s brought soup and toast

  here to the cabin, hoping you’d eat something. You’ve only had a couple of bites since we boarded. She will be thrilled to see you are finally awake.”

  As if on cue, the door to the cabin opened and

  Baba walked through. Her face exploded in a smile

  that seemed to stretch beyond her ears. “Annichka,

  I’ve brought you food.”

  Anna smiled again and struggled to sit up. She

  was weak after four days of being in bed. But she was also famished and the smell of the soup that Baba set in front of her was heavenly.

  “Not quite like my cabbage soup from home.”

  Baba sniffed. “But it will be fine and it will make you strong.”

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  Anna tasted the hot liquid. Delicious! Baba urged her on, practically taking the spoon out of her hand and trying to feed her. It was all Anna could do to

  convince her grandmother to let her eat on her own.

  Finally, Baba went to sit on a chair at the foot of

  Anna’s cot. But her eyes never left her granddaughter.

  Anna tried to finish the soup; she wanted to get it all in, if only to please Baba. But after several mouth-fuls, she pushed the bowl away. She needed to get up, wanted to go out on the deck and see where they were and where they were going. She felt as if this voyage had slipped away from her in the last few days and

  she wanted to hang on to the last part of the jour-

  ney. When she stood up, her legs felt wobbly beneath her and it took a moment before the room stopped

  spinning.

  “Shall I come with you?” Papa asked after she had

  finished dressing. He stood close to her, brows still knitted together, as if he couldn’t quite trust that she was fully recovered.

  She shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Papa. Besides, I

  can’t go very far.”

  He seemed to accept that, but insisted that she

  put on a jacket. “It will protect you from the cool sea air,” he said. Before going out the door, Anna checked herself in the mirror and pulled her long, unruly hair

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  into two pigtails, which she quickly braided. Her face still looked pale, and she pinched her cheeks between her fingers to try to bring some color into them. Then she put on a jacket, waved good-bye to her father and grandmother, made her way to the deck, and walked

  over to the railing to watch the sea pass by.

  Anna inhaled deeply as she looked out at the end-

  less expanse of water. It smelled salty and a little fishy.

  But after four days of having been cooped up inside, she didn’t care. She filled her lungs with the smell.

  A gust of wind brushed over her face, lifting strands of dark
hair off her forehead. She wrapped her jacket tighter around her body and closed her eyes, feeling herself regain her footing as the ship bobbed gently underneath her.

  The ship was called the Fuga. Anna had laughed when her father first told her the name. It was a

  funny-sounding word. “In Italian, it means escape,”

  Papa said.

  Now she whispered the word over and over in her

  mouth. Fuga. Fuga. It had become such a lovely word for a lovely ship.

  Just then, she heard someone shouting and opened

  her eyes. A man standing close to her had lost his hat.

  The wind had picked it up and tossed it high into

  the sky. Anna watched as it sailed out across the sea

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  and then landed on a wave. It bobbed there for a few seconds before it disappeared into the dark waters.

  The man was shouting as if he wanted it to fly back to him. But it was too late.

  She closed her eyes again and took another breath,

  trying to block out the sounds of other passen-

  gers walking by and gulls squawking on the wind.

  Suddenly, someone touched her arm and she whirled

  around.

  “I was hoping I’d see you here.”

  Chapter

  22

  “Eric!” she exclaimed. It was the boy from the audition in Warsaw.

  He bowed in front of her and Anna recalled how

  formal he had been when she first met him. At least

  here on the ship, he wasn’t wearing a suit. The wind blew his red hair straight up into the sky. He removed his glasses and squinted at her. “I heard that you

  were sick.”

  Anna nodded. “I’m feeling better now.”

  “So your father made it into the orchestra,” Eric

  continued. “I’m glad.”

  “I guess it took longer for all of us to get out of

  Poland than we thought it would. But here we are.”

  Anna swept her arms wide to the sea, and couldn’t

  help but smile.

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  “You’re happy?” Eric asked.

  “Of course! Aren’t you?”

  Eric looked thoughtful. “I am,” he said. “But I have to say that my mother is not as pleased to have left Warsaw. She thinks everything will be fine in Poland.

  She wanted to stay.”

  Anna nodded, wide-eyed. “My friend Stefan said

  the same thing! And even my father wasn’t so sure