Shadow of His Hand

by Wendy Lawton

  “Write, Mutti. Tell me everything.”

  “I will, Mein Liebling, I will. You write as well.”

  “Auf Wiedersehen, Mutti.” Anita held her hand to her mouth and blew a pretend kiss to her mother out the window of the train as the chugging sound increased. Mutti grew smaller and smaller as the train pulled out.

  When she arrived in Berlin, Frau Michaelis’ tailor met her at the train station. How odd. He seemed a nice enough man—nervous, but friendly.

  “This,” he said to his employer when they arrived at the upscale townhouse, “is Anita Dittman.”

  “Fräulein Dittman, this is Frau Michaelis.” The tailor opened his palm toward an older woman seated in the middle of a horsehair sofa. Anita had never seen such a large woman. There would not be enough room on either side of Frau Michaelis to seat a small child. Strange. Since the war, everyone seems to grow so thin. Things must be different in Berlin.

  “Welcome, Anita; put your things upstairs.” The woman looked at Anita’s worn suitcase and made a tsk-tsk sound. “You did bring your ration card, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Frau Michaelis.” Anita dug in her satchel and presented it to the woman. In wartime Germany, each person only got the food specified on the ration card. No matter how much money one had, one could only buy their limited ration. Food production always suffered during war. When farmers became soldiers, who grew the food? And Hitler believed the soldiers must be fed first—the people could share whatever remained.

  Frau Michaelis hoisted herself off the couch and took the ration card with her into the kitchen, turning it over as she walked away, seeming to forget Anita.

  “I’ll show you to your room.” The tailor led the way upstairs. “Frau Michaelis is a generous woman. She loves beautiful clothing, but because of her size, her clothes are hand tailored.”

  “You make her clothing?”

  “Yes. She gives me a room in her home in exchange for my sewing.”

  “And she’s been lonely since her husband and sons left?” Anita knew how lonely she’d been since she said good-bye to Mutti.

  “Lonely? I don’t know anything about that.” He seemed to dismiss the subject. “Here is your room.”

  After the Dittmans’ crowded room in the ghetto, Anita savored the space. How she wished Mutti could have shared the room with her.

  At the first meal, rations were scanty. Anita figured they hadn’t had time to shop for her rations yet. She appreciated them giving her a little of their food, even though her stomach growled long into the night.

  She started school the next day. As she left, the maid handed her a delicate cucumber sandwich to put into her satchel. By the time lunch came along, she could have eaten a whole stack of sandwiches. How she hoped the maid stood in line for rations today, so she could have more food for dinner.

  “May I sit here?” The girl speaking was a pretty teenager just about Anita’s age. “I’m Ruth Conrad. You’re new, aren’t you?”

  “Hello. Yes, I’m Anita Dittman. I just moved here from Breslau.”

  “Would you like a little piece of my cheese? Your sandwich looked awfully small.”

  “Danke. I’d love some cheese if you have any to spare.” She took the little piece broken off the edge and put it into her mouth. It tasted wonderful. “I’m staying with a nice lady who must have decided when she saw how small I am that I eat equally small portions.” She smiled. “In truth, I have the appetite of a half-starved wolf.”

  Ruth laughed. “You’d certainly be considered the runt of the litter.”

  “No fair,” Anita said. She loved Ruth’s teasing attitude. Perhaps she ’d finally found a school friend.

  “So, where do you live?”

  “I’m staying with Frau Michaelis. Do you know her?”

  “Oh.” Ruth’s face seemed to lose some of the fun. “Yes, she goes to my church.”

  “You go to church? Are you a Christian?”

  “Ja. All the way. You?”

  “Me, too. I’m half Jewish—my mother’s a Jew—but I am one hundred percent Christian.”

  “I like the way you put that, Anita Dittman.” Ruth’s smile widened. “I prayed that the Lord would send me a fellow believer as a friend this year. Look at you! It’s the first day of school, and He delivered you all the way from Breslau just for me.”

  “I can tell I’m going to like you, Ruth.”

  And that started Anita’s days at her Berlin school. Her Jewishness seemed less important at this school than back in Breslau.

  True to her word, Frau Michaelis provided all the books and the tuition. Anita surprised herself—she was a good student and she enjoyed every minute of school. Well, every minute except lunch. Her rations continued to be so small that Anita lost weight.

  Ruth worried about her. “You need to tell Frau Michaelis to give you more food.”

  “I could never!” Anita opened her eyes wide at the thought. She and her benefactor barely talked. Frau Michaelis kept to herself mostly. She kept their relationship cool, almost formal. Anita wondered about the woman telling Pastor Hornig that she longed for company. He must have mixed her up with someone else.

  Anita missed Mutti terribly. No matter how good school was, at night she cried herself to sleep. Was Mutti still safe? What happened in Breslau? Had they stepped up persecution of those on the blacklist?

  Whenever Anita received a letter from Mutti, she read it over and over. Anita’s letters were frequent as well. She made sure never to mention her hunger or Frau Michaelis’ coldness. Mutti had enough to worry about.

  “My mother sent this piece of bread for you.” Ruth handed Anita a half slice of rich, dark pumpernickel.

  “You cannot spare this, Ruth.” Anita loved her friend’s generosity. “Yours is a big family and each morsel of food is precious these days. I cannot accept that.”

  “My mother insists. When I told her that you’d grown so thin your skirts had to be pinned, she worried. But when I told her much of your beautiful hair is falling out, she said that can be a sign of severe malnutrition.”

  “We all lose weight these days …”

  “Anita, don’t you see? Frau Michaelis lacks for nothing money can buy. Money alone cannot buy food these days—you need money plus a ration card.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “My mother knows Frau Michaelis from church. She seems a pious woman, but as one gets to know her … I don’t want to repeat gossip.”

  Anita’s stomach growled again and Ruth pressed the piece of bread into her hands. “My mother believes Frau Michaelis took you in order to use much of your rations for her own table.”

  “That couldn’t be. She’s been generous with tuition money.”

  “Which is worth more these days, Anita, food or money?”

  “I wish I could talk to Mutti.”

  “Why don’t you write and tell her about your hair and your weight loss?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t!” Anita couldn’t imagine worrying Mutti. She had her hands full trying to care for her aging sisters and staying one step ahead of the Gestapo.

  “Consider one question: How much weight has Mrs. Michaelis lost since you came?” Ruth finished her piece of bread and refolded the napkin it came in.

  As Anita nibbled on the sweet, heavy bread, she remembered that the tailor had a stack of dresses to let out. Oh, Mutti, I want to go home …

  That night the British bombardment started. It’s not like the Germans hadn’t anticipated the attack—the Nazis had made the mistake of bombing a quiet neighborhood in London. Notices had been posted throughout Berlin to be prepared for the English to bomb Berlin in retaliation—but the reality exceeded their worst expectations. As the air raid sirens went off, Anita and the rest of the household felt their way down into the building’s basement. This was no easy task since the city was blacked out. Residents were not even allowed to light a candle out of doors. As a hodgepodge of people huddled together in the shelter, it sounded like the rumble of cr
ashing thunderstorms above. Children whimpered, babies cried, and Anita prayed. Each time the bombing would go on for what seemed like hours. When the night sky finally quieted, Berliners received the all-clear signal and everyone made their way back to their apartments.

  Frau Michaelis had a difficult time making it up and down the stairs. She had become even crankier since the bombardment started.

  Anita wondered if Mutti heard about the bombing. The Nazis posted all news and notices on a wide pole in the ghetto. It became their link to news. Too often, however, the authorities withheld more information than they posted. Mutti probably still pictured Anita living in luxurious safe surroundings with good food and a generous benefactor. How Anita longed to tell her the truth. I want to go home to Mutti.

  Erasaed from the Earth

  The bombing continued. In Berlin, many thousands of people died. The sounds of screaming sirens followed by buzzing planes and the percussion of bombs took their toll on the citizens.

  Weakened by malnutrition, Anita fell ill. Frau Michaelis—always overly worried about contagion—decreed that no one could go in or come out of Anita’s room. The maid pushed a bowl of soggy cereal through the door twice a day, but Anita saw no one and talked to no one. Her homesickness grew intense. She longed to touch the soft skin on Mutti’s face. She might be thirteen years old already, but she wished she still had Teddy. The silence and the loneliness ached worse than the illness. What if I die all alone?

  But she didn’t die. Her fever broke after several days, and she finally returned to school again. This time however, her homesickness continued. Anita longed to see Mutti. Sadness hung over everything she did. At least her studies took time and kept her mind off her family for part of each day.

  Since the bombing continued nonstop, plans were made to evacuate the students to the Bavarian Alps. Anita wrote to Mutti to get permission to go. Now the coming “holiday” from the war was the favorite topic of everyone’s conversation at school.

  “Oh, Anita, will we ever have fun!” Ruth said as they walked along the school hallway and talked about what they would pack. “Just think—to be away from all this war, war, war for a time!”

  “Do you think we’ll finally feel like teenagers?” Anita loved that term. She’d come across it in her reading. She read at every opportunity—especially novels with fun-loving teenage characters living peaceful lives. What a difference from her experience. Nothing about her life had been normal since Vati left. Nothing.

  “I will miss my parents, but the constant bombardment leaves me feeling jittery and nervous.” Ruth’s hands shook much of the time these days and she often jumped at loud noises. “I think my parents will relax if they know I’m safely out of the way.”

  “That’s how my mother felt about me coming to Berlin.” Anita laughed. “If Mutti only knew …” Anita censored her own mail much more strenuously than the Gestapo would. No sense in worrying Mutti. “I must admit, when we leave for the Alps, I’ll not miss Frau Michaelis. I know I should be thankful, but—”

  “Anita Dittman?” The school principal stepped out of the office and interrupted the girls.

  “Ja.”

  “A mistake has been made. I know we asked you to secure your mother’s permission to evacuate, but … um … you will not be traveling with us after all.” Without saying another word, he turned back into the office. At the door, he paused and turned once again to Anita. “Please leave your books in the outer office so another child can use them. It’s a shame to waste them.”

  Just like that. Soldiers used the word shell-shocked to describe the emptiness she felt. She knew it would hurt later, but she couldn’t react now.

  Ruth looked stricken.

  “I’m no longer surprised by things like these.” Anita hugged her friend. “I will miss you, dear friend, but don’t let it upset your trip. You need the vacation from trouble …” Anita gave her friend a playful punch. “So don’t borrow my trouble.”

  Ruth couldn’t speak. She had no experience with rejection. Seeing it acted out in the hallway left her stunned.

  There would be no time for proper good-byes. Ruth had to hurry home, get her things, and meet all her classmates at the train station. All except Anita, that is.

  “Auf Wiedersehen, Ruth.” Anita said as she dropped her books off and started home. “I will never forget you.”

  As Anita walked home, her throat grew tight and her eyes stung. Lord, You said You would shadow me with Your hand. Is this what You call protection? Is there nowhere for me?

  As she walked, she thought about the Lord. Ever since she first met Him in those stained glass windows, she knew He loved her. She understood that deep inside. OK, Anita, don’t despair now. Try to think of this in a new way. She prayed that God would let her see the situation from His point of view. Maybe God is not taking something away from me. Could He be moving me to something better?

  Her gnawing hunger made it hard for her to think. Could God be closing the school door in order to open a door somewhere else?

  But what is the next step? She couldn’t decide what to do. All she could think about was home and Mutti.

  The farther she walked, the more she thought of Pastor Hornig. He also loved her and wanted the best for her. He believed she was safe and happy at Frau Michaelis’ home—as safe as anyone could be in war-torn Germany. Anita longed to talk to him—to get his advice. By the time she made it to Frau Michaelis’ apartment, she felt an overwhelming urge to call Pastor Hornig.

  Without even thinking to ask permission, she picked up the big black phone in the hallway. She’d never once used Frau Michaelis’ phone. But now she dialed the church phone number.

  “Hello, St. Barbara’s.” The familiar voice caused tears to finally well up in her eyes.

  “Pastor Hornig? It’s Anita.”

  “Anita! What a surprise. I just visited your mother yesterday and we talked about the wonderful opportunity you’ve had to study and—”

  Anita’s tears turned into great hiccupping sobs.

  “Anita, child, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Pastor.” She could hardly get the words out. “I cannot join my classmates as they evacuate. They leave tonight without me … constant bombing … hungry. I’m hungry. …”

  “Slow down. Tell me again. You’ve been suspended from school?”

  “Y–yes.”

  “And you’re hungry and frightened, right?” He paused as if to think of the right words. “Anita, everyone is hungry right now. The war affects us all.” He paused to listen to the sounds of her despair. “Anita, I’ll pray that the Lord will ease your burden, but you are safe in Berlin.”

  “You don’t understand, Pastor. I’ve lost weight and my hair is falling out. My friend says I suffer from severe malnutrition.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” He sounded very upset and his sense of urgency changed. “I’ll gather together the money to wire you a train ticket. You can tell me everything when you arrive home. It sounds like there’s much I don’t know.”

  So Anita came back to Breslau.

  At the train station, Pastor Hornig took her by the shoulders and held her away from him as if he wanted to have a good look at her. He just kept shaking his head. “I wish you had told us, Anita.”

  When he brought her to her mother, Mutti kept running her hand over Anita’s now-wispy hair and muttering something under her breath.

  Mutti only saw the changes in her daughter, but Anita saw Breslau with fresh eyes. Homecoming highlighted how much things continued to change. The apartment seemed tinier than ever, the aunts more frail, and the bedbugs more vicious, but it didn’t matter. Anita was home. She and Mutti vowed to stay together as long as they could.

  “Mutti, where are Susie and Renate Ephraim? I haven’t seen them since I returned. And I haven’t seen Herr Levi, either.” Anita almost hated to ask, but she wondered if any more friends were able to get out of Germany.

  Mutti’s face told the story. “Gone. J
ust gone.”

  “What is happening? Where will it end?”

  “I wish I could answer that. At first we thought Hitler would be satisfied with taking our jobs, our homes, and our money. Then we began to hear the Nazis clamoring for Judenrein—Jewish-free cities. One by one we Jews registered, and then they began to round us up and gather us into ghettos like this.” Mutti breathed deeply as if she were inhaling red-hot pain.

  “And it isn’t enough?” Anita knew the answer. Several men had been taken to a concentration camp called Auschwitz. For some reason, a few were released back to their families, but the stories that came back with them were too chilling to be believed.

  “So we keep getting relocated and concentrated into smaller and smaller locations. It’s beginning to look as if Hitler cannot rest until we are removed entirely.” Mutti rubbed her hands over her face. “You know what the Polish Gauleiter, Hans Frank, said, don’t you?”

  “No.” Anita knew that the gauleiters were Hitler’s provincial governors, but she didn’t keep up with things like Mutti did.

  “He said, ‘I ask nothing of the Jews except that they should disappear.’”

  “Oh, Mutti …”

  “Last month in Hitler’s paper, Der Stürmer, they announced that ‘Judgment has begun and will only reach its conclusion, when’ … Now, how did that go?” Mutti thought for a moment. “… ‘will only reach its conclusion when every knowledge of the Jews has been erased from the earth.’”

  “Someone will stop Hitler, won’t they?” Anita couldn’t believe such hatred would be allowed to go unchecked. She wished Germany would open its eyes and see what was happening. Look at us, look at us.

  Tante Käte couldn’t stop feeding Anita since she had returned from Berlin. The five of them—Mutti, Anita, and the three aunts—shared precious little food, but every time they sat down to a meal, Tante Käte fished tiny bits of meat out of the soup to put in Anita’s bowl. “I’m old and don’t eat as much. This girl’s skin is draped over nothing but bones. Eat. Eat.” She laughed, “God forbid I should lose a few pounds.”