Hero

by martha attema

  “You mean we won’t bring them inside anymore?” Izaak copied Gabe’s actions on one of Hero’s hind legs. “How will we protect them?” He let go of the leg and leaned against the warm body.

  “The war’s over. It’s a matter of days. The Germans are not interested in horses anymore. They have to save their own hides.” Gabe stood up and peered over the horse’s back. “The Germans are fleeing. The troops are disorganized. They have no food and haven’t been paid in weeks. Don’t you remember what they said on the radio last night?”

  Izaak nodded. He could hardly believe that the war was really going to be over. No more hiding from the German soldiers. But most important — the thought sent shivers up his spine — he would be able to find his family. At least he hoped so.

  Gabe stopped brushing. “Listen.”

  Izaak put down Hero’s leg. “I don’t hear anything,” he said. He listened again.

  Gabe stepped away from Hero and walked over to the door to the barn, opened it and walked in.

  As Izaak followed, his ears caught the sound of engines. Motorcycles. German motorcycles. His heart froze. Panic gripped him. “We have to hide!” Izaak screamed. “We have to hide Hero!”

  Gabe clenched his fists. “What are they doing here? It’s too late to hide Hero. Quick, climb into the trough and I’ll cover you with hay.”

  “What if the soldiers use pitchforks to check the trough?”

  “They won’t!” Gabe screamed. “Get in!”

  “What about you? Where will you hide?” Izaak’s voice was shrill with fear.

  “I don’t know.” Gabe seemed lost for words. “It’s too late. We’re all going to die anyway. You have to hide, Jan!”

  “I won’t.” Izaak had made up his mind. “If the Germans are going to take Hero, they’ll have to take me too. I know how to take care of him.” He felt calm now.

  “No, you don’t. Come here. I’ll give you an up!”

  Izaak glared at Gabe. “NO!”

  Gabe raced around Marijke and stood in front of Izaak. They didn’t speak.

  The sound of the engines droned closer.

  Izaak kept both feet on the ground.

  Gabe took a step towards him. He lifted his arm, brush in hand.

  Izaak stared at Gabe. He breathed hard, his eyes big.

  Something heavy hit the side of Izaak’s head. His head spun. The sound of the engines drowned out the scents and sounds of the stable. He tried to focus. Blackness cloaked him as he felt himself being lifted.

  Soft and sharp sticks tickled Izaak’s nose. He moved his arm. Hay. He was lying in a heap of hay. A sharp pain shot through his head. For a moment, he lay still. One by one, the events came back to him. His heart pounded.

  The Germans. Hero. Gabe with the brush in his hand.

  Izaak listened. Muffled voices came through the stable door. Holding his head, Izaak sat up. Hay covered his head and body. He didn’t bother wiping it off.

  He stared at the three empty stalls. Hero, Marijke and Clasina were gone. So was Gabe.

  His limbs trembling, Izaak climbed over the iron bars of the trough. With a soft thud, he landed in the straw below. T rying not to make a sound, he padded to the door. It stood ajar.

  The barn doors were open too. Outside, he spotted four soldiers with rifles, one of Uncle Piet’s wagons and the behinds of three familiar horses.

  He heard Uncle Piet’s voice. “You’re not taking all my horses. I need them for the haying and I need the wagon. Marijke here,” he pointed at the horse in the middle, “is having a foal.”

  Izaak didn’t understand what the Germans were saying. He crept out of the stables and into the barn, staying close to the wall so the soldiers couldn’t see him.

  Through the gap beside the hinges of the barn door he spotted Gabe. Gabe was holding Marijke and Hero by their bits. Albert held onto Clasina’s.

  From the doorway of the small house, Nel and the children watched the events at the barn.

  Again Izaak heard Uncle Piet say, “I need those horses!”

  The German’s reply sounded angry.

  Izaak noticed the soldier’s black leather boots. The war was supposed to be over.

  The boots marched over to Gabe.

  Izaak’s heart froze. Now they’re going to find out Gabe is a Jew, he thought.

  “If you take the horses,” Gabe’s voice trembled, “you have to take me too.”

  “Gabe, no!” Uncle Piet stepped forward. A soldier grabbed Uncle Piet from behind and pulled him back.

  More soldiers talked.

  Izaak didn’t understand a word they said. The ball in his stomach rolled.

  To Izaak’s surprise another soldier grabbed Marijke by the bridle. He turned the horse around and handed her to Uncle Piet.

  Izaak pressed his fists into his stomach. Had they changed their minds? Were they not taking the horses?

  In the next moment, a command was given. The soldier let go of Uncle Piet, allowing him to take Marijke’s bridle. Uncle Piet’s hands trembled as he stroked the horse’s nose.

  The soldier motioned to harness Clasina and Hero. Albert went into the barn and grabbed the harnesses from a hook on the wall.

  Izaak held his breath, but Albert never noticed him. As he watched Albert harnessing the horses, his eyes caught a movement down the farm lane. In horror he watched a group of soldiers running towards the farm. As they came closer Izaak noticed how dirty and tired they looked. He counted eight.

  Gabe’s face was tense with strain and fear. He turned and took the reins.

  Hero turned his head towards the barn door. His nostrils flared.

  Izaak’s breath caught. He could have sworn that Hero looked straight at him.

  A command was given and the soldiers climbed onto the flatbed of the wagon. Gabe took his seat, speaking comforting words to the horses. Hearing the command, the horses strained forward and pulled the wagon. Two German soldiers mounted their motorcycles; two others took the passenger seat. The engines revved. Followed by the motorcycles the wagon rode down the lane in the direction of the village.

  Izaak’s heart swelled and tears ran down his face. He would never forget the image of Hero, Clasina and Gabe driving a wagon full of soldiers.

  Hero trotted with pride, his head held high, his mane blowing to one side. Izaak watched until they reached the end of the lane, turned into the village and disappeared from sight.

  Liberation

  Footsteps coming from the house made Izaak look up. Aunt Anna, followed by Annie, came running. Out of breath, Aunt Anna kneeled beside him.

  “Jan,” she cried softly. “What’s going on? I thought this war was over.”

  “Gabe,” Izaak tried to swallow his tears. “Gabe went with the soldiers. They’re going to kill him.”

  Aunt Anna pulled him to his feet. “What happened?”

  Izaak looked up at Aunt Anna. “It was all my fault.”

  “I don’t believe that,” she said. “Let’s find the others.”

  Together they walked outside to meet Uncle Piet and Albert.

  “Jan!” Jaap’s cry of joy startled Izaak. “Where were you hiding?”

  His face flustered, Izaak looked at the people he’d known only for six months, but who had become like family. They gathered around Uncle Piet and Marijke. His eyes met Uncle Piet’s. “What’s going to happen to them? Will they come back?”

  Silence followed. Everyone looked at the ground.

  “We don’t know, Jan. We don’t know.” Uncle Piet’s voice was flat and defeated.

  “They’re on the run, you know.” Albert pointed at the village. “The Germans are fleeing.”

  “But why are they taking the horses now?” Izaak’s lip trembled.

  “They’re taking everything in their path. Bicycles. Wagons. Anything.”

  “What good will that do?” Uncle Piet’s voice was low.

  “They’re scared and they’re panicking.” Albert walked over to Marijke. “Shall I put her in her st
able? She’s shaking.”

  Izaak watched the trembling mare, swollen with her foal.

  Uncle Piet nodded and handed the mare’s lead to Albert.

  “What will they do to Gabe?” Aunt Anna clenched her fists.

  Nobody said a word.

  That night, Izaak tossed and turned. Over and over he saw the image of Gabe, driving the wagon full of German soldiers into the village pulled by two proud Frisian horses, followed by two Germans on motorcycles. Oh, Hero, he thought.

  The next morning, as the small troupe walked to school, the twins didn’t fight like they usually did. Annie walked beside Izaak. She didn’t say a word.

  Once they reached the school yard they felt the excitement.

  Johannes, a boy from grade six, came running down to meet them. “The Canadians are coming! We will be free!”

  Too late, Izaak thought. They came one day too late.

  Miss Afke had a hard time settling the students.

  “Today, April 14, 1945, is an important day for our village,” she wrote with chalk on the blackboard.

  “The Canadian troops and the Dutch Interior Army have managed to come from the south and the east into our province to liberate our village,” she said, when she finally had her students’ attention. She pointed out the route they had taken on the large map that hung at the front of the class. “They’re expected to liberate all of Friesland in the next few days.”

  The class cheered.

  “Why are the Germans fleeing west?” Nel, a big girl two seats ahead of Izaak, had put up her hand. “They should go east to Germany instead.”

  “They can’t,” Miss Afke explained. “The Canadian army has cut them off. The western provinces have not been liberated yet and that’s why they’re fleeing west.”

  “I hope they chase them all into the North Sea, so they can drown.” The quiet boy who’d come to the school after Izaak spoke up. The whole class turned towards him. It was the first time he’d said anything.

  Miss Afke cleared her throat. “As soon as the rest of the country is liberated, we might lose some of our friends,” she said. “They might go back home.”

  With a shock, Izaak realized he hadn’t even thought of that. He had been so preoccupied with Hero and Gabe that he hadn’t even thought of his parents and Sarah now that the war was over.

  Would they be able to live together in their house with the bright rooms? He was afraid to think of it. He had heard so many stories of Jewish people killed by the Germans.

  Ra-ta-ta-taaa-ta-taa. The music of a band drew them all from their seats.

  Miss Afke was already opening the door. The children tumbled out and stared as a marching band appeared down Main Street.

  “School is over for the day.” The headmaster was jumping up and down in excitement. “Go home! Celebrate!”

  Jaap and Annie stood beside Izaak. Behind the band followed a Canadian soldier on a BSA motorcycle. Izaak had never seen such a bike. Canadian and Dutch flags decorated the big Sherman tanks that followed. People were so excited that they had climbed on top of the tanks. The soldiers waved and sang. The whole population of the little village was dancing in the street. Already, the red, white and blue flags were flying from houses and atop the steeple of the church.

  Jaap could hardly contain himself. “I’m going on one of those tanks,” he shouted. “Come on, Jan!” In the next few moments, Izaak was pulled high onto a Canadian tank by two young soldiers. They put a Canadian flag in his hand and the liberation bug bit him. He waved eagerly at the people along the street.

  Just outside the village, Jaap and Izaak got off the tank, hands full of chocolate bars and packages of chewing gum. Annie had followed the tank. Together they ran home, where Aunt Anna had baked a cake in celebration.

  “Will Jan and I go home now?” Annie asked with her mouth full of cake.

  “The part of Holland where your parents are in hiding has not been liberated yet.” Aunt Anna looked from Annie to Izaak. “We hope the rest of the country will be free soon.”

  The mood around the table grew somber. They all thought of the families who were still in hiding, and of Clasina, Hero and Gabe.

  After a week of celebration, school began again. Izaak was glad. There was much work to do on the farm, but everything there reminded him of Gabe and Hero. At school, his mind went somewhere else.

  Izaak had taken over the task of looking after Marijke since Gabe was gone. Uncle Piet worried about the mare. She hadn’t been herself since the Germans had stolen Clasina and Hero.

  One night Izaak stayed with Marijke until Uncle Piet came looking for him.

  “Marijke is restless.” Izaak stroked the mane and neck of the mare. She whinnied when she heard Uncle Piet’s voice. They had made a small corral in a corner of the barn, so Marijke would have lots of space when she went into labor.

  “Give her some extra straw,” Uncle Piet said. “I have the feeling she might foal during the night.”

  “Can I stay with her?” Izaak pleaded.

  “We’ll both stay with her.” Uncle Piet placed two bales of straw beside the gate of the small enclosure and they made themselves comfortable.

  “It could be a long wait, Jan.” Uncle Piet yawned.

  Izaak must have dozed off. He woke with a start when Uncle Piet called his name and he heard Marijke’s soft neighing.

  “The foal. Jan, look!”

  Izaak rubbed his eyes. A tiny horse was trying to stand up on spindly legs. Marijke was licking its shiny, wet coat.

  “It’s so small,” Izaak gasped. “I’ve never seen a newborn foal before.”

  “It’s a she. A filly.” Uncle Piet stroked Marijke’s mane. The mare neighed, her ears flattened.

  “She’s protective of her young,” Uncle Piet said.

  Izaak stared.

  “She’s Hero’s daughter,” Uncle Piet went on. “We have to think of a suitable name for her.”

  Izaak’s brain searched for a name that would remind them of Hero. Heress, like princess, or Hera. “Hera,” he said out loud.

  Uncle Piet smiled at him. “The per fect name! Hera was a Greek goddess, the queen of the gods, and the name means protector.”

  Wow! Uncle Piet knew all about Greek mythology, just like Papa. Izaak’s throat closed. Papa, he thought. If only Papa could be here in the stable with him. He turned away.

  In the following days, Izaak’s mind and body were filled with the responsibility for Marijke and Hera. He watched the filly drink from her mother. He watched her try to frolic and dance on wobbly legs. He loved her soft neighing and the feel of her tender lips when she licked his hand.

  On May 5, 1945, the rest of the country celebrated its liberation from five hard years of German occupation.

  The Great Reunion

  After more celebrations, life on the farm slowly became more normal.

  “Will my parents be free?” Annie asked Aunt Anna while she helped clear the table.

  “If they are alive, we should hear from them soon.” Aunt Anna looked from Annie to Izaak.

  A strange feeling overcame Izaak. Lately, he often thought about his parents and Sarah. He hoped they had survived the cold winter in Amsterdam. He knew that many people had died from starvation.

  What would happen if they didn’t come back? The tightness in his stomach had returned. The ball in his stomach rolled and some days he couldn’t eat. At night his thoughts grew into monsters and kept him awake.

  Annie’s parents appeared one afternoon near the end of May. They had survived the war by hiding in the chicken coop of a farm in one of the eastern provinces. The reunion with their little girl moved everyone to smiles and tears. Izaak had to leave the room.

  Aunt Anna followed him to the pasture where Marijke and Hera were grazing.

  “Wait, Jan!” she called.

  Izaak didn’t wait. He climbed on top of the wooden gate and stared at the horse and filly without seeing them.

  Aunt Anna climbed beside him and put her arm
around his shoulder. “I know what you’re feeling and you’re right, we haven’t heard from them. It depends on where your parents were, but as soon as they are out of hiding, they will start to look for you. I know.” She squeezed his shoulder. “They might have our address, but no means of transportation. We are a free country, but not everything is back to normal, Jan.”

  All Izaak could do was stare. His throat was in knots and the words couldn’t get out. His mind filled with doubts and fear.

  “No matter what happens, Jan. You will always have a home.” Aunt Anna touched his face. She climbed down the fence and retraced her steps to the farm.

  The house was quiet without Annie and Gabe. Izaak was glad that Jaap came often, and they both did chores for Uncle Piet.

  June followed May. One evening, the sun set in an orange fireball and the sky held a red glow.

  “An evening sky dressed in red will bring sunshine when you get out of bed,” was Aunt Anna’s saying. Jaap had gone home and Izaak was back in his spot on the wooden gate. He watched the cows in the far pastures, chewing their cud, their black and white bodies dotting the land. Thin ribbons of mist rose from the ditches, fencing in the pastures. The quiet of the evening reached the far horizon.

  Just ahead of him, Marijke nuzzled her young. Without warning, her head shot up and she let out a longing neigh that reached the horizon. Izaak listened. Did he imagine it … or did he hear an answer to that yearning call.

  His heart skipped and he held his breath. From the south, the evening breeze blew the answer to Marijke’s neigh. The mare’s ears moved and she returned the call.

  Izaak jumped down from the gate. He stood still. Marijke came to stand beside him on the other side of the gate. Izaak scanned the road to the village, but there was no sign of a horse.

  They waited. Marijke and Izaak. He heard the mare’s breathing. Her nostrils flared. She stepped nervously from one foot to the other.

  Izaak’s heart swelled when he heard the faint clip-clop of a horse on the road. Now his eyes spotted a rider and horse coming down the road to the village. The horse was black. As it neared, Izaak noticed the powerful gallop that could only be one animal.