The Last Train

by Rona Arato

  He looked at his mother and his spirits sank. In the three weeks they’d been in Hillersleben, many of the patients had recovered and left the hospital. Anyu, however, was still too weak to be moved. Whereas others were slowly gaining weight, she remained thin. The dark circles around her eyes had disappeared, but her skin was pale. Oscar thought of his father. When would they be able to go look for Apu?

  Oscar kissed his mother good-bye and walked out to the town square. Soldiers were slapping each other on the back, laughing, and a few were even singing while the German citizens of Hillersleben watched silently.

  At first, Oscar felt sorry for these people, mostly women and children, huddled together looking sad and defeated. Then he remembered Bergen Belsen and the train. He thought of the people who had died and those, like his mother, who might never recover. He remembered the cruelty of the German guards: the snarling dogs, the dark, putrid boxcars.

  You started this war, he thought. You created all this misery. Turning his back he walked away from the square and headed to the edge of town to find his brother.

  They stayed in Hillersleben while Anyu recovered in the hospital. Oscar and Paul slept in a dormitory with Aunt Bella and the girls. New survivors and orphaned children arrived, searching for their families. Relief workers aided those people who wanted to leave Europe and live in countries such as America and Canada.

  Whenever someone left for one of these countries, Oscar felt a stab of jealousy. He liked the American soldiers who had rescued them. He thought it would be good to live in a country with such wonderful people. But there still was no word of Apu or Aunt Bella’s husband, Chaim. Anyu and Aunt Bella wanted to return to Hungary to find them.

  Chapter 30

  “At least we’re in passenger cars this time.”

  Oscar looked out the train window at the passing countryside. He saw farm fields with cows grazing, chickens pecking the dirt, and the occasional pig, rolling in mud. They passed villages, many of them little more than piles of rubble. A boy pedaled alongside the train on a bicycle. He took off his cap and waved. Oscar waved back.

  “We’re still being watched by soldiers.” Kati’s voice broke into his thoughts.

  “The Russians aren’t as nice as the Americans or British, but they’re nicer than the Nazis,” said Paul.

  “At least they are taking us home.” Oscar turned to his mother. “Aren’t they, Anyu?”

  “Yes, darling.” She gave him a weak smile.

  As Oscar turned back to the window he thought about what had happened since their liberation. In the end, they had stayed in Hillersleben for four months—their mother remained in the hospital the whole time. In August, the British, who had replaced the Americans, had turned all the Hungarian refugees over to the Russian army. The Russians were now in charge of people from Eastern European countries, including Hungary. They put them on a train for Budapest.

  Although they were in a passenger train, conditions were far from good. The train moved slowly, stopping often to let troop trains go by or to wait for a damaged bridge to be repaired. Food was whatever the Russians could scavenge from people along the way. There was no place to bathe and only one toilet for each overcrowded car. But we are going home.

  Oscar’s body convulsed with a wracking cough. His mother looked at him with a worried expression.

  “Oscar, your cold is getting worse.”

  “I’m all right, Anyu.” Oscar tried to stifle another cough, but it forced its way out.

  Anyu sighed. “At least Paul is fine.”

  “I am fine, too, Auntie Lenke,” said Kati. She was seated across from them, between her mother and Magdi.

  “Thank God.” Anyu rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Just then the train squealed to a stop.

  “Another delay,” Aunt Bella grumbled. “Will we ever get home? The war has been over for five months but we are still wandering around Europe like lost souls.”

  Oscar pulled down the window and stuck his head outside. The train had stopped in the middle of a village. Three Russian soldiers were arguing with a group of women. One of them pointed to a badly damaged house. Most of the roof was gone and the windows were shattered. The soldier snapped an order. The woman turned and ran to the house, returning a few minutes later with a basket filled with bread, a fat round sausage, and some apples. The other women, who had scattered at the soldier’s command, returned with similarly filled baskets, which the soldiers took before jumping back on the train.

  Oscar turned away from the window. Anyu had fallen asleep. Paul was curled up on the seat with his head in her lap. Aunt Bella had also dozed off. Kati and Magdi were playing a clapping game. He wrapped his arms around his chest. No more coughing, he told himself. I have to be strong so I can help find Apu. He closed his eyes and let the rhythm of the train rock him to sleep.

  Chapter 31

  Budapest, Hungary

  September 1945

  “Anyu, where are they taking us?” Paul asked.

  A woman in a white uniform was helping his mother into an ambulance. They had arrived in Hungary after three grueling weeks on the train, where they were met by a team of aid workers.

  “Where are we going?” This time Paul asked the woman supporting his mother’s arm.

  “The Jewish hospital,” she said. “Your mother is sick and so is your brother.” She turned to Oscar. “The doctor will see about your cough.”

  “We want to go home to Karcag to find our father,” said Oscar.

  “And I suppose that cough is my imagination,” the woman said, as Oscar doubled over. The nurse motioned him into the ambulance. “You, too, young man.” She smiled at Paul.

  “But I’m not sick.”

  “No, but you can’t stay in the railroad station by yourself, can you?”

  Paul shivered. He still remembered being lost at the Vienna train station. “No, ma’am,” he said and meekly climbed into the vehicle.

  “Why do they have to take out my tonsils?” Paul demanded.

  “It’s the only way they can keep you here,” said Anyu. She was lying in a bed in the hospital, with Oscar in the bed next to her. Paul stood between them.

  “I don’t want them to take out my tonsils!”

  “They’ll give you ice cream afterward,” said Oscar. He propped himself up on his elbow. “You like ice cream, don’t you?”

  “Chocolate ice cream?”

  “If that’s what you want.” A nurse smiled down at him. “Now, be a good boy. I promise you will be fine.”

  What good is ice cream if your throat aches so much you can’t eat it? Paul looked down at the dish holding a chocolate puddle.

  “Anyu, my throat hurts,” he croaked.

  “It will be better soon,” she soothed. “Look how strong Oscar is getting.”

  “I’ll eat the ice cream if you don’t want it.” Oscar walked over to Paul’s bed.

  “No!” Paul clutched the dish. “It’s mine.”

  Anyu laughed. “See, you’re not really so sick. Maybe tomorrow Nurse Koltai will let you go outside to play. If you are well enough to eat your food.”

  Paul looked at the sunshine streaming through the window. “I’d like that.” He lifted the spoon to his mouth.

  Chapter 32

  I made it! Paul climbed to the top of a pile of rubble. Budapest had been heavily bombed and there were piles of debris everywhere. One especially large pile sat in front of the entrance to the hospital. It was Paul’s favorite spot to play. Here he could climb to the top and pretend he was a soldier spying on the enemy. At other times, he would sit at the base and use pieces of debris to build structures such as houses or forts. Today, he and his friend Tommy were searching for Nazis.

  “Hi, Tommy. Up here.”

  “Whew.” Tommy wiped his face with his sleeve. He was wearing short pants and his
knees were scratched. “We’re on top of the mountain!” He crowed. “Now we can shoot at the bad guys.”

  Paul pried a steel rod from between two slabs of stone and pointed it like a gun. “Bang, bang!” Then he stood up and shaded his eyes with his hand.

  “Do you see any more soldiers?” Tommy asked.

  “Not yet.” Paul turned. “We should hide. In case they come looking for us.”

  “Wait!” Tommy held up a hand. “I see one!”

  “Where?”

  “There.” Tommy leaned over the edge of the pile and pointed up the street. He picked up a chunk of cement. “Arm yourself!”

  Paul didn’t answer.

  “Paul, I said arm yourself.”

  Paul still didn’t answer.

  “Hey, are you all right?” Tommy grabbed Paul’s arm.

  Paul wrenched it away. He turned and raced down the pile, tumbling the last few steps and landing on his hands and knees. Lurching to his feet, he ran toward the approaching figure.

  “Apu,” he cried, waving his arms. “Apu!”

  The man stopped and stared.

  “Paul!” he shouted. He moved toward him and lifted him in the air. “Paul!” He crushed his boy against his chest. He set him down and then kneeled and examined him. He touched Paul’s face, ran a hand over his hair, and then cupped his chin in his hands. “You are all right?”

  “Yes, Apu.” Paul looked up at his father. “I couldn’t remember what you look like but then when I saw you I recognized you.”

  His father wiped his eyes. “Yes, Paul, we recognized each other.”

  “Anyu is worried about you,” said Paul.

  “Where is she? And Oscar?”

  “They are in the hospital. Come.” Paul took his father’s hand. “I’ll take you to them.”

  Paul entered the ward, pulling his father forward. “Anyu, Oscar, look! Look who I found outside! I found him! I didn’t forget him after all!”

  Anyu opened her eyes. She blinked, stared, blinked, and stared again.

  “Ignaz?” she said in a voice filled with disbelief.

  Her husband walked to her bed and took her hand. Then he turned and looked at Oscar.

  “You are all alive. Thank God.” His voice broke.

  “When did you get back?” asked Anyu.

  “Chaim and I got back to Karcag in August.” Apu sat on a chair between the beds. Paul sat on his lap. “We escaped from the Germans with five other men.”

  “How did you do that?” Oscar’s voice was filled with awe.

  “We waited until the guards were sleeping…”

  “Did they all sleep at once?” Paul asked.

  “Of course not, stupid.” Oscar rolled his eyes. “If they all slept, then they wouldn’t be guards.” He turned to his father, eyes wide. “So what did you do?”

  “Did you kill them?”

  His father didn’t answer.

  “Did you, Apu?” asked Paul.

  “Let’s just say that we did what we had to do.”

  “You did kill them. Good!” Oscar clapped.

  “Oscar, stop badgering your father.”

  “What happened next, Apu?” Oscar asked, ignoring Anyu.

  “When we escaped, we were still in Russia. We didn’t know where we were and had no idea how to get back to Hungary. So we hid in the forest for six months.”

  Oscar was impressed. “Where did you hide?”

  “In the trees. In holes in the ground. Under piles of leaves. Anywhere we could.”

  “What did you eat?” asked Paul

  “Nuts, berries. Sometimes we even got some food from friendly farmers.”

  “You mean you stole food.” Oscar grinned.

  “Sometimes.” His father shook a finger at Oscar. “You are asking too many questions.”

  “But you still haven’t told us how you got back to Hungary,” said Paul.

  “Ah, that was lucky. By then it was December. The weather was freezing, and it was getting harder and harder to find food. Just when we thought we couldn’t survive much longer, we met a group of Russian soldiers.” He shook his head. “At first they thought we were German spies. They were going to shoot us.”

  “Ignaz!” His wife clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “How did you convince them that you weren’t spies?” Oscar bounced up and down in his seat.

  “One of the soldiers was Jewish. We spoke to him in Yiddish. Once we convinced them that we were Jews, they took us with them. So we came into Hungary with the Russian army.” His smile faded and his voice became serious. “When we got to Karcag, we found out that everyone had been taken away. We have been waiting for you to come home. Then Bella arrived yesterday and told me that you were here.”

  Oscar was happy to see that some color had returned to his mother’s cheeks. Her eyes shone with a glimmer of light. His father looked older. His hair was flecked with silver, his face filled with lines that had not been there before the war.

  Suddenly, the excitement he had felt over his father’s escape faded.

  “Apu,” he said, his voice shaking, “who else came back?”

  His father lowered his head. “People are still returning.”

  “Did Grandpa and Grandma come home?” asked Paul.

  Apu covered his eyes with his hand. “Not yet. We will wait and hope. In the meantime, I will talk to the doctor and arrange to take all of you home.”

  Home? Will Karcag still feel like home? Not for the first time, Oscar wondered what they would find and, more importantly, who they would find. He looked at Paul and his parents. The four of them had survived. That was a miracle. But he wanted everyone to come home.

  He fought back tears. Throughout their ordeal he had never cried and he wasn’t about to start now.

  Paul was sitting on his father’s lap. Now he turned and looked up at him. “Apu, when I saw you outside, I recognized you.” His voice was filled with wonder. “I couldn’t remember what you looked like. And then I saw you and I did.”

  Chapter 33

  Karcag, Hungary

  November 30, 1945

  Oscar sat in the kitchen of the house Apu had rented. Their original home had been bombed, so Apu had arranged to lease the house of a family who had not returned. The Szabos were our friends. They’re dead and now we’re living in their home. Oscar shuddered. As he had feared, only a fraction—about 200 of the town’s 1,000 Jews—had survived.

  Oscar found it strange that the adults expected everyone to carry on as if nothing had happened. It’s as if we fell asleep and woke up to find our friends and family just disappeared. After their father brought them home, Oscar noticed that the younger children, like Paul, seemed to recover. But he wondered if they really had or if they were just hiding the same anger and pain that he felt. As for the adults, they went about their daily routines grimly. No one spoke about the Germans or the camps. No one mentioned the people who were gone. I used to have grandparents. I used to have aunts and uncles and cousins. Why don’t we ever talk about them?

  “Oscar.” Paul bounced into the kitchen. He held up a large piece of wood. “I found this outside. I’m going to carve it into a top, like Uncle Elemir taught me.”

  Oscar smiled at his brother. Their uncle had also survived and returned to Budapest, where he’d found his wife and son with the nuns who had risked their lives to hide Jews in their convent.

  “I’m going to show Anyu.” Paul walked to the bedroom where their mother was resting. While others had regained their strength, their mother had remained weak. The doctor said it was because of the typhus she had contracted in Bergen Belsen.

  At that moment the door opened and Apu walked through the front door.

  “Oscar, take this.” He handed him a large pot. “Aunt Bella made us soup.”

  Oscar took the pot a
nd set it on the stove. It was still warm. He took bowls and spoons from the cupboard and placed them on the table. Anyu stepped into the living room with Paul by her side. Tonight was the first night of Hanukkah. Anyu had set out a menorah—a candleholder with nine branches—beside a pair of Sabbath candlesticks.

  “First, we will light the Hanukkah candles,” she said.

  “I forgot about Hanukkah. What is it?” Paul asked his father.

  “On Hanukkah we celebrate that 2,000 years ago a group of Jewish freedom fighters called the Maccabees won a battle against Antiochus, the Greek king of Syria who outlawed the Jewish religion. He decreed that Jews must worship Greek gods.”

  “I know the rest of the story,” said Oscar. He turned to Paul. “After they won, their leader, Judah Maccabee, wanted to rededicate the Temple but there was only enough oil to light the menorah for one day. Then a miracle happened.”

  “I know! I know!” Paul clapped his hands. “The oil lasted for eight days.”

  “That’s right.” Their father beamed at them. “And that’s why we light our menorah every night for eight nights.” His voice became serious. “Oscar, help Paul light the first candle.

  As the boys lit the candle, the family chanted the holiday blessing. Then Anyu lit the two Sabbath candles, covered her face, and recited the blessing. When she lowered her hands, Paul saw tears in her eyes.

  “Anyu’s coming with us to the synagogue.” Paul held his mother’s hand and guided her to the table.

  “Are you feeling better, Anyu?” asked Oscar.

  “Much better, Oscar.” His mother sat in the chair he held out for her. “Thank you for helping Apu.”

  “Anyu, you look pretty.” Paul said to his mother as they ate their soup.

  “It feels good to be in new clothes.” She straightened the collar of her dress. It was red with white dots. The color gave her cheeks a rosy glow. “And you boys look handsome in your new clothes.” She smiled. “It’s so good to see you clean and properly dressed.”