by Mary Hagen
“They’re going for larger numbers at a time. I think we are better off waiting for nightfall. You’ll need to pack some belongings and then spend the day in your hiding place just in case I’m wrong. I’ll return as quickly as I can.
“I told Mrs. Alder to put a tent over her husband, add a steaming kettle to help him breath, and give him water every fifteen minutes. I must know if it has worked.”
Hannah looked at her father as if he had gone mad with such a delay, but she couldn’t let him go to the Jewish Quarter alone under the threat she had placed on them. “I’ll go with you if you’ll promise to hurry.”
“Of course, I’ll hurry. You’ll stay here with Mamma and Ethel. They may need you.”
“I’ll ready my belongings to take with me, but I intend to accompany you even if I have to follow. Mamma and Ethel can be ready to leave by the time we return.” She cleared her throat and sat back in her chair, gripping the arms so hard, her fingers turned white. This was bad judgement but she would go with him. Papa could easily be arrested in the Jewish section and she would have to tell Mamma and Ethel. What if I’m taken too? I will not let that happen. I must plan. They would never know what happened to them, and how would they manage without him? If only Jacob had not deserted them to help others. How could she let Penn know? Where was he? The air in the room became clammy. She wanted to throw open the windows so she could breath. Papa was putting them in more danger by delaying their departure. Had he lost his senses?
“I will go alone. You must stay here. If I don’t return, it’s up to you to get all of you out of Germany.” Papa emphasized each word. He stood and returned to the kitchen to retrieve his coat. Hannah grabbed his satchel, put on her coat and hat to follow him if necessary.
“Aren’t you having a bite to eat before you make your calls?” Mamma asked.
“There’s no time,” Papa said. “Please prepare to leave the house tonight. We’re too vulnerable to stay longer in Berlin.”
Surprise registered on Mamma’s face. “Jacob won’t know where we are. Shouldn’t we try to contact him first?”
Ethel said, “We’ll be ready as soon as you return.”
“It’ll be dark early,” Papa said.
Mamma wrung her hands and glanced around the kitchen with sadness etched on her face. “What shall we take? Where will we go? Winter is setting in. Perhaps we should wait until spring.”
“No.” Papa offered no explanation of the danger Hannah and he had placed them in to her relief. She could not bear their expressions at her betrayal.
With quick steps, Hannah hurried after Papa expecting at any minute to hear the chilling high-piercing shrill of the Gestapo sirens, the sound sending terror pulsating in her veins.
The air was cold. Breath curled out of her mouth and her fingers quickly tingled from the frost. With the satchel under her armpit, she stuck her hands in her pockets and tucked her chin in the scarf around her neck. Before reaching the tram, Papa stopped. Hannah almost collided with him. When she looked up, her insides turned as cold as her face. Two Gestapo stood at the tram checking everyone's papers getting on the car.
Papa turned left. “We’ll walk to the next stop,” he said.
Hannah cringed at the extra time it would take to reach the Jewish Quarter, but knew they had no other choice. Getting out of Berlin had become imperative in her mind even though she had no idea where they would go or where they would stay. She could not say goodbye to Penn or send him a letter or leave a note with his family. A shuddering sigh erupted from deep within her chest. It was her fault. Why had she gone shopping and put them in danger? She would never forgive herself if something happened to them.
At the next stop, they climbed aboard without incident and sat near the back of the tram that quickly filled with workers heading for the industrial section of the city. No one noticed them without yellow stars attached to their clothing branding them Jews, lost in their own thoughts.
Two blocks from the Jewish district, they exited the tram. “Please stop at the drugstore and tell Mr. Felton we’re leaving,” Papa said as they walked toward the section. “I won’t be able to see any more patients after today. He’ll let the people who’ve left their names know. If he’s collected any payments, tell him to return the money.” He nodded his head. A subdued sound like a sob escaped his mouth. “I’m deserting my people in time of need. I’ll not forgive myself.”
Hannah squeezed his arm. “You can’t do more. Where will I meet you? Should I come to the Friedman’s apartment?”
“Yes, if I’ve not returned to the drugstore. I want to get home, get us out of the city.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “At least the three of you.”
Apprehension grabbed her. What was he saying? He could not stay behind? She opened her mouth to object, but he was striding away from her.
Boards covered the broken windows of the drugstore, but Mr. Felton had painted them and printed in black letters the name of his business. He greeted Hannah the minute she entered the store. She glanced around at the empty shelves and hunched into herself.
His business was cold like every Jewish building. He wore a black coat and black scarf around his neck. “I’m afraid I have nothing for you today,” he said apologetically. “The situation for us is getting worse by the day. I’ve heard we may soon be relocated. Some people think it will be for the better, but I’ve heard rumors of crowded camps, starvation of Jews, and even killings. I think we should leave the city, but I don’t know where we’d go where we wouldn’t be hunted.” He rung his hands together. “Inge won’t even come downstairs anymore. She stays hidden in the closet much of the day she is so frightened the Gestapo will return. It’s hard to comprehend how German citizens can agree with Hitler.” He paused and then said, "Thank goodness we have no children."
At a loss for words, Hannah nodded. “We may leave the city as well so we won’t need more supplies.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. Dr. Dresser is a fine man. As to supplies, none are to be had even on the black market. We’re penniless, not the hoarding wealthy Jews we’re supposed to be.”
Hannah turned toward the door as she heard the first rumble of a truck enter the Jewish District, then a second and a third. Reverberating slams of truck doors sent warning chills to her already cold legs. She glanced at Mr. Felton in alarm. He signaled her to go upstairs to their living quarters. “Hide in the closet with Inge until we know what is happening.”
As Hannah hurried to the stairs, a loud speaker filled the air with, “Jews, pack a few belongings. Gather in the street. Prepare for relocation. Anyone who does not obey shall be punished.”
How do I find Papa? What will happen to him, to us? What if we can’t get home? She put the back of her hand against her mouth as thoughts as black as rain clouds swept through her and she stumbled on one of the stairs. When she entered the apartment, it was empty. She called in a soft voice, “Mrs. Felton, Mr. Felton said you would hide me. Are you here?”
Mrs. Felton came from the bedroom, her eyes filled with terror. “They’ve come for us. I’m afraid. What can we do?” She stood trance like not seeing Hannah.
Hannah approached her and took hold of her arm. Mrs. Felton pushed away from her. “Leave us alone. We haven’t done anything. Go away.” She glanced right and then left, her breath short and gasping.
“Mrs. Felton, Mrs. Felton, I’m Hannah Dresser. Your husband wants us to hide in the closet until the Gestapo leave. Please help us.” Her words were garbled as her fear increased like fog creeping slowly up her legs, over her stomach, up to her shoulders, but stopping leaving her head exposed for all to see.
Like a scared small animal, Mrs. Felton shrunk from her, but Hannah shook her until she stiffened her arms and stared into Hannah’s eyes as though suddenly aware of her. “Yes, yes,” she muttered. “We’ll get in the closet behind the clot
hes.” She jerked her arm from Hannah’s hold and scurried to the closet where she fell onto her knees. “Come, you go in first.”
Hannah crawled to the corner of the closet followed by Mrs. Felton who shut the door leaving them in darkness. She pulled the clothes toward them and they huddled against one another, Hannah aware of the smell of shoes, body sweat, and dust. She listened, but heard nothing, sounds muffled by the closed door and heavy clothes.
What was happening? Would Papa follow people into the street? Without his star, would they overlook him and let him go? No, they’d ask for his papers, and he wouldn’t have any. Maybe, they’d let him go when they realized he was a doctor. Unlikely.
The closet offered no protection. The air was suffocating. Beads of sweat broke out on her upper lip and forehead. A small mewing sound escaped her throat. Fighting down her growing panic, she pushed hard against the wall of the closet as though she could wilt into it away from the evil threatening her. The minute the Gestapo opened the door and pulled aside the clothes, they’d be spotted. What was she thinking? She hugged her legs against her chest and buried her head in her knees to stifle her sobs. Next to her, Mrs. Felton trembled uncontrollably, rattling the hangers on the rod holding them.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the wooden stairs. Hannah tightened her arms around her legs and forced herself to remain silent, but her heart thundered in her ears so loudly she was certain someone would hear it. Without warning, Mrs. Felton pushed aside the clothes, opened the closet door, and fell out, body length on the floor. Hannah raised her head. She was exposed, leaving her as naked as a newborn. Her body tensed and her throat clamped tight as she pulled clothes toward her. She was trapped in a bubble and there was no door out, but Mrs. Felton had sacrificed herself to save her.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” Mrs. Felton said. “I’ll pack a few things for my husband and me and come right down, but don’t take Pieter from me. He’s all I have.”
With harsh impatience, the man told her to hurry. She should be happy she was to be relocated. He did not check the closet, but Hannah continued to hold her breath and sit as still as a mouse willing her trembling legs to stiffness.
Mrs. Felton retrieved clothes and a suitcase for her husband and her, exposing Hannah. Quickly, she shoved some dressed toward Hannah, but she knew if the Gestapo checked the closet she was doomed.
Could she help Papa if she revealed herself? Could she find him? What if he was hidden, holding his breath, waiting for the Gestapo to leave? Then she’d be relocated. Who would help Mamma and Ethel? Hannah pushed harder against the closet wall. What were minutes seemed like an hour. She heard Mr. Felton call, “My dear, do hurry. The Gestapo want us on trains before the raids begin.”
Muffled footsteps and the suitcase hitting the walls were the last sounds Hannah heard in the drugstore, but the voices of the Gestapo came to her. “Line up. You, hurry it. Keep that child quiet.”
Not one voice of protest carried up the stairs to her, but truck engines came to life, gears ground into low, and wheels and shuffling feet blended together as movements droned through the street. Hannah resisted the desire to peek out the window, to search for Papa, certain she would be seen. The sounds slowly receded. An uncanny silence pervaded the drugstore. Hannah continued to cower in the closet, her heart pounded in her ears, and she was petrified some Gestapo remained to check for stragglers.
She didn’t know how long she sat with her back pressed against the wall, her knees pulled to her chest. Except for a line of light under the door, the closet was dark and stifling. When she no longer heard noises coming from the street, she quietly reached out and opened the door. She crawled out of the closet and tried to stand, but her legs buckled. She grabbed the footboard of the bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress. She was lightheaded and for several minutes did not move as she inhaled cold air into her lungs. Her neck ached, her shoulders hurt, and her arms were numb. She shook her shoulders to get the kinks out. When she stood, she used the bed, the dresser, and a chair for balance to reach the window. Stopping at the side of the window, she peeked down at the street. Not a person remained. The street was eerily quiet.
Hannah descended the stairs and exited the door, certain the Gestapo would return to check for stragglers, but there were none she could see. The silence was sinister and terrifying.
Wind shrilled through the boarded up broken windows and barren tree limbs.
She leaned against the doorway and weighed her options. Should she go to the Alder flat and look for Papa or return to their house? Would he look for her or expect her to get out of the area as quickly as possible? What if he had been taken for relocation?
The last thought was too painful to contemplate, but she did not know how he could have escaped the relocation roundup, and she was certain he would never suggest returning to his home to collect belongings. She glanced up and down the long street, squalid with broken windows boarded up in haphazard directions, scraps of paper rolling down the empty walks, pieces of broken pottery, a coat dropped on the street, a book left behind, and the few ghostly trees bending from the wind. If Papa escaped the relocation orders, he would return to their house and expect her to do the same.
She pushed away from the doorway and looked in both directions. What she saw, surprised her. One small child not more than three years old ran toward her crying, “Mufti, Mufti, Mufti.”
Hannah was severely tempted to turn away. She sucked in her breath. She couldn’t offer him help in finding his mother, and she didn’t need another person, a very small person, slowing them down as they fled Berlin and Germany. Her heart raced and her mind spun with indecision.
He stopped in front of her, his brown eyes worried and teary. “Have you seen Mufti? Why did she leave me?"
He was dressed in his best clothes, brown knee length pants, matching brown jacket with a tan sweater underneath, white shirt with a small brown tie, knee-high socks, and shiny new brown shoes.
“Your mother had to obey the policemen,” Hannah explained. She wanted you safe from them.”
The little boy shuddered, swallowed a deep breath, and stuttered through tears, “W-Would you help me find her? Everybody’s gone away. She said she’d come for me.”
Her mind shrieked and screamed, No, I can’t help you, but her heart contradicted her. You must. She stooped to his level. “We need to leave here. Will you come home with me?”
He studied her, his face pale, tears running down his cheeks, his mouth in a straight line. “Can we come back? I want Mufti.”
“I can’t answer that, but maybe someday we can come and look for her. Now, we must leave here before the bad policemen return. Your Mufti would want you to come with me.” She caught her voice, knowing she might never come back with him to look for his mother.
The poor woman had left her son hoping someone would find and help him. Her body stiffened as she thought of the woman’s courage. The street was still under her feet as she took one last look, hoping to see Papa. “Shall we ride the tram before the planes come?”
Hannah gave him a slight hug. “I’m going to remove the star on your jacket.”
“It’s pretty,” he said. “Mufti said I should wear it.”
The small star cut to his size was neatly stitched to his jacket sleeve. She took her scissors from her handbag, and carefully cut away the star. “I’ll keep it for you,” she said as she stuffed it in her pocket, “Until we get to my house.”
The small child put a cold hand in hers. “I don’t like the planes. They scare me.”
Hannah stood. With his hand in hers, she led him out of the area, apprehension and anxiety tumbling in her thoughts. How could she take on the burden of the child, Mamma, Ethel, get them out of Berlin? The child would slow them down. If they had to hide, he might call out and give them away. He’d be another mouth to feed. She’d have to carry him. What
would Papa say?
She knew the answer. Papa would not hesitate to take the child under his wing. She must do the same. His mother hid him trusting someone would rescue him and keep him safe. Hannah glanced down at his curly dark hair. He was sucking his thumb. Her heart did a summersault for the little lost boy, and she urged him to walk faster to reach the tram and get them out of Berlin before the first of the bombers droned overhead. She hoped with the overcast conditions, they could have calm tonight.
Depression as black as the approaching night overwhelmed her. Survival depended upon her. She attempted to clear the despair from her mind and resolved to get them through Germany, France, and into Spain and safety, but her stomach churned until she thought she’d be sick.
Dear Penn, do you hear me? I love you.
Chapter 15
Penn stood with his hands in his pockets resting against a tank, before walking to his plane to protect the troops at El Alamein. The possible loss of Africa troubled him. He was disappointed the Allies had proved stronger than anticipated. After the failure at Alam Halfa, Rommel realized he lacked resources to penetrate further into Egypt. He turned from the offensive and built a strong defensive line covered with minefields along the coast.
Nasty black flies buzzed around Penn’s face, and he tried to brush them away with his hand. Africa had things he did not like. Snakes, he hated snakes, scorpions, he hated scorpions, black flies, he hated black flies. To his list he added fleas and grit. Sand particles got into everything including the engines of planes. The heat was stifling during the day and the nights were cold. Even with all the hardships, there was something about the simplicity of the desert he did like. The beaches, the blue water of the sea, and the blue skies reminded him of Greece and Italy.