Hiding Edith (9 page)

Like well-rehearsed actors, the children went into action in an orderly but urgent manner. Edith pushed her way through the crowd and stopped in front of Shatta, who was still instructing her staff in preparation for their departure.

“Don’t make the beds,” she commanded. “There’s no time. Be sure every group has its food packs. Bouli, bring the medical supplies.” Shatta kept shouting instructions over the rising noise.

“Shatta,” Edith asked, breathless and frightened. “What about my brother and the little ones? Where are they going? What’s going to happen to them?”

Shatta placed her arm around Edith’s shoulders. “Gaston and the younger children are too small to hike into the woods,” she said. “They are being hidden in homes around Moissac. We have many friends here in town, Edith, enough to ensure all of them will be safe.”

In that instant, the house was ready for their “camping trip.” The children were fit and had the skills they would need. Regular staff meetings had been held to perfect the plans. Cases and sleeping bags were ready to go. Food was packed. Camping kits were organized. The tents, which weeks earlier had been inspected, were folded and packed. The house was set for flight.

“Come on. Let’s get our things. Don’t be afraid.” Sarah squeezed Edith’s hand tightly. “I’ve done this before. We’ll be safe. You’ll see.”

How many times in the past four years had she been told that she would be safe? Papa, Mutti, Shatta, and now Sarah had given her the same assurance. Would she really be safe today? The memory of fleeing Vienna and then Brussels came back to Edith in a powerful vision as she grabbed some clothing and ran out of her room.

On the way down the stairs, Edith passed Eric, who was struggling up against the current of children. “Did you forget something, Eric?” Edith asked.

“I’m not going,” he said. “The older boys are staying here.”

Edith could not believe what she was hearing. “You’re doing
what?
What are you talking about? You’ll be arrested.”

Eric Goldfarb

“Never!” Eric replied. “There are lots of good hiding places in this house — in the attic, behind the woodshed. It’s really us older boys the Nazis want. The soldiers may not care about a group of youngsters camping in the woods. But if we’re with you, it would make things more dangerous.”

Edith grabbed him by the arm. “Stay safe, Eric.”

“I’ll be here when you get back,” he said, smiling. “Don’t worry about me.”

Edith joined the crowd of children assembled in the dining room. Counselors were calling out the names of children, giving each one a pack with sleeping bags, food, tents, or other gear. When everyone was accounted for, the doors were opened and the children spilled out into the street.

The morning air was warm and the sun shone brightly, as the children and staff marched quickly through the quiet streets, heading
for the hills behind Moissac. Shopkeepers were just opening their stores, unlocking their doors, opening blinds and colorful awnings. They nodded slightly as the children walked by but said nothing.
Are they really our friends?
Edith wondered.
When the Nazis come, will they keep our secret?
This would be the true test of their commitment to the safety of the children. She felt a trickle of sweat work its way down her neck. The pack was heavy, but she could not slow down. She shifted it slightly and picked up her pace.

A photograph of the courtyard of the house in Moissac, taken by Eric Goldfarb.

As she rounded a corner on the outskirts of the town, she glanced up at a small house close to the street. One shutter was open slightly and, behind it, Edith could make out the face of a little girl. As the campers passed by, the child raised her hand and waved. It was the last thing Edith saw before she and the others were led away from Moissac.

Shatta called it Camp Volant — flying camp. It meant that the children would move to a different location every night, in deep thick woods offering shelter and cover.

Shatta and the house leaders led the children farther and farther from the danger in Moissac. The group marched in pairs toward their destination. At first, they passed small farmhouses dotting the countryside around Moissac. In the distance, Edith could make out the farmers tilling their fields. The group leaders marched the children in wide arcs away from these farms. They did not want to be seen, and these farmers could be witnesses to their escape. But eventually the farms disappeared. Then there were only trees, birds, and flowers growing wildly on the hillside to watch the children as they continued their march.

The children spoke little. They needed every ounce of strength to hike and carry their packs. Edith’s seemed heavier by the minute. The daily exercise at Moissac had helped strengthen her young legs, but such a long trek was wearing her out. The sun beat down on her head, and her legs felt like lead weights. But apart from infrequent, brief stops to drink some water and grab a quick snack, the group leaders urged the children on. Just when Edith felt she could not take one more step, Shatta raised her hand, signaling the group to stop.

A camping expedition from the house in Moissac.

Edith dropped her pack and sank down into the tall grass, sweat pouring off her. Sarah flopped next to her. “I don’t think I could have gone on for a minute more,” said Sarah. Edith nodded. But there was still work to be done.

“We have to set up camp before the sun goes down,” Bouli said. “There will be plenty of time to rest after that.”

Edith groaned slightly but pulled herself back up. Quickly and efficiently, the group leaders assigned tasks to the children. Some were sent to scrounge for kindling; others gathered larger branches for a fire. Edith and Sarah joined a group of children assembling tents. They unfolded each tent and lined up the ropes and stakes that would secure it to the ground.

Edith hammered a stake into the ground and wound the thick rope around it, using the double half-hitch she had learned at
Moissac. “Loop, pull, and cross over. Loop, pull, and cross over,” she whispered, as she secured each rope to a stake.

In a short time, the tents were erected and a fire crackled, big enough to cook the food but not large enough to be seen from a distance. The smell of burning wood mixed with the aroma of a simmering stew soon wafted across the camp. Now everyone could relax.

Edith lay on the cool forest floor. It was so peaceful here in the woods, away from Moissac, away from any danger. Birds sang or squawked at their uninvited visitors, crickets chirped, and small animals scurried in the undergrowth. The fire crackled and the soft sound of voices drifted above Edith’s head.

Sarah leaned back against a log. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a tree.”

Edith was famished as well, but she had other thoughts on her mind. “Sarah, what if the Nazis find us?”

“They won’t,” Sarah replied. “No one can find us out here.”

“But what if they do?”

“Stop worrying, Edith. We’re safe here. Shatta and Bouli have done this many times. They know what they’re doing. Besides, what good does it do to worry? There’s nothing more we can do. So relax and enjoy the adventure.” Sarah turned and looked at her friend. “Just try, Edith. Try to believe we’ll be okay.”

Edith closed her eyes. She wanted desperately to believe, not only that she and the campers but that Mutti and Papa, Therese
and Gaston would be safe. Once she had innocently believed in the future, but now all her hope had evaporated. Besides, this war seemed to be getting worse, and for Jews the news was increasingly bad. Just last week, Bouli had told the children that the Nazis had ordered all Polish Jews be sent to concentration camps. In cities across Europe, the Nazis had moved Jewish citizens into areas enclosed by walls and barbed wire. In these ghettos, Jews were forced to live several families to a small apartment. There were few jobs, little food, sickness, and dirt. And now, the Jews were being sent to the concentration camps, where conditions would be even worse. Yet even as Bouli had told the children this, he reassured them that they were safe.

Edith didn’t know what to believe. If such things were happening to Jews elsewhere, how long would it be before they happened here, to her and her friends? Edith couldn’t let her guard down — couldn’t feel safe the way Sarah seemed to. Every time she felt herself starting to relax, something happened to jolt her back to this scary reality.

As darkness fell, brilliant stars filled the night sky. Edith shivered and reached for a blanket to wrap around her shoulders as the fire burned down. Several children began to sing quietly, their voices blending in a soothing harmony.

“Look,” said Sarah, pointing up. “A shooting star. Make a wish, Edith!”

Edith lifted her head in time to see the star carve a path of light across the sky. She fixed her eyes on it and made a wish with all her might.

The camping trip lasted five days. Each morning the children awoke early, washed, ate breakfast, and then broke camp. Shatta sent a patrol out every morning — five or six hikers accompanied by a counselor. Their job was to search for a place for the next campsite and to make sure that no one was following the larger group. When the coast was clear, all the children set out, carrying their backpacks and gear, marching in pairs.

The fresh forest air was energizing. Edith’s pale skin, washed out from months of being too much indoors, became rosy and healthy. Her young body became stronger. The pack, which had felt like a great weight on the first day, became less of a burden, and the daily march became almost effortless. There truly was a sense of freedom in the woods, and Edith became caught up in the adventure.

“We are young Scouts,” Shatta said. “This is our opportunity to build character and learn new skills. A Scout is a friend to all — loyal, strong, and capable. Use this time to observe your surroundings. Learn about the forest and the streams. Help one another, and you will be helping yourself.”

During those five days, Edith used all the skills she had learned at Moissac and learned many new things. She became more competent at tying complicated knots. She could split wood into kindling. She learned the names of dozens of trees and flowers. She knew which mushrooms and berries were poisonous and which ones could be eaten.

One afternoon, Sarah persuaded Edith to try fishing.

“First, you tie this string to a stick. Careful of the hook,” said Sarah. “Now bait the line with this.” She held out a squirmy and muddy worm.

“No! I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can. Take it!”

Edith grimaced and reached for the worm. Holding her breath, she threaded the wriggling creature onto the hook and threw her line into the water. She could make out the silvery silhouettes of fish darting just below the surface.

Suddenly her fishing line stretched tight against the wooden stick. Edith’s heart raced as she pulled back on the stick. It bent so far that it threatened to break.

“Don’t pull too hard!” yelled Sarah. “It’ll get away.”

Edith loosened her grip slightly before yanking on the stick again. Back and forth, she fought with the fish, letting it swim out and then tugging it toward shore. A group of friends and counselors cheered her on. Several minutes later, Edith held up the fish triumphantly for everyone to see. That night, there was grilled fish for dinner, and her catch was part of the meal.