Kindertransport (5 page)
Authors: Olga Levy Drucker
JACK
W
e
took the bus to Prissy's home in the country. Two gloriously carefree months lay aheadâmonths of walks in the woods; of swimming in the nearby lake; of trying to play tennis on carefully kept grass courts, though I never got any good at it. I learned to play croquet, where you had to hit colorful wooden balls with wooden mallets and make them go through wire hoops called wickets that were stuck into the lawn. I read books in English while lying in daisy-strewn meadows as the sun played hide-and-seek behind the trees. I climbed those trees, to look down into the garden and the great house at the end of the path. Day by day my English improved, without my noticing it. My skinny legs got fatter from eating fresh strawberries in thick country cream and homebaked pies filled with fruit from my hosts' own orchard, fruit which I had helped pick. Prissy's parents treated me royally. Prissy also had an older brother.
e
took the bus to Prissy's home in the country. Two gloriously carefree months lay aheadâmonths of walks in the woods; of swimming in the nearby lake; of trying to play tennis on carefully kept grass courts, though I never got any good at it. I learned to play croquet, where you had to hit colorful wooden balls with wooden mallets and make them go through wire hoops called wickets that were stuck into the lawn. I read books in English while lying in daisy-strewn meadows as the sun played hide-and-seek behind the trees. I climbed those trees, to look down into the garden and the great house at the end of the path. Day by day my English improved, without my noticing it. My skinny legs got fatter from eating fresh strawberries in thick country cream and homebaked pies filled with fruit from my hosts' own orchard, fruit which I had helped pick. Prissy's parents treated me royally. Prissy also had an older brother.
Jack was seventeen. I hoped he wouldn't care that I was only eleven, but of course he took no notice of me at all. Oh, but he was handsome!
He played tennis every day, dressed in white tennis clothes. His trousers were long and neatly pressed, with a crease down the front on which you could cut your finger. His white tennis shoes were spotless, and his white shirt was open at the collar, showing off his hairy chest. He had a ruddy complexion and dark, almost black eyes. He kept having to push back his brown hair after he hit a ball. His upper lip sprouted a fuzzy chestnut mustache. It looked soft like the down of a baby chick. I wanted to touch it, but I didn't dare. He played tennis with his friends from school, who were quite nice looking, too. But I ⦠oh, I had eyes only for Jack!
I would crouch against the back fence of the tennis court, praying for just a glance from him in my direction. He ignored me totally. It did not occur to me that he might have felt embarrassed by my presence. That he might have wondered: Who was this gawky little kid that kept hanging around?
Then, one day, a miracle! He spoke to me!
“Can you pick up the ball? And throw it back to me?”
Could I! My throws were weak, but I made it my mission to improve. From then on, I was Jack's slave.
And during all this time, I had not an inkling of the terrible things going on in Europe, particularly in Germany. Nor did I know about the fear of mortal danger that Mama and Papa and all our friends in Germany had to deal with every day. I knew that since the Nuremberg Laws were passed by Hitler's government in 1935, Jews were considered “stateless.” That was why each of our passports all had a big
J
written across the front, to indicate the word
Jude
âJew. Male Jews of any age were forced to add the name Israel to their names, and females the name Sarah. But I did not know that Jews were being further stripped, inch by inch, of their rights, so that by now they could barely risk being seen in public anymore. They could not own or operate their businesses. Jewish doctors could no longer take care of their patients, unless they were also Jewish. The same held true for Jewish lawyers. Jewish teachers lost their jobs, and Jews were not allowed to employ non-Jews, or so-called Aryans, as domestic helpers. Jewish actors could not act unless they did so in Jewish theaters, which also ceased to exist after a time. Jewish artists could not sell their art, Jewish musicians could no longer play in German orchestras, and books written by or about Jews were burned on the streets in great public bonfires.
J
written across the front, to indicate the word
Jude
âJew. Male Jews of any age were forced to add the name Israel to their names, and females the name Sarah. But I did not know that Jews were being further stripped, inch by inch, of their rights, so that by now they could barely risk being seen in public anymore. They could not own or operate their businesses. Jewish doctors could no longer take care of their patients, unless they were also Jewish. The same held true for Jewish lawyers. Jewish teachers lost their jobs, and Jews were not allowed to employ non-Jews, or so-called Aryans, as domestic helpers. Jewish actors could not act unless they did so in Jewish theaters, which also ceased to exist after a time. Jewish artists could not sell their art, Jewish musicians could no longer play in German orchestras, and books written by or about Jews were burned on the streets in great public bonfires.
Worse, Jews began to disappear overnight. One day
Frau X would lean over her back fence, look over her shoulder to make sure no one else was listening, and ask Frau Y, “Have you seen Herr Z this morning?” And Frau Y would put her finger to her lips, look over her shoulders as her neighbor had done, and whisper, “They came to get him in the night.” Anybody would have known whom she meant by “they.” Herr Z would never be seen again. Concentration camps were spreading like a cancer all over Germany, Austria, and Czechoslovakia, and filling up fast. Not only Jews were sent there. If you practiced the “wrong” religion or were overheard to have said something against Hitler's government, or belonged to the “wrong” ethnic group, you were likely to be torn out of your bed in the night and rushed away. It did you no good to scream and call for help. No one was willing to risk his or her life to save you, especially not if you were a Jew. And it didn't matter whether you were a religious Jew or simply a Jew because your father and mother, or perhaps only your grandmother, were Jewish. Hitler wanted to rid Germany of every drop of Jewish blood. In the end, many, many drops of Jewish blood would be spilled before the madness stopped.
Frau X would lean over her back fence, look over her shoulder to make sure no one else was listening, and ask Frau Y, “Have you seen Herr Z this morning?” And Frau Y would put her finger to her lips, look over her shoulders as her neighbor had done, and whisper, “They came to get him in the night.” Anybody would have known whom she meant by “they.” Herr Z would never be seen again. Concentration camps were spreading like a cancer all over Germany, Austria, and Czechoslovakia, and filling up fast. Not only Jews were sent there. If you practiced the “wrong” religion or were overheard to have said something against Hitler's government, or belonged to the “wrong” ethnic group, you were likely to be torn out of your bed in the night and rushed away. It did you no good to scream and call for help. No one was willing to risk his or her life to save you, especially not if you were a Jew. And it didn't matter whether you were a religious Jew or simply a Jew because your father and mother, or perhaps only your grandmother, were Jewish. Hitler wanted to rid Germany of every drop of Jewish blood. In the end, many, many drops of Jewish blood would be spilled before the madness stopped.
People in Germany, as in England, were beginning to suspect that something bad was going on. There were many rumors. There was more and more talk of war. But in the summer of 1939, who could be sure? Many Jews, and others who did not like what they saw, began
to leave Germany if they possibly could. Some non-Jews tried to help their Jewish friends. But not many.
to leave Germany if they possibly could. Some non-Jews tried to help their Jewish friends. But not many.
And I, in my English summer wonderland, was blissfully unaware. I rarely read the newspapers or listened to the news on the radio. Television was not around yet. The fact that the whole world was rushing headlong into global war remained of no concern to me. I had other things to occupy my mind. I was in love.
When I wasn't chasing tennis balls for Jack, Prissy and I did things together, like helping her mother and the ladies at the Friends' Society. Although Prissy's father was a devout Church of England man, her mother was just as devout a Quaker.
“We are against war,” she explained to me. “Quaker men will not carry arms. We think that life is too precious to kill. If they have to serve, they go as conscientious objectors.”
“What's that?”
“It means they become medics or ambulance drivers, or work on farms. Anything except take another's life.”
I wondered what Jack would do. But I would sooner have swallowed my tongue than ask him. At their meetings, the Friends sat in a big room in total silence. At times someone was inspired to get up and say something. Then silence followed again. I found it trying. At Miss
Carter's boarding school we were all taken to church every Sunday, including me. No exceptions. But of course I couldn't have told Prissy's mother that I did not like the Friends' meetings as much as I did the Church of England services. The elaborate ceremonies and prayers read in unison from a book seemed much more interesting. But the silence had its good points, too. It gave you time to reflect. It made you feel more at peace with yourself and the universe. After a while I began to like their way, too. I was beginning to learn that there were many ways to pray.
Carter's boarding school we were all taken to church every Sunday, including me. No exceptions. But of course I couldn't have told Prissy's mother that I did not like the Friends' meetings as much as I did the Church of England services. The elaborate ceremonies and prayers read in unison from a book seemed much more interesting. But the silence had its good points, too. It gave you time to reflect. It made you feel more at peace with yourself and the universe. After a while I began to like their way, too. I was beginning to learn that there were many ways to pray.
July meandered into August. August melted into September. Another week, and Prissy and I would have to go back to school.
September 1, 1939. Six weeks had now become six months, and still no Mama and Papa.
To the west of us across the Atlantic Ocean on this day, Americans were preparing their charcoal broilers to barbecue hamburgers and hot dogs for the Labor Day weekend.
In England, on this day, we buttoned our raincoats up to our chins and pulled up our Wellingtons, which is what we called our rubber boots. Suddenly, the weather had turned gray and drizzly. Trees had turned brown overnight, dropping their dead leaves in soggy heaps onto
slippery roads. The meadows smelled, not unpleasantly, of cowflops and decay. Pheasants dived into the underbrush to hide from the hunters, and geese flew honking overhead.
slippery roads. The meadows smelled, not unpleasantly, of cowflops and decay. Pheasants dived into the underbrush to hide from the hunters, and geese flew honking overhead.
To the east of us across the English Channel, on this day, German soldiers goose-stepped across Germany's borders, flanked by tanks and artillery. Hitler's invasion of Poland had begun.
Two days later, on September 3, Prissy, Jack, and I were walking across the dripping field, gathering mushrooms for breakfast, as we had often done before.
“If you can peel the underside easily, like this, it's all right to eat,” Prissy said. She held up a big, white mushroom and showed me again, for the sixty-seventh time, how it was done. “You have to be very careful not to pick a poison one.”
Our baskets were filling up nicely.
“I'm going away tomorrow,” said Jack out of the blue.
I gulped. Before either of us could ask, he explained: “I'm going into the army,”
“The army?” Prissy and I shouted in unison, and Prissy added: “Whatever for?”
So Jack didn't follow his mother's example, I thought. Too bad. I was shocked. How could he sound so eager? He would have to kill other men. He might get killed himself.
“What for?” I echoed. We had all stopped walking or
stooping down for mushrooms. How unimportant they had suddenly become. We straightened up and stared at Jack. He stared back at us, first one then the other. I knew what the answer would be.
stooping down for mushrooms. How unimportant they had suddenly become. We straightened up and stared at Jack. He stared back at us, first one then the other. I knew what the answer would be.
“Don't you know?” he said. “The war has started.”
I ALWAYS KNEW I WAS JEWISH
T
he mood at boarding school was gloomy after our return. For one thing, a lot of the girls hadn't come back. Some of the teachers stayed away, too. Even June was not there anymore.
he mood at boarding school was gloomy after our return. For one thing, a lot of the girls hadn't come back. Some of the teachers stayed away, too. Even June was not there anymore.
“It's because of the war,” we were told. “Now that our men are off to fight, women are needed on the home front. And anyway, maybe they can't afford boarding school anymore right now.”
Everywhere there were patriotic posters along street walls and on public buildings. “Keep the Home Fires Burning” read one. Another showed women, looking after their households and families. But many of them were now needed in the factories to replace the men who were fighting in the war. I assumed that that, too, was meant by “home fires.”
At one of our daily prayer meetings, Miss Carter told us proudly that June had joined the ATS, or Auxiliary Territorial Service. I imagined her in her smart uniform,
with her little hat set rakishly to one side of her head and her thick curly hair piled up under it. Besides the young men, there were a lot of army, navy, and air force women around now, too. I wished I was old enough to be one of them.
with her little hat set rakishly to one side of her head and her thick curly hair piled up under it. Besides the young men, there were a lot of army, navy, and air force women around now, too. I wished I was old enough to be one of them.
Even though there were only a few of us left now, our lessons went on as before. Miss Carter filled in for missing teachers. In a way it was better for us, because we got a lot more attention.
Our prayer meetings were kept going, too. We sang hymns for “those in peril on the seas” and prayed to Jesus for all the brave “boys” who were fighting the evil dictator. They were not all on the seas. Planes began to fly overhead in squadrons of three or more. They flew in formation, much like the flocks of geese I had seen going south for winter. We soon learned to recognize the heavy bombers or the little one-engined fighter planes called Spitfires. Of course, jet planes were unknown at that time.
One of the less pleasant consequences of war was the way our dinner plates looked. There was much less meat on them these days, more potatoes and vegetables. We all gave up sugar in our tea, “for the war effort.”
One day an air-raid warden handed each of us a funny-looking shoulder bag. They contained gas masks.
“Open up your bag and take out the mask,” he said. A strange contraption that looked like a black pig's snout with an oblong window for eyes stared up at me. The
black snout had little air holes in it. I was torn between a giggle and the willies. I pulled the object out of its bag and held my breath.
black snout had little air holes in it. I was torn between a giggle and the willies. I pulled the object out of its bag and held my breath.
“Put it over your face, like this. The strap goes round the back of your head. Don't worry, just go on breathing,” said our instructor.
That's easy for you to say, I thought. The smell of rubber made me gag. But after a few more practices we all got the hang of it. Gas-mask drill became part of our daily routine, right along with prayer meetings.
More and more planes flew over our school. One day our air-raid warden came to tell us about the “blackout.” We had to put black curtains over the windows and doors.
“Remember now. Not even a chink of light must get through in the night,” he warned us. “The enemy must not see anything from above.”
The enemy. That meant the Germans. My parents were still in Germany. Their letters, sent on by the Red Cross, were becoming fewer and farther between. But I knew that British planes were going over there, too, so they must have blacked out their windows just as we were doing. Of course, they couldn't have written about that. The censors would have cut that part right out. And although I certainly hoped they were looking out for their
safety, I was sure Mama and Papa wanted the Allied forces to win. How stupid it was to have a war, I thought. Hitler had managed to turn the whole world upside down.
safety, I was sure Mama and Papa wanted the Allied forces to win. How stupid it was to have a war, I thought. Hitler had managed to turn the whole world upside down.
We helped our teachers and Miss Carter put up the curtains. We began having air-raid drills. A shelter was hastily put up in our play court. When the alarm sounded, we had to drop whatever we were doing and run to it. Since we never knew whether it was for real or just a drill, we ran every time we heard that awful wail. War, I decided, was not much fun.
But not all things were bad or scary. For instance, sometimes we all jumped into the back of a farmer's truck, and off we went to help with potato picking. We had fun trying to outdo one another.
“My pail has more spuds in it than yours!”
“Yah, yah, yah, that's what you think!”
“Spuds” was a slang word for potatoes.
Helping the farmers was not only a great way to help the war effort, it was also a great way for getting out of the classroom. Not only that, but we had a good excuse for getting dirt under our fingernails. Never mind that we had to write about “How I Furthered the National War Effort by Helping the Farmer.” We looked forward to potato picking or whatever else we were asked to do on the farm. It was one lesson we all enjoyed.
Rumors persisted.
“Hitler is going to invade England before Christmas.”
“His troops are all ready to come over.”
“We can't defend ourselves. Not enough men ⦠weapons ⦠planes ⦠tanks ⦠.”
Here was something else for me to worry about. The prospect of German soldiers catching up with me here in England was scary. What would they do to me? To Hans in London? Was there no escaping from the Nazis after all? I wished I could talk about this to Mama or Papa. I wished I could be with them again.
My bed was one of four in my dormitory. Before the summer, all four beds in my dormitory had been occupied. Now two were vacant. Prissy found me in our room.
“Why are you staring at that picture on the wall? You look as if you'd lost your best friend,” she said. She made a funny face, trying to make me laugh. I returned her question with a baleful look.
“You ever noticed the fellow with that lamb in his arms?” I asked.
“You mean the Good Shepherd?”
“Yes, the Good Shepherd.”
“He's Jesus. He takes care of us as if we were his little lambs. So you needn't worry about ⦔ Prissy stopped for a minute, “ ⦠about anything,” she finished.
“But it's just a picture,” I argued.
“True. It's just a picture of an idea.”
I had been thinking about that. I could use a little taking care of just now.
“Do you think ⦠I mean ⦠does he mean me, too?” Perhaps if I didn't tell him I was Jewish, I thought, maybe he'd overlook it. Prissy looked at me funny.
“Sure. If you believe in him.”
I kept studying the picture. Meanwhile Prissy was fidgeting. She hopped from one foot to another and cleared her throat several times. Finally she blurted out: “I have to leave school. Mummie wants me back home. In case of air raids or invasion.”
I kept on staring at the Good Shepherd picture.
“When?” I whispered, not looking at my friend.
“Tonight. After supper. Daddy is coming to fetch me.”
“Oh.” I didn't know what else to say. Then I turned to her: “Are you coming back?”
She didn't answer me right away. But I knew what she would say before she said it: “I don't know.”
I wished my Daddy were fetching me too. The Good Shepherd's big brown eyes seemed to be looking straight at me. He must not have noticed that I was Jewish.
Children don't usually stop to analyze what's going on. But if I had, it might have gone something like this:
I had never been lucky enough to have had a solid, religious upbringing. My parents were good, kind people, but they wanted very much to be able to blend into German society. They had good reason, for Jews were not treated well during most of German history. Anti-Semitismâhatred toward Jewsâwas nothing new in Germany, nor elsewhere in Europe and the world. True, during the time of the Weimar Republic, formed in 1919 after the First World War, conditions for Jews in Germany eased up. There were Jews in German universities and in lower government positions. But anti-Semitism was never far away. When Adolf Hitler began slowly but surely to push President Paul von Hindenburg aside, and finally, in 1933, made sure, by tricks and treachery, of his appointment as the new chancellor, the majority of the German people were cheering for him. No wonder that my parents rejected anything that reminded themâand othersâof their rich, wonderful Jewish heritage.
I was not taught about the religion into which I was born until the private German school closed its doors to me and Mama had no choice but to send me to a Jewish school. That last, sad Chanukah alone with Mama was my first introduction to Judaism. And when I came by myself to this strange, new country, learning a new language and new customs, I also learned a new religion along with everything else. For a while this new religion served me well enough. But deep down in my heart
I always knew I was Jewish. I never forgot. After all, wasn't that the reason I had to leave my home and family in the first place? Wasn't my being Jewish the one and only reason why Hitler and his Nazis wanted to kill me? But I was only elevenâtoo young to analyze.
I always knew I was Jewish. I never forgot. After all, wasn't that the reason I had to leave my home and family in the first place? Wasn't my being Jewish the one and only reason why Hitler and his Nazis wanted to kill me? But I was only elevenâtoo young to analyze.
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