Of Windmills and War (14 page)

20

November
1940

“You
will do as I say or I shall leave you here on the road to fend for yourselves!”

Wim’s
anger startled Anya as they stood at the back of the truck. Over and over, they
had rehearsed the scenario with the Klein and the Emmering families, yet still
they argued.

“You
have no right to talk to me that way!” Samuel Klein ranted. “I will not stand
for this in front of my wife and children!”

Wim
jumped up into the crowded truck bed where the two families sat huddled
together. He grabbed the stubborn Jew and lifted him to his feet. “Fine,
Samuel. Have it your way. I hope you and your family have a nice walk back to
Utrecht
,
because I refuse to take you another mile unless you stop arguing!”

Esther
Klein tugged at her husband’s arm.
“Samuel, stop! The Germans will
send us to the camps if he leaves us here. For the sake of your children, sit
down and do as you are told.”

Rebecca
Emmering wailed, begging Mr. Klein to be quiet. The louder her cries, the more
her five children cried with her. Her husband blasted Samuel, blaming him for
putting his family in danger.

“STOP
THIS!” Wim threw his hat on the truck’s straw-covered floor. His chest heaved
as he fought the last ounce of frustration. “One more word . . .
one more word
and I shall abandon ALL of you right here right now. Is
that understood?”

The
mothers shushed their children as the men glared back at Wim. To Anya they
looked as if they were debating his threat. Now she too jumped up, joining Wim.
“Please, everyone, let’s just calm down and continue our journey. The train
station is only a few miles more.”

She
watched their faces turn from anger once again to apprehension. They all knew
the extreme risks they were taking. “If you would only follow Wim’s lead as you
promised to do, you will soon be on your way to a safer place.”

“Yes,
we shall do as we are told,” Esther said, pulling on her husband’s sleeve until
he sat back down.

Wim
wiped his neck with his handkerchief and reached down for his hat. With great
restraint, he reminded them, “Remember, hold your heads up as you walk through
the station. Do not look as if you are trying to hide something. At all times,
make sure you do not speak unless spoken to. Mothers, make sure your children
understand how important it is to remain absolutely silent. Not one word.”

In a
few moments, Wim started the engine and steered the truck back onto the road.
Knowing the Kleins and Emmerings would be recognized in
Utrecht
, his
father suggested driving them to the train station in
Amersfoort
where
they would board the train for
Roosendaal
. Half a mile outside of
town, Wim pulled over and parked behind an old building. Warning them again to
keep silent, he and Anya helped the two families out of the truck so they could
walk the rest of the way. With each step, Anya prayed God would protect them.

When at
last they approached the station, Wim took the Kleins one direction and Anya
took the Emmerings the other. Both families were told to follow at a distance
and have their falsified IDs ready. As she made her way to the ticket booth,
she noticed Wim at the booth three windows down from her. They would both
purchase tickets for their
families on holiday
then casually find the
corresponding gates.

Confident
her prayers had been answered, Anya helped the Emmerings into a train in a car near
Wim and the Kleins. As they stowed away their belongings, she reminded Rebecca
to keep the children quiet and try to get them all to sleep as soon as
possible. But that was not to be. Having never ridden a train before the
children were much too excited, chatting like magpies.

“Please!”
Anya whispered loudly. “You must keep them quiet.”

Just
then, a door banged open as a German soldier entered the compartment. The
children flew into their seats, the youngest hiding behind her mother.

He held
out a gloved hand to Anya. “Ausweis.”
Identification papers.

“Graag
gedaan,” she answered.
Our pleasure
. She handed her ID card to the
soldier and tried to still her nerves as he examined the picture and compared
her to it. He handed the card back to her and demanded the same of all the
others. When at last he held his hand out to Jakob Emmering, she swallowed
hard, hoping the man would keep his mouth shut. He held out the ID to the
soldier, his hand shaking violently.

The
soldier looked up, narrowing his eyes at the man whose card named him Maarten
van der Rol. “Why are you traveling?” he asked in German.

Emmering
shot his eyes at Anya, not understanding. She faked a silly giggle, then spoke
in Dutch. “Oh, Papa, tell the nice man we are going to visit Grandmother and
Grandfather. We’re on vacation!”

Jakob
repeated the lie in Dutch, punctuating the information with a nervous smile.

The
soldier looked back at Anya with a furrowed brow, clearly not able to
understand their language. She rattled on, stringing together a bunch of
nonsensical statements, as if she were providing him with all the information
he could possibly need.

“Ja,
ja,” he muttered before handing back their IDS and moving on to the next
compartment.

Anya closed
her eyes and took a deep breath. Once the train began moving the children
watched out the windows until the gentle, rhythmic motion rocked them to sleep.
An hour and a half later, Wim motioned for Anya to come to him. Steadying
herself along the way, she joined him at the rear of the car.

“We’ll
be at the station in about ten minutes. When we get off, you and the Emmerings
will look for a man smoking a pipe and wearing a red beret. Greet him as if
he’s a long lost relative. He will load you and the family into his truck and
drive you to the farm.”

“What
if I do not see such a man?”

“You
will. The arrangements were made yesterday. He’ll be there.”

“And
you? What will you and the Kleins do?”

“We’ll
look for a woman in a straw hat with a red ribbon around it. She will escort us
to the same farm, though we’ll travel a different route. I’ll see you there
later. Once the families are settled, we’ll make our way back to the train
station.”

Just
then the train lurched, throwing Anya against him. She felt her face warm at
his nearness. “Sorry.”

He held
her even as she tried to regain her footing. “I’m not.”

Anya
looked into his eyes, thinking she might have imagined his comment. For a
moment she lost herself, wondering what it would be like if he should lean over
and kiss her.

Even as
the thought whispered through her mind, he leaned closer . . .
then bypassed her lips to whisper in her ear, “You’re welcome.”

His
breath tickled her ear, sending a strange sensation over her.
Is he toying
with my affections?
Still, she couldn’t deny the desire already filling her
heart. She moved back, better able to gaze into his startling blue eyes as she
tried to read his thoughts. How many times had she dreamed of this moment?

“An—I
mean, Joosie?”

She
turned, hearing Jakob Emmering call her name. The moment was lost. She nodded,
then backed away out of Wim’s embrace. She only hoped her face had returned to
its normal shade as she returned to her seat. “Yes?”

“Look,”
he said, pointing out the window.

There
as the train eased to a stop, she saw a
sea
of
German
uniforms.
She turned, searching for Wim and found him rooted in place, staring out the
window. His eyes cut away, catching hers. And though his countenance reflected
her fear, he tossed her a subtle wink of assurance.
Go with God,
he
mouthed.

Go with
God,
she mouthed in return.

As they
helped their charges down the aisle to get off the train, Anya thought her
heart would surely thunder out of her chest. Wim had escorted the Kleins toward
the opposite end of the compartment, while Anya and the Emmerings took the
closer exit. Going before them down the steps, she stopped short as shrill
whistles filled the air. Suddenly the mass of green just below her bolted to
her left as the soldiers shouted, “Halt! Halt!”

Anya
turned back, pushing the Emmerings back into the car as shots rang out. The
children screamed and clung to their parents.

“What’s
happening?” Jakob shouted.

“Stay
down! Cover the children!”

Against
the chaos of screeching whistles and gunfire, Anya crouched down, wrapping her
arms around the two eldest children. “I’m here, I’m here. We’ll be all right.
You’ll see,” she yelled, shielding them with her body. The children whimpered,
shaking as they crouched down.

“Joosie!”

She
jerked her head up at the sound of Wim’s voice calling her code name. He was
pushing the Kleins the other direction, twisting back toward her.

“Go!
Go! Get them off the train! NOW!”

“But—”

“I said
GO!”

She
popped up, grabbing the two children closest to her while shouting at Jakob and
Rebecca. “Hurry! We must go now!”

They
spilled out of the train onto the platform into a cloud of steam belching from the
train’s engine. The children wailed as guns continued firing in the distance
now.

“Hurry!
We must hurry!”

Suddenly,
a man wearing a red beret with a pipe clamped between his teeth appeared before
her. “Ah, my dear Joosie! Thank goodness you are safe!” He hugged her, lowering
his voice to speak urgently against her ear. “God has smiled on us, providing a
distraction, but we must get everyone out of here at once. Quickly! Quickly!”

“Opa!
How good to see you!” she played along. “Look and see all your grandchildren!”

“Ah, my
little ones! Come! Come! We must hurry home. Your grandmother has prepared a
dinner in your honor!”

As if
masterfully performing before a theater audience, the actors played their
parts, all the while rushing the frightened family out of the station as fast
as possible. It wasn’t until they’d all loaded into the farmer’s truck that
Anya was able to breathe again. And only then, did she think to look for Wim,
but of course it was too late.

21

“Anya! Wim!
I was so worried about you!”

She
fell into her father’s arms, relieved to finally be home. “I’m sorry, Father.
We couldn’t risk trying to get word to you.”

“Come
inside! It’s after curfew,” he said, shutting the door after them. “I expected
you two days ago! What happened?”

Wim
stepped into the living room then shook hands with her father. “Complications.
But we’re fine. We made our deliveries and all is well. Just a few unexpected
surprises along the way. My apologies for making you worry, Reverend Versteeg.”

“Come,
let me make you some tea. There is much to tell you.”

They
followed Anya’s father to the kitchen where he busied himself preparing tea.

“How is
Mother?”

“The
same. She sleeps most of the time. Helga sits with her most of the day. Helga
is such a kindhearted woman, always insisting it is her ministry to care for
her dear friend. Such a godsend, she is.”

“Reverend
Versteeg, you said you had much to tell us.”

“Yes,
and none of it good, I’m afraid.” He poured the hot water into the teapot to
let it steep. “There has been quite a run on the banks as people are withdrawing
their funds in fear of the Germans who will most likely steal what’s there.
Likewise, the stores are depleted as everyone seems to be hoarding as much food
and as many supplies as they can. Of course, there wasn’t much left. From the
beginning, the Germans helped themselves to our store shelves. There’s little
left to be had except at farms like that of your family, Wim. Otherwise,
there’s a sense of panic everywhere you turn.”

“Have
the Germans continued their razzias?” Anya asked. “Are they still rounding up
the Jews every night?”

Her
father poured their tea. “Yes, every night. I peek from the windows when I hear
their trucks roaring down the street. I watch as our neighbors are pushed and
shoved into the trucks, then whisked away. I grieve for them and pray for their
protection. Already our street is almost deserted with so many of our Jewish
friends gone.”

“What
have you heard over the BBC?” Wim asked.

Anya’s
father took a seat at the table with them. “They’ve now confirmed that more
than ten thousand innocent men, women, and children were killed in the initial
attack on
Rotterdam
.”

Anya
covered her mouth unable to speak.

“Of
course, the Germans didn’t stop there. Similar reports have come from all
across our country. We’ve sustained many more losses than any of us ever imagined.
We’ve also begun to hear troubling news of these concentration camps where many
of our citizens have been taken in
Poland
and
Germany
.
Apparently many have already been killed in what’s been described as gas
chambers. It’s unspeakable . . .”

Anya
had heard the rumors. She thought back to the night she’d told Lieke of these
camps and their “ovens,” still grimacing to think she’d said such a horrible
thing to her friend.

Anya
heard Wim groan as he dropped his head in his hands. “We have to work harder.
We’ve got to do whatever it takes to stop these—”

Someone
banged on the front door. Anya, Wim and her father jumped up. “Father, what if
it’s—”

“Shh!
Wim, stay here with Anya. Whoever it might be, you let me do the talking.” A
moment later they heard him open the door. “Good evening. How may I help you?”

Suddenly
the house was filled with soldiers all shouting at the same time. Anya hadn’t
even thought to ask her father if Lieke and the Wolffs were still hidden in the
attic. She prayed for their silence as Wim came to her, tucking her under his
arm.

Her
father reappeared at the kitchen door. “I’m more than willing to help if you’ll
tell us what it is you want?”

Again, a
flurry of harsh German commands. One of the soldiers poked his rifle against her
father’s back while yelling at him to sit. “
Hinsetzen
!”

“Fine.
No problem. See? I’m sitting.” He motioned for Wim and Anya to do the same.

An S.S.
officer strolled into the kitchen as he pulled off his gloves. “Ah, Reverend
Versteeg. We meet at last.”

“And
you are?”

“I am Standartenführer
von Kilmer.
Since you speak English so well, perhaps it is easier if you
call me Colonel von Kilmer. It is my privilege to assist these gentlemen as
they acquire information concerning you and your family for our census.
According to our records, you have not submitted this information as required.
Why would that be, Reverend?”

“My
apologies, but you see I’ve been quite busy with my congregation. These are
difficult times, you know. And my wife is very ill which makes it difficult for
me to—”

“Very
busy. Of course you are. A minister of God must be available for his flock.”

“Yes, I
try to—”

“And
who might these two be?” he asked, nodding with his head. “Your children?”

“My
daughter Anya, yes. And this is our friend, Wim.”

Colonel
von Kilmer waited. “And?”

“I
don’t follow,” her father responded.

“And
what is your friend Wim doing here? Are you not aware it is well past curfew?”

“Yes,
well, Anya and Wim just returned from a visit to my parents’ home—her
grandparents. And as you stated, since it’s well past curfew I suggested Wim
stay the night and return home in the morning.”

The
officer smiled. “Ah, I see. I see. Now tell me, where is it you live, Wim?”

Wim
folded his arms across his chest. “I live outside of town. My parents have a
farm.”

“A
farm.” He snapped his fingers at a short man who appeared to be his assistant.
The man handed him a clipboard with many pages attached. “And what did you say
your last name was?”

Wim
paused, causing Anya’s heart to skip a beat. If the colonel asked for Wim’s ID,
it would not match his name. Of course her father had no way of knowing his
alias, or hers for that matter. She prayed they wouldn’t have to show their
IDs.

Finally,
he leveled his gaze at the officer. “Boorman. I am Wim Boorman.”

Von
Kilmer looked down his list, lifting page after page.
“Boorman . . . Boorman . . . ah! Here it is.
Ja, it appears our people also had to make a visit at your home to collect
information as well. He looked up at Wim. “Now why do you suppose both of your
families refused to comply with our simple instructions to report to our office
for the census?” He looked at Anya then at her father.

“I
suppose we all have better things to do than stand in long lines to give you
names which you already have,” Wim said. “All Dutch citizens are enrolled at birth
with their local governments. It’s no secret.”

Colonel
von Kilmer’s smile faded, his words spoken quietly and deliberately. “Ja, but
when you are ordered by the Third Reich to be personally counted on our rolls,
you must comply. It’s really very easy.”

Anya despised
the condescension in his tone. She bit the inside of her lip to stifle the
angry retorts flying through her head.

“And
who have we here?” von Kilmer asked, looking behind them. A tall soldier with a
hideous jagged scar across his cheek entered the kitchen pushing Anya’s mother
in front of him.

“Mother!”
Anya gasped, rushing to her side.

“I
don’t understand,” she began. “Who are these people?”

Reverend
Versteeg and Wim both stood. “Please, Colonel von Kilmer, as I told you, my
wife is quite ill.”

“Ah,
Fraü Versteeg, I must apologize for disturbing you at this hour. Come, have a
seat. Would you like some tea?”

Anya
watched the confusion skitter across her mother’s face. “Here, Mother, let’s
get you seated.”

“But
shouldn’t I make them breakfast?”

“No,
dear, it’s the middle of the night,” Anya’s father said. “These gentlemen just
came by to ask a few questions. Nothing to worry about.”

“Your
husband’s right,” von Kilmer said. “Not a thing to worry about. We’re just here
to add your family to our census rolls.”

Anya
watched her mother blink several times.

“Fraü Versteeg,
we were just getting to know your family here. Your husband, your daughter Anya
and her friend Wim—”

“But
where’s Hans?”

“Sweetheart,
you know Hans is gone,” her husband reminded her, taking her hand in his.

“Hans?
Would that be your son perhaps?” the officer asked, once again checking his
clipboard.

“My
brother Hans died last year,” Anya snapped. “You’ll not find his name on your
list.”

“How sad.
I’m very sorry to hear of your loss,” he answered, addressing her mother.
“Would there be other children in your home?”

“Lieke
and Inge were here—”

“Now
Mother,” Anya interrupted. “You know it’s just us now.” She stepped between von
Kilmer and her mother, attempting an air of sympathy. “You must forgive my
mother. Since my brother died, she has not been the same.” Turning, she
addressed her father. “Perhaps these gentlemen would allow you to take Mother
back to bed.”

“How
very sad,” von Kilmer said, stepping around her to motion her mother toward
him. “But as long as you are up, Fraü Versteeg, let’s you and I have a little
chat.”

The
heat of Anya’s anger surged through her veins. She looked to her father for
help. “But surely—”

“Now,
now, it won’t take but a few moments,” von Kilmer chided. He pulled out a
chair. “Please, help your mother take a seat.”

Anya
prayed silently as she and her father helped her mother into the remaining
chair at the kitchen table. Anya took her seat again, frightened by her mother’s
confused countenance.

“Now,
here we are. Fraü Versteeg, you mentioned someone named Lieke and—”

“My
mother is confused. I told you she—”

“Stop!”
Von Kilmer ordered, his hand raised in Anya’s face. “I am speaking to your
mother. You will not interrupt me again.”

Her
father’s hand trembled as he reached out for his wife’s hand. He patted it but
kept silent.

“I was
asking you about these names you mentioned. Who is Lieke?”

Wim
stood behind Anya, resting his hands on her shoulders.

Anya’s
mother looked from face to face as if trying to make sense of it all. “Lieke?”
She looked at Anya who tried to communicate with her eyes ever so slightly.
“Lieke is Anya’s friend from school.”

“I
see,” the officer responded. “And who is this Inge you mentioned? Also a classmate
of your daughter?”

Her
mother scoffed. “Goodness, no. Inge is just a baby.” She looked around as if
everyone should have known. “The Grünfelds have a very large family. Ten
children, I think?” She looked at Anya for confirmation.

“Yes,
Mother.”
Please don’t say another word!

“Ah,
the Grünfelds. I know this name.” Von Kilmer looked at his assistant. “I
believe we assisted a family named Grünfeld to the ghetto a few weeks ago, did
we not?”

His
assistant leafed through another sheaf of papers. “Grünfelds . . .
yes, here it is. Issac and Eliza Grünfeld. But our records show there were only
eight children.” His finger traced along the paper. “I see no one named Lieke
or Inge here.” He looked up, first at Anya’s mother, then at von Kilmer.

“When
did you last see these Grünfeld children, Fraü Versteeg?”

Her
mother looked for help from Anya’s father, then to Anya.
“I . . . I don’t know. Everything is . . . I
can’t—”

“Please,
Colonel von Kilmer,” her father began, his voice hushed. “You can see for
yourself her mind is not right. She is confused. Lieke and her brothers and
sisters were often in our home. They were friends of Anya and Hans. In my
wife’s mind, names and dates—they’re all mixed up.”

The
officer leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. “Yes, I
can see she is confused. Still, how would you explain that these Grünfelds are obviously
missing two of their children—two daughters? Furthermore, these two daughters
just happened to be the ones your wife mentioned. How would you explain that,
Reverend Versteeg?”

Anya
watched her father swallow hard. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”

“And
you, Anya? Have you talked to your friend Lieke recently? Have you seen her or
this young sister of hers?”

His
narrowed eyes seemed to see right through her soul. Anya sat straighter. “No. I
told you. I’ve been away visiting my grandparents.”

Von
Kilmer looked back and forth between Wim, Anya, and her father. He stilled his
fingers, pressing his hands flat on the table. “Forgive me, but I must ask.
Could it be you have given refuge to these two Jewish girls?”