by Rob Currie
“Ohhh! Ohhh! This is wonderful!” She told him that while he carried out his errand, she and Anna had cut down a short tree and brought the wood home.
After supper, with the fire low and the house dark, Tante Cora shared memories of growing up as Papa’s big sister. She also told Dutch fairy tales—“The Boy Who Wanted More Cheese” and “The Legend of the Wooden Shoe.” She winked when she changed “The Princess with Twenty Petticoats” to “Princess Anna with Twenty Petticoats.”
At story time the next night, Anna said, “Make Princess Anna brave, and make her older than Dirk.” While they huddled under the blankets, Tante Cora told tales until Anna fell asleep.
“May I ask you something, Tante Cora?” Dirk asked as he adjusted his blanket.
“Of course.”
He paused. “How did the Germans catch Oom Steffen?”
“Oh my, oh my.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it—”
“No. I can get through this. I’m not the only woman who lost her husband that day.” She wiped away tears with both hands. “The Germans staged a razzia early in the morning. Dozens of trucks rumbled into town, and soldiers were everywhere, taking able-bodied men and teenage boys.”
“Because they helped the Resistance?”
“No.”
“Was it because they hid Jews?”
“No. To work in their factories in Germany.” Her lower lip trembled. “The soldiers burst into houses and tore the men right out of their homes.”
Dirk pictured the Nazis rounding up the men while their wives wailed and their children clung to them. He cringed. “So they came here and found Oom Steffen?”
Tante Cora shook her head. “He wouldn’t hide because he knew each man taken would probably never see his wife and children again.” She blew her nose. “He knew the danger, but he made up his mind to alert every family he could. On his way back to our house, a neighbor saw them capture him.” She took a shaky breath. “His courage saved many families. But ours was not one of them.”
They sat in silence. Tante Cora and Oom Steffen never had children. Dirk wondered if anyone helped his aunt now that she was alone. After Mama died, people brought meals and helped with chores for a couple of weeks, but then they got busy and went back to their own lives.
“I’m sorry for asking you,” Dirk said.
After a long silence, she sniffed. “It’s all right. It’s not the first time I’ve cried for him, and it won’t be the last.”
After he went to bed, Dirk lay awake for a long time. How much had the Gestapo tortured Els by this time? He brushed away a tear. He had to find Papa so he could set her free. Maybe he would lead a Resistance force to storm the building.
The whole family needed Papa, but Dirk didn’t know when they would see him again. Or if.
CHAPTER SIX
NOVEMBER 16
BY NINE THE NEXT MORNING the temperature was well above freezing, and there was no wind. After one of Tante Cora’s neighbors passed the word about available food at a nearby farm, Dirk grabbed his coat and hat to hike there to trade silverware for eggs, milk, and vegetables.
“I want to go too,” Anna said.
Tante Cora opened the curtains which faced the street, and sun streamed into her living room. “That’s fine since it’s warmer today, and it’s less than three kilometers away,” she said. “Dirk will watch out for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean it’s good to have an older brother or sister to protect you.”
“From soldiers?”
“From anything.”
“Tante Cora, since you are Papa’s older sister, did you ever have to protect him?”
“Yes, a couple of times, Anna.”
“Really?” Her eyes brightened.
“That sounds like a good bedtime story for tonight, but you two need to get going now.” Tante Cora patted Anna on the arm. “While you’re gone, I’ll visit my neighbor who just had a baby.” She put a homemade blanket and a few packets of tea into a basket and set it by the door.
An hour later Dirk and Anna had almost reached the farm.
“I’m hungry,” Anna said.
Dirk looked down at her and stroked her hair. “I know. We’re all hungry. But we’ll trade for food at the farm.”
“But I want something now.” She clutched her abdomen.
“Do you want to ride in the wheelbarrow?”
“Uh-huh.” He lifted her in.
A few minutes later, she shrieked.
Dirk nearly dropped the wheelbarrow handles. “What’s wrong?” He bent over Anna and studied her face.
She scrunched her eyes shut and pointed ahead.
The lifeless body of a middle-aged woman lay by the side of the road. The woman wore a black coat over her dress, and she had no shoes.
“Why is that lady lying there?”
Dirk hesitated. He wanted to keep shielding Anna from the war as much as possible, but she needed to know what the moffen were capable of. “Uhh . . . she probably starved to death.” He picked up the wheelbarrow handles and resumed walking. “She probably just ran out of strength and hope and gave up.” He managed to keep his voice steady, but how many more times would he have to hide his feelings from Anna?
“Why don’t the Germans bury her?”
“They want us to think that resisting the Nazis is hopeless, and they left her there to send a message.” He gritted his teeth. “Just don’t look until I tell you.”
She scrunched her eyes shut.
When they drew even with the body, Dirk took a closer look. The woman’s mouth and eyes were open. Did she have a family? How would they find out about her? He shuddered.
“Okay, Anna. You may open your eyes. Do you see the farm up ahead?”
“Uh-huh.”
The farmer took their silverware in exchange for a dozen eggs, two liters of milk, and two bags of vegetables. On the way back, his spirits boosted by the amount of food they had received, Dirk waved at the many cyclists who rode past him.
They came back to the place where the dead woman lay. Someone had draped the Dutch tricolor over her body.
“Why did someone put a Dutch flag over that lady?” Anna asked.
Dirk narrowed his eyes. “Because the Nazis aren’t the only ones who know how to send a message.”
By the time they neared Doorwerth, Dirk’s hands were sore and his arms ached from pushing the wheelbarrow, but he kept going. He could rest when they got back to Tante Cora’s. What would their aunt say this time when she saw how much food they’d gotten? What would she prepare for dinner, and how good would it smell while it cooked? And how good will it taste? His mouth watered.
But five minutes from the house, they turned a corner, and Dirk froze.
One block ahead, German soldiers combed the neighborhood, going from house to house. They dragged a man from his house while his wife pounded on the soldiers with her fists. For an instant, Dirk couldn’t move.
“What’s happening?” Anna asked.
“A razzia. We’re going to get out of here,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the troops.
“I’m scared, Dirk.” She reached up to him.
He lifted her out of the wheelbarrow. “Run to the alley,” he said. As they dashed in that direction, a convoy of troop carriers lumbered toward them. Soldiers clambered out of the vehicles and ran toward Dirk and Anna.
“Halt!”
Anna screamed.
“Keep going,” Dirk urged, pulling on her hand, but footsteps pounded closer behind them. If he’d been alone, he might have escaped, but he had to slow his pace to stay with Anna.
Just before he reached the alley, a strong hand grabbed him from behind and spun him around. “Gehe,” the soldier with the iron grip said, pointing toward the inside of a nearby truck where weeping civilians sat, some with their heads down. Dirk nearly lost his balance but shot his arms out to his sides and managed to stay on his feet. The infantryman grabbed Dirk by b
oth wrists and tugged him toward the truck.
“Dirk!”
He twisted free from his captor’s grip. He looked around wildly for Anna only to find she was just three meters away. “Run, Anna!” Ohh! If only she had kept running! But she must have been frozen in fear while Dirk had worked himself free. In the few seconds he’d taken to shake off the kidnappers, more soldiers had closed in.
A soldier ran up to him. “Schwein!”
Only the Nazis would deprive someone of food and then have the nerve to call him a pig. Dirk faked one way and darted the other way, but the soldier, eyeing the opening to the alley, stepped in Dirk’s path. Eyes flashing anger and teeth bared, the man was a two-legged attack dog.
“Get out of my way!” Dirk yelled.
The soldier surged forward and grabbed a fistful of Dirk’s shirt, but he spun away. The German swung a massive backhand at him, but Dirk ducked, lowered his shoulder, and accelerated into his enemy’s undefended abdomen. Papa had taught him the best time to make a move is right after your opponent lunges at you because he’s off balance.
“Uhh!” the soldier grunted and stumbled backward.
It worked!
A broad-shouldered man two meters tall stepped in Dirk’s path and reached for his shoulders.
But thanks to wrestling lessons from Papa, Dirk knew what to do with this Nazi mountain. It was time to start a landslide.
Dirk surged forward, placed a leg behind the man’s feet, and pushed his chest with all his strength. The man toppled and landed hard with a muffled groan.
Dirk whirled to find Anna, but another soldier’s fist landed solidly on Dirk’s mouth, and he tasted blood. He stared at his enemy without flinching, but someone shoved him hard from behind and he fell forward. A big boot slammed onto his back, pinned him to the ground, and forced the air from his lungs. He panicked for a few seconds, gasping. Once he could breathe, he tried to roll out from under the pressure on his back.
“Nein, Schwein,” Big Boot said.
Strong hands pulled Dirk’s hands behind him, tied them together, and jerked him to his feet.
Anna ran up to Dirk and grabbed the hem of his shirt. Big Boot pointed toward the truck. “Schnell, Dummkopf.”
Unaffected by the insult to his intelligence, Dirk freed his arms by twisting out of Big Boot’s grasp, but he couldn’t fight this many soldiers, especially with his hands tied behind him and Anna clinging. But there was another way! An alley had hiding spots, and he knew this part of town well from previous visits to Tante Cora. “Anna! Hold onto me!” He darted toward a gap between the soldiers. The alley was only meters away.
“Ergreift sie!” a voice shouted behind them. Heavy feet pounded.
Just before they reached the alley, Dirk felt Anna’s hands pull away from his shirt, ripping the cloth. She screamed.
“No!” Dirk looked back and saw that a burly soldier was carrying Anna toward the truck.
“Dirk!” she shrieked, reaching for him. She kicked her legs against her captor’s chest, but they had no effect.
Dirk dashed toward the man. “Let her go!”
“Dirk,” Anna sobbed. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the soldier set her in the truck and climbed up after her.
They had been so close to escaping! But now Dirk had to go with Anna. Scowling, he let a soldier grab him and toss him into the rear of the truck, where he landed with a thud next to his sister. The other people in the truck had their hands tied too. Two more guards climbed into the back, and the vehicle roared off.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NAZI RAZZIA TRUCK
“DIRK,” ANNA SOBBED. A soldier glared at them. Dirk couldn’t return Anna’s hug, so he leaned against her.
“Shh, shh,” he said in a soothing tone. But how could he comfort her when this was his fault? He should have taken alleys back to Tante Cora’s. But he’d gotten careless, and now the moffen were taking them to who knew where. He shook his head. While they bounced their way down the road in the back of the truck, he looked at the other captives. Most of them wept openly.
“What are we going to do, Dirk?” Tears poured down Anna’s cheeks.
“It’ll be okay, Anna. I’ll think of something.” But how could he say that? He had just let her get captured. It was another huge mistake on top of his biggest mistake ever. I should have done something that night to help Mama. She was sick, and I should have gotten a doctor even though she told me not to. The truck lurched as the driver shifted, and the captives in the back bumped each other.
They said it wasn’t my fault that she died in the middle of the night. But they probably just said that so I wouldn’t feel bad. And maybe they wouldn’t have said it if they had known the whole story. The part he’d been afraid to tell anyone. He tried to brush his tears away with his shoulder, but with his hands tied behind his back it was impossible. His right hand shook, knocking against his left. He had to pull himself together and figure out a way of escaping from wherever they were going. That would be his only chance of finding Papa and helping Els.
“Where are you taking us?” a prisoner asked a soldier.
“Halt die Klappe,” a soldier said, silencing the man and thumping him with the butt of his rifle.
When the guard looked away, a man next to Dirk whispered, “You put up a good fight back there. Is this your sister?” He nodded at Anna.
Too upset to speak, Dirk could only nod.
The man was thin, with close-cropped blond hair and intense blue eyes that darted this way and that, taking in everything. When the guard turned to say something to another soldier, the man next to Dirk spoke again.
“She’s lucky she’s got you watching out for her.”
“Thank you,” Dirk managed to say.
After a pause, the man added, “Keep your chin up and look for a way to escape from wherever they’re taking us. You will find it.”
Dirk sniffed. “Where do you think we’re headed?”
“Probably to one of their factories.”
Better than going to the Gestapo. Dirk’s hand stopped shaking.
Half an hour later, the truck stopped. “Schnell!” a soldier ordered, pointing. Other soldiers herded the captives out of the truck and over to a drab, gray warehouse. As they waited next to the building, Dirk stood at the end of a ragged line of workers. As he looked around his new surroundings, a soldier strode toward him with a fifteen-centimeter blade. Dirk tried to step back, but the wall behind him blocked his path. The moment he hit the wall, the soldier grabbed Dirk’s shoulder. Dirk gasped and tried to twist away, but the man had a firm grip, and in a lightning motion, he spun Dirk around and cut the rope binding his hands.
“Dummkopf,” the soldier said, and then moved to cut the next prisoner’s bonds.
Dirk blushed but turned his attention to Anna, resting his hand on her shoulder.
A few minutes later, a sergeant addressed the group of new captives. The man looked to be in his late fifties. He had thick glasses and walked with a pronounced limp, but he held his head high as if he were some man of great importance. Dirk stood next to Anna and near the man who had talked to him in the truck.
“You Dutch aren’t our enemies,” the sergeant said. “Our war is against the British.”
“Then why did you bomb Rotterdam?” the man from the truck said under his breath.
Despite his limp, the sergeant moved from right to left in front of the line of captives, surveying his new slave laborers.
“You’re here today,” the sergeant continued, “because the English bombed this gun factory. This is where we make weapons for the German army to defend your country from invasion.”
“Liar,” the man from the truck said out of the corner of his mouth.
“During the attack, workers were killed,” the sergeant said as he walked down the line of prisoners. “You will replace them. If you work hard, you will be fed, and no harm will come to you. But if—”
He stopped in front of Anna and stared at her for several
seconds, saying nothing. He shifted his gaze to Dirk. “Is this your sister?” he said loud enough for all the workers to hear. Anna clung to Dirk.
“Yes.”
The sergeant stepped closer to Anna. He looked down his nose at Dirk. “She’s too small and weak to work for the fatherland, and you can’t care for her. You’re just a young boy.”
“I am not a young boy. I’m thirteen years old.” Dirk stood tall and pushed out his chest.
The sergeant studied Anna and then smiled. But it wasn’t the sort of friendly grin that makes you think things will be better. It was the kind of smile a shark gives his dinner before he eats it in one gulp.
“My friend had a daughter who looked just like you,” the sergeant said to Anna. She flinched when he stroked her hair. “She was about your age and had long blonde hair just like yours. I’ll ask him if he wants to adopt you.”
“No. She belongs with me.” Dirk locked eyes with the sergeant.
Anna threw her arms around Dirk’s waist and buried her face in his stomach.
The sergeant took a step closer to Dirk and glared down at him, standing so close Dirk could smell the man’s breath. Dirk stood his ground.
The man raised his voice so everyone in line could hear him. “Until I hear back from my friend, your sister may stay, as long as neither of you falls behind in your work or causes trouble.”
“She’s my sister, and you’re not taking her.” Dirk clenched his fists and glared at the sergeant.
The sergeant glowered at him. “You are speaking to an officer of the Third Reich. Hold your tongue, or I will put you in a prison cell. And then who will watch over your precious sister?” The sergeant turned and limped away, his head still held high.
The man from the truck tapped Dirk on the shoulder. “That sergeant has ears of stone and a heart to match,” he whispered.
Dirk nodded.
A guard dismissed the group to walk fifteen meters to the factory. Soldiers directed the men and women to separate rooms to receive their work uniforms. When Dirk released Anna’s hand, her pleading eyes spilled over with tears.
