Hunger Winter

by Rob Currie

  The colonel adjusted his glasses. “If they see you in those shirts, they will know you escaped from the work camp.”

  “We could hide in the basement,” Dirk said.

  “You could. But what would happen if just one soldier went down to the basement and saw you?” The question hung in the air like a large, dark cloud just before a heavy rain. Then Fleischer left the room.

  Dirk paced slowly for several minutes. Why is this happening to us? He had led Anna to safety, and now trouble had found them again. Or something much worse than trouble. Even if they hid in the basement, their presence would be pretty obvious if Mrs. ten Haken kept bringing food down there. Or if Anna screamed when she saw a spider.

  “Why are you wringing your hands?” Anna asked.

  “I’m not wringing my ha—” He glanced down and thrust his hands into his pockets.

  “Why are you walking back and forth so much? Are you worried?”

  “No,” he said, “I’m not worried. I’m just, I’m just, uh . . . thinking.”

  After a few moments, he turned to his sister. “I’m going downstairs, Anna. Stay here.” Downstairs, he approached Mr. ten Haken. “Did you find any clothes for us to wear? If any German soldiers see us in our uniforms—”

  “I don’t have clothes your size, but anything will be better than those horrid work camp uniforms. My wife mended outfits for both of you. But you are still in danger. Any German soldiers who see you in oversize clothes will be suspicious. So you mustn’t go outside for any reason. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Dirk said.

  The farmer handed the clothes to him, and Dirk trudged back up the stairs to rejoin Anna. A few hours later they ate lunch with Mr. and Mrs. ten Haken. Dirk and Anna spent the afternoon in their bedroom. Anna played pretend games with the blankets, but Dirk paced and looked out the window a lot.

  At supper, Dirk picked at his food. After the meal, his shoulders slumped as he plodded up the stairs to the bedroom. Several times Anna asked him to play a game, but he declined.

  “But you always play with me,” she protested. He didn’t answer. German soldiers were probably coming soon. Tomorrow could be the worst day of their lives. Or the last.

  At bedtime, Anna kneeled by her bed. “Dear God, help us make it to Oma and Opa’s house. Tell Dirk that Colonel Fleischer is nice.”

  Dirk scowled, but he bent down and hugged her. “Good night, Anna.”

  “Tell me the Princess Anna story.”

  “Not tonight. I have a lot on my mind.” He turned out the light and climbed into his bed, but sleep did not come for a long time.

  Hours later, he woke with a start to the squeak of the door as it swung slowly open. Quiet footsteps came closer and closer.

  For a few seconds, Dirk lay tensed on his back in the bed, fists clenched, heartbeat rapid, and breath shallow. Who is it? The visitor hid his or her face with both hands. Step, step, step, like a slow drumbeat, the footsteps drew steadily closer. Then the intruder took two quick steps forward and lunged onto Dirk.

  “Oof,” he grunted as he felt the crushing weight of the assailant on his abdomen. The aggressor sat up on Dirk’s stomach, leaned forward, and pinned Dirk’s arms against the mattress. At close range, he got a clear view of his attacker’s face.

  “Get off me, Fleischer, you butcher!” Dirk shouted.

  “Dirk!” Anna screamed from the other side of the room.

  For one second, Dirk felt the cold flash of terror that surges through a young rabbit pinned beneath a fox. And then the feeling left, displaced by the survival instinct and a grim determination to fight. He would do more than keep family secrets from Fleischer. He would fight him. And beat him.

  Fleischer increased his advantage by moving up to sit on the lower edge of Dirk’s rib cage. He put more pressure on Dirk’s arms. Dirk pushed and pulled with all his strength but couldn’t move his arms at all. His face grew hot with exertion. Fleischer had the advantage of size and position. Dirk thrashed his legs, but the heavy blankets confined his movement.

  “I know who your father is!” Fleischer gloated. “A so-called hero of the Dutch Resistance, but he’s a coward! Why doesn’t he show himself? He dares to defy the Third Reich by hiding Jews and American pilots who have been shot down. You’ll pay for what your father has done.”

  This scoundrel insulted Papa, who was a better man than Fleischer would ever be. Dirk struggled with renewed energy but couldn’t free himself from the German’s iron grip. Dirk and Papa had often wrestled playfully, and his father, a champion wrestler in his youth, had told him many times, “Watch for a mistake. Then strike hard and fast.” But how could he defeat an enemy so much bigger and stronger? Dirk tried to free his arms using a back-and-forth sawing motion, but he still couldn’t get free.

  “Look at my uniform!” Fleischer demanded. “See the eagle pin on my chest? I am the eagle, and you are a helpless field mouse.” He underscored his statement by squeezing Dirk’s elbows hard.

  “Agh!” Dirk cried. A thunderbolt of pain shot down both forearms.

  “Anna. Get Mr. ten Haken!” Dirk gasped.

  “I’m scared, Dirk.”

  Fleischer’s large hands were now past Dirk’s biceps and near his shoulders. Dirk thrashed his legs again, but the effort was still ineffective.

  Fleischer steadily moved his hands higher, closer to Dirk’s throat. “Too bad your father isn’t here to help you.” He slowed his speech to savor each syllable. “And Papa’s little boy has to pay for what Papa did.”

  Fleischer slid his grip several centimeters higher, almost to Dirk’s throat. But with Fleischer’s hands between Dirk’s shoulder and his neck, Dirk’s hands were free. He had one chance to make a move. It had to be the right one.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THIS IS FOR PAPA! Dirk slammed both fists into Fleischer’s stomach.

  “Ugh!” The older man grunted in pain and released his grip. Dirk followed the shot to the abdomen by punching his adversary’s shoulders, which made Fleischer sit up.

  “Get off!” Dirk roared. He grabbed Fleischer by the collar. Dirk pulled down hard and twisted to the right, which made the colonel roll over and land with a thud on the wood floor. Dirk scrambled out of the other side of the bed and dashed around it to face his enemy, who was already on his feet. Dirk shot a look over his shoulder at Anna. She lay on her bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin. Her eyes, wide with fear, darted back and forth between Dirk and Fleischer. Her mouth hung open in terror.

  “Stay where you are, Anna, so I can protect you!” Dirk said. He snarled at his enemy. “Get out!” Dirk bent his knees, leaned forward, and put his arms slightly in front of him.

  “Leave my brother alone!” Anna shrieked.

  “I’m going to finish what I started,” Fleischer said with quiet anger. “A German officer always keeps his word.” He advanced steadily.

  “Come and get me,” Dirk said with a steely gaze.

  When Fleischer was within striking range, Dirk threw a punch with his left arm, aimed at his antagonist’s neck, which the German easily blocked by raising his right arm.

  Dirk surged forward and slammed his shoulder into his adversary’s exposed rib cage. He stepped back, but Fleischer was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a large dresser loomed in front of him. It had a broken knob, and Dirk’s shoulder throbbed. Huh?

  “What was that noise?” Anna asked. She yawned. “What are you doing?”

  “I was . . .” He looked around the room. The bedroom door was still shut. Anna rubbed her eyes drowsily.

  “It’s all right,” he said. He rubbed his shoulder and winced. “I, uh . . . just bumped into the dresser.” Another dream warning about Fleischer.

  He walked to his bed, lay down, adjusted the blankets, and forced himself to close his eyes.

  “Get up! Get up!” Mr. ten Haken’s voice snapped Dirk out of a deep sleep. The farmer was standing in the bedroom doorway. “German soldiers are here! Hurry! Hide in the basement!”r />
  Dirk jumped out of bed and dashed to Anna. He scooped her up and put her head on his shoulder.

  “What’s going to happen?” she said. Her lower lip trembled.

  “Uh, we’ll be fine in the basement,” he said without looking at her. He followed close behind Mr. ten Haken as they hustled down the stairs.

  “Hurry!” Mr. ten Haken said. “If they see you, they’ll shoot us all for hiding you.” When they reached the main floor, Dirk heard men’s voices outside the house.

  They scurried through the kitchen, Anna clinging to Dirk. German soldiers passed by the window with their backs to him, and his heart leaped in his throat. Don’t turn around! Hurrying down the stairs, Dirk cringed when a few steps creaked. When they reached the basement, he heaved a sigh of relief.

  “You’re not safe yet. Over here,” Mr. ten Haken said. He pointed to a cellar, a wood-paneled room in the corner of the basement.

  Dirk’s eyebrows shot up. “What about our beds? It’ll be obvious someone slept in them.”

  “My wife’s taking care of that. Now you stay quiet and stay in the cellar, because there’s no mercy for anyone who hides Jews or escapees.”

  “Wait!” Dirk said. “Where’s Colonel Fleischer?”

  “He’s outside giving the soldiers orders to bring in their supplies. Either he lied to us about leaving the army, or he really did, and these soldiers don’t know it yet. But they’re sure to find out soon, and when they do, it will be bad for him and for you.” Mr. ten Haken left, closing the door behind him.

  Dirk glared at the closed cellar door. “Fleischer lied! He said he wouldn’t fight anymore. But now he’s helping German soldiers. ‘A German officer always keeps his word.’ Ha!” Now Fleischer’s true intent was obvious. The monkey had definitely come out of the sleeve. Dirk rubbed his chin. Those dreams had to be warnings about Fleischer.

  Since Fleischer couldn’t be trusted, Dirk and Anna would have to escape. They’d escaped from the gun factory, and they’d get out of here, too. Dirk turned to take stock of the room. All four cellar walls had empty shelves. Daylight trickled in through a dirty window about two meters above the floor and partially illuminated the two-meter by three-meter room.

  Dirk studied the window, about half a meter long on each side. He put his hands on his hips; then he kept the distance between his hands the same while he raised them toward the window. He smiled.

  “Anna. I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m getting something we need,” he said.

  He opened the cellar door cautiously and looked in all directions before he made his move. He grabbed a chair near the workbench on the other side of the basement and set it under the cellar window. He stood on the chair but couldn’t reach the top of the window, where the latch was. He frowned. If he couldn’t open the window, they would be at the mercy of any nosy soldier who came down to the basement.

  Dirk stepped down from the chair and kicked the wall in frustration. In the process, he lost his balance and steadied himself by putting his foot on one of the shelves built into the cellar wall. He stared at the shelf.

  “What are you looking at?” Anna asked.

  “Watch,” he said. He climbed the shelves on the wall containing the window until he reached the window latch. It stuck initially but opened with a second effort. He looked at the window and then at his shoulders, then closed the window and climbed down.

  Dirk smiled. We’ll sneak out right under the Nazis’ noses.

  “What are you doing?” Anna asked.

  “We’re getting out of here. Fleischer thinks we’re trapped, but tonight we’ll climb the shelves and go out the window.”

  Anna looked at the shelves and the window doubtfully.

  A little before noon, Mrs. ten Haken came down to the basement with a large basket. She handed blankets to Dirk and Anna from the top of the basket and gave them bread and cups of water from the bottom. Her face was drawn, and she looked over her shoulder several times as she spoke to them.

  “Make the bread last,” she said. “I can’t spare any more for you today. The soldiers are eating everything I have.” She wrung her hands.

  “Thank you,” Dirk said.

  “You’re welcome,” she said as she left.

  Dirk divided the bread into two piles. “This pile is for now,” he told Anna, pointing to the slices he had put on the chair. “That pile is for later.” He nodded toward the food he had placed on the top shelf. “Do you understand?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  After they ate, Dirk said, “We won’t get much sleep tonight, so we should both take a nap.” He lay down on the floor and motioned to Anna to come to him. After she sat next to him, he leaned her toward him and steered her head toward his stomach. After they rested, they spent the rest of the afternoon talking, practicing climbing the shelves, and waiting for darkness.

  Late in the afternoon, Mrs. ten Haken brought a pitcher of water.

  “Thank you,” Dirk and Anna said.

  “I wish I could do more for you.” She reached out and smoothed Anna’s hair. Then she left.

  Anna sipped her water.

  “Do you remember what I told you about tonight?” Dirk asked.

  “Uh-huh. We’re going to escape, right?” Anna asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But the soldiers will see us.”

  “Not if we’re really careful,” he answered.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. His right hand twitched, and he pushed it into his pocket. When he felt the small stone, his hand quieted.

  “But how can you be sure?” Anna asked.

  “Because it’s a good plan.” I hope.

  Thirty minutes later, three sharp knocks on the cellar door startled Dirk. I didn’t hear anyone come down the steps. Who would sneak down now?

  “Is it a soldier?” Anna whispered. She scurried behind Dirk. He grabbed the chair and held it in front of him, with the legs pointed away, and practiced a couple of thrusts. But what can a chair do against an armed soldier?

  The door eased open. Fleischer stood in the doorway.

  “Sooner or later one of the soldiers will find you.” He strode into the room and looked at Anna. “One of you will make a noise.” Dirk set the chair down. “Or the farmer and his wife will let something slip in conversation. If I try to protect you, they’ll think I’m a traitor.”

  “You said you were done fighting the war,” Dirk said. “You lied! And you brought those soldiers here!” Lying was bad enough, but now Fleischer acted like he was trying to help.

  “I didn’t lie, and I didn’t bring the soldiers here.” He paused. “I am done with the war, but the war is not done with me. War is bigger than you or I and even bigger than nations.”

  Dirk glared at Fleischer. “Another thing. If you really deserted the army, why aren’t the soldiers arresting you?”

  “My superiors gave me permission to visit my family. That’s where they think I am, so no one will report me as absent without leave.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Dirk said.

  “Of course you don’t.” Fleischer shook his head. “You are only a child, and you don’t understand.”

  “I’m not a child,” Dirk said through clenched teeth. “I’m thirteen.”

  Fleischer held up his hand. “There is more. The German army will probably use this house as a forward observation post.”

  “So?”

  “When the Wehrmacht hurls its shells at the American army, the soldiers upstairs will report on their accuracy so the gunners can adjust their aim.” Fleischer walked to the cellar window. “The Allies will discover that, and they’ll smash the house with their bombers like a sledgehammer would crush a cup.” He pounded his right fist into his left palm.

  “What are we going to do?” Anna asked, looking up at Dirk.

  He didn’t answer.

  After an uncomfortable silence, Fleischer spoke again. �
��You are too quiet, which means you are thinking.” He looked around the cellar and stepped toward the shelves. He reached out and traced the outline of a shoe print on a waist-high shelf.

  “Ah. You were planning to climb the shelves and crawl out the window,” he said. He stroked his chin. “You thought you’d leave tonight and walk to the Allied lines.” Fleischer shook his head. “It won’t work. It’ll be below freezing, you don’t have coats, and Anna could never walk the thirteen kilometers from here to Nijmegen. Even if you had a bicycle with a basket big enough to carry Anna, you’d never get through the German checkpoint before you get to the Allied lines. Your father is a Dutch national hero, and if they got any idea of who you are, you would be very valuable hostages.”

  “You don’t know anything about my father,” Dirk shot back. In my dream he said he knew about Papa, but this is real life. He’s bluffing. He furrowed his forehead.

  “As a German officer, I know about our enemies, and that means I know a great deal about your father,” Fleischer said. “Hans Ingelse is a hero to the Dutch.”

  “You know our papa?” Anna asked.

  “Stay out of this, Anna,” Dirk snapped.

  “I’ve read his complete file, which includes pictures of both of you.” Fleischer paused. “Your father is a leader of the Dutch Resistance.”

  “He’s what?” Anna said.

  “Anna!” Dirk scolded. He turned back to Fleischer, crossed his arms, and glared.

  “Three years ago, he and others persuaded Dutch workers to go on strike to protest the deportation of Jews.” Dirk’s eyes grew wide. “Later,” Fleischer continued, “your father oversaw smuggling Jewish children out of a holding center. Volunteers passed them over a hedge, carried them into a neighboring school, hid them in baskets, and cycled them to the countryside, where other volunteers cared for the youngsters. But I didn’t come down here to talk about your father.”

  While Fleischer talked, Dirk stared at the eagle pin on the German’s uniform. In Dirk’s dream, Fleischer had made a big deal about the eagle, and its wings had been turned up at the ends. But Fleischer’s eagle’s wings go straight across. Why is it different? Is that part of the warning?