Hunger Winter

by Rob Currie

  “I have told the soldiers and Mr. and Mrs. ten Haken of the danger they face from the impending bombing attack. Now you know too.” Then Fleischer left.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “AGH!” Dirk’s shoulders sagged. “We can’t stay here, and we can’t go to the Allied lines.”

  “What are we going to do?” Anna asked.

  “I don’t know. Papa would know what to do.”

  “He would say, ‘Keep your hopes up and your prayers strong,’” Anna said.

  “I know. Els said that too.” Dirk sighed. All his life he had dreamed of saving the day. But in his flights of fancy it was never this hard. Dirk backed up to the cellar wall and slid to a seated position on the floor. Anna nestled against his side.

  He draped his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll think of something. We’ll get out of here.” I wish I could ask Papa what to do.

  A memory flashed. Two years earlier, he had asked Papa about a classmate. A year older than Dirk, Franz had insulted, threatened, and punched Dirk nearly every day. Dirk and Papa reported Franz to the head of the school, but despite his promise to look into it, nothing changed.

  “The answer to the problem is in the problem,” Papa said one day when Dirk came home with bruises on his arms. Dirk wrinkled his nose and stared at his father.

  “The problem is that he’s bigger and stronger and probably overconfident,” Papa said. “Use that to beat him.” They talked a bit more, and Papa showed Dirk a few special wrestling moves.

  The next day after school, Franz followed Dirk down an alley when no one else was around. Dirk couldn’t outrun the other boy, so he turned and faced him.

  Now as Dirk sat on the cellar floor, his pulse quickened as he recalled the confrontation. He’d looked Franz in the eye and said, “Quit bothering me!”

  “You think you’re so much better than me, Dutchie boy.” Franz was of German descent and never missed a chance to taunt his Dutch peers. “What’s the matter, Dirk? Why don’t you say something? What’s the matter?” He shoved him hard. “Is your mouth full of teeth?”

  “No, I’m not at a loss for words. Just leave me alone, Franz!”

  Franz reached out and squeezed Dirk’s bicep. “You’re weak, just like the Netherlands. When the war started, you and your army lasted five whole days. Oh! I don’t know how you did it.”

  “Go away, Franz.”

  “I will after I’ve taught you a lesson, Dutchie.” Franz charged at Dirk. Dirk let him lunge, then stepped aside. The moment Franz righted himself, Dirk backed into him, and grabbing Franz’s arm, he flipped him onto the ground. Thanks, Papa.

  Franz rushed Dirk three more times and ended up on the ground each time. Franz finally stood and brushed off his shirt. Breathing hard, he said, “You’re nothing but a coward, Dutchie! You’re too scared to fight with your fists.” But he never bothered Dirk again.

  Dirk stood in the middle of the cellar and looked at the dirty window. “So the problem is that we’ll die if we stay and die if we walk out of here,” he muttered to himself. “What else is there? If the answer is in the problem, then where’s the answer?”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. All his efforts to keep Anna safe would come to nothing if Fleischer was right about the soldiers.

  “Dear God, help us get out of here. Amen,” Anna said behind him.

  Dirk snapped his fingers.

  “Why did you do that?” Anna asked.

  He beamed at her. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “I know. We’re going to sneak out the window after dark.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m going to use Papa’s advice.”

  “What?”

  The door at the top of the stairs opened, and Dirk and Anna tensed as they listened for footsteps. Opening the cellar door a crack, Dirk held his breath and peeked out. Mr. ten Haken reached the basement and grabbed a few tools from the workbench. Whew! It’s not a soldier!

  Dirk approached the farmer. “Would you please tell Colonel Fleischer I need to see him?”

  “Why?” Mr. ten Haken asked. “Nothing good can come from talking to a man like that.”

  “I have to ask him something,” Dirk said. He stood still, his eyes slightly squinted in concentration.

  Mr. ten Haken pursed his lips. “All right.” He waved a finger. “I’ll tell him, but I’m warning you, he’s still the enemy.”

  “Why do you want to talk to Colonel Fleischer?” Anna asked after Mr. ten Haken went back upstairs. “I thought you didn’t trust him.”

  “I don’t. But sometimes you have to take a chance, because it’s the only chance you have,” Dirk said.

  “Huh?” Anna said.

  “Just watch,” he said. “And let me do the talking.”

  A few minutes later, Colonel Fleischer came down to the cellar.

  “Colonel, Anna and I need your help.” Dirk’s voice quavered. “We need you to drive us to the Allied lines in Nijmegen.”

  Fleischer snorted. “Since when does a German officer take orders from a young boy?”

  “Let me finish,” Dirk said. His right hand shook, and he shoved it into his pocket. “If you go back to the German army, you’ll be shot for deserting. You said anyone who stays here will die from a bombing attack. So if you can’t go back and you can’t stay here, the only thing left is for you to go forward.”

  “What?”

  “We can’t get through the German checkpoint to the Allied lines without you, and you need us, too. When you deliver two children of a Dutch hero, you’ll be treated well by the Allies.”

  Fleischer smirked. “Clever of you to ask a favor and make it sound like my idea.” He stared straight ahead, his grim expression unchanging, for about thirty seconds. Fleischer removed his officer’s hat and ran a hand through his thinning hair. He took a deep breath and replaced his hat. “I will consider it,” he said, then went back upstairs without another word.

  Dirk paced the cellar. What would Fleischer say? If he said no, the only option would be to escape through the window, but Fleischer was right. Anna wouldn’t be able to walk all the way to Nijmegen, and Dirk couldn’t carry her the whole way either. Dirk grunted. Fleischer was their only chance. He had to say yes.

  Fifteen minutes later the basement stairs creaked. “Here comes our only hope,” Dirk said under his breath. When the colonel reached the cellar, he looked Dirk in the eye for several seconds. Dirk bit his lip and waited.

  “Your idea has merit.” Fleischer paused. “I will drive you to Nijmegen. You are like your father, Dirk. They say he can talk almost anyone into nearly anything.”

  Dirk jumped and threw his hands in the air in victory—and hit them on the ceiling. He rubbed the back of his hands, but his smile did not dim. They would finally get to the American army base, and then no Nazis could touch them! Weeks of life-and-death decisions would be behind him, and then they’d go look for Papa!

  “I told you Colonel Fleischer was nice,” Anna said.

  Even then Dirk kept smiling. She could say anything about Fleischer, and it wouldn’t spoil Dirk’s mood.

  “I’ll come for you tomorrow night,” Fleischer said, snapping Dirk back to the present. “The German army will have extra patrols on the road to Nijmegen tonight, so we’ll have to wait. Tomorrow evening, I’ll take you to the barn, and you will wait there until I come for you in the middle of the night.” Fleischer paused. “There are several ways this plan could go wrong and we could all die.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  NOVEMBER 25

  THE NEXT DAY, shortly before sunset, Fleischer appeared at the cellar doorway. “It’s time to go to the barn.”

  “I didn’t hear you come down,” Dirk said.

  “Neither did anyone else. Now be quick and be quiet. Don’t talk, sneeze, or cough. No sound. The soldiers are outside, on the other side of the house. When I tell you, run!”

  Fleischer led them up the stairs and to the back door. Dirk put a finger to his lips to remin
d Anna to be quiet. But if something startled her, she would cry out despite her good intentions. “Go!” Fleischer whispered, and Dirk and Anna scurried toward the barn. Nerves on edge, looking and listening intently for soldiers, Dirk heard every little sound—the swish, swish of his trousers, the breeze in his ears. And in spite of himself, he nearly cried out in surprise when a bird swooped by on its way into the barn.

  In the barn, Fleischer spoke again. “Talk softly, don’t make any loud noises, and after the sun goes down, get some sleep. It will be quite a while before we go, and you’ll need your rest because it could be a difficult night. Find a spot where you can’t be seen from the door. I’m going back into the house.”

  Dirk nodded and led Anna behind a pile of hay bales six meters from the door. He turned around and sized up their position. The single bulb above the doorway would give him a good view of anyone entering after dark, but by that time, he and Anna would be in deep shadows behind the hay. No one would see them unless they did a thorough search of the barn. Which a squad of soldiers could do. The barn suddenly felt chillier.

  “Dirk!” Anna said. “Look!” Her arm trembled as she pointed up.

  “Shh!” he scolded. He cringed and looked toward the house. “You can’t make noise, Anna. Soldiers might hear you.”

  He followed Anna’s gaze toward the barn ceiling. A cat in the rafters stalked a barn swallow with an injured wing.

  “The cat’s going to get the bird,” Anna whispered. She turned her head and shut her eyes. Dirk picked a small rock off the barn floor, cocked his arm, then dropped the rock.

  “Why aren’t you—?”

  “The bird’s not really hurt.”

  “But you have to do something!”

  “No, Anna. The bird’s playing a trick on the cat.”

  “What?”

  “The cat got close to a nest of baby birds, so the mama’s pretending to be injured to lure the cat away from her nest.”

  A minute later, the bird flew away and perched on a higher rafter.

  “See?” Dirk said. “The barn swallow is okay, the baby birds in the nest are safe, and the mother will fly back to them when the cat’s not looking.”

  “Oh,” Anna said. “That scared me.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. He patted her on the shoulder. “We should sleep.”

  “But I can’t sleep. I’m cold.”

  “Take your arms out of your sleeves and fold them over your stomach inside your shirt. That will make you warmer,” Dirk said. He put his arm around her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  “Does that feel warmer now?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Dirk lay awake for some time, listening to Anna’s breathing. As hard as the past weeks had been, it felt good to be her protector.

  “This time tomorrow we’ll be safe at Oma and Opa’s house,” he whispered to himself. “Or,” his voice choked up, “if Fleischer’s leading us into a trap, we’ll be dead.”

  He adjusted his blankets and waited for drowsiness to come. He looked down at Anna, snuggled against his side, to be sure she was asleep. He bowed his head. “Help us get to Oma and Opa’s house, and protect Papa and Els,” he whispered. I prayed again. Anna’s getting to me. He smiled.

  Dirk thought back to a time when Els had watched over him, like he was watching over Anna now. When Dirk was six years old, one day on his way home from school, he’d thought it would be fun to walk on the edge of a canal. When he stumbled over a stone, Els caught his flailing hand and pulled him away from the edge.

  Dirk was older now, and he had to help Els by finding Papa. But first he and Anna had to get to Oma and Opa’s house.

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Good night, Papa and Els, wherever you are.” His breathing slowed.

  Dirk woke when the large barn door slid open. He cupped his hand behind his ear and held his breath. What if it’s not Fleischer? His pulse quickened, and he clenched his fists.

  “Dirk,” a male voice whispered.

  Dirk stood up halfway and eased his eyes over the hay bales in front of him. Spotting Fleischer, he stepped from behind the hay bales. “Over here, Colonel.”

  “I sent the guard inside and told him I would stand watch for him for a few minutes,” Fleischer said. “We don’t have much time. We’ll push the car out to the road and drive away.”

  Dirk scooped up Anna, still asleep, and moved toward the car.

  “Have you ever driven a car?” Fleischer asked.

  “No, but I’ve driven the tractor and truck on our farm many times.”

  “Good. You’ll drive, then,” Fleischer said.

  “Why?”

  “So I can shoot.”

  Dirk flinched. “Who would you shoot at?”

  “In case a problem develops at the checkpoint, I need to be ready.”

  “But would you really shoot German soldiers?”

  “I’d rather not, but I’ll do what I have to do.”

  So Dirk’s worries weren’t over. It sounded like Fleischer wasn’t sure how it would go. Dirk carried Anna to the car. She stirred a bit as he set her down but didn’t waken. He placed her on the floor just behind the front seat, with a blanket over her. If there was any shooting, she’d be a little safer there. Fleischer checked his pistol. Dirk shivered, and not just due to the chilly air.

  “Hurry,” Fleischer said. “The guard will come outside soon.”

  Following Fleischer’s instructions, Dirk put both hands on the back right corner of the car. Fleischer put one hand on the window frame and the other on the steering wheel.

  “Push,” he ordered. The car rolled quietly out of the barn. As it approached the road, Fleischer turned the steering wheel.

  “Stop,” he said. As the car slowed, he opened the door, stepped on the brake, set the parking brake, and hurried around to the passenger side of the car.

  “Get in!” He waved at Dirk to hurry to the driver’s seat. They quickly climbed into the car, Fleischer in the back, next to Anna, and Dirk in the driver’s seat. He took a moment to look at the controls and pedals.

  “Start the car!” Fleischer said. “We don’t have time!”

  Dirk turned the key, but nothing happened. He looked helplessly at Fleischer.

  “Dummkopf!” the German hissed. “Push the clutch down.”

  “Oh.” Dirk pushed the clutch down and turned the key, and the engine started normally.

  “Drive!” Fleischer said, nostrils flaring. He glanced over his shoulder toward the house. “Hurry!” Dirk released the clutch, and the car moved forward.

  “Take it up to twenty kilometers per hour and keep it there,” Fleischer said. “You’ll need to go slowly because we have to keep the headlights off.”

  “We should have escaped during the day when we could see better,” he told Fleischer.

  “No. Allied fighter pilots would see us, and they would love to shoot a German officer’s car.”

  Dirk leaned forward and strained to see the road ahead. Clouds blocked most of the moonlight. They drove in silence for a minute as Anna slept in the back seat.

  “Roll your window down a few centimeters,” Fleischer ordered. He did the same with his. “Listen for sounds outside the car.”

  “What am I listening for?” Dirk asked as he lowered his window.

  “Anything, but especially gunfire.”

  Gunfire? Was there something Fleischer wasn’t telling Dirk?

  Dirk gripped the steering wheel more tightly. Hopefully Fleischer could talk his way through the checkpoint, but if not, what would happen? Their odds were not good—all of those soldiers with their guns against Fleischer with only a pistol. So this was why he had said they could all die. Dirk’s blood ran cold.

  “Five minutes to the checkpoint. Maybe less,” Fleischer said.

  “What are you going to tell the guards at the checkpoint?” Dirk asked.

  “I’ll tell them the German high command authorized an exchange—Anna for the son of a
German general,” Fleischer said.

  Dirk narrowed his eyes. Why had he trusted Fleischer? He had said German officers keep their word, but he’d lied to his superiors about where he was, and now he would lie to the guards at the checkpoint to get them all through. And Dirk’s life and Anna’s were in this man’s hands.

  Dirk’s heart sank. But it was too late to change his mind now. That bullet had already passed through the church. He squirmed in the driver’s seat.

  “Tell me if you see or hear anything,” Fleischer ordered.

  “I will.”

  “If something goes wrong and they start shooting, you have to drive fast right away and keep driving no matter what. Even if I am wounded, keep driving!”

  “I understand,” Dirk said. He furrowed his forehead in concentration. If something went wrong at the checkpoint, the soldiers would have the advantage of numbers and weapons. He and Fleischer needed some kind of advantage. But what? If only they had a secret weapon. Dirk tapped his fingers on the steering wheel—and then he smiled.

  Fleischer tightened his grip on his pistol and rolled his window all the way down. More chilly air blew in. He pressed his lips tightly together, leaned toward the window, and strained his eyes and ears.

  “There it is,” Fleischer said. “Put my hat on,” he said, handing it up from the back seat to Dirk, “and don’t let them see your face. They have to think you’re my driver for this to work.”

  “I understand,” Dirk said again. He put on the hat, took his foot off the gas pedal, lightly touched the brakes as they approached the checkpoint, and thought over his secret strategy one more time.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  GESTAPO INTERROGATION CENTER

  OOSTERBEEK

  NOVEMBER 22

  “DON’T GO TO SLEEP TONIGHT,” a guard told Els. “You’ll be questioned at eleven o’clock.”