Hunger Winter

by Rob Currie

  Dirk darted inside a second-floor bedroom, closed the door, and locked it. Footsteps pounded up the steps, and he hurriedly shoved a heavy dresser up against the door. A moment later, the doorknob rattled.

  “What’s the matter?” Dirk sneered. “Forgot your keys? It’s too bad you’re too weak to break the door open.”

  Dirk flew to the window on the other side of the room. He pushed the curtains aside and jerked the window halfway open. Chilly air washed over him. Then he darted to the closet.

  The bedroom door trembled under the force of repeated blows.

  “I hope you won’t hurt yourself against the big, strong door since your muscles are so puny!” Dirk hollered. But what if bashing the door woke Anna, and she came out of her room? He swallowed hard. The only thing he could do was continue the plan and hope for the best.

  Inside the closet, he pulled the door shut behind him. In utter darkness, he felt his way through the clothing. Then, like Anna had done a hundred times before during hide-and-go-seek, he crawled to the closet of the adjoining room. He clawed through another set of clothes, stepped into the next bedroom, and closed the closet door behind him. He slid a dresser in front of the closet door.

  He raced to the window in that bedroom and pushed up. It didn’t budge. In the meantime, it sounded like the brute was assaulting the door in the other room with his fists and feet. That was quickly followed by a loud crashing sound. Didn’t take him long to destroy the door. Dirk pushed harder on the window. He had to get it open, or he’d be trapped by this muscular man he’d antagonized.

  “Where are you? You’re not so brave now that I broke down the door,” a voice bellowed from the other room. The window in the first bedroom creaked. He thinks I escaped onto the roof. Fooled him!

  But his angry enemy would soon give up on the roof and come after Dirk again. He pushed on his window again until his hands and wrists hurt. It didn’t budge. He reached up to the top of the window and pulled down, using his body weight. Then he bent his legs to push up with his arms and his legs. “Unnhh!” a low-pitched growl rose from his throat, like the rumble of a diesel engine revving for power. He pushed on the window as if his life depended on it. Because it did. The joints in his arms and wrists screamed for him to stop, and his face grew red from the exertion. Finally something popped in the window, and it slid open. As his chest heaved, the closet door in the other bedroom opened and heavy footsteps thudded closer in the closet.

  “Don’t cry for your mommy because you’re scared of the dark closet,” Dirk shouted over his shoulder. Then he put one leg through the open window. As he straddled the base of the window frame, he grabbed the rope hanging from the roof. Hand over hand, he lowered himself.

  When he reached the ground, he sprinted toward the American military base. If only he had a bicycle. After he ran two blocks, his legs grew heavy, his lungs burned, and the brisk wind stung his cheeks and ears. He had to keep going a little farther. For Anna. When he reached the base, he spotted a familiar face at the gate.

  “Sergeant Michaels! Help!” he shouted through gasps for air.

  Michaels stood up and stepped forward. “Dirk! What’s the matter?”

  “A man and a woman barged into our house.” He took a quick breath. “They’re going to kidnap Anna!”

  “Follow me,” Michaels said. He grabbed a rifle and shouted an order to the two soldiers he had taken with him before. The three soldiers and Dirk ran to a nearby jeep, and they roared off toward the house. Please let us make it back in time.

  “Hurry!” Dirk urged.

  “I’ll go to the front door,” Michaels shouted to his men above the noise of the accelerating jeep. “You enter from the back.”

  The vehicle skidded to a stop in front of the house. Michaels vaulted onto the front porch while the other soldiers sprinted to the back door.

  The sergeant grabbed the doorknob on the front door, but it was locked.

  “You have a key?” the sergeant asked Dirk.

  “No.”

  “I’ll use my master key,” Michaels said. He swung his rifle at the door and broke open one of its small windows with the rifle butt. After the window shattered, he reached inside, unlocked the door, and burst into the house. Dirk followed him in.

  The woman with the eagle pin sat by a desk in the living room, rummaging through the drawers.

  “United States Army!” Michaels announced. “Lie facedown on the floor.”

  She obeyed his order.

  Dirk looked around wildly for her accomplice. What if that man already found Anna?

  Anna walked into the living room, rubbing her eyes.

  “What was that noise?” she asked. She was about three meters from the woman.

  “Stay where you are, Anna,” Dirk said.

  The woman, still lying on the floor, slid her right leg toward Anna.

  “Stop moving,” Michaels ordered. “That little girl and her brother are under the protection of the United States Army, and they are my friends.” The other soldiers entered the room after they had come in through the back door.

  The woman raised her eyebrows and asked, “You wouldn’t shoot a lady, would you?”

  “A woman who barges into a house and threatens children is not a lady!”

  “Dirk, who is that woman?” Anna asked.

  He rushed to Anna’s side. “It’s okay now. The soldiers won’t let her hurt us,” he said. He draped an arm over her shoulder.

  Motioning to one soldier, the sergeant said, “Keep an eye on this woman.”

  An upstairs bedroom door opened, and the woman’s large accomplice appeared at the top of the stairs. He glared at Dirk and made a crushing motion with both hands. “You made a big mistake in coming back.”

  He stopped talking when his eyes met Sergeant Michaels’s gaze.

  “Put your hands up,” Michaels said. “Come down here and lie facedown next to your friend.” He pointed his rifle at the burly man.

  “Your toy gun doesn’t scare me,” the man sneered as he headed down the steps. “I’m going to break you in half with my bare hands.”

  Michaels burst out laughing. “I grew up in Chicago, and I’ve faced bigger and meaner people than you. Do as I say, or my friend here,” he tapped his rifle, “will do the talking for me.”

  The other man reached the bottom of the stairs and glared at Michaels in a silent standoff. Finally, the man lay facedown.

  Michaels motioned to another soldier.

  “Keep an eye on him,” he said, nodding toward the man on the floor. Michaels dashed outside, and Dirk watched through the open front door as the sergeant approached a delivery truck. Michaels looked in the back of the truck, walked to the front, and motioned the driver to get out with his hands up. Finally there was an adult to take charge and stop the Nazis instead of it always being up to Dirk to protect Anna.

  Michaels motioned for the driver to walk in front of him, enter the house, and lie facedown on the floor, next to the older woman and the burly man.

  “Where are your grandparents?” Michaels asked Dirk.

  “Opa’s at a meeting. Oma’s at a friend’s house. She’ll be back soon,” Dirk said.

  Michaels used the telephone to call the American base. When he finished, he told Dirk, “Military police will take these suspects into custody. My men and I will stay here until they’re gone and your grandmother comes back. There are children in the back of that truck. I’m going out to tell them what’s happening. Then I’ll stand guard on the porch until the military police arrive to take care of these troublemakers and bring the children to safety.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  A FEW MINUTES LATER, Oma arrived. She was horrified to hear what had happened but relieved at how it had turned out. She thanked the soldiers and then gave Dirk and Anna the clothing she had borrowed from her friend. “Go put these clothes on and get out of the ones they gave you at the farm. You’ll feel much better in clothes your size,” she said.

  Anna clung
to Dirk. “We’re safe now. You don’t have to worry,” he said. But he kept looking out the front windows at the street. Several times he asked Oma how soon Opa would be home. All their hardships were supposed to be over once they arrived at Oma and Opa’s house. And then this had happened.

  Shortly after Dirk and Anna changed their clothes, the military police arrived. They escorted the suspects out of the house and drove the children who had been waiting in the truck to the American base.

  After they left, Dirk asked, “Why did those people want to kidnap us, Oma?”

  “They probably wanted to hold you for ransom.”

  “Do you think they were collaborators?” Dirk asked.

  “What?” Anna asked.

  “Some Dutch people help the Nazis,” Dirk told her. “They’re tattletales who tell the Germans which Dutch people are fighting the Germans and helping Jews.”

  “Why do they do that?” Anna asked angrily.

  “The Germans give these people money or food,” Sergeant Michaels said. “But I don’t know if these people were collaborators,” he added.

  “I hate the Nazis!” exclaimed Anna.

  “If they weren’t collaborators, then why did they want to kidnap us?” Dirk asked.

  “Our country is still getting on its feet,” Oma said. “And some people may try to take advantage of the temporary disorder. But we’re thankful the soldiers kept you safe.” She hugged each of the soldiers.

  “Just doing our jobs,” Sergeant Michaels said, and then he and his soldiers left.

  When Opa returned, he listened intently to what had happened.

  “You lured the man into chasing you, to protect Anna. How did you think of that?” Opa asked Dirk.

  Dirk smiled. “Anna gave me the idea.”

  She scrunched up her nose and looked at him.

  “At the ten Hakens’ house, we hid in a barn until we could leave with Colonel Fleischer. Anna got upset when a cat chased an injured bird. But the bird was only pretending she was hurt in order to lure the cat away from her baby birds in the nest. So I realized that was how I had to get that man away from Anna.”

  “That was quick thinking, Dirk,” Opa said.

  It felt so good to be with Oma and Opa. Unlike the Nazis, when Oma and Opa said something nice, they meant it. They weren’t just paying him with monkey coins.

  Opa promptly went to work to replace the broken window in the front door. When he finished, he locked the door.

  At dinner, Oma lifted the lid off the cooking pot. Steam rose, and Dirk inhaled deeply.

  “Stamppot!” he cried. “Ohhh!”

  The aroma of sausage, potatoes, and onions filled the kitchen. After dinner, the four family members talked and played games.

  At bedtime, Oma said, “Anna, you may sleep upstairs because I opened the heat register this afternoon. Get ready for bed, and I’ll come up to tuck you in.”

  Anna nodded, then thrust her hand, palm up, in front of Dirk’s face.

  “I want my ribbon from Papa. You promised.”

  He pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her. She clasped it with both hands and held it against her right cheek. “Papa,” she sighed as she climbed the stairs.

  Once she was out of earshot, Dirk asked his grandparents, “Do you think Papa and Els are all right?”

  “I pray for them every day, and I hope for the best,” Opa replied.

  “Papa and Els used to say, ‘Keep your hopes up and your prayers strong,’” Dirk said.

  Opa nodded. “That’s good advice for these challenging times. I heard on the radio that the Allies are making progress, but things are getting a lot worse in the parts of the Netherlands still controlled by the Germans, like Rotterdam and Amsterdam.”

  “Oh no,” Oma said, putting her hand on her forehead.

  “The Germans cut off food and coal supplies, so people have been starving and freezing. They’re burning furniture, cupboards, and every other step on their wood stairs.”

  “It was like that at Tante Cora’s house too,” Dirk said. He hoped Tante Cora was all right and not worrying about them too much.

  “Those poor people,” Oma said.

  Dirk shook his head. “I just hope Papa and Els aren’t there.”

  DE NESSE STREET

  ROTTERDAM

  NOVEMBER 27

  A doctor stepped inside a modest white house with bright blue shutters on De Nesse Street in Rotterdam.

  “How is she?” he asked as he handed his coat to a middle-aged woman. She was about one and a half meters tall and wore her fading blonde hair in a ponytail.

  “She’s in a lot of pain,” the woman said with a grimace. “She’s lucky to be alive, considering what happened.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yesterday the Allies accidentally bombed a residential neighborhood and crushed a former monastery which the Luftwaffe was using as a prison. All the guards died, but she survived because her holding cell was heavily reinforced.”

  “How did she get here?” the doctor asked.

  “Dutch Resistance workers dug her out of the rubble and brought her here.”

  “May I see her now?” He raised his eyebrows. “What is her name?”

  “We didn’t exchange names. It’s safer that way, in case one of us gets captured.”

  “Oh. Of course.”

  “Follow me.” The woman led him to a bedroom at the end of the hall. “I’ve been told the Germans are looking for her.”

  “They must have searched the bombed prison, and when they didn’t find her body—”

  “They realized she escaped,” the woman finished. “She has to leave Rotterdam, but we don’t know if she’s healthy enough to travel.”

  The doctor stepped into the room, set his medical bag on the floor, and looked at the young woman on the bed in front of him. “May I examine you?”

  “Yes.” She winced from the effort of sitting up.

  “I see bruises on your face. Are there others?”

  “A few, but the biggest problem is my head. I have terrible headaches, and I, uh . . . have a hard time . . . concentrating and . . . remembering new things.”

  “Did these symptoms start after the bombing?”

  She nodded and clutched her forehead.

  For several minutes, he asked questions and gave her a medical exam. As he put his stethoscope away, he looked at the older woman and said, “She has a concussion. It’s not severe, but she needs rest.”

  “Can she use a bicycle? She’s got to get out of here.”

  “No. She needs rest and food. Have a doctor check her again in a week.” He closed his medical bag.

  “How can she get enough to eat when everyone in Rotterdam is hungry?” the older woman asked. “We’re down to eating dog food, and it’s almost gone.”

  “That’s one more reason to hope the war will end soon,” the doctor said.

  “Thank you, sir. Keep your hopes up and your prayers strong,” the younger woman said with effort.

  “I agree.” He turned to the older woman and said, “I can find my way out.”

  The next morning the older woman bit her lip. “It’s too bad you can’t travel yet. The Germans could show up any day now looking for you.”

  “I know. And I have to get to, uh . . . Nijmegen, to my oma and opa’s house. Maybe they’ll know . . . if my brother and sister made it to our aunt’s house.”

  “But we can’t sneak you out of here. Collaborators are watching the house.” The older woman wrung her hands. “We have to do something, but what?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  OMA AND OPA’S HOUSE

  NIJMEGEN

  IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, Dirk and Anna settled into a routine of chores mixed with play. Anna giggled each time her grandparents or Dirk didn’t find her in hide-and-go-seek.

  The next Saturday, the morning sun streamed through the upstairs window and collected on the floor in puddles of light in Dirk’s bedroom. Lazy specks of dust swirled slowly in the
sunshine. He lay in bed, a lump under a cozy pile of blankets.

  Hours later, Opa took the stairs to Dirk’s bedroom. Knock, knock, knock. Dirk didn’t stir.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Opa said as he opened the door. Dirk’s eyelids fluttered, Opa’s words piercing his consciousness like a Dutch lighthouse beacon that slices the North Atlantic fog. A few minutes later, Dirk and Anna came downstairs. After breakfast they lounged in their pajamas and read books for the rest of the morning.

  “How soon do you think we’ll hear about Papa and Els?” Dirk asked at lunch.

  “I don’t know,” Opa said, “but as soon as we hear anything, we’ll let you know. But we’re all going to a town meeting at St. Stephen’s Church in a couple of hours.”

  “What’s the meeting for?” Dirk asked.

  “Now that the Germans are gone,” Oma said, “the American military has set up a temporary government. They’ll tell us about the plans for getting more food to Nijmegen.”

  “Wait,” Dirk said. “This part of the Netherlands is liberated, and you’re still not getting enough food?”

  “We have a lot more food than we used to, but not as much as we need, because the first priority is getting food and supplies to the military.”

  Anna wrinkled her nose. “Why is the meeting in a church?”

  “It’s the only building still intact that’s large enough for the community to meet,” Opa said.

  “Can we ask them about Papa and Els?” Dirk asked.

  Anna stopped chewing and looked at her grandparents.

  Opa cleared his throat and set his fork down. “Well, yes, of course, we can ask. But I don’t know how much information like that the Americans will have. They are putting their energies into finishing the war.”

  Dirk didn’t eat much and sat silent for the rest of the meal.

  Oma put her hand on Dirk’s shoulder when they’d all finished eating. “We all miss them. But I’m glad you and Anna are here, and we’ll hope for the best for your papa and Els.”

  Thirty minutes later, they all walked across the street to the church. Inside the building, the large wooden doors to the sanctuary were propped open, and sunlight poured in through stained-glass windows.