Forced Journey

by Rosemary Zibart

  Anika pointed to a card table with cards spread out for a game of solitaire. “What games do you know?”

  “Skat and Schafkopf,” Werner quickly replied. These were popular games known by any German child.

  “Good,” Anika announced. “Let’s play together.” She sat down, picked up the deck and began shuffling deftly.

  The two played again and again for nearly an hour. Because she was a girl, Werner figured he could beat her easily, like when he had played checkers with his sister. Often he had let Bettina win to keep her happy, but there was no need to let Anika win. She was a sharp card player, grinning triumphantly whenever she put down a winning card.

  Finally, however, Anika yawned and stared at her gold wristwatch. “It’s very late…almost dawn. We’ll hear the breakfast gong soon.”

  “Breakfast gong?” Werner perked up, his stomach no longer feeling so stuffed.

  “When the gong sounds in the dining room, Miss Feldenbaum fetches us. We eat together at a long table.” She yawned again, not bothering to cover her mouth.

  “Can anyone eat in the dining room? Or do you need money?” Werner asked.

  “Silly boy, of course you get meals with your ship’s ticket.” She glanced at him. “Though maybe you don’t eat in the first-class dining room where we eat.”

  By now Anika’s eyelids were drooping over her dark eyes, and she sank down on the bed.

  In a few seconds, Werner had slipped out the door and soon found his way back to his little cabin. He lay down on the hard narrow shelf and stared up at the ceiling. Damp with moisture and heat from the engine room, the dull greenish paint overhead had begun to peel.

  A ship is an odd place, Werner thought. All sorts of people are thrown together – people whose paths would otherwise never cross. Yet as different as he and Anika were, their stories were similar. They had the same worries and fears; they shared the same hope. He was certain that both of them most wanted to be with their families in a safe place. And soon they would be. He imagined it very clearly – Father, Bettina and he – all together in a new home, perhaps a big house with a garden and room for a shaggy brown dog.

  Rolling over on his side, with Mutti’s coat tucked under his head, Werner closed his eyes. Better not to think too much, just let the rocking motion of the waves lull him to sleep, a deep sleep with no dreams and no nightmares.

  Chapter Eight

  10 September, 1939

  Dear Father,

  I have found writing paper on board the ship. And they have a little post box where I can drop the letter and they promise to mail it. I am happy to begin writing you now. Even before I reach the United States of America. First, I wish to report that I made the trip from home to Hamburg with no problems at all. Also, I boarded the ship without difficulty. Everyone has been nice and helpful. Today we are somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean, but I’m not sure where.

  Life on board this ship is very good. It took me a short while to find the third class dining room, but now I eat there every day. Tonight we had potato soup, boiled chicken and peas and cabbage with pudding for dessert. And you can eat as much as you like. Imagine that!! I eat so much that people laugh. But I don’t care.

  I have met a German girl named Anika. We play cards together almost every night. Or she reads to me from her English book, “Alice in Wonderland.” Do you know it? Though I don’t understand the words, it’s fun to listen. And just think – soon I’ll be speaking and reading in English too. I only wish you were also here.

  Hugs and kisses to Bettina.

  Your son, Werner

  Every night while Werner and Anika played cards, the giant candy box stayed open.

  “Do you know where we are?” Anika asked one night.

  Werner shrugged. “In the middle of the Atlantic somewhere.” He reached for a chocolate and put it in his mouth.

  “Yes, we will arrive in three days,” she said, “if the ship isn’t bombed or hit by torpedoes.”

  “Torpedoes?” Werner nearly gagged. “But this is a passenger ship.”

  “True. It would be a mistake.” Anika carefully laid a card down on the table. “But mistakes like that do happen.”

  The piece of chocolate seemed stuck in his throat.

  “And you know what will happen if we are bombed?” Anika looked almost gleeful.

  Werner thought of the millions of sharks in the ocean. “There are lifeboats,” he declared. “I’ve seen them on the deck.”

  “You think there’s room for every passenger? Remember the Titanic?” Anika giggled and reached for a gold-wrapped piece of candy. The notion of becoming shark’s food didn’t appear to ruin her appetite.

  Werner glanced at Anika, who was waiting for him to play a card. He couldn’t decide which to put down. He had never before had a friend who was a girl. It was mostly pleasant but also felt a little wobbly, like sitting on a three-legged chair.

  A day later, Werner happened to see Anika in the hallway. The dinner gong had sounded in the first-class dining room. Miss Feldenbaum was leading her group of sixteen. The children were clean and neat, but not so well behaved. They pushed, pinched and teased one another. The thin young woman seemed very weary of keeping order.

  Werner started to greet Anika, but before he’d said a word, Miss Feldenbaum spied him. She quickly surveyed his shabby clothes and oversized boots, then pulled Anika aside and whispered to her. Anika glanced at Werner with a weak smile, then turned and walked away with the others.

  He pretended not to notice and hurried in the other direction. After all, why should a girl like Anika pay attention to him? He knew her sort. She’d grown up with nannies and governesses, with French tutors and music lessons. Why, she’d only spent time with him because they were together on the ship with few other playmates. On a forced journey that neither of them wanted. He figured they’d soon get off and go their separate ways.

  Indeed, the next morning, the ship reached New York harbor. After weeks of travel across an empty ocean, they were surrounded by other ocean liners, fishing boats, tugs and barges. A clamor of whistles and horns and bells filled the air. In the midst of the harbor loomed the statue of a giant lady holding a lamp high in the air. Everyone rushed onto deck and shouted, “The Statue of Liberty! The Statue of Liberty!”

  “Ain’t that the most beautiful sight you ever saw?” said the old woman dressed in black, her cheeks dripping with tears.

  Pressed against the rail by the crowd, Werner gazed at the huge city. Tall buildings shot up, one right after the other. The buildings were taller than the highest castle tower or cathedral spire in Germany. There were too many to count, all reaching skyward.

  The minute the ship tied up to the pier, people began jostling and pushing and crowding down the gangplank. The upper-class passengers had a separate gangplank. Walking sedately, they were welcomed by a uniformed official who quickly processed their papers and welcomed them to the United States. Werner had a visitor’s visa, so a gruff American official looked quickly at his documents, signed a form and waved him on.

  Instead of heading off the ship, however, he squeezed back on board. All morning his stomach had been tossed by a jumble of emotions – excitement, worry, joy and sadness. Leaving the ship meant taking one more step away from everything he knew – away from Father and Bettina and toward an unknown future. Already he could hear the jabber of that strange language, English. And he couldn’t understand a single word.

  A lady was supposed to meet him on the pier. But what did she look like? How would she find him in the crowd? Werner decided to climb to the deck high above and watch others depart. In their hurry, no one seemed to notice. From his safe perch, he scanned the people on the pier, hoping to see someone searching for him. Dozens of people greeted one another, but no one appeared to be looking for him.

  Werner watched as the big transport doors on the side of the shi
p slid open. Shiny Mercedes Benz limousines rolled out, thoroughbred horses pranced off and a dozen cages of loudly barking dogs, German Shepherds and Doberman Pinschers, left the ship.

  Then he saw Miss Feldenbaum emerge on the first class gangplank leading her little posse of children.

  Spying Anika, Werner couldn’t help calling out. She was dressed in the purple outfit she’d worn the first day he had seen her. Her black shining curls were neatly combed beneath the purple hat. She wore gloves and carried a black fur muff. As usual, her head was high, her gaze confident. Hearing her name, Anika’s head whirled around. Her eyes searched for him.

  Werner waved wildly. Glimpsing him, she started to wave back. But at that moment Miss Feldenbaum took her arm and urged her down the gangplank. The girl continued walking and didn’t look back again.

  Werner frowned, wishing he’d had a chance to say goodbye. Anika was a bit spoiled and pampered, but she was a fun, lively girl. He’d miss her.

  As soon as Miss Feldenbaum’s group reached the pier, people surged forth to claim various children. An old white-haired couple, a young couple, a lady in a spiffy suit and hat; all seemed eager to meet their new charges. Soon every child was accounted for except Anika. She sat on the edge of her trunk, trying to appear calm and dignified. Every time a car passed, however, she peered in its direction. Miss Feldenbaum paced up and down, glancing from time to time at her watch.

  The minutes ticked by. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Anika looked more and more glum. “I’d better go down and cheer her up,” thought Werner and he started to move. But at that moment, a long shiny limousine pulled up. A chauffeur in a fancy black uniform climbed out and spoke to Miss Feldenbaum. Clearly relieved, she pointed to Anika. The chauffeur picked up the girl’s luggage and put it in the car’s trunk. Then he held open the door and Anika disappeared within.

  As the limousine pulled away, Werner whispered softly, “Auf Wiedersehen, Anika.” Goodbye. He felt sure she’d do well with her new American family. They probably lived in a grand house with plenty of servants. Like her home in Germany before the Nazis arrived and stole everything for themselves.

  Still, Werner wondered why Anika’s host family didn’t come to greet her themselves. Why did they just send the chauffeur? He considered for a moment. They were probably planning a big welcome party for her with cake, fruit punch and ice cream; that’s why they didn’t come!

  He lingered on the upper deck for a few more minutes. The ship was now very quiet. It seemed as if the seamen, the cooks, the ship’s captain, everyone had gone. The pier appeared deserted as well. Werner could see that no one was looking for him. What would he do in this giant city without a place to live or food to eat? Perhaps he should remain on board. Soon the cooks would return and start filling the kitchen with their laughter and bountiful food. His warm little compartment beckoned.…

  Yet Werner knew he couldn’t stay there. What would Father say if he didn’t do as he’d asked? If he didn’t get a foothold in this new country? If he didn’t write so they would come, too? He’d figure out something, some way to survive. Whether the lady from America showed up or not…

  Climbing down from the upper deck, Werner headed toward the gangplank. The minute he reached it, however, a hand seized his jacket, jerking him off his feet. Ekhard’s loud voice sounded in his ear. “Ya little scoundrel! On yer way to America, huh? Well, there you go!” The sailor gave him a vicious kick in the rear. Werner stumbled down the gangplank and fell flat on the pier.

  That’s how he first reached America. On his hands and knees. Not a soft landing! No, indeed!

  Chapter Nine

  Sore from his tumble onto the pier, Werner picked himself up and glanced around. The passengers had all left, but there were plenty of dockworkers. They were jabbering to one another in English. How strange it sounded. He wished he’d learned a little from Anika. Then he could speak to people and understand what they said.

  Werner sank down on a barrel to wait. An hour dragged by, then another. Nothing to do and no one to talk to even if he knew how. He gnawed at his fingernails. How long could he stay here? What if no one came for him? He’d stick here a little while longer and then…

  Small white clouds scuttled across a clear blue sky. Gusts of cold damp air blew across the choppy water and onto the pier. Werner wrapped his blue jacket tightly around himself, murmuring, Mutti, please keep me warm, keep me safe.

  He remembered, years ago, being with his mother in a busy train station. Somehow their hands were pulled apart and he could no longer see her. Small and terrified, he had stared through a forest of legs, boots, coats, umbrellas and suitcases. Nobody looked friendly or familiar. He began screaming, “Mutti, Mutti”…until he heard his mother’s gentle voice, “Werner, mein Liebling, here I am.” He ran into her open arms…

  “Werner Berlinger?” A short man in a brown suit stood in front of him, observing him with small suspicious eyes. The man’s dark hair stuck up in tufts all over his head.

  “Ja, ja, ich heisse Werner!” The boy jumped up and stammered. Yes, my name is Werner!

  The short man didn’t smile. “Show me your papers,” he demanded in German.

  Werner quickly pulled his documents from his pockets and handed them over.

  The man studied the passport photograph, then squinted at the boy. “I guess you’re him,” he muttered gruffly and stuck out his hand. “I’m Conrad. Come with me.”

  The short man took off walking at a fast pace and Werner followed. It wasn’t easy. On all sides, Werner was surrounded by fast-talking, fast-walking people. The crowds were so thick you could barely stick a butter knife between one person and another. He jogged to keep up, for if he slowed for an instant somebody pushed from behind or knocked past him.

  The city’s noises pounded in his ears: horns blasting, trucks and taxis rumbling past. Most of all people yelling to one another. Greetings, curses, people bargaining for this or that. From the sound of the words, he knew they were speaking different languages – Russian, Chinese, Spanish, Italian. How could so many different people live jammed together in one place? In Germany, foreigners were viewed with suspicion. Yet here, no one seemed to care what you looked or sounded like. Everyone was too busy to care!

  The street was as crowded as the sidewalk – cars, trucks, taxis, trams, horse-drawn wagons – each pressed forward a few inches at a time. People spilled into the streets, squeezing between vehicles, still talking, shouting. No one had time to wait, even to eat. A big fat lady in high heels snacked on a sandwich as she teetered past. An old man shuffled along, chomping on peanuts from a sack and spitting out the shells. Young people swigged bottles of soda pop, and children tore off candy wrappers and stuffed the candy in their mouths.

  Werner passed two soldiers standing on the corner. They were eating frankfurters slathered with relish and mustard. Seeing soldiers made the boy’s stomach quake. But when he glanced up, one of the soldiers smiled and winked at him. Werner’s mouth dropped open. A friendly soldier? Imagine that!

  He scrambled along behind the man in the brown suit. Buildings rose high on both sides – five, ten, fifteen, forty, seventy stories. The sky was a stripe of blue between the building tops. In every direction, there was so much to see, smell, hear and touch. And everything seemed to shout: You’re in New York. You’re in New York. You’re in New York now!

  He wished he could stop to stare. But Conrad walked quickly, never glancing back. At one point, he disappeared entirely. Werner looked everywhere, trying to catch a glimpse of him. He paused, wondering which way to go.

  A burly man bumped into him from behind. “Whatcha think you’re doing, kid?”

  Suddenly, across the street, Werner glimpsed the brown tufts of hair on a head in the crowd. Rushing to catch up, he ran straight into traffic. A bright yellow cab screeched to a stop. The driver leaned hard on the horn and yelled, but Werner didn’t dare slow down. />
  The short man in the brown suit never noticed. He kept walking, and Werner finally caught up. Ten minutes later, Conrad turned into a little store. The shelves were jammed with cans of food. Baskets of fruit, potatoes and vegetables lined one wall. On the other were bins of bread – round bread, flat bread, rolls, bagels, twists, black bread, brown bread, thick rye bread – German bread. Werner wanted to pick up one of the loaves, to feel its weight, to inhale its rich odor. He felt a pang of hunger in his gut and a pain in his heart. How often he’d gone to the market and fetched bread like that. How often Father, Bettina and he had made a meal of bread and cheese or bread and herring.

  “That’s him, Mr. Mozer. The young guy, the schlimiel, that Esther sent for,” said Conrad, jerking his thumb toward Werner. “He don’t look like much, but there he is.” He spoke in Yiddish.

  Mr. Mozer had white hair and thick glasses. He leaned over and peered at the boy. “Sholem aleichem, young man, you’ve come a long way.”

  Werner gazed at him. These were the first kind words he’d heard since arriving in America.

  Chapter Ten

  Mr. Mozer’s grocery store felt warm and friendly, but Werner didn’t have long to enjoy the feeling. Conrad signaled for him to follow and the two went out of the store to a hallway next door. They climbed two, three, four floors. The stairwell was dark and smelled of fried onions and sauerkraut. The banister beneath Werner’s hand felt gritty with dirt and grease.

  Finally Conrad stopped in front of a battered blue door and raised his hand to knock. Then he paused, turning to Werner, and his voice was harsh. “Look, you greenhorn, maybe you think you’ve come to America to have a good time. Maybe you wanna make a few friends, play ball and have fun. But I want you to know right now.” He stuck his face close to Werner’s. “You came to help her, you see? She needs your help and you’re gonna do whatever she needs! Understand?”