Chapter 51
June 1944
In December 1941, Japan waged a surprise attack on America. They bombed Pearl Harbor, and the following day the United States of America entered the Second World War.
Japan was a part of the Axis which included Mussolini in Rome, Emperor Hirohito in Japan, and Adolf Hitler in Germany.
The Americans joined Winston Churchill in Great Britain and Joseph Stalin in the USSR who were already engaged in a fight against the Axis. The alliance of these great nations became known as the Allies.
On June 6, 1944 one hundred thirty thousand American, British, and Canadian soldiers landed on five beaches in Normandy in the northern part of France. The Nazis had a stronghold on these beaches and a bloody battle ensued. Many of the ally soldiers arrived seasick because they traveled by boat, and the night before they landed, the seas had been rocky. Still, they advanced bravely.
There was a tremendous loss of life, and the waters ran red with blood. However . . . this was a turning point. The Allies, including the Americans, had arrived, and with them came a long-awaited glimmer of hope.
Chapter 52
Christmas Eve 1944
The priest sat at the head of a long wooden table with the orphaned children surrounding him. As soon as the bread was placed in the center of the table Solomon grabbed for it.
“Solomon,” the priest said in a calm but firm voice, “I must have told you a thousand times that we do not start eating before we give thanks to God for our food. And then we do not grab the food first so that we can get the lion’s share.”
One of the girls giggled. Solomon glared at the priest, but he put the bread back. The priest nodded at Solomon.
As the children joined hands, the priest began his prayer, but Solomon’s mind was elsewhere. He resented being treated like a child, being reprimanded and told what to do. He’d been a man, with responsibilities too long. And he wished he could run away from this place and go back to the forest. It was true that here at the orphanage he ate every day even if it was a bowl of hot soup and a heel of bread. But he hated living this lie. He was a Jew, and he hated that he had to hide it because it was considered dirty and undesirable. Besides that, being a Jew was considered so terrible that it could cost him and Sarah their lives.
As the prayers over the food were being said, Solomon glanced around the table. Everyone else’s eyes were closed, but he had to look over at Sarah. She’d acclimated far better than he did to this strange place. The nuns who ran the school they attended each day adored her. She was obedient, and although Solomon hated all the rules and structure they had to adhere to, Sarah loved it.
When they’d first arrived, Sarah cried every night. She wouldn’t eat, and her tangled hair began to fall out. Then she got a mean-looking rash the color of a lipstick their mother had once owned. It frightened Solomon. He was worried about her. He wished they still lived in Lodz before the ghetto had been built so he could take her to see Dr. Kushman, who was their family doctor. But there was no chance of that. Who knows what happened to Kushman. He’s probably dead, Solomon thought sadly. Our whole world is gone. Everyone is scattered or dead.
Sarah was getting worse until one of the nuns, Sister Mary Joseph, a young, pretty girl with sparkling blue eyes took Sarah under her wing. Sister Mary Joseph put a salve on Sarah’s rash that helped with the itching. Then the young nun began to assist Sarah with her schoolwork. And once Sarah began to trust the sister, she spent hours combing Sarah’s long hair until all the knots were gone and the hair shined. Sister Mary gave Sarah the attention of an adult, a mother figure, that Sarah so desperately craved. She read Bible stories to Sarah, and in turn, Sarah clung to her.
Solomon was glad his sister was thriving at the orphanage, but he felt constricted, unable to breath. He was a prisoner trapped in the prison of a lie. And now here it was Christmas, and once again, he would be forced to celebrate a holiday he didn’t accept as his own. All of the other children, including Sarah, were excited about the small gifts they were going to receive from a silly, imaginary man called Santa Clause who gave children gifts for putting their shoes by the fireplace. Nonsense, Solomon thought. He would have much preferred to have his freedom, to be back in the woods with Gunther and Ewa and the others, to a pair of warm socks and a wool hat and perhaps some lame homemade toy that would appear in his shoes in the morning. I’m sick of this old man, Solomon thought as he watched the priest smiling and talking to the children. I’m sick of him and all his rules: No running in the building. Be on time for Mass. You must have proper manners at the table. He knows nothing about me or my family or where I come from . . . or how I’ve suffered.
That night, which was Christmas Eve, the children were each given a small slice of cake. They giggled with delight. All of them except Solomon. It had been a long time since they’d eaten anything with sugar. Solomon wondered how the old priest had come by such a treasure. Black market, he thought. Perhaps the priest isn’t as perfect as he pretends to be.
“Has everyone been served their slice of cake?” the priest asked.
The children all answered “yes” in unison.
The priest looked across the table and smiled.
The cake had been cut up carefully, so there was just enough for a very small piece for everyone.
“Then let us thank our friend Monsieur Barbet for thinking of us on this Christmas Eve and bringing us this lovely cake from his bakery.”
“Thank you,” the happy children cried out. “Thank you, Monsieur Barbet.”
Solomon picked up his fork and began to eat. He had to admit, it was delicious. The faces of the children were lit with joy and even Solomon, as bitter as he was, had to smile when he looked at them.
As his eyes searched the room for Sarah, they landed once again on the old priest. The old man’s face was almost angelic as he smiled at Solomon. Solomon looked away quickly but not before he noticed that the priest did not have any cake on his plate. Solomon swallowed hard. The priest didn’t take any of the cake. There must not have been enough for him and for all of the children. A tear formed in the corner of Solomon’s eye. He thought about cutting his slice in half and giving half of it to the priest. But he didn’t. Instead, he ate it. When they had all finished their treat, Solomon and Sarah, along with the rest of the children, put their shoes by the fireplace, then they went to their respective rooms to go to bed.
The other boys in the large dormitory-like room, where Solomon slept, were filled with anticipation. They talked excitedly about the gifts they would receive in the morning. They talked until one of the nuns came and told them that they must go to sleep or Santa would not come. Solomon was relieved that the room was finally quiet. As the boys slowly drifted off to sleep and he could hear the rhythm of their steady slow breathing, Solomon was left awake with his thoughts. What’s wrong with me? Every child loves to get presents. And we had a decent meal tonight. We even had cake.
Tomorrow is Christmas. It’s not my holiday, but I know that somehow the priest and the nuns will find a way to make it special. So why don’t I feel good? Why do I want to run away from this place? It’s really not bad here. But I just want to live the only life I know. A life where I make the decisions like a man, not be given rules that don’t make sense to me that I am forced to follow, like a child. And as far as my sister is concerned, sometimes I can taste the bitterness in my mouth when I look at her. It’s not her fault that she’s so easily swayed. She’s just a child. Someone has always looked out for her. She’s happy here. She would be happy anywhere that she was getting attention. But not me. I have grown up looking after myself. I suppose it’s because everyone who was supposed to be looking after me was taken away in one way or another.
I have been fending for myself since I was seven. And I like it that way. While the other seven-year-old children were outside playing, I learned how to distract the vendors so I could steal food. I escaped that filthy apartment in the ghetto at night so I could learn from t
he older boys. And I sure did. I learned how to weave my way out of the ghetto in order to make deals with the black market. They taught me about sex. Granted, they all laughed at me when they brought me a prostitute, and try as I might, my body wasn’t ready to have sex. But the skills I learned were very valuable. I never had the chance to be carefree and foolish like Sarah. So it’s hard for me to get excited about gifts and silly things like that. I am angry at losing everything and everyone. And I am angry at God for taking them. I may not be a practicing Jew, but I still hate the fact that I have to be ashamed of what I am.
It was well after midnight before Solomon finally fell asleep.
Chapter 53
The old priest felt the ache in his joints as he filled each of the children’s shoes with a pair of socks and a few candies. The nuns had spent hours making dolls out of thread for the girls, and a few of the local boys had whittled animals out of tree branches for the boys. He carefully placed each gift inside of the shoes remembering little things about each child that made their gifts more special. For instance, Anna Marie loved purple, so he put the doll made from purple thread in her shoe. Michael Jean thought raccoons were funny and cute, so he placed the wooden racoon inside Michael's shoe. When he got to Solomon’s shoes he knelt down and took the special gifts from his bag. He spoke softly to God. “This boy is a hard one. He’s been through a lot for a child so young. Let this gift soften his heart. Let him know that I understand and I accept him and love him for who he is. And let him know that you love him and that it was you, dear Father, who sent him here to us.” Then the priest placed the gifts he’d risked his own life to have specially made for Solomon inside Solomon’s shoe.
Chapter 54
The first light of morning found the children awake and waiting. They were filled with excitement as they ran down to see what Santa had left for them. Solomon smiled wryly at their innocence, but he felt none of their enthusiasm. He walked slowly behind the other boys.
By the time Solomon had made his way downstairs to the fireplace, Sarah was already sitting with several of the other girls and opening her gifts. She giggled with delight at something one of the other girls said. She was so engrossed that she didn’t even notice her brother.
Somehow the old priest had been able to get his hands on enough firewood to build a nice, warm crackling fire for Christmas morning, and the golden glow filled the room. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Solomon did what the other boys did. He went over to his shoes to see what gifts had been left for him. In one he found a pair of warm socks. At least they are practical, he thought. It’s amazing that the priest can get his hands on enough yarn to have the nuns knit socks for all these children.
Next, Solomon found two small pieces of chocolate. One of which he immediately popped into his mouth. What a delicious treat. He had not had chocolate since last Christmas. For a moment he closed his eyes and savored the sweetness, then he picked up his shoes not expecting anything else to be inside. And as he did, something fell out. It was small and carefully wrapped in a piece of white fabric that had yellowed with age. Solomon had noticed earlier that all of the boys had received wooden animals, but none of their wooden gifts had been wrapped. He held the small, wrapped package in his hand. He was about to open it when the old priest walked over to him and whispered in his ear, “I think you might want to open that when you are alone. And . . . Solomon . . . I want you to know that I accept you and love you and your sister just as you are. I don’t want to change you. God loves you. Jesus loves you. You know Jesus was Jewish, and he suffered while on this earth, just as you have suffered.”
Solomon looked into the old man’s eyes and saw that they were lit like the flames of two candles.
“When this war is over, I will help you as best I can to find your family.” Then the priest walked away.
Solomon tucked the wrapped gift deep into the pocket of his pajama bottoms.
Once they’d all opened their presents, the children were escorted into the large dining room for breakfast. Solomon reached into his pocket and touched the wrapped gift. His curiosity burned. He asked the sister, who was serving the food, if he might be excused to use the bathroom. She smiled and nodded in agreement. He stood up and left the table unnoticed. Then he went upstairs to the bedroom where he slept and quietly closed the door.
All alone in that quiet room, the only sound being the echoes of the children downstairs, Solomon removed the gift from his pocket. He held it in his hand before removing the fabric to reveal a Star of David carved out of wood. Running his fingers over the smooth surface, he felt a tear form in the corner of his eye. Solomon now knew the truth. The priest had known all along that he and Sarah were Jewish. Yet the old man had risked everything, his church, the other children, the nuns, even his life, and he had taken Sarah and Solomon into his church in spite of the danger. A tear fell from Solomon’s eyes and landed on the wooden star, then another. And before he realized it, Solomon’s shoulders were trembling and he was sobbing.
Chapter 55
From that day on Solomon found that he had a new respect for the priest. Before Christmas day Solomon did not know that Jesus was Jewish. After all, he’d had no formal religious training, and this came as a surprise to him. He wanted to know more, and so he would seek the priest out to ask him questions. And the old father, no matter how busy he was, always made time to speak with Solomon.
One day the priest was downstairs outside the classrooms. He was on his way to the library when Solomon was coming out of his morning class.
“Solomon!” The priest smiled.
“Sir, I am glad I found you. I have been meaning to ask you some questions. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Of course, my son. What is it?”
“I want to start by saying that no matter what happens I will never change my religion. You see, I will never turn my back on Judaism, but I would like to learn more about you and your religion,” Solomon said to the priest.
“Of course. And I would be glad to tell you anything you want to know. Not because I want to change you, but because you want to know.” The priest smiled and sat down on a bench, then he motioned for Solomon to sit beside him.
Solomon had heard Bible stories before, first from his mother, then at the synagogue when he was forced to go. And now from the nuns. He found the Bible stories interesting, even entertaining, but he doubted they were true. However, he never shared his doubts with the priest.
Now he had more important questions for the old man.
“I can see that you are a kind man. You took my sister and me in even though you knew we were Jewish, but you were taking a big risk. Why did you do it?”
“Well, let me explain. You and Sarah are Jewish, but more importantly you are God’s children, and I am the keeper here of God’s house. Should a child not be welcome in his father’s house?”
“Even if that child is not a Catholic?” Solomon asked, puzzled. “This is a Catholic church.”
“Yes, no matter what religion you are. You are a child of God. No matter the color of your skin, you are a child of God. All people, in my opinion, should be welcome under God’s roof.”
“Do all the priests feel the way you do about Jews?”
“I can't speak for others. I can only speak for myself.”
“So then, the answer is no. Isn’t that right? I know that there are priests who side with the Nazis,” Solomon said.
“There are. But I am not, and will never be, one of them. Because I know in my heart that God does not side with Hitler. Jesus would never condone the terrible things the Nazis stand for.”
The nuns had created a school in the basement of the church where they held classes. Solomon had never been a good student. He found reading, writing, and arithmetic came too easily to him. And while the other children struggled to learn, he was bored. Instead of paying attention, his mind was busy devising plans to get out of the orphanage and find a way to steal extra food so that no one at the orphan
age would ever go to bed hungry. He knew the Germans had a hefty supply, and he wanted to find a way to break into their headquarters at night. However, when he told the priest his plans, the priest shook his head. “No, Solomon. You must not go out of here and steal. It’s too dangerous . . . and it’s wrong. It’s against God’s commandments. We have managed thus far. We will continue to manage. God will provide.”
Solomon shrugged. He knew that the priest was unyielding when it came to God’s commandments. So all he could do was agree.
Chapter 56
Poland, January 1945
Ewa was busy feeding the rabbits and cleaning their cages early one spring morning when Dyta came into the area where the pens had been set up. The rabbit who she’d named Gunther the Second sat up on his hind legs watching Ewa. It was a bitter-cold winter day, and the sky was ice blue. Ewa shivered, but she was glad that at least the rabbit pens were heated.
“We are being evacuated from here,” Dyta blurted out quickly without even saying good morning. “I just heard about it.”
“Evacuated? To where?”
“I don’t know, butI do know that they think the Allies are going to win, and they don’t want us here when the Allies arrive.”
Sarah and Solomon Page 17
