by Debra Barnes
‘Madame, I order you to get out of that chair!’ shouted the police officer, but it only fuelled her fury.
‘NEVER! You can go to Hell!’
‘Men, carry this woman to the truck!’ came the order.
As well as being senile, Bubbe was incontinent and she soiled herself in the stress of the moment. As the smell reached the policemen, looks of disgust spread across their faces. They struggled to lift her due to her size, eventually having to call in a third policeman to assist. When they carried her outside she kicked and spat, swearing in Yiddish at her captors. Somehow, they managed to get her onto the truck. We could hear her tirade even after the engine started up and the truck drove away.
Then there was silence. Only the three of us were left, and we had no idea why.
****
There was no time to waste; I’d learnt that when Papa was arrested. As soon as the sun rose, I ran to a neighbour to borrow their little trailer which I hooked on to the back of my bicycle and rode as fast as I could into Poitiers. I left Samuel and Claude at home and ordered them to stay hidden and not to leave the house or answer the door for anyone.
In Poitiers, I went directly to the headquarters of the Special Police. I was fuelled by adrenaline and acting on instinct. I left my bicycle in the street and asked the German guard in the doorway to look after it while I spoke to the officer in charge. The guard looked startled, but nodded and told me to go upstairs. I ran up the stairs two at a time and knocked on the door.
‘Entrée!’
I opened the door without hesitation and went into the office. ‘Good morning, Monsieur,’ I said, taking off my beret. He was younger than my father, of average height and slim with short fair hair. He didn’t look particularly evil. He looked puzzled, or perhaps amused, to see me in his office.
‘What do you want, young man?’ He had a strong German accent.
‘My mother and two sisters were arrested last night. I think they were taken to the camp de la route de Limoges. I would like you to release my sisters, please. They are so young.’ I was speaking very quickly.
‘I see. Sit down. Now, tell me. Where do you live and what are the names of your sisters?’ The officer spoke slowly and purposefully.
‘We live in Sarry and my sisters are Henriette and Georgette Laskowski. They are twins. Just four years old.’
‘Hmmm. Yes, that is very young… Let me think what I can do.’
As the officer sat at his desk, I looked around the room for the first time. There was a framed photograph of Hitler on the wall behind the desk and a large red and black Nazi flag hanging from the ceiling. The officer himself wore a red and black swastika armband. I realised he must be quite a high-ranking Gestapo officer. My heart, already racing, lurched as it suddenly occurred to me that I might have just put myself and my brothers in danger.
Finally he spoke again.
‘There is a restaurant in town called Café du Jet d’Eau. Can you tell me what it would be called in German?’
It seemed an odd thing to ask.
‘That name in German would be der Wasserstrahl.’ I wasn’t sure if it was correct, but I hoped so.
‘Bravo! Your German is very good – you’ve earned a reward. But I can’t help you. I didn’t arrest anyone, it was the French police so now you must go and ask them to release your sisters.’ He got up and walked towards the door. It seemed he had tired of his little game. I muttered some thanks and quickly left. I ran down to the street, grabbed my bicycle and cycled to the French police station to tell them what the German officer had said.
The policeman on duty looked unsure, but wasn’t going to take a chance on acting against the orders of the Gestapo, and so he wrote a note stating that he would release my sisters. ‘Now you have to get this note authorised by the German officer… otherwise it is worthless,’ he said.
For a moment, I hesitated. I’d been so relieved to get out of the Gestapo office, now it seemed terrifying to have to go back there. It felt like they were using me to play tennis, with me as the ball. I headed straight back without giving myself more time to think.
I ran up the stairs and knocked on the office door again. When he called me back in, I put the note down in front of the Gestapo officer.
‘Excuse me, Monsieur. Here is the note from the police saying that my sisters can be released. Can you please authorise it?’ I tried to sound as respectful as I could, unsure if this would work and now certain of the danger I was putting myself in.
He picked up the note to read it. He put the paper down again, looked at me curiously, and then opened the top drawer of his desk. I expected him to take out a pistol and arrest me, or shoot me on the spot, but instead he lifted out a block of wood and rubber, placed it first on a red inkpad and then stamped the note authorising the release of my sisters. He picked up the paper again, and I held my breath – I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had picked up a cigarette lighter and burned the note in front of my eyes… but he didn’t. He just held it out for me. ‘Thank you, Monsieur,’ I managed to utter.
I grabbed the paper and ran out. I retrieved my bicycle and rode to the camp de la route de Limoges. It was only now that it occurred to me that I had no proof that my mother and sisters were even there. Could the episode with the Gestapo officer and French police have been a farce for their amusement? I blanched at the thought. I was drenched in sweat from the effort of the morning. I hadn’t thought to eat anything, and started to feel dizzy.
When I got to the camp a French guard came out of the gatehouse at the entrance. I handed over the stamped piece of paper. He glanced at it and told me to wait. He went back into the gatehouse and left through a door at the back to walk over to a small nearby building. In a panic, I paced up and down outside the double fence of barbed wire. From where I stood I couldn’t see anyone inside, but I could see the beginning of the barracks: dozens of buildings with wooden walls and corrugated-iron roofs that stood in long rows.
Suddenly I caught sight of figures in the distance. As they approached, I could make out a woman and two small children, along with a guard. Maman was marched to the gate with Henriette and Georgette doing their best to keep up. They were still holding their doll between them. Maman seemed to have aged years in the few hours since her arrest. Her face was ashen, and her beautiful almond-shaped eyes had lost their sparkle, but when she spotted me waiting, I saw a glimmer of hope return to her. My sisters started running towards me. ‘Careful, girls. Don’t touch the fence, the spikes are dangerous!’ I called.
They stopped and returned to the safety of our mother’s shadow.
‘Pierre, my darling. How are you? How are your brothers?’ Her voice was strained.
‘They’re fine, Maman. How are you?’
‘I’m alright,’ she said, though she didn’t seem it.
I was overjoyed in that moment, but then just as suddenly the joy was taken away when the guard pushed the girls through the gate and locked it behind them with Maman still on the other side.
Henriette and Georgette immediately started crying for their mother, reaching out towards the vicious wire that separated us. They hadn’t even had an opportunity to say goodbye.
‘Excuse me, sir. These little girls should not be separated from their mother. Can you please let her go too?’ I asked the guard.
‘The order only permits the release of the children. You should consider yourselves lucky even for that,’ he replied.
‘Hush, girls. Go with your brother now. Everything will be fine. Pierre, you’ve done well. Take good care of your sisters. I love you all!’ Maman shouted to us over her shoulder as she was roughly pushed back towards the barracks and out of sight.
****
‘They’re back!’ shouted Claude from the upstairs window as I cycled down the path to the house, with our sisters sitting in the little trailer behind.
‘Well done, Pierre!’ cried Samuel, running out of the house and rushing over to give the girls a hug.
Samuel and Claude helped
their sisters out of the trailer. ‘Where is Maman? Is she walking home?’ asked Claude.
‘Maman is still in Poitiers. They only let the girls out.’ I was crushed with the guilt of only having asked for my sisters to be released. I had saved the twins, but at what cost? I had abandoned my own mother.
‘So, we’re all alone,’ said Claude.
‘At least we’re together, and we have each other,’ said Samuel. We agreed that was the most important thing at that moment.
A few days passed. I was so busy I didn’t even have time to write to Maman. We were hungry and the girls needed help with almost everything. I knew our parents would want me to make sure that my brothers continued going to school, which left me to take on the roles of both breadwinner and homemaker. It was an impossible task, so I called a family meeting.
‘Madame Leblanc has agreed to help us by looking after Henriette and Georgette. I found work with a mason preparing bricks and roof tiles and I will pay for their keep with the money I earn. They will be close, practically next door, and we can see them every day.’
The girls went to live with Madame Leblanc – the miller’s wife – and her daughter Marcia, who promised she would look after the girls as if they were her own sisters. It was the best arrangement possible under the circumstances. I hoped Maman would approve.
****
After our cousins had been taken away it didn’t seem right to go downstairs and use their things, except for food left behind which would have gone bad or been eaten by mice. We struggled to keep our part of the house clean and tidy so, after a while, we decided to move downstairs. By the time Rabbi Epstein came to visit a few weeks later, the whole house was a mess.
‘How are you managing?’ he asked, looking around at the chaos.
‘Probably not as good as I should,’ I admitted.
‘Anyone would find it difficult under these circumstances. You did incredibly well to get your sisters released and looked after by a neighbour. I’m sure your parents will be proud when they hear how you’ve managed.’
I flinched when he spoke of my parents, as if he’d slapped me across the cheek.
‘Pierre, I have some news about your family from Father Bisset. It’s not good, I’m afraid. They have all been moved from Poitiers to Drancy, a large camp outside Paris.’
‘What will happen to them now?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. The minute I have more information I will tell you.’
This was terrible news. I had been to the camp in Poitiers a couple of times to see if I could spot Maman or maybe my aunt or uncle through the barbed-wire fence, but I hadn’t been able to see anyone. I had planned to go and try again that week.
Rabbi Epstein continued. ‘I am rabbi for the Union générale des israélites de France, the UGIF, in the region. What do you think of asking them to help you look after the boys? They can find a foster family for them to stay with.’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘The UGIF was set up by the Vichy government. Why should we trust them?’
‘That’s a good question,’ said Rabbi Epstein. ‘The organisation was set up by the government, but it’s run by Jews to help Jewish people in circumstances like yours. They can be trusted.’
As Rabbi Epstein left that day I promised him I would consider asking the UGIF for help. Everything was so uncertain. The first few days after the arrests we were expecting everyone to come home and tell us it had been a terrible mistake. What reason could anyone have for arresting my mother, my grandmother, my aunt, uncle and cousins? It was crazy. And why did they leave us boys but take the girls? It didn’t make any sense at all. We were sure it was an error someone had made on one of those damn lists.
I wanted to ask Papa or Maman what to do – they always knew best – but they had been taken away and I was left in charge at just sixteen years old. Georgette and Henriette were thriving with Madame Leblanc and I reasoned a similar set-up could work well for Samuel and Claude too, allowing me to concentrate on earning enough money so we could all live together again soon while waiting for the rest of the family to come home. I decided I would go to the UGIF for help.
My brothers were not happy with this idea. Samuel insisted he was old enough to look after himself and Claude and the home while I went to work. He put up a convincing argument, but I knew that our parents would want him to concentrate on his schooling and he knew that, as the eldest, I had the final say.
Samuel and Claude were placed with a Catholic foster family, the Laurents, in nearby Cerneux, and their keep paid by the UGIF. The family seemed nice and the boys had recently started school in the town and were going there most days anyway. It was agreed they would make the one-hour walk back to Sarry each Sunday and we would all spend the day together with Henriette and Georgette. I was sure I had made the right decision and that our parents would be pleased when they came home.
Pierre
Sarry
February 1943
On a cold February morning Rabbi Epstein was arrested, along with his wife and daughter. This was a terrible blow for the Jewish community although, by that time, there were practically no Jews left in the area. Most had disappeared during the night, so it was hard to know if they had escaped for their own safety or been arrested. There were a few children left, mostly staying with foster families arranged by the UGIF. This arrangement worked well for us until May, when a letter arrived. I was surprised to read that my brothers and sisters were to go to Paris. The letter stated that they should be taken to a UGIF children’s home in Montmartre. I was devastated by the idea of them going so far away. It would be difficult for me to travel such a long way to visit them and almost impossible to find work that would allow me to live nearby, but I had to trust the UGIF knew best with so many children in its care and that I would find a way to see them.
The following day I went to Cerneux after work. The boys were happily helping Madame Laurent with some chores and excited to see me. I was invited in and, as we sat around the kitchen table, I was given a cup of something which had been offered as coffee but tasted like warm water.
‘This arrived yesterday,’ I said, pulling the letter out of my jacket pocket.
‘Is it news of Maman and Papa?’ asked Claude.
‘Unfortunately not,’ I said. My brothers both looked deflated. ‘This letter is from the Jewish Agency and it says you must go to Paris.’
‘Will the girls go too?’ asked Samuel.
‘It says that all of you must go together.’
‘And you, Pierre?’
‘It only says that you four must go. I’m seventeen, not a child anymore. I have to stay and work.’
‘I’m not a child either,’ said Samuel. ‘I am past bar mitzvah age and I am a man!’
‘Yes, dear, but you still need someone to remind you to wash behind your ears sometimes,’ said Madame Laurent kindly.
‘Ha ha! But seriously, Samuel, I think you should go so you can look after the others,’ I said.
‘Yes, you’re right!’ he replied proudly. He was clearly pleased with this new role of guardian to his younger brother and sisters.
‘I shall be sorry to see you boys go,’ said Madame Laurent, her voice quivering slightly. ‘It has been lovely having you here. Does the letter say how you are to travel to Paris? It’s not that easy to get there these days. I believe the only way is to go on the night train and Jews are not allowed to travel outside the region or go out after curfew!’
‘I hadn’t thought about it yet, but that is going to be a problem,’ I said.
‘Let me speak to my brother who is a policeman,’ said Madame Laurent. ‘Maybe he’ll have some ideas. Come back in a few days and I’ll tell you what he says.’
****
I went to see Henriette and Georgette the following evening. It was nearly their bedtime when I arrived, but I played with them for half an hour, refreshed by their innocent company. They didn’t ask about our mother and father and I didn’t mention them, relieved not to h
ave to disappoint them with the lack of news. Madame Leblanc looked after them well. She had encouraged them from the beginning to call her ‘Maman’ and they happily did so. One month before, we had celebrated their fifth birthday together; although difficult to find the ingredients, Madame Leblanc had made a cake and lemonade for the gathering.
After I helped put the girls to bed, I told Madame Leblanc of the letter from the UGIF. ‘It says the girls must go to Paris with Samuel and Claude.’
‘Well thank goodness they won’t be by themselves, the poor mites,’ she said, wiping away a tear with the corner of her apron. ‘I will miss them very much. They are like two rays of sunshine in this horrible world. They are happy here and now they are to be moved again. Who knows what this place in Paris will be like? Why don’t you leave them with me? I will look after them as if they were my own. Who will realise they are not in Paris? There will be hundreds of Jewish children there whose parents have been arrested.’
‘We already know too well about the lists of names which the French police kindly compiled for their German friends,’ I said bitterly. ‘My worry is that the boys will be punished if the girls are not with them. I appreciate how upset you are – I am too, but they will be together and well looked after by the Jewish Agency.’
‘Hmm, not as well looked after as they would be with me,’ said Madame Leblanc.
‘No indeed, Madame. I cannot thank you enough for your trouble. I don’t know when they will be leaving yet so I would be grateful if they can stay here until we have made the travel arrangements.’
‘But of course! What do you think, that I would throw them out into the street?’
****
I returned to Cerneux after Madame Laurent had spoken to her brother, as promised.
‘He said I should travel to Paris with the children on the night train,’ she said.
‘But, Madame, I can’t ask you to do that. I should go.’
‘It would be extremely risky for you to travel. It is going to be difficult enough to get the children there safely, but it will be easier for me than for you.’
