The Runaway Family

by Diney Costeloe

  Kurt left his case in the room, and went out to find something to eat. He’d had nothing since his early breakfast, and he was feeling hungry. He found a small café and ate a plate of cold meat for his lunch, and then decided to spend the afternoon in the anonymity of a cinema. When the film was over, there was still some time before he could ring Ruth, so he strolled through the town until he came to one of the canals that linked with the River Danube. As he walked along the towpath he watched a string of barges being towed out from the canal into the main waterway, heading east. He wondered where they were going and what they were carrying. He crossed a bridge and watched as the barges slipped away beneath him, like so many ducklings strung out behind their mother. He found a bench and sitting on it watched the barges disappear slowly into the dusk. He looked at his watch. Nearly time to make his call, to talk to Ruth. He must find a public phone, somewhere where he was sure he couldn’t be overheard. He walked back past the station. There, in the ticket hall, were three telephone booths.

  I’ll ring from there, he thought, and turned into the entrance.

  At exactly the time he had arranged with Edith, Kurt went into one of the telephone boxes and placed his call. He was lucky and the operator was able to put him straight through. His heart was thumping as he heard it ringing at the other end.

  “Good evening. Herr Doktor Bernstein’s residence.” As before the maid answered the call.

  “Please may I speak to Frau Ruth Friedman.”

  “One moment, please.”

  Then he heard her voice, breathless, shaky. “Kurt? Is that you?”

  “Ruth, my darling Ruth!” He had planned exactly what he was going to say in the precious three minutes allotted to him, but when he heard her voice everything flew out of his head and he could only say her name.

  “Kurt! Where are you?”

  “Ruth? It’s really you!”

  “Kurt! Yes, yes, I’m here! Kurt, are you all right? Where are you?”

  “I can’t tell you that. I’m so glad you’ve got the children safely to Edith’s. Are they well? Are they all right? Are you all right?” Now Kurt’s questions came tumbling out.

  “We’re all fine,” Ruth assured him. “Did you get,” she paused before saying, “what I sent you?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure I can use it. They’re looking for me.”

  “Oh God!” Ruth cried. “Can’t you come?”

  “Darling Ruth, I will if I possibly can, but it’ll be dangerous.”

  “Then don’t!” Ruth spoke sharply “Don’t come. We’re fine. We’re all fine.”

  “I want to be there with you all.”

  “Please, Kurt, don’t come if it is too dangerous. I’d rather you were free, and alive and somewhere else.” Ruth’s voice shook as she added, “You should go and visit Berta.”

  “Berta?” For a moment Kurt was bemused. Who on earth was Berta?

  “You know Berta, Edith’s daughter. Listen, Kurt, write to me,” Ruth said, “our new address is…”

  “No,” Kurt interrupted, “don’t say it! I’ll write care of Edith.”

  “All right. Oh Kurt, I do miss you. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, darling.” There was a break in Kurt’s voice as he went on, “Always and ever, whatever happens, remember I love you!”

  “If you can’t come, Kurt, don’t! Stay safe. We’re safe. Just try and keep in touch somehow!”

  “I’ll ring again… same time next week.”

  “Time’s up, caller.” The line went dead.

  Kurt stood with the silent telephone receiver in his hand for a long minute. Had Ruth heard his last promise, to ring again next week? Who else had heard it? Who else had heard the whole conversation? Had the operator listened in? Was someone even now reporting a strange conversation to the authorities? One of the Nazis’ triumphs was to make informers of everyone.

  Time to get off the streets, he decided, and take shelter in his hotel, ready to move on again in the morning. He replaced the receiver in its cradle and walked quickly away from the station. Once out on the busy pavements, he slowed his pace and headed back towards the hotel, just one more nondescript man in a crowd returning home from work. As he approached the corner of his street, a car swept past him and turned down towards the hotel. Kurt had seen cars like that before, and a chill ran down his spine. When he reached the corner he paused, looking along the road towards the hotel. The car had passed it and pulled up a hundred yards further along, but he saw that the hotel door was closing behind someone. Someone had just gone into the hotel. Kurt waited in the shelter of a shop doorway and watched. After a few moments a man came back out of the hotel, looked both ways along the empty street and then hurried to the parked car. He spoke to someone in the car and a second man got out. Both hurried back into the hotel, and the car eased off down the road and disappeared round a bend. Men like these were all too familiar. Despite his warm clothes Kurt felt suddenly cold. If he hadn’t stopped to make the call from the station, he would have been at the hotel when they arrived. Even if they had not been looking specifically for him, he would have been discovered. He stepped out of the doorway and walked briskly back the way he had come. Whether the men in dark coats were looking for him or not, he would not go back to the hotel. There was little there he needed, everything of importance was with him; his money was hidden about his person and both passports were in the inner pockets of his coat. He had his watch on his wrist and Ruth’s letter in the inside pocket of his jacket. Shaving kit, vital to keeping himself looking respectable, he could replace.

  He headed back to the station, but the crowds returning home were thinning out now, and he walked past. He glanced in through the main entrance, and what he saw made him want to break into a run. It took all his willpower to keep walking at a steady pace as if he had somewhere special to go. Standing at the ticket office was a man in the uniform of an SS trooper. Two more were standing at the entrance to the platforms, stopping everyone going through to the trains. They were looking for someone, and although Kurt had no idea if it was him, he was taking no risks.

  Fighting the instinct to run, he continued to walk away from the station. How had they caught up with him so quickly? One of the receptionists must have suspected something and handed his registration card to the police. How had the police known that he was on the run? Someone very important must be determined to find him, someone who was powerful enough to have his details wired to main police stations, Gestapo offices… and, he thought, to all border crossings. Wherever he went they might have his passport details, be on the lookout for him. Was it because Loritz had been tricked out of his property, or simply because he refused to allow a Jew to get the better of him? Once he was away from Kirnheim, he had thought he would be safe enough, he had never truly thought that the net would be cast this wide. By pure chance he had escaped that net just now, but he knew he was not safely away yet. He had to get out of the town, disappear again, and not risk moving about openly.

  He walked purposefully along Bahnhofstrasse and then cut up through the maze of smaller streets that led back towards the river. Here the streets were darker and there were few people around. Kurt tried to keep to the shadows; and more than once he reached a dead end and had to turn back, but at length he crossed the river. Somehow putting the river between himself and the railway station made him feel a little safer. He continued, more slowly now, with no particular direction in mind. He was looking for somewhere to spend the night, before he headed for Passau and the Austrian border in the morning. Tall buildings loomed on either side of the streets, warehouses, their windows dark, their gates locked, but Kurt continued to walk, searching for a doorway, or sheltered alleyway where he might take refuge for the night. He turned into another lane, twisting its way between blank-faced warehouses, but he found it ended in high metal gates, secured by a strong padlock and chain.

  He was about to turn back when he noticed there was a smaller, Judas gate in the main gates and i
t was slightly ajar, allowing access into the yard beyond. Cautiously he looked around him. The lane behind him was in shadow, but the yard on the other side of the gate was lit by a lamp fixed high on the corner of a large building, some sort of warehouse, Kurt assumed. Another lamp, atop a tall stanchion, spilled light across the rest of the yard, glinting on the dark water of the canal beyond. All along one wall of the warehouse were large crates, stacked neatly as if ready to be loaded onto something, and beyond stood several machines of some sort, still and silent, waiting for morning.

  All was quiet; no sign of guards or a watchman. Perhaps there was somewhere here he could spend the night. Kurt eased the small gate open. It moved surprisingly smoothly, with no hint of a squeak or rasp, as if the hinges had been recently oiled. Stepping through he moved quickly into the shadow of the warehouse. Still no sound. Taking care to stay in the patches of shadow, he edged his way along its wall, hands outstretched against the brickwork. He was looking for a door or window that might let him into the warehouse. As he moved he strained his ears for any sound that would warn him someone else was there, but there was nothing. He reached the front of the warehouse, and found that it had huge wide doors, which would slide open along a track in the ground. These were tightly closed and well lit by the overhead lights, and he shrank back into the sheltering darkness.

  Then he heard them, soft voices behind him. He pressed himself flat against the warehouse wall, hoping that he would be invisible in the shadows if he stayed completely still. Looking back across the yard, he saw two men had come in through the small gate, one leading the other to where the canal boats were tied up to the wharf. There were three barges waiting there, and the man leading went straight to the last. He jumped down onto the broad flat deck, and then beckoned the second man to follow. This he did, though with far less agility than the first. Indeed he almost fell, and it was only the first man grabbing him by the arm that stopped him from falling headlong into the water. Again there was the murmur of talk, but Kurt couldn’t hear what was being said. Then the first man leaned down and twisted something before heaving open a hatch. He lowered the cover quietly to the deck and then both men disappeared below. Clearly, Kurt thought, they don’t want to be heard, which means they shouldn’t be here. In a matter of minutes, the first man reappeared on deck, quietly closing the hatch behind him. For a moment he paused, looking across at the warehouse, and Kurt thought with a jolt of fear that he’d been seen, but after another moment the man climbed up onto the wharf again and left the yard as silently as he had come, pausing only to lock the small gate with a large padlock. Within a minute he had disappeared into the darkness of the lane, leaving Kurt locked inside the boatyard.

  For a long moment Kurt stared at the locked gate, and then ran swiftly over to it, wondering if he could climb over; but the main gate, he saw now, was topped with barbed wire. The yard was bounded by the warehouse on one side and walls too high to scale on the others. The only other way out was the canal. Kurt moved back into the shadows again. He didn’t want to be caught there if the first man came back. For a long while he leaned against the warehouse wall considering what he should do. It was very cold, and he shivered. A thin mist was rising from the water. There was no escape that way. He would have to wait until morning and try and slip out of the gates when they were opened by the men coming to work in the yard. In the meantime, perhaps he could find shelter on one of the moored barges… and that was when the idea struck him.

  Barges from here travelled east, down the canals and the Danube, he’d seen them earlier in the day. They would pass through Passau, through Austria and beyond… and through Vienna. His mind teemed with questions as he considered the idea. Was it possible that he could stow away on one of these and travel safely down the river until he reached Vienna? How long did barges take to go from Regensburg to Vienna? Certainly days, but how many? Maybe he could stow away just until they had crossed the Austrian border. Surely he could remain hidden until then, Passau wasn’t that far away, was it? What about food? What about water? What about calls of nature?

  He edged his way round the yard, keeping to the shadows, until he came to the wharf on the far side. Here the lamps were brighter, shedding light onto three heavy barges that waited to make their journey east. They were long and low, and lay silent in the still waters of the canal. Although there was living accommodation aboard there were no lights showing from below. He looked at the one the men had entered, the last in the string. There was no light from that one either, though he knew that one man, at least, was inside. Perhaps that man was an illicit passenger as well. Perhaps he was trying to get out of Germany… another Jew on the run? Kurt moved to the next barge and stepped silently down onto her deck. He found a similar hatch, and, grasping the wheel as he had seen the man do, tried to open it, but the wheel wouldn’t budge, and the hatch remained locked. Kurt moved softly aft along the deck, and came to the wheelhouse door, but that too was locked, as was the aft hatch. There was no way of getting inside this barge. He moved to the third one, but had no better luck there. The only barge that might carry him along the river was the one that already had a man hidden aboard.

  Kurt thought of the soldiers at the station, of the Gestapo at the hotel, and of his desperate need to get to Ruth and the children, and made his decision. If the man in the last barge was on the run, then he was hardly likely to question the arrival of another fugitive. If he was hidden somewhere below decks, Kurt was determined to hide there too. He didn’t know if the bargee would be aware that he had passengers hiding on one of his barges, but, even if he did, it was unlikely he would check on the man before taking his string of barges out onto the river. If he did, Kurt would try offering the man money to allow him to stay on board. If he regularly smuggled men across the border, he would almost certainly take the bribe… but whether he would betray him when he got there was another matter.

  Kurt stepped quietly onto the deck of the last barge and crept towards the hatch. He hoped that if the man below had heard him he would think it was his friend coming back. He twisted the wheel, which turned easily, and pulled the hatch open. Darkness and silence greeted him, but he didn’t wait, simply slid over the edge and dropped down into the space below pulling the hatch closed over his head. At first the darkness was complete, but as his eyes grew accustomed to it, he realised that faint light was coming in through two grimy portholes. He stood quite still, straining his ears for sounds of the man already hidden, but there were none. He had no idea where the man was, all he knew was that he was somewhere down here. As he gradually began to make out more of his surroundings, Kurt edged away from the hatch and ran his hands along the curved sides of the barge. He was in a cabin. It was very small, fitted out as living accommodation for crewmen. His fingers felt a folding table with a bench seat on each side. These had padded tops and clearly doubled as bunks. Above each was some sort of locker or cupboard, but there was little else and no sign of the man he had seen climb down earlier.

  Kurt sat down on one of the benches and considered his position. He was out of sight, and he was out of the cold. What would happen when the crewman came and found him there he didn’t know, but for now he could do no more, so he wrapped his coat more firmly around him and lay down on the bench bunk to wait for morning. He was almost asleep when he felt the bunk shaking beneath him, for a moment or two he lay between sleep and wakefulness, wondering what had woken him. Then he felt it again, the bunk was shaking. Kurt got up quickly, and as he did so the bunk was heaved up and from underneath it a man’s voice spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Heinz, is that you? Heinz?”

  Kurt didn’t answer. He moved silently away from the bunk, so that he was standing below the hatch. The voice came again. “Heinz? Who’s there?”

  “Me,” replied Kurt. “Who are you?”

  “Did Heinz bring you?” A man’s head appeared from below the bunk, which had opened like a window seat. “Who are you? Heinz didn’t say there’d be anyone else.” The voice was
quavering now, uncertain and afraid.

  “Didn’t he?” Kurt was thinking fast. Clearly Heinz must be the other man, the one who had brought this man to the barge, and Heinz must be smuggling men across the border. “Well, he didn’t tell me about you either.”

  The man hauled himself up from the bunk and peered in Kurt’s direction. “He told me to hide in the bunk if I heard anyone coming,” he said.

  “He told me that, too,” Kurt replied.

  “It’s my hiding place,” the man snapped.

  “I expect there’s space under the other bunk,” Kurt said and pulled up the padded seat to look. It was dark inside and he could see nothing, but he leaned forward and groped round with his hands. The space was empty. “There you are,” he said reasonably. “ A place for each of us.” He kept his voice even, afraid that if he antagonised this man he would betray him to Heinz… whoever he was. “Just as long as…” He broke off suddenly as the sound of voices came from outside.

  “Someone coming,” hissed the man, and slipped back inside the bunk, pulling the top down over his head.

  Kurt slithered into the space below the other bunk and just had time to close it before the hatch above opened and someone dropped down into the little cabin. Kurt heard a soft tap on the other bunk and an answering tap from the man inside, then the scrambling of feet as whoever it was clambered back up on deck, and the thud of the hatch cover coming down.

  There was more shouting from outside, and then Kurt felt the barge lurch forward as the towline tightened and they began to move along the canal. It was smooth enough at first as they moved slowly along the canal, but the motion changed abruptly as they joined the surge of the river, and the barge began swinging and rolling in the swirl of the Danube, before settling to a more even motion.

  It was impossible to remain crammed into the tiny space below the bunk, and as soon as he realised that they were underway, Kurt heaved himself upward, lifting the bunk and hauling himself out. He sat on the edge, with the top still raised so that he could dive for cover again if they heard footsteps approaching on the deck. It was still dark outside, but occasional lights from the shore illuminated the cabin briefly, and he took stock of his surroundings. He took off his coat, and, rolling it carefully, stowed it deep in the hiding place under the bunk. It was bulky and might hinder him getting in and out swiftly if the need arose.