The Runaway Family

by Diney Costeloe

  The other man also pulled himself out, and as a light caught his face, Kurt knew he had guessed correctly. His companion peered across at him and demanded, “Who are you?”

  “I might ask the same of you,” Kurt replied, but he already knew. “Are you just going across the border, or all the way to Vienna?”

  “What’s that to you?” snapped the man.

  “Nothing, but once we’re out of Germany, we may not have to hide.”

  “You’re a Jew!” stated the man, defiantly.

  “So are you,” answered Kurt. “So we both need to get out. If one of us is caught, we both shall be.”

  The man did not reply. He stared across at Kurt, trying to see his face in the passing lights. “Heinz said to stay hidden till he came for me,” he said, “but I hate it in there.”

  “We should hear them coming in time,” Kurt said. “I’m not staying in there all the time either. Just keep away from the portholes and listen out for footsteps.”

  As daylight crept into the sky, they sat in silence, each deep in his own thoughts. When he could see properly, Kurt inspected the space under the bunk. It was about six feet long and two feet deep, and was clearly storage space for the crew who lived aboard the barge. Surely only two men could live on each barge, simply there to keep the boat in line with the others in the string as they were towed down the Danube, a river busy with steamers, boats and barges.

  It was full daylight before they heard the footsteps approaching the hatch again. Both men were under the bunks in a trice, the tops lowered, holding their breath. Kurt could hear his heart pounding and wondered if the person who had slipped down into the cabin could hear it too. Then he heard what he’d been dreading. Whoever it was had opened the other bunk and was speaking to the man inside.

  Within moments the top of the bunk was jerked open and Kurt was staring up into the furious face of the bargee.

  “Ho yes!” growled the man. “And what have we ’ere then? Who the ’ell are you? And what are you doing ’ere?”

  “He said you told him to come here, Heinz!” squeaked the other man.

  “Shut up, Max,” snapped Heinz.

  Kurt started to get out of the hiding place but a knife appeared from nowhere in the man’s hand. He was gripping it tightly, caressing the wicked blade with his thumb and pointing it straight at Kurt’s throat.

  “No, no,” he said, “you stay put where you are, mate. I think you’re a Gestapo spy.”

  Kurt gave a bitter laugh. “Gestapo! You couldn’t be more wrong! Ask your friend Max.”

  “Max doesn’t know who you are!”

  “No, he doesn’t know who I am, but he knows what I am!”

  “Another dirty Jew,” said Max flatly. “You’ve got two for the price of one.”

  Heinz leered at them. “No I bloody ’aven’t,” he said. “I’ve two for the price of two… maybe.” He gave a chuckle. “Or none for the price of two. Depends if you’ve got any money, don’t it?” He nodded meaningfully at Kurt.

  “How much do you want?” asked Kurt, his brain racing.

  “All you’ve got,” answered Heinz cheerfully. “And if it’s not enough, well, our tug captain don’t like Jews much. If I tell ’im I found you two stowed away on my barge, well I reckon he’ll ’and you over at Passau. We’ll be there late this evening. There’s Gestapo there.”

  Max gave a wail. “But I’ve paid you, Heinz, you can’t betray me now!”

  Heinz did not reply, simply gave a wolfish grin and turned his attention to Kurt. “So ’ow much can you pay for a safe passage into Austria?”

  “Let me up and I’ll give you the money,” Kurt said. “I can pay.”

  “First of all, mate, tell me what made you get on this barge, eh? Who told you where to come?”

  “No one told me,” answered Kurt. “I saw you. I was in the boatyard, and I saw you bring him,” he jerked a thumb at Max, “and leave him on board.”

  “And what was you doin’ in the yard, then?” demanded Heinz suspiciously.

  “Looking for somewhere to sleep the night. The gate was open, I thought maybe the warehouse was too.”

  Heinz looked at him, considering his answer, then he gave a curt nod, accepting it. “Let’s see the colour of your money then.”

  The knife, which up till now hadn’t wavered, was withdrawn but not sheathed, and Kurt was able to scramble out of the hiding place.

  “Right, let’s see what you’ve got,” said Heinz. “Slow, now!” he added as Kurt reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small roll of marks. Heinz snatched the money and counted it quickly. Kurt watched him, praying Heinz would think it enough. He glanced across at Max, who sat white-knuckled, watching. Surely the man would decide that it was enough, and not turn them in. Now he’d been amply paid for both.

  “So, across the border, then. No further,” said Heinz, pocketing the roll of notes. “There’s food and water in that locker,” he pointed at the locker above Kurt’s head. “You’ll have to share. Heads in there.” He opened a small door that Kurt had assumed was another locker to reveal a tiny space with a lavatory bowl. “Now,” he went on, closing the door again. “Stay below and leave these drawn.” He pulled some flimsy curtains across the portholes. “Stay away from the portholes, specially when we’re going through a lock. You should be safe enough down here until we get to Passau, but if I bang on the hatch, get straight into them bunks and stay there until I say you can come out again. You’ll have to get into them later anyway… for the border, but I’ll warn you if there’s any danger before that… and if you’re caught I don’t know nothing about you, right?”

  The rest of the day they moved slowly along the waterway, the barge obediently following the tug. There was no bang on the hatch cover and they were able to sit at the cabin table. They shared a meal of very stale bread and some hard yellow cheese, but otherwise Max and Kurt spoke little. They had been thrown together by circumstance, but neither wanted to know more about the other. Knowledge could be dangerous, and each had withdrawn into his own thoughts. They simply sat in the stuffy cabin, the hatch closed, and waited.

  It was early evening when Heinz opened the hatch and dropped down into the cabin. “We’ll be at Passau soon, and then it will be on over the border. Usually they don’t bother much with us, but in case they decide to come aboard this time, you get in them lockers.”

  “What? Already?” Max sounded panicky.

  “Now.”

  “But how long for?” asked Max, his voice shaking.

  “Till I come and tell you you can come out again,” snapped Heinz. “Now, get in there, the both of you.”

  Kurt slithered into the hiding place, and to his horror heard Heinz slide the catch closed. He was locked into the space under the bunk, and there was no escape. He heard a cry from Max as he realised what Heinz was doing.

  “Shut up!” growled Heinz. “I’ll be back to let you out when it’s safe and not before.” Kurt heard him clambering up through the hatch and then the thud of the cover dropping back into place. He could hear Max whimpering, and fought to keep his own panic at bay. The space was tiny, and although he soon realised that air holes had been drilled in the corners, he still felt as if he were suffocating. He drew deep, slow breaths, forcing himself to believe that air was coming in from the outside. As he gradually became calmer, it struck him that Heinz must regularly smuggle people out of Germany like this. The hiding place was prepared, with air holes drilled; the food, though dry and unappetising, was stashed in the locker, the lavatory provided. Others must have escaped this way before without being caught. Heinz must have a way of getting them off the barge once they were over the border. They’d had to trust him… because continuing to trust him was their only option.

  “Be quiet, Max!” Kurt hissed, as Max continued to whimper. “Someone will hear you. There’s air, just breathe.”

  “It’s all right for you,” moaned Max, “but I’m claustrophobic.”

  Anyone would be, th
ought Kurt, crammed into this wooden box, it’s like a coffin, and at that thought he had to begin his own deep breathing again to calm his taut nerves.

  Gradually Max’s whimpers subsided and the cabin was quiet. Kurt strained his ears to see if he could hear what was going on outside. He could hear the water slapping against the hull of the barge, and felt a change of motion as the river took hold of the barge on the end of its towline. Something was happening, but it was impossible to tell what. From outside came the sound of a horn, and loud voices shouting, and then the barge jolted sideways.

  “What do you think is happening?” whispered Max. “Are we stopping?”

  “I don’t know,” Kurt answered softly. “Maybe.”

  “I want to get out of here.” Max’s voice held a note of hysteria. “We’re trapped, and we don’t know what’s going on!”

  Kurt felt the same panic welling up in him. Turning awkwardly in the confined space, he managed to press upward on the roof of his prison. It did not move. He tensed his muscles and pushed harder, but to no avail. The top would not budge.

  “What are you doing?” cried Max from the other bunk. “Can you get out?”

  “No, at least not yet. Can you? Try and push up the lid.”

  While he continued to struggle against the top of his own prison, Kurt could hear Max doing the same with his.

  “It’s no good,” Max cried. “He locked it. I can’t shift it.”

  “Nor can I,” said Kurt.

  He heard Max begin to mutter, and, straining his ears, Kurt realised that he was speaking in Hebrew; a continuous murmur in Hebrew. He was praying, repeating over and over again, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.” Kurt, giving up on his efforts to force his way out of the bunk, lay still, listening to the words; but even as he did so, he found himself wondering if there was any point. He had prayed to his God every day of his life, even in Dachau and while he was on the run, but it seemed to him that God was no longer listening… if he was there at all. How could God ignore the prayers and pleas of his people and allow the persecution that was their lot now? How could God allow his children to be hounded from place to place, little children who had done nothing wrong? Kurt wanted to shout at God… to make him listen. But now, he continued to pray in a repetitive mantra: “Lord, keep my family safe.”

  The hatch opened with a crash and there was a thud as Heinz dropped down into the cabin. Suddenly the bunks were opened and the two men inside stared up in terror.

  “We’re being pulled over,” growled Heinz. “The place is alive with soldiers. Out with you! You’re on your own.”

  “What!” shrieked Max.

  “Shut up!” roared Heinz. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Place is crawling with soldiers. Now get out, or I’ll say I found you stowaways and hand you over.”

  Kurt clambered out of the bunk, pulling his coat on.

  “We’ll be moored alongside another barge train in a minute,” said Heinz. “Then, over the side with you and across to the quay. It’s dark, you should make it.”

  He hustled the two men up onto the deck. Night had fallen, but the lights along the shore showed them another barge train already lying alongside the wharf. There was no sign of the bargees, but dim lights showed through some of the cabin portholes.

  “When I tell you, you jump,” ordered Heinz. “If you’re quick you’ll be across the next barge before they know you’re there, then up onto the dock.”

  “But how?” began Kurt.

  “There’s ladders along the wall. Up one of those. Ready?”

  They were closing in slowly on the moored barge train, and as they drifted alongside Kurt could see down onto the deck of the last one. It was slightly lower than the barge he was on, and the only way to reach it was to jump. The two barges bumped gently together.

  “Now!” hissed Heinz.

  Not allowing himself time to think, Kurt launched himself onto the deck of the other barge, hearing as he did so Max wailing, “I can’t! I can’t jump that far.” Kurt landed awkwardly, and felt pain in his ankle, but he scrambled to his feet and moved softly across the deck, the barge rocking gently beneath him. He strained his eyes looking for one of the iron ladders clamped to the stone wall of the wharf, reaching to the quayside above. There was one several yards to his left, but as he crept along the deck, the moored barge rocked, bumping against the harbour wall, as it was once again nudged by the incoming barge. Behind him there was a sudden shrill scream and then a splash. Kurt spun round and saw the burly shape of Heinz peering over the barge’s rail, before he turned and disappeared into the darkness. The barges bumped together yet again, and Kurt realised, with sudden horror, what Heinz had done. Max had not jumped when told to, so Heinz had pushed him. He had fallen between the two great barges and was either struggling in the water below their hulls, or had been crushed between them. Either way Heinz had left him to die. Kurt took a step back the way he’d come, but froze as a hatch opened and a man stuck his head out.

  “Hey!” he called. “What’s going on?”

  There was no reply to his question, and he climbed up onto the deck as if to investigate further. The two barges continued to bump gently as they settled together in the water, and the man went across to look at the newly arrived barge beside his own. Kurt turned and crept away towards the ladder he had seen in the light from the quay. He reached it and grasped its lower rungs. He was just beginning to climb up when he heard a cry from the deck. “Hey! There’s a man in the water here. Get a boat hook. Quick!”

  Kurt didn’t wait to hear more, but scrambled up the ladder onto the dock. There were people around, but no one paid any attention to a bargee climbing up from a moored barge, and Kurt was able to move away unchallenged. He walked quickly from the quayside towards the dock gates. They were open, but standing outside them in a pool of light cast from an overhead lamp was a uniformed guard. Kurt ducked back into the shadows while he considered what to do. Would he be challenged leaving the docks or was the guard only interested in people coming into the dockyard? Boldness was his best option, he decided, and he was about to stride purposefully forward when there was a shout from the moored barges below. The guard moved inside the gate, pausing to listen, and the shout came again.

  “Hey, anybody up there? Hey, we need help!”

  The guard hurried to the edge of the dock and peered down to see what was going on.

  “There’s a dead man down here!” called the voice. “We need help to get him up on the quay.”

  “Who is it?” called the guard, leaning over the wall to get a better look.

  “How should I know?” called the man below. “We found him in the water. Are you going to help or not?”

  Kurt didn’t wait to hear the answer, but slipped silently out of the unguarded gate into the street beyond.

  Once in the town, he found to his horror that Heinz had been right. Even at this hour, there were soldiers marching down the streets. There was the roar of motorised transports, lorries filled with troops, staff cars flying swastika pennants and the rumble of tanks. Townspeople were standing at the side of the road watching in awe as regiments of the German army passed by, heading for the Austrian border. There were some cheers from above him, and Kurt, who had joined the bystanders, looked up to see people in their windows waving to the troops.

  “Its the Anschluss,” said someone behind him. “Hitler has done it! He’s really done it! We shall all be united with our German brothers across the border!”

  “Will they fight?” asked a nervous voice.

  “Why would they fight?” demanded the first voice scornfully. “Austria will welcome them. We shall all be part of the great German Empire! Heil Hitler!”

  “Are you sure that’s what’s happening?” asked a third voice.

  “Quite sure,” asserted the first voice. “I heard it from my sister-in-law’s husband. The troops are going to cross the border during the night.”

  “You mean they’re invading Austria?
”

  “It’s not an invasion,” said the first man, “they are simply going in to help the Austrians deal, once and for all, with the Communists and the Jews that have been causing all the trouble.”

  “How does your sister-in-law’s husband know all this?” asked someone else.

  “Because, he was home on leave, but has been recalled to his regiment for duty.”

  “Doesn’t mean they’re going to invade Austria,” pointed out a doubter.

  “Well, it does,” insisted the man. “They were told to be ready to cross the border during the night.”

  “Pretty poor security if people like you know all about it,” remarked another man.

  “We don’t need security,” replied the first man. “There won’t be any resistance. Why would there be? The Austrians will welcome our troops… and the Führer when he goes to Vienna.”

  Kurt slipped away from the group before he was noticed, but his heart was pounding. Hitler was going to invade Austria, tonight, and even if the Austrians put up some resistance, they wouldn’t have a hope against the might of the German army. Paul Schiller had been right, overnight Austria was going to become a vassal state to Germany, and Kurt’s beloved family would be trapped in Vienna. Despair flooded through him. Even if he were able to slip across the border into Austria, which would be almost impossible in the circumstances, then he would be trapped as well. Paul had been right; right about the Anschluss and right in telling Kurt he would be far better able to help his family as a free agent in a free country.

  He thought of the two names Paul had given him, Hans Dietrich in Hamburg and James Daniel in London. Perhaps he would have to call on them after all.