The winter proved trying. Each bone-chilling day tested his capacity for endurance. For almost a week he put up with frigid temperatures without warm outer garments, finding shelter in hen houses and other such structures. Then one Sunday morning when a family had gone off to church, he slipped into a barn and found a heavy coat hanging from a nail in the wall. The coat belonged to a much stockier man, and he found that it hung from his slim frame, but he put it on and stuffed the pockets with potatoes from a bushel basket. Then he left the area, now better equipped for the weather. Most nights he found hiding places in cellars, which he had become adept at locating. Many times, he found that the farmers built them under the floorboards, often in the barn or chicken coop. He could tell by the hollow sound beneath his feet that he had located the entrances. Within these dank, dark places he often found matches, food, clothing and anything that the German farmers felt important enough to take the risk of hiding from the Nazis. Once, an old woman, the wife of a farmer, had discovered him and rooted out his hiding place. As she descended the stairs into her cellar, she saw Aaron hovering in a corner. Stopping on a step, she stared incredulously. The woman wore a well-worn, thick wool coat over a stained cotton dress, and a scarf covered her hair. As she’d opened the trap door he’d had heard the footsteps but could find no escape or place to conceal himself. For a moment he had considered killing her, knowing that if she exposed him, he would be arrested and sent to a camp. But finding the idea of murder distasteful, he considered using the leverage he had. Because she knew he’d seen her hoarding food, and if she were caught the penalty would be grave, she did not scream, although he’d half expected her to. Looking into his eyes, she asked him pointedly. “Are you a Jew?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She nodded back, understanding. Then she told him to go and never speak of what he had seen there. Relieved to be allowed to leave without any further complications, he had climbed the stairs swiftly and immediately left the premises. When he hit the ground outside, running, he disappeared into the black of night.
Chapter 19
A
s Aaron walked along the path of a deeply wooded area on the outskirts of an open meadow late one afternoon in the early spring, he heard voices. Quickly, he concealed himself as he saw three Gestapo officers capture two feeble old men at gunpoint. The men’s clothing was ragged and torn. Their faces bore cavernous wrinkles from the sun and weather. Aaron decided that they, like him, had also sought refuge in the woodlands. But their age had made them weak and slow. With their poor hearing and eyesight, they had been easy prey. Aaron watched as Hitler’s henchmen questioned the two, pacing around them. Then, suddenly and without warning, one of the SS officers drew his gun and shot one of the prisoners point-blank in the forehead. The old man’s entire face exploded into an unrecognizable bloody mass. Urine ran down the leg of the other hostage and soaked his pants as he stood next to the body of his murdered friend.
Turning to his fellow Nazi, the officer shook his head, “Look at this Fritz, the slob pissed himself.” Then he turned his attention back to the living prisoner who now had fallen to his knees, crying, his body shaking uncontrollably. Studying him with cool detachment, the SS man raised his gun. For a moment the officer stood mesmerized, as if in a trance, as the old man begged for his life, his face covered with snot, tears and splattered bits of his friend’s blood and brains. After a short time the Nazi grew bored, pulling the trigger and ending the game. Without turning back to dispose of the bodies, the group of Gestapo officers slowly strolled back to their black Mercedes and drove away.
Disgusted with himself for not offering to help the men, Aaron sat down beneath a tree and looked at the bodies that lay just feet away in the meadow. Hot tears stung the back of his eyes and he vowed to himself that if he ever witnessed something like this again, he would not back down. He knew that there would be a good chance he would be shot, but better to be dead then live as a coward.
Several nights later, Aaron lay in an abandoned barn, resting on a pile of soft hay. His senses were much keener since he had begun to live on the run, keeping him alert and making him a light sleeper. He had just begun to doze as a sound that resembled the cry of an animal in pain startled him awake. He looked from the window to witness two teenage boys dressed in the brown uniforms of the Hitler Youth attacking a stout girl of twelve or thirteen. Even from where he stood, Aaron could see that she bore the features of what Dr. Blumgarten called a mongoloid. Spittle ran from the side of her mouth as she cried out in terror and fell to the ground. The two boys continued toying with her, kicking her in the stomach and enjoying the power they felt over her. Pimple-faced and grinning, they smiled at each other as one of them ripped the bodice of her dress. She tried to get up, but the larger one threw her back to the ground and lifted her dress, exposing her ample thighs. Her legs flailed about as she tried to kick and squirm away. Then the other boy slapped her face so hard that a line of blood began to descend from her nose to her lips. “No! Please, no!” she had begun to cry. As one of the boys had pulled her dress up around her waist, she grabbed at it, desperately trying to pull it back down. With her other hand, she made a valiant effort to cover her exposed breasts.
Hitting her again, one of the boys laughed as he looked at his friend, “Are you sure you want to plant your Aryan seed into this mentally deficient animal?”
“Nobody needs to know. When we’re done with her, we just report her to the authorities, and they’ll take her away. They do away with these sorts of people, you know.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea. A little fun, and then she is gone, and there is no one to tell the tale.”
Aaron paced the wooden floor of the barn like a caged panther. He could not sit quietly and allow this to happen. He knew if he exposed himself that he would be forced to kill them, which would bring the Gestapo out in search of the murderer of the two Aryan boys. Still, how could he remain quiet as these sadists tortured this poor innocent child? He had worked with the retarded in the past; he knew their gentle ways and how little comprehension they had of cruelty. With his fists balled up at his side, he continued to pace as the girl cried out. Unable to stand it any longer, he picked up a hefty axe that hung on the wall and ran outside. Upon seeing him, the boys lost their nerve. Aaron stood staring at them, his green eyes blazing.
“Who are you? What do you want? This is no business of yours! Get out of here!” one of the youths shouted with bravado he did not really feel.
Aaron did not answer. Far too enraged to stop now, he took the axe and cut the first boy down. A gaping hole in the boy’s chest the size of a cantaloupe spurted blood profusely. Horrified, the other boy ran. Once alone, Aaron extended his hand to the girl and helped her to her feet, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe her tearstained face. Now Aaron knew for certain that he must leave the area quickly. The girl tilted her head to the side and smiled at him; her sweet, simple mind had already forgotten all that had happened. Aaron returned the smile, glad to see that she would not be permanently scarred from the experience. Then he turned and took his leave, quickly running back toward the shelter of the forest.
They would be looking for him now. The boy who escaped knew what he looked like. It didn’t matter - as a Jew he would already be considered a criminal. They could only kill him once, he thought as he smiled a bittersweet smile.
Four days had gone by. Aaron had no food. He was afraid to go into a barn or even a hen house because he knew they hunted for him. His head ached and his belly growled as he consumed leaves and grass, desperately hungry. In order to go on, he would have to find some food, and if he could not find any game, he must rob a farm. Hidden by the trees, he watched and waited until the darkness fell, and then he made his way out of the forest to search.
Aaron discovered a strawberry patch. The black dirt felt cool against his face as he crawled on the ground, eating the unripe fruit. Not daring to rise, he stayed on his belly until he found an entrance into a barn through a
window in the horse's stall. Before he stood, Aaron looked around to assure himself that no one lurked in the shadows. Confident that nobody had seen him, he slipped through the window. The horse was not used to having anyone enter her stall in this manner, and reacted by trying to kick him. Aaron dodged quickly, and managed to get out of the animal’s way, but he could feel the wind rush by as the hoof barely missed his face.
Months in the wilderness had honed his already strong and athletic body. It took very little effort for him to jump over the stall door. Then once he was out of the horse’s way, except for the movement as the horse’s feet brushed the hay beneath her, the barn was silent. Aaron searched for a trap door where the farmer may have stored food. Listening intently for the subtle hollow sound, he moved slowly across the floor. For fifteen minutes he combed the ground until he heard it. A slight hollow echo told him he’d found the cellar. In the corner under the hay, he felt around until he located the tiny latch. As he pulled the latch to one side, a large sliver of wood lodges itself in his finger. Almost crying out from the shock of the pain, Aaron pulled the long, thin splinter out of his hand. Blood streamed from the injury and he quickly tore a piece of his shirt sleeve to tie it. A trail of blood would give him away, he thought, as he pulled the fabric tightly.
The trap door squeaked as it opened, and he went inside. By the light of the moon he could see the staircase. Then, closing the door behind him, he climbed carefully down in total darkness. When reached the bottom, he lit a match. A great deal of food encircled him, and candles as well. He lit a candle and the room became illuminated. Whoever this barn belonged to had collected an ample stock of foodstuffs. Aaron looked around him to discover home-canned goods and large round spheres of yellow and white cheese covered in wax. He opened a jar of beets and began eating as he peeled the packaging off of a disk of cheese.
In the corner he saw smoked hog. Jews were forbidden to eat pork, but he had never been religious. Even if he had, he would have eaten it anyway. Aaron took his knife and cut off a portion of the meat, then ripped off a piece off with his teeth. He found the pork slightly tough, but tasty. He gobbled down the beets and then drank the water they’d been preserved in. By candlelight, Aaron could not see clearly, so as he walked over to retrieve another jar of beets from the shelf, he tripped over something large placed purposely out of sight in the corner. As he leaned in his eyes adjusted. Now he understood. He’d found a radio.
Bringing the candle closer, he searched for the dial and sat down on the floor to listen. He kept the sound low as he turned on the radio realizing it was already tuned into the BBC, the British Broadcasting Corporation. Strict laws had been put into effect concerning acceptable radio stations. This certainly would never have been considered one of them. The BBC brought news of the war from the viewpoint of the enemy.
Who lived on this farm? As he took in his surroundings, he noticed numerous bolts of fabric leaning up against a wall. On a shelf he saw several packages of cigarettes. He felt almost sure that the occupants must be trading on the black market.
Aaron leaned back, fine-tuning the station as the man on the radio gave news of the outside world. At the university, he had taken enough classes in English to be considered almost fluent. Quietly, he sat with his back against the wall and listened as the British announcer told of Germany’s troubles on the Eastern front. The Russians had proved to be strong adversaries. With the German army divided fighting Great Britain, as well as Russia - although the Fuehrer had tried to hide the fact from the citizens - it appeared as if the Germans would lose the war. Soon winter would set in and the weary, unprepared German army would encounter severe cold as the well-equipped Russian army stepped up to their challenge.
Chapter 20
I
n the barn, under the hay and out of sight, Klaus had built a cellar. He had hidden it well by installing a trap door that matched the wood of the floor so perfectly that only someone with knowledge of its location would be able to find it. For some time now, Petra had known of the family’s efforts to hoard and conceal supplies in the cellar before the Nazis had an opportunity to confiscate them.
As Petra entered the barn with a bushel of onions, she noticed that the hay had not been replaced properly the last time one of the Bruchmeiers had gone down to retrieve some canned goods. The hay had been disturbed, leaving the trap door open to view. On occasion, in her haste, Siegland had forgotten this important step. Petra would need to cover it well when she left this time. From now on, she would offer to go down into the cellar for Siegland. The older woman sometimes lost sight of the dangerous times they lived in.
Petra’s fingers found the latch, and the door creaked open. With a candle in her hand, she climbed down the steps. She planned to leave the candle downstairs to light the way and then go back up to retrieve the bushel of onions. Then she would continue in this manner until she’d hidden all of the vegetables as she’d promised Siegland she would until night fell and they could safely begin canning. When Petra reached the bottom of the stairs, she placed the candle on the shelf, and then she went back up and got the onions. As she came down the stairs with the heavy load, she took great care with her footing. Heavy and full, the wooden crate almost slipped out of her hand as she placed it down on the floor. Then, turning to go back up for another box, she heard movement as someone or something scurried across the floor. Her heart pounded as she looked around to see if perhaps a rat or snake had gotten in to the cellar.
Behind a large bushel of flour she saw him, crouched in the corner like a captured lion. His piercing green eyes glared at her in the light of the candle, while long dark hair fell haphazardly over his left eye and his lips fused together in a grimace. His body looked as if he were ready to spring.
“Who are you? What do you want from us? We are only poor farmers. We have no money.” Her knees went weak and nearly buckled as she watched him.
“I don’t want anything,” Aaron answered.
“Are you hiding from someone? Are you in trouble?” Remembering her own situation when she’d run away from the Lebensborn, she suddenly felt a slight pang of sympathy for this man.
“Are you all right down there, child? I think Hans is hungry,” Siegland’s voice startled the man, and within a moment, Petra found herself detained in his grasp. Without force and gently enough not to hurt her, he still held her tightly. Quickly, his hand covered her mouth and he whispered into her ear, “Don’t make a sound.”
Her heart thumping, Petra immediately thought of the baby. Would this man kill the family and her child if he felt trapped, or if his position were exposed?
His grip had loosened upon her mouth, and in a soft voice she whispered to him, “It’s all right. Please let me answer. I won’t reveal that you’re here. If I don’t answer, she’ll surely come down.”
He nodded, motioning her to go ahead. “It’s alright, Mama. I am counting the jars down here. Give me a few minutes,” Petra called.
“Yes, all right. Come when you are ready. I’m going to get Hans,” Siegland answered.
Still in shock, Petra turned to the man, feeling the heat of his thigh against her own. She was only inches from his face, and she looked into his eyes, “Now tell me, who are you?” Petra said.
“I am a Jew,” he replied, hanging his head as he spoke. “I am a Jew.” Spent, Aaron released her as he fell away, leaning against the wall.”
“Oh, dear God, no. I don’t know what to do. Why are you here? Where did you come from?” Petra asked.
“I am from Berlin. I came searching for food. If you report me, I will be murdered or taken to a camp, and then killed or worked to death.”
“They don’t really kill Jews, do they? I mean, they don’t just slaughter them just for being Jews.”
“I have seen terrible things, things that you cannot imagine. I have been hiding on the road for a long time, hiding in barns like this one, or in forests, stealing food to survive. I have seen the Nazis rape and murder women. Once I saw
them take a group of Jews and force them to dig a hole. Then they made them strip off their clothes and they shot them, then they threw the dead bodies into the hole. One of the children did not die from the initial gunshot, and I watched as she shook her mother’s dead body, trying to bring her back to life as they lay together in the grave. One of the SS men walked over and shot her as if her life had no meaning, no value at all. You cannot imagine what these people are capable of. No sane person could fathom it.”
A shudder traveled through Petra as she considered the man. His eyes told her that he spoke the truth. She could not in her wildest dreams envision such cruelty.
“I won’t tell anyone that you’re here, but you must leave tonight. By morning when I come down, it is imperative that you be gone. Do you understand?”
“Thank you, and yes, I do understand you clearly, but please try to see my situation. I’m not a common criminal. In fact, in my old life, I mean before all of this began, I attended the university and was training to be a doctor.”
“So how did you ever end up here?’
“It’s a long story, a very long story. I lived in Berlin. An older doctor took me on as a friend and partner. He mentored me, and I learned a great deal about medicine. After graduation from school, I went off to the university to continue my education. On the night of Kristalnacht, Nazi thugs burned the charity clinic that the doctor had established. From that day on, we Jews were forced to wear arm bands with yellow Stars of David to identify us.
“The university I was attending expelled me for being a Jew, but since the doctor had trained me so well, I was capable of acting as a much-needed physician in my old neighborhood. I continued to work by making house calls. My dear friend, the doctor, cautioned me and told me that we must leave Germany. He had passage to America for his wife, himself and for me. I had a girlfriend that I cared for very much, so I told them to take her instead. She died on the boat on the way to America.”
A Flicker of Light Page 11
