by Evans, Mike
When I returned to the apartment I told Papa what I had seen— the bodies lying in the street and the many people now living in each apartment.
“Yes,” he nodded. “It is not good.”
“They are moving in more people almost every day.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “They are moving people in as fast as possible.” “And where are they putting them?”
“They began in back.” He gestured with his hand toward the window in the front room. “But they are working their way in our direction. Filling every available space. They even have people sleeping in the closets and in the halls.”
“Who decided to do this?” “The Nazis.”
“Adolf Eichmann?”
He nodded his head slowly. “We certainly didn’t ask for them.”
Stephan was right again, I thought. The Judenrat put these people as far from their own apartments as possible. I was angry and frustrated. “But you told them where to begin.” I said it as an accusation.
“Yes,” he nodded. “They asked us where to begin and I said to begin in the front, where we live. But they wanted to begin in the back. So that is what they did.”
I felt deflated and ashamed for what I had thought just moments before, so I changed the subject. “And the soldiers patrol the streets at night, shooting anyone who comes out. Even if they are only searching for food.”
“I know,” he nodded with a look of sadness. “I hear the shots every night.”
“They killed three men last night.” “I know that, too,” he lamented. “Yet the council will do nothing.”
“There is nothing we can do. The Nazis make the rules. Imposing the curfew was their idea. They told us to enforce it, but we said we had no way to enforce it. So they sent the soldiers to patrol at night.”
“You must make them stop shooting.”
He looked at me with tired, hopeless eyes. “Sarah, you have seen how we live. We are unable to make them do anything.”
Later that day Papa left the apartment and went downstairs. He’d looked so forlorn when we talked that I was worried about him. When he walked out I waited until I heard his footsteps on the stairs and then I followed after him. He went down to the first floor, but instead of stepping out to the street, he doubled back to the hallway that ran past the staircase. At the end of the hall he opened a door on the right and disappeared. I hurried to keep up.
When I reached the door, I found it led to a stairway down into the basement. It was dark on the stairs so I left the door open to allow in enough light to see my way, but as I reached the bottom of the steps the door banged closed and I was in total darkness. Panic seized me, and my heart raced, but I told myself all I had to do to escape was to feel my way back up the stairs to the door. Gradually, my heart rate slowed and I got hold of myself.
After a minute or two my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could see light coming into the basement from a coal chute in the center of the wall to the left. On the wall to the right there was a narrow window at street level with another a little way down from it.
As I stood there getting my bearings, I heard voices coming from behind the staircase. I crept around to where I could see and in the distance the soft glow of a candle illuminated an opening on the back wall. The closer I came to it the larger the opening became and I realized I was staring into one of the tunnels Stephan had told me about. Then I heard Papa talking and I knew the sounds I’d heard came from the Judenrat. They were gathered in the tunnel. At once I was comforted by the knowledge that my father was there and I was not alone, then I was terrified at the realization that Adolf knew exactly where they were and what they were doing. The council might have thought they were meeting in secrecy, but in fact they were more exposed than ever.
I moved closer and listened more intently, but the light behind me from the windows and the chute meant I couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were saying without revealing my presence. Instead of trying, I backed away and stood near one of the narrow windows. They were dirty and grimy so I rubbed a spot clean with my finger and looked out. The windows faced the street in front of the building, and from my position I could see all the way to the corner. I stood watch there, hoping to catch sight of any soldiers in the area before they arrived to cause trouble.
After what seemed like only a few minutes I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Papa standing behind me and jumped at the sight of him. “Why are you down here?” he asked, paying no attention to the fright he gave me.
“No reason,” I shrugged, trying to regain my composure. “Just needed a few minutes alone.”
“You followed me.”
“No,” I shook my head. “I didn’t.”
“I heard you when you came from the apartment,” he smiled, “and I saw you when I reached the first floor. Why are you following me?”
A lump formed in my throat and my eyes become moist. “Adolf
Eichmann knows about the tunnel,” I whispered.
Papa looked stricken. “How do you know this?”
“The other day, when he came to the apartment, I listened through the door.”
“I thought so,” he nodded. “I saw the shadow of your feet in the light from the space beneath the door.”
“Did he know I was there?”
“I don’t think so. He was standing with his back to the door. Go on, you were listening at the door…”
“Eventually Mama made me stop and she sent me out. While I was on the street I saw Stephan and told him Adolf was there. He was surprised to know that Adolf had reached the apartment without them noticing.”
Papa frowned. “Stephan and his friends were watching the building?” “They were only trying to help.”
Papa had a solemn look. “You must stop seeing him.” I could tell he wasn’t angry, but he said it with resolve.
“But I love him,” I replied in an unemotional tone.
“I know,” he sighed. “But things are happening that I cannot discuss. Serious things, which make it necessary for you to stop seeing him.”
“I can’t break it off.”
“You don’t have to. Simply remain inside the apartment. That’s all.” He stood there beside me and for a moment said nothing, but I could see from the look in his eyes that he was deep in thought. Then he took a deep breath and began again. “So, they did not see Eichmann enter the building?”
“No.”
“Very well. We shall meet somewhere else. The tunnels are no longer safe.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Come, we should get upstairs.” Then he guided me from the window to the stairway and we started up toward the first-floor hall.
* * *
Just before sunset I was on the street near the corner with Stephan and several of his friends. It was almost time for the curfew and we were about to go inside when a truck turned onto our block. It rolled toward us and came to a stop a few meters away. A squad of German soldiers stood in back, dressed in gray uniforms and armed with rifles. Adolf sat on the passenger side of the cab and when the truck stopped he was directly opposite me. The coincidence of his presence made me certain he’d been in the tunnel when the Judenrat met.
Adolf leaned through the open window of the cab. “Sarah,” he said in a syrupy tone, “I haven’t seen you since you arrived.”
“Adolf,” I said, acknowledging him in a polite manner but with as little affect as possible.
He glanced in Stephan’s direction. “This is your friend? The one I used to see when you were both so much younger?” “Yes,” I nodded. “This is Stephan.”
In his eyes I saw the same look I’d seen months before when I ran into him at the coffee shop. Not exactly hatred, but a look as if Stephan was intruding. It was the same look Stephan gave when one of his friends said something nice to me, only now, seeing it from Adolf made my skin crawl. The last thing I wanted was for him to be interested in me. We talked a moment longer, then he said something to the driver and the truck moved away.
When he was gone, Stephan looked over at me. “He likes you.” “How could he? I am just a Jew.”
“Yes,” Stephan nodded, “you are a Jew and he knows it, but he can’t get past his attraction to you.” His eyes met mine. “And you like him, too.”
I glanced away. “Not like that.” “But you like him,” he persisted.
“I liked him when I was twelve and he was a teenager,” I tried to defuse the situation. “It made me feel grown up when he talked to me. But now he is a soldier in the German Army, and we are here because of him.”
“But you still see him as a friend.”
Stephan’s needling was becoming obnoxious, but I did my best not to react. “My mind tells me he is no friend at all.”
“But your heart won’t let go of the past.”
Finally I could stand it no more and I hit Stephan on the shoulder. “Stop it,” I snapped. “You’re making something out of nothing but a childhood memory.”
“Just see that you don’t make something of it,” he warned.
A little after noon the next day, Papa arrived at the apartment looking worried and nervous. Hands in his pockets, he paced back and forth. I glanced at Mama but she seemed not to pay him any attention, then I looked back at Papa. “What is wrong?”
“It is nothing,” he dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “You don’t act like it’s nothing.”
“Leave him alone,” Mama said in a monotone voice. She stood at the sink, her head down, breaking the day’s cabbage leaves into small pieces. “He will tell you if he wants you to know.”
The door opened and David came in. “Hey, Sarah,” he grinned. “I heard Adolf Eichmann stopped to say hello to you last night.”
“What are you talking about?” His sudden appearance and jovial attitude caught me off guard, and I was worried about the mention of Adolf’s name.
David seemed oblivious. “Everyone is talking about how he was in the truck with the soldiers and had them stop just so he could speak to you.” As I suspected, Papa was irate. “Haven’t you learned yet?” he shouted at me. “You cannot have anything to do with that man. All your life you’ve pestered and hounded him, and each time it has only brought trouble.” He looked at me, his eyes wide open, the veins in his neck pulsing. “Stop seeing that man!”
“I wasn’t seeing him,” I argued, taken aback by the ferocity of his tirade. “I was talking to Stephan and the truck came by. They stopped. What was I to do?”
“And what did I tell you about Stephan?” he continued.
Mama turned from the sink to face him. “Moshe,” she said in a calm and even voice. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
“I don’t want to sit,” he barked. “You need to calm down.”
“She can’t stand around on the corner, Orna. It’s an open invitation to trouble, which now has found her. And I specifically told her not to be out there with Stephan.”
“Why not?” David asked, coming to my defense.
“This is why!” Papa shouted. “This right here. This thing we are talking about. Adolf Eichmann and a truck full of soldiers. That would have never happened if she had done what I told her to do.”
David didn’t back down. “But they were just talking. They didn’t know Eichmann was coming.”
“And that is precisely my point.” Papa moved closer to David and continued to shout. “She didn’t know. But she could have avoided it if she had been doing what I told her to do.”
“But I love him,” I said in a plaintive voice.
“I know you love him. I’ve recognized that before. That has nothing to do with this.”
“Then what is it?”
Papa looked deflated by the question. He turned away and sighed, “I can’t tell you.”
That made me even angrier. “Why not?” I insisted. “Why can’t you tell me?”
Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door. Members of the council arrived and as they filed through the door, Papa led them to the bedroom. Uncle Alois passed me without saying a word. When they were all in the room, Papa closed the door and Mama sent us out.
David and I went downstairs to the street and wandered up to the corner. As usual, Stephan was there with his friends. This time, however, they cut their eyes at me with looks of suspicion. Stephen took my arm and led me aside.
“You must not be here now.” He spoke in hushed tones and his face was serious.
I didn’t like it. “Why not? I can go wherever I want.” “Things are too dangerous,” he insisted.
“What do you mean?”
“People have been asking too many questions.” “About what?”
“About you and Eichmann. About your father and the council.” “What people?” I demanded. “Tell me who they are.”
“Everyone.” He sounded exasperated. “Our people, their people. It’s just not safe.” He held me by the arm and led me back toward the apartment building. Before we reached it, he let go of me and turned back. I watched as he reached the group at the corner and felt my heart sink.
With nothing else to do but wait, I wandered back to the apartment building and sat on the curb. Half an hour later, Uncle Alois came out. I stood to talk to him but he shook his head and waved me off. “I have to go,” he said softly. Before he was out of sight, the other members of the council came from the building. They passed me without saying a word as they went in separate directions.
Curious now about what had transpired in their meeting, I ran up the steps to the apartment. When I reached the door I heard Mama’s voice. “No,” she pleaded. “You can’t.”
“There is no other way.” Papa’s voice was angry and intense.
“You must find a way.”
“I can’t,” he said, his voice calmer but still resolute. “This is how it must be done.”
When the apartment grew quiet, I opened the door and went inside. Mama was standing at the counter. Papa stood near the stove. I glanced at them with a questioning look. “What’s the matter?”
Papa did not reply but brushed past me, opened the door, and disappeared into the hall. I turned to Mama and now I could see she was crying. “Mama,” I implored, “what is the matter?”
She took my face in both hands and drew me close. “We must be brave,” she said softly. “We must be very brave.”
* * *
The next morning, before the sun was an hour above the horizon, Stephan’s brother, Yosef, came to our apartment. He appeared anxious and worried. “Stephan is missing,” he blurted out. “Have you seen him?” “Not since yesterday,” I answered. “He was on the corner with all the others. He didn’t come home?”
“No. When I left he was with Tomer Levy. They were still talking. I walked home alone.”
Papa entered the room. He saw the look on Yosef ’s face. “What’s the matter?”
“We can’t find Stephan,” Yosef explained. “He has disappeared.” “Perhaps,” I suggested, “the soldiers took him last night by mistake.” “That is what worries us most.” Yosef crossed the room and stood near Papa. “You are a member of the Judenrat. You can intercede with the authorities. At least find out what has happened to him.”
“No,” Papa replied dryly. “I do not think so.”
Yosef looked hurt and confused. “Why not?”
“This is a matter for the Nazis,” Papa explained. “It is not the kind of thing we do.”
“Not the kind of thing . . .” Yosef stammered in frustration. “Then what do you do?”
“We distribute jobs, food, and sometimes assistance in other matters. We take up issues about apartments and living conditions and we—”
“Living conditions?” Yosef interrupted. “You call this living conditions?” His voice was loud and I saw his sense of frustration turning to anger. “Why won’t you help us find Stephan?”
Papa looked over at Mama. They exchanged a knowing look, then he turned away and started toward the bedroom. “I am sorry. I can’t help you.”
Yo
sef rushed from the apartment with tears streaming down his face. I followed after him but he would not stop and I soon lost sight of him in the crowd that wandered the sidewalks. On the next corner, I found Tomer Levy standing in his usual place with the regular group of friends. As I approached, the others moved away, leaving Tomer to face me alone. “What happened to Stephan?” I asked.
“Why do you ask me? Why not ask your father?”
“You were the last one to see him before dark. What happened to him?”
He gave me an angry look as if he had more to say, then his shoulders sagged and he leaned closer. “Rumor is he was picked up by the SS.”
“You saw them take him?”
“I saw them coming. We split up. When I glanced back, they were closing in on him.”
“Why did they take him?”
An angry scowl returned to his face. “The Judenrat turned him in.” “No,” I replied. “That is not possible.”
“Yes. It is possible. Ask your father.”
“No. If he is gone, I will find him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tomer scoffed. “Just ask your father.”
“I’m not being ridiculous,” I hissed. “Show me the secret way out.” He gave me a look of mock confusion. “What secret way out?”
“I know about the sewer and the trips outside. Stephan brought me cake from the bakery. Now show me where it is.”
“I can’t.” He turned away with a self-conscious look.
“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll find the way out by myself.” Then I started up the street toward the backside of the ghetto.
A moment later, Tomer appeared at my side. “Okay. I’ll show you. But you must keep quiet about it.”
We walked to a side street near the back corner of the ghetto, then turned down a narrow alley that led behind the buildings. Unlike the front side of the complex, where the fence and river separated us from the rest of Vienna, the backside was partitioned by a brick wall that stood ten feet tall. In between the building and the wall we came to an iron manhole cover. Tomer lifted it off and laid it aside. A pungent odor rose from the hole. My nose wrinkled and my eyes watered.
