A Diamond in the Rough

by Marilyn Land

  Marcus was overwhelmed at Jacob’s revelations, but he was quite impressed with the young man who, though he had recently turned seventeen and forced to grown up overnight, appeared smart, extremely strong under the terrible circumstances he found himself in, and displayed more common sense than many people Marcus knew that were two and three times his age.

  “Jacob, I worked side-by-side with your father for six years. I was proud to call him my friend, and fervently hope he felt the same way about me. He often told me I taught him more about diamonds than he knew there was to learn, but he taught me a lot too. We were a good pair, and I was grateful to Max Lerner many times over for putting us together.

  “I want to help you in anyway I can. Please come home with me; stay as long as you wish, and take your time making any plans.”

  Jacob sat quietly thinking. “Thank you. I need help; I need to make some serious decisions. I accept your offer; I will come with you, but I need a favor. If it’s not out of the way, I would like to go by the house in Middlesex and pick up some clothes. I don’t want to stay there; I’m not ready for that just yet. We were only days away from moving in.”

  “That’s sounds like a good idea; it’s not out of the way at all.”

  Jacob spent only one night with Marcus and Elena Hirsch. He gratefully appreciated their kindness and concern, but at breakfast, he told them he had made up his mind. “I can’t thank you enough for all you have done for me. I’ve decided to go back and stay at Max’s shop alone. I must think things through, determine what my options are, and come up with a plan that will work best for me.

  Marcus and Elena’s hearts broke at the mere thought of what Jacob was going through; however, they understood and respected his wishes. Having learned that there was very little if anything to eat at the shop, Elena insisted on giving him some food to take with him.

  As he wrestled with his thoughts and options over and over again, an emotion he had never before experienced emerged. That emotion was hate. His entire life, he had been wrapped in love and kindness. His parents and his religious teachings instilled in him to do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

  When the Nazi bombs ended all of that, to Jacob, it became personal. He had to do more than just return to school—he would graduate in less than two months anyway. Legally, he was considered a minor, and he didn’t want to think about what that meant.

  He knew above all else that he had to do something to purge the hate from his mind and spirit while trying to make any sense whatsoever of what had happened. He went to bed with a clearer mind, satisfied with his decisions, but only the future would tell if he had chosen well. Time no longer stood still; he was no longer in limbo; the crying stopped; he slept soundly.

  Monday morning, Jacob rose early. Bathed and dressed, he set off for the house in Middlesex. He went to the closet in his parents’ bedroom and retrieved the box that held the papers he needed. At first, he thought only of removing the ones he sought, but decided to take the box intact.

  In the small desk in the hallway, he removed a sheet of writing paper, an envelope, and a pen. He sat down at the kitchen table and wrote a letter to Lexi—the only person left that he loved with all his heart. He knew exactly what he wanted to say even though it broke his heart to say it. He slipped the paper into the envelope, sealed, and addressed it. He placed it in the box.

  He walked through the entire house, room by room, floor after floor. It was so beautiful, but what once held such high hopes for the future was now tarnished beyond repair. He knew at that very moment that he could never live there—alone.

  He bowed his head, and repeated the mourner’s Kaddish. Wiping tears from his eyes; with box in hand, he locked and closed the door behind him.

  His next destination was De Beers, to see Marcus Hirsch.

  Although Marcus did not know that Jacob was coming to see him, he was not surprised to look up and find him standing before him. He had not heard from him since dropping him off at Max’s shop.

  “Good morning Jacob; please have a seat. How are you doing? Can I get you something to drink, hot or cold?”

  Jacob sat down across from him, placing the box on the desk.

  “No thank you. I’m okay. I’m doing much better. I’ve spent my time giving thought to my situation, and good or bad, right or wrong, I have made my decisions. I have no desire to return to school for the next two months; and the thought of moving to Middlesex alone is not what I want or need just now. I have decided to enlist in the RAF, as soon as possible.

  “I’m here to take you up on your generous offer to help me. I need your assistance in tying up the many loose ends that I’m leaving behind. This box contains many papers you may need—the Deed to the house in Middlesex; a copy of Max and Reba Lerner’s Last Will and Testament, contact information for my uncles, and other papers that you probably won’t need, but I just brought the entire box.

  “I know that I am the sole heir left in the Lerners’ Will, which includes the shop, its contents, and the contents of their flat. The house in Middlesex and its contents also passes to me. As I grew older, my parents always explained these things extensively, but honestly I never paid too much attention.

  “First and foremost, a wire must be sent to South Africa immediately, notifying my uncles of the tragedy, my plans to join the RAF, and naming you as their means to contact me.

  “I don’t want to sell anything at this point—the house, the shop, or any of the contents of both. I am sure it will be some time before all this legal stuff gets sorted out, and I’m not waiting around. I can’t.

  “My biggest responsibility is to see that my family and the Lerners get a proper Jewish burial when their remains are finally retrieved from the rubble. Since we all worshipped at the Great Central Synagogue on Rectory Square, services can be held there; burial will be in the Brady Street Cemetery. In the meantime, I would appreciate your contacting Rabbi Levin at the synagogue and arranging for a memorial service. I think this coming Friday’s services would be an appropriate time.

  “My one last request is that you see that this letter is delivered to Alexandra Portman. I don’t want to post it; I would prefer to have it hand delivered.”

  Once again, Marcus could not believe that he was sitting across from a seventeen-year old boy—he had surely become a man in just three short days.

  “Of course, I will do everything and anything you ask. Your parents would be so proud of you, and I am proud of you too. The one thing I must insist on is that I know how to get in touch with you at all times. I willingly accept the responsibility of being caretaker of your assets, but should a problem arise that needs your approval, I must be able to reach you. Your safety and wellbeing in the choices you have made are paramount.”

  Jacob stood and offered his hand to Marcus. “Absolutely, I will keep you up to date on my every move. Again, I can’t thank you enough for all you have done, and all that I have landed on you today. Give my best to Mrs. Hirsch, and tell her the food she gave me was delicious and very much appreciated.”

  Marcus came from behind his desk and hugging Jacob he said, “Take care of yourself and God Bless—until we meet again.”

  Jacob’s entrusting Marcus with everything gave food for thought. While his offer to help him was genuine and sincere, he felt an air of finality on Jacob’s part. It made him consider that perhaps Jacob’s thinking was that he would not return from the War. He hoped that this was not the case.

  He couldn’t have been more wrong. Jacob had every intention of doing his best to come back safely and alive.

  By the end of the day, Marcus had sent a wire to the Lyons brothers in South Africa. After going through the papers in the box that Jacob left with him, he made a reference list of the documents and prioritized those he felt needed immediate attention. After making a mental note to pay a visit to Rabbi Levin the next day to arrange a memorial service,
he decided to leave the office and head home.

  On his way home, he delivered Jacob’s letter to Alexandra Portman. He had no idea who this person was, but it was obvious she meant a great deal to him. The fact that she was the only person he sought to contact other than his two uncles, and his insistence that his letter to her be hand delivered, convinced Marcus to take care of this request as soon as possible.

  He drove down the street looking for the address on the envelope and came to a stop in front of a modest Tudor style house. He walked up to the front door and lifting the brass knocker, rapped it twice. Introducing himself to the woman who answered the door, he inquired if this was the home of Alexandra Portman. Having given no thought to the age of the letter’s recipient, for a brief moment he felt perhaps she was Alexandra.

  When the woman, replied, “Yes it is, but exactly why do you wish to see my daughter?” He knew that his initial instincts that told him she was Jacob’s age had been right.

  Lexi was not at home. Elise Portman invited Marcus in and over tea she learned that Jake had survived. “My brother-in-law and his family live in the East End, and we learned Friday night about the bombing. When my husband went to inquire about his family, he learned that the building where Jake and his family lived took a direct hit and that there were no survivors. We assumed that since it was the first night of Passover, everyone was already seated around the Seder table when the bombs fell.

  “No one had seen him, not any of his friends, not the Rabbi, not anyone that my husband spoke with. Our nephew is one of his closest friends, and he could find no one who had seen or heard from him either.

  “Our daughter Lexi and Jake are quite close and have been for some time. My husband and I care a great deal for him. They are two of a kind—mature beyond their years, excellent scholastic students, and both with an eye on their futures. We know they are young, but if their fate is to have a life together, we embrace it.”

  Not wanting to relay too much about Jacob’s situation, Marcus briefly told Elise Portman that his late arrival home had saved his life, but left him with the dilemma of making some serious decisions; and joining the RAF was one of them.

  Marcus handed the letter to Elise. “Thank you for your hospitality. I have no idea what is in the letter, but I suggest that you let her read it before telling her what I have related to you. I’m guessing a good deal of it she will learn from Jacob. You can fill her in on the rest from what I have told you.

  “Tomorrow, I’m planning to meet with Rabbi Levin to arrange a memorial service for Friday evening. Maybe you can tell your nephew to tell his friends so they will have a head’s up if they wish to attend.”

  Marcus drove home slowly. It had been quite a day.

  Elise Portman waited for Lexi to come home; and while she waited, she gave great thought to what she would tell her daughter. She had no way of knowing what was in the letter, but she was certain that learning that Jake was alive would be exhilarating. When Lexi learned of the bombing and that there were no survivors from the building, she became quite despondent.

  Elise thought about calling her husband to discuss the situation, but decided against it, mainly because she knew in her heart he would definitely not sanction what she was thinking of doing.

  She thought about what she had said to Marcus—that she and her husband felt that if Jake and Lexi were fated to have a life together, they embraced it. Why was she now rethinking those words?

  The world was at war; everything seemed so uncertain; and Lexi was due to start nursing school in a few months. Marcus Hirsch said that Jake had joined the RAF and was going off to fight the Germans. That meant that even though Jake had survived, he would no longer be a part of her life until the War was over, and who knew when that might be, or if he would return at all.

  She tried to rationalize what would be best for her daughter; or was she thinking what would be best in the long run for her family. She wanted a good life for Lexi, not a life of waiting—waiting to hear, waiting for someone, waiting to be disappointed.

  By the time Lexi came home, the letter had been put away, and Elise greeted her with the wonderful news that Jake was alive, and that he had left to join the RAF.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On 14 April 1941, Jacob Aaron Lyons joined the Royal Air Force. After passing tests and a medical exam; receiving a myriad of inoculations and vaccinations; receiving the compulsory haircut which was neither a comb nor scissors affair; and having been kitted out, he was enlisted as Pilot U/T (under training) and posted to Lords Cricket Ground for basic training. From there he was sent to Stratford-upon-Avon for navigation, signaling, and arms drill. At the conclusion of the course, the instructor congratulated the group of fifty and told them they were being shipped overseas to the United States for flight training.

  Jacob fit in quite well with the group of fifty young men, not all of who wished to pilot the planes. Tommy Butler and Andy Barbour were aiming to be navigators. They struck up a friendship during basic training that continued at Stratford-upon-Avon. Any free time they had, the three spent together taking in the local sights and offerings.

  Having introduced himself as Jake from the beginning, he turned when he heard Tommy’s voice. “Hey Jake, get a move on and come with us. We’re going into town to hit a couple of the pubs, play some darts, and dance a little with the local lassies.”

  Jake really liked both Tommy and Andy. They were all about the same age, but it was evident they had each lived vastly different lives.

  Tommy was a scrappy kid who grew up on the streets of London. He never knew his father, and his mother went from job to job trying to support the both of them between drying out from her alcohol binges; unfortunately, her last binge killed her. She was buried in the local potters cemetery with money that their neighbors collected. The very next day, Tommy joined the RAF.

  Andy was totally at the other end of the spectrum—his father was a Barrister. Although he was a product of the finest prep schools, he was not in the least affected by his upper class upbringing. When his older brother was killed in the Battle of Britain, he too made up his mind to join the RAF.

  They were both pretty cool guys who like Jake wanted to kill as many Nazis as possible. The friendship they offered was genuine, and they were fun and carefree and that was just what Jake needed; the truth was, it was just what each of them needed. They introduced him to beer and cigarettes, both of which he had managed to avoid for seventeen years. In fact, to the best of his knowledge, none of his friends in the East End had ever expressed a desire to smoke or have a pint of beer, at least to him.

  Grabbing his jacket, he said, “Sounds good to me. I’m in.”

  The first time Tommy and Andy asked Jake to join them they took him to O’Hara’s Pub. It was a local favorite, and since it was the weekend, the place was really jumping.

  Although Jake was not legally old enough to drink alcohol, in reality he wasn’t old enough to join the RAF without parental consent either, but after telling the recruitment officer that he had lost everything including his entire family in the air raid, they accepted him without question even though he admitted to them he was seventeen. They were at war; all things change and all rules bend in wartime.

  O’Hara’s Pub was crowded and the smoke was so thick, Tommy joked, “Save your smokes; you don’t need one in here—just inhale.”

  They were having fun mingling with the crowd, and Jake was in a serious Dart Game competition when the fight broke out. At first, no one paid much attention, but when glasses started crashing to the ground, and they heard the wail of Police sirens growing closer, one of the local girls steered them out the back door into the alley where they took off running.

  They discussed dropping in at another pub up the street, but decided instead to head back to the base, laughing and joking all the way. Although he didn’t show it, Jake was more than a little shaken up. He had never o
utrun the law. In fact, he had never found himself in a situation where he had to—before this night.

  Since September 1939, when Neville Chamberlain had announced Britain’s declaration of war, trained pilots were urgently needed if the RAF was to meet its operational commitments. The struggle and success in achieving the required number of pilots turned out to be one of the biggest battles of the War.

  Time was of the essence and initially the focus was on revising the training programs by shortening the courses and increasing the capacity of pupils at the training schools. This, however, proved unsuccessful. Faced with a limited amount of equipment available and a shortage of instructors, Great Britain turned to its allies for help.

  During WWII, the majority of men training to become RAF aircrew were taught overseas. By war’s end, there were a total of 333 flight training schools all over the world. Although other training was available throughout the United States at many flight schools operated under contract to the RAF, in early 1941, under President Roosevelt’s approval, seven British Flying Training Schools were set up in short order to satisfy the demand.

  Two days after their night on the town, their group of fifty was shipped from Liverpool to St. Johns, Newfoundland, and on to Toronto for a brief stay. They were kitted out with grey suits so they could travel to the States as civilian Aeronautical Students since America at the time had not yet entered the War.

  Jake, Tommy, and Andy took time out to hitchhike to Niagara Falls where they found the sights awesome, but were more impressed with the food that was not only good but plentiful.

  From Toronto, they embarked on the long train ride to Georgia. It was a slow journey of about five days, but at each stop they were welcomed with fruit and cookies and endless enquiries about how the British were holding up—so much for their disguise as civilians in grey suits.