Of Windmills and War

by Diane Moody

  She ground her jaws together, feeling an acidic burn in her gut. And there, in that moment, as her mind reeled along with her imagination, she saw the Grünfelds—all twelve of them—board a cattle car already crammed with other Jews, never to return.

  She closed her eyes and tried to pray, quite sure it was already too late.

  19

  Anya awoke with a start. It took a moment to realize something was scratching against her bedroom window. She gazed at the clock on her nightstand. It showed 2:45. As her heart pounded she tiptoed across her room, assuring herself it was probably nothing but a branch blowing in the night breeze.

  “Anya!” a voice whispered.

  She jumped back out of sight, wondering who would come calling at such an hour.

  “Please, Anya, it’s me, Lieke.”

  Anya threw open the window. “Lieke! What are you—”

  “Let me in. Hurry!”

  She looked at the bundle in her friend’s arms. “Meet me at the back door.” She rushed down the hall to open the door as quietly as she could.

  Lieke pushed her way inside, quickly closing the door behind her. When she turned to her friend, her face crumbled. “Oh, Anya!”

  “Lieke, what’s wrong?”

  She removed the blanket, revealing the angelic face of her youngest sister Inge.

  Anya looked at the drowsy child then back at Lieke. “I don’t understand. What has happened? Why are you here?” She lifted the child from her friend’s embrace.

  Lieke tried to stifle her sobs, clamping her hand over her mouth. She fell into a chair at the kitchen table, crying so hard her shoulders were shaking. “They came . . .”

  “Who came?”

  “The Germans. Anya, you were right! It must have been one of their razzias—they broke down our door and stormed into our house yelling and shouting in their horrible language!”

  “Oh, Lieke, no!”

  Lieke pulled a scarf from her coat pocket and wiped at her tears. “Mother and Father—they rushed from room to room, gathering my sisters and brothers. But as she and Father opened my door, Mother shoved little Inge into my arms, covered me with her coat, and told me to run! I begged her not to make me go, but she pushed us out the back door just as the German soldiers came running down the hall. I was so afraid they’d come after us! I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t know where else to go!”

  Anya cradled Inge in her arms as she sat down at the table. “Of course you came here. Where else would you go?”

  Lieke covered her face. “But I said such awful things to you yesterday!”

  Anya reached out to pull her friend’s hand into her own. “It’s all right. I knew you didn’t mean any of them. You were scared as much as I was.”

  Lieke cried harder. “I’m so sorry, Anya. How could I have been such a fool?”

  “Shhh, it’s all right.”

  “Hans, is that you?”

  They both looked up to find Anya’s mother standing in the kitchen doorway in her nightgown.

  “Mother, what are you doing up?”

  Her mother shuffled toward the table as she pushed her tangled hair out of her face. “I thought I heard Hans, and I wanted to make him some breakfast.” She blinked, looking at Lieke, her face falling. “You’re not Hans.”

  Lieke wiped her face, trying to compose herself. “No, Mrs. Versteeg. I’m Lieke. I’m sorry I woke you.”

  Anya watched her mother’s vacant eyes track toward the child in her arms. “Mother, do you remember little Inge?”

  She came closer, taking a seat next to her daughter as she gently reached out to touch the child’s head. “Anya? You had a baby?”

  “No, Mother. This is Lieke’s sister, Inge. Remember when we took them flowers and cookies when she was born?”

  “Flowers?”

  Anya bit her lip, her patience wearing thin. She’d tried to accept the diagnosis of her mother’s illness as a serious psychological problem. But whenever she was tired, Anya couldn’t help thinking her mother was merely weak, choosing to remain lost in her perpetual fog. Weak and fragile, unable to function as anything more than an echo of the person she used to be.

  “Trüi?” her father called out as he entered the kitchen. “What are you doing up?”

  Anya watched as her father took in the situation, obviously understanding at once what had transpired. “Father, I was just telling Mother about little Inge here.”

  He winked, his face awash with compassion for Lieke and the baby in Anya’s arms. “Well, isn’t that nice.” He put his arm around his wife, helping her to her feet. “But it’s not time to get up yet, dear. Let’s get you back to bed. Perhaps tomorrow you can visit with Lieke and Inge.”

  “Do you think? Will Hans be here too?”

  He herded her back down the hall. “There, now. Let’s just worry about all that tomorrow. Come along, dear.”

  When her parents disappeared down the hall, Anya turned to Lieke. “We must hide you here until we can find a safe place for you and your sister.”

  “What do you mean? How can you hide us here?” Lieke wiped her nose with her scarf.

  “There are others already here. A young family with three little ones. We took them in when they had nowhere else to go. They’re in our attic right this moment.”

  “I don’t understand, Anya.”

  “It’s what I was trying to tell you yesterday. There’s a whole network of people who want to protect their Jewish friends and neighbors. In secret attics. In hidden cellars. Everywhere, people are taking in those who need to escape before the Germans arrest them. Tonight you can stay with our guests. Then tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do to find you and Inge a place to disappear until it’s safe again.”

  Lieke’s face mirrored the confusion obviously traipsing through her mind.

  “You don’t have to understand all of it tonight.” She reached for Lieke’s hand once more. “You’ll see. But for now, you’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”

  “But what about Mother and Father?” Lieke asked, her voice quivering again. “What about the rest of my brothers and sisters?”

  “We must pray for them. And we will, but right now we have to focus on you and Inge.”

  Half an hour later, Lieke and her sister had been introduced to Margrit and Bernard Wolff, the young couple who’d been hidden away in the parsonage attic along with their three children. Margrit’s maternal instincts took over as she took Inge into her arms and welcomed Lieke into their tight quarters.

  As Anya turned to leave, she hugged Lieke. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning, all right?”

  Lieke simply nodded, hugging her back.

  Anya closed the door and found her father there to help move the heavy bookcase back in front of it.

  “And so it continues,” he mused, “as we add two more.”

  She laced her arm around his waist as he draped his arm across her shoulders. “Yes, Father. Our little secret grows larger, it seems. Just promise me Mother won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

  “The bigger concern tomorrow is to find more hideaways for many more of our Jewish friends. I fear time has run out for them. Perhaps for all of us.”

  The following morning, Anya rode her rusty bicycle out to the farm. Thankfully, she encountered no more Germans and made the trip in record time. There, she asked the Boormans what to do with Lieke and her baby sister.

  Bram scratched his head as he led her and Wim into the house. “I don’t know what to tell you, Anya. Already our cellar is at capacity. Even now, we are securing false identification papers to move them farther south into the farmland near the Belgian border. Perhaps we could—”

  “Oh, please don’t send them away! Lieke is so frightened. I couldn’t bear to send her and her little sister so far away.”

  “But can’t you see? Everywhere we turn, another family needs shelter. How can we help one and not another? You would want us to send away one family to make room for your friend? How do we
choose? Tell me.”

  Anya paced the large kitchen. “There has to be a way, Bram. I can’t make her go. Not now.”

  “Maybe there is a way,” Wim said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Father, we can send the Kleins and the Emmerings to the van Deen’s farm. They still have a little more room left.”

  “Why the Kleins and Emmerings?” Bram asked.

  “Because if I hear one more complaint from either of those men, I shall turn them into the Gestapo myself.”

  Bram laughed. “That’s true enough. Perhaps it will do them good to have a change of scenery.”

  “It will do me good to have them out of here.”

  “How will you take them?” Anya asked. “Will you hide them in your wagon?”

  “No, it’s too risky. We get them new IDs then we act as if they’re family traveling with us to visit our grandparents or some such.”

  Anya studied him. How easily he offered to solve the problem for her, willing to make a way for Lieke and Inge to remain close by. “I’m coming with you,” she said, surprised to hear the words come from her own lips.

  “No, you’re not,” Wim answered, dismissing the idea with a chuckle.

  “I’m coming and you can’t stop me. Just tell me what to do and when we’ll go.”

  “It’s very kind of you to offer, Anya,” Bram said. “But Wim is right. You cannot go.”

  “Why not?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. “You accepted my offer to help the Resistance the other night. You’re making this move in order to help my friend. I’m going and you can’t stop me.”

  They looked at each other, back and forth, back and forth. Finally, Bram shrugged. “Fine. You want to go, you go. But hear me, Anya, and hear me well. This is not a Sunday school picnic. This is very dangerous. The slightest mistake or slip up could be your last. Whatever Wim tells you to do, you must do it with no questions asked and no arguing. Is that understood?”

  A chill raced down her spine as she acknowledged the seriousness of Bram’s warning. “I understand.”

  Wim rubbed his hand over his face. “I still don’t think she’s ready, Father.”

  “I am too ready,” Anya said, stomping her foot. “Stop treating me like I’m a child.” She flushed, embarrassed as she realized the irony of her reaction.

  He held up his hands in defense. “All right! All right!”

  “She’ll do fine, Wim. You’ll explain the routine step by step and she’ll comply. Won’t you, Anya?”

  “Of course. Now when do we go?”

  20

  November 1940

  “You will do as I say or I shall leave you here on the road to fend for yourselves!”

  Wim’s anger startled Anya as they stood at the back of the truck. Over and over, they had rehearsed the scenario with the Klein and the Emmering families, yet still they argued.

  “You have no right to talk to me that way!” Samuel Klein ranted. “I will not stand for this in front of my wife and children!”

  Wim jumped up into the crowded truck bed where the two families sat huddled together. He grabbed the stubborn Jew and lifted him to his feet. “Fine, Samuel. Have it your way. I hope you and your family have a nice walk back to Utrecht, because I refuse to take you another mile unless you stop arguing!”

  Esther Klein tugged at her husband’s arm. “Samuel, stop! The Germans will send us to the camps if he leaves us here. For the sake of your children, sit down and do as you are told.”

  Rebecca Emmering wailed, begging Mr. Klein to be quiet. The louder her cries, the more her five children cried with her. Her husband blasted Samuel, blaming him for putting his family in danger.

  “STOP THIS!” Wim threw his hat on the truck’s straw-covered floor. His chest heaved as he fought the last ounce of frustration. “One more word . . . one more word and I shall abandon ALL of you right here right now. Is that understood?”

  The mothers shushed their children as the men glared back at Wim. To Anya they looked as if they were debating his threat. Now she too jumped up, joining Wim. “Please, everyone, let’s just calm down and continue our journey. The train station is only a few miles more.”

  She watched their faces turn from anger once again to apprehension. They all knew the extreme risks they were taking. “If you would only follow Wim’s lead as you promised to do, you will soon be on your way to a safer place.”

  “Yes, we shall do as we are told,” Esther said, pulling on her husband’s sleeve until he sat back down.

  Wim wiped his neck with his handkerchief and reached down for his hat. With great restraint, he reminded them, “Remember, hold your heads up as you walk through the station. Do not look as if you are trying to hide something. At all times, make sure you do not speak unless spoken to. Mothers, make sure your children understand how important it is to remain absolutely silent. Not one word.”

  In a few moments, Wim started the engine and steered the truck back onto the road. Knowing the Kleins and Emmerings would be recognized in Utrecht, his father suggested driving them to the train station in Amersfoort where they would board the train for Roosendaal. Half a mile outside of town, Wim pulled over and parked behind an old building. Warning them again to keep silent, he and Anya helped the two families out of the truck so they could walk the rest of the way. With each step, Anya prayed God would protect them.

  When at last they approached the station, Wim took the Kleins one direction and Anya took the Emmerings the other. Both families were told to follow at a distance and have their falsified IDs ready. As she made her way to the ticket booth, she noticed Wim at the booth three windows down from her. They would both purchase tickets for their families on holiday then casually find the corresponding gates.

  Confident her prayers had been answered, Anya helped the Emmerings into a train in a car near Wim and the Kleins. As they stowed away their belongings, she reminded Rebecca to keep the children quiet and try to get them all to sleep as soon as possible. But that was not to be. Having never ridden a train before the children were much too excited, chatting like magpies.

  “Please!” Anya whispered loudly. “You must keep them quiet.”

  Just then, a door banged open as a German soldier entered the compartment. The children flew into their seats, the youngest hiding behind her mother.

  He held out a gloved hand to Anya. “Ausweis.” Identification papers.

  “Graag gedaan,” she answered. Our pleasure. She handed her ID card to the soldier and tried to still her nerves as he examined the picture and compared her to it. He handed the card back to her and demanded the same of all the others. When at last he held his hand out to Jakob Emmering, she swallowed hard, hoping the man would keep his mouth shut. He held out the ID to the soldier, his hand shaking violently.

  The soldier looked up, narrowing his eyes at the man whose card named him Maarten van der Rol. “Why are you traveling?” he asked in German.

  Emmering shot his eyes at Anya, not understanding. She faked a silly giggle, then spoke in Dutch. “Oh, Papa, tell the nice man we are going to visit Grandmother and Grandfather. We’re on vacation!”

  Jakob repeated the lie in Dutch, punctuating the information with a nervous smile.

  The soldier looked back at Anya with a furrowed brow, clearly not able to understand their language. She rattled on, stringing together a bunch of nonsensical statements, as if she were providing him with all the information he could possibly need.

  “Ja, ja,” he muttered before handing back their IDS and moving on to the next compartment.

  Anya closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Once the train began moving the children watched out the windows until the gentle, rhythmic motion rocked them to sleep. An hour and a half later, Wim motioned for Anya to come to him. Steadying herself along the way, she joined him at the rear of the car.

  “We’ll be at the station in about ten minutes. When we get off, you and the Emmerings will look for a man smoking a pipe and wearing a red beret. Greet h
im as if he’s a long lost relative. He will load you and the family into his truck and drive you to the farm.”

  “What if I do not see such a man?”

  “You will. The arrangements were made yesterday. He’ll be there.”

  “And you? What will you and the Kleins do?”

  “We’ll look for a woman in a straw hat with a red ribbon around it. She will escort us to the same farm, though we’ll travel a different route. I’ll see you there later. Once the families are settled, we’ll make our way back to the train station.”

  Just then the train lurched, throwing Anya against him. She felt her face warm at his nearness. “Sorry.”

  He held her even as she tried to regain her footing. “I’m not.”

  Anya looked into his eyes, thinking she might have imagined his comment. For a moment she lost herself, wondering what it would be like if he should lean over and kiss her.

  Even as the thought whispered through her mind, he leaned closer . . . then bypassed her lips to whisper in her ear, “You’re welcome.”

  His breath tickled her ear, sending a strange sensation over her. Is he toying with my affections? Still, she couldn’t deny the desire already filling her heart. She moved back, better able to gaze into his startling blue eyes as she tried to read his thoughts. How many times had she dreamed of this moment?

  “An—I mean, Joosie?”

  She turned, hearing Jakob Emmering call her name. The moment was lost. She nodded, then backed away out of Wim’s embrace. She only hoped her face had returned to its normal shade as she returned to her seat. “Yes?”

  “Look,” he said, pointing out the window.

  There as the train eased to a stop, she saw a sea of German uniforms. She turned, searching for Wim and found him rooted in place, staring out the window. His eyes cut away, catching hers. And though his countenance reflected her fear, he tossed her a subtle wink of assurance. Go with God, he mouthed.

  Go with God, she mouthed in return.