by Rona Arato
“Paul, you scared me to death.” She sighed, but she didn’t look angry. She placed an arm around Paul’s shoulder. They both looked up at the chimney, where two storks were busy repairing a large nest of twigs and mud. Anyu waved at the birds.
“White storks bring luck. They leave Karcag every winter and return in the spring, to build nests and hatch their babies.”
“I can’t wait to see the babies.” Paul jumped up and down, clapping his hands. It was nice to see his mother happy. “Thank you, stork,” he mouthed. The bird stretched its long neck and made a clattering, rat-a-tat-tat sound.
“It’s saying hello.” Paul grinned.
“Yes, it is.” Anyu bent down and kissed his cheek. “If the storks can come home, maybe Apu can, too.”
The storks’ return brightened their spirits, but gendarmes still patrolled the streets, and everyone tried to stay out of their way. When they went to shop in the town square, Paul clung fearfully to his mother’s hand.
“Anyu, why won’t people look at us?” he asked.
They were standing in line at the bakery. The smell of fresh bread made his mouth water. The baker, a short, round man with twinkling blue eyes who usually gave him cookies, ignored them. When Anyu tried to get his attention, he looked away, as if she weren’t there. The same thing happened at the green grocer, where Anyu went to buy onions and carrots.
His mother’s shopping sack was only half full of the things she needed. It was getting harder and harder to get food. Paul had heard Anyu complain to Aunt Bella that soon they would be eating leaves off the trees.
“Why won’t people look at us?” Paul repeated as they walked home.
“They think that if they are rude to us, the soldiers will treat them better.”
“Will they?”
“Maybe, for a while. But the Nazis are bad people. They are cruel to everyone.”
When they reached their house, Paul looked up at the chimney. The father stork was standing; the mother was sitting, keeping the eggs warm. “When will the babies hatch?” he asked.
“In about two weeks.” As his mother gazed at the birds, her eyes misted. “It will be nice to have baby birds for houseguests.”
“They look happy,” said Paul. “I guess they don’t know about the Germans.”
“Yes, they are lucky.” Anyu’s voice cracked.
“We’re lucky too, Anyu.” Paul slipped his hand into hers. “Even if people like the baker are mean. Right, Oscar?” Paul squinted up at his brother who had just joined them.
“Sure, we’re lucky. We have food and we’re together.”
“What about the soldiers?” Paul said.
“We have to do what they say and keep to ourselves so they will leave us alone.” Oscar took Anyu’s other hand. At least for now, he thought as they entered the house.
Chapter 5
On April 27, all the Jews of Karcag received the order that they were to be moved into an area at the edge of town. That night, after a supper of potato soup, Anyu told the boys that they would be leaving their house the following morning.
“Why?” asked Oscar.
“The Germans. They are creating a ghetto,” Anyu muttered.
“What’s a ghetto?” asked Paul.
“They want all the Jews of Karcag to live together on the same street. That’s called a ghetto.”
“I don’t want to leave,” said Paul.
Oscar just nodded. The cramped living room felt even smaller than usual. Everyone was quiet for a moment.
“Well,” Anyu said, clearing her throat, “there is some good news. Auntie Bella and Kati and Magdi are going to be living with us. It could be fun.”
Paul now brightened a bit. “We can play together all day.”
“You will still have to do your lessons,” Anyu reminded him.
“But we can play, too, can’t we?”
Oscar glared at his brother. “Stop pestering Anyu.”
“I’m not pestering her.”
“You are, too.”
“I am not.” Paul stomped his foot.
“Boys, please.” Anyu threw up her hands. “I have enough to worry about without you two fighting, too. Go to your room and get some sleep.” Her face was white and her hands trembled. “Please, no more questions. Just do what I tell you.”
“Oscar, I’m scared,” Paul said in bed later that night.
“There’s nothing to be scared of.” Oscar tried to steady his voice, but fear rippled across it.
“Anyu’s scared, too,” said Paul.
“No, she isn’t.”
“Yes, she is. I saw her cry while she was making supper.”
“She’s crying because she misses Apu. Now go to sleep. I don’t want to have to pour water on your head to wake you in the morning.”
For a minute, Paul was silent. Then he turned to face his brother. “Are the Germans bad people?”
“They’re awful! I hate them! Them and the gendarmes they sent to watch us.”
“Why?”
“Because they all hate us. They hate Jews.”
“Why do they hate Jews? We haven’t hurt them.” Paul sat up and cupped his chin. “Maybe if we are nice to them, they’ll be nice to us, too. Anyu said we should always treat people the way we want them to treat us.”
Oscar sat on Paul’s bed and put an arm across his shoulder. “Paul, that’s true with most people, but we have to stay away from these soldiers.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to understand. Just trust me and do what I say. Now be quiet and go to sleep.”
“Good night, Oscar.”
“Good night, Paul.”
Paul turned on his side and was soon asleep, but Oscar lay awake, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what the next day would bring.
Chapter 6
“I still can’t believe that they are making us live like this!” said Anyu.
She and Aunt Bella were sitting at the kitchen table of the tiny house where they had been forced to move three weeks ago. When they arrived along with the other Karcagi Jews, they found the area surrounded by a high barbed wire fence. Their house was a two-room home across the street from the cemetery.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Bella grimaced as she looked around the room, before smiling gently. “Honestly, Anyu, some homes have four families inside. At least we are only two in here.”
“For now,” said Anyu. “The children want to know when they can go to school again. I told them that this situation was temporary, that soon life would be as it was before. But I don’t believe it.”
“Lenke, don’t say that!” Aunt Bella leaned across the table and took Anyu’s hand. “We will be all right as long as we stay together and do what they say. This war can’t last forever. My cousin has a friend in Budapest who has a secret radio. He says that the British and the Americans are going to invade France soon. They will chase the Nazis back to Germany. We must stay hopeful.”
Anyu sighed. “You believe that. Please, help me believe it, too.” She stopped talking when Oscar and his friend Gabor entered the room.
“Anyu,” said Oscar, “Gabor says the Germans are going to send us all away.”
“Of course they will. That’s what Germans do to Jews.” Gabor sneered.
“You just want to frighten everyone.” Oscar turned to his mother. “It’s not true, is it, Anyu?”
“Stop it! Both of you.” Anyu said.
“But is it true?” Oscar repeated. “Are they sending us away?”
“And where do you think they would send us? To Lake Balaton, for a vacation?” Aunt Bella’s laugh came out as a bark.
She’s scared, too, Oscar thought.
“The gendarmes gathered all the Jews in Szolnok last week and took them to the train station,” said Gabor. “My cousin ran away
. He’s hiding in the Forgacses’ barn. He says they are putting Jews in every town on trains.”
Anyu waved a hand. “These are rumors. Please, boys, do not repeat them to the younger children.”
Gabor raised his voice. “But he saw it…”
“Gabor!” Aunt Bella’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t speak of this again. Now you should go home. On your way out, please tell Paul and the girls to come in for lunch.”
After the boys had left, the women exchanged terrified looks. “Lenke, it’s true,” Aunt Bella whispered. “Dearest God, I’m afraid the rumors are true.”
“We can’t let the children see us afraid,” said Anyu. “Somehow, we must keep up our spirits.”
She forced a smile as Paul, Oscar, and the girls came into the kitchen. Kati, with her dark hair and eyes, was a playful child who loved to tease Paul, a year younger. Magdi, the baby of the group, had just turned four and tagged after Paul and Kati like a puppy.
Paul came up to his mother. “Anyu, Oscar wouldn’t let us play with him and Gabor.”
“I said you could watch us play soccer,” Oscar protested.
“I wanted to kick the ball.”
“I’m a good soccer player,” said Kati. She swung her leg high, pantomiming a kick.
“Me, too.” Magdi imitated her sister.
“I told them that girls can’t play with boys,” Paul said. He turned to Oscar. “I tried to keep them out of your game.”
“Anyu, Aunt Bella, please tell them to leave us alone,” Oscar pleaded. “At least once in a while.”
Anyu patted his shoulder. “Tomorrow I will organize a separate game for the little ones. You have been very patient.”
“I don’t want to be patient,” Oscar muttered, as he stalked out of the room.
“It’s hard for Oscar, being the oldest,” said Aunt Bella.
“He’s a good boy. He’ll be all right.” Anyu stood up from the table. “Let’s have the children wash up for lunch.”
“We’re out of water,” said Aunt Bella.
Anyu called into the next room. “Oscar, could you get us some water?”
“I want to go, too,” Paul said.
Oscar came back into the kitchen. He grasped the metal pail by the handle with a sigh. “Let’s go, Paul.” The boys walked up the street to the water pump on the corner.
“Wait for me.” Magdi trotted up behind them.
“Magdi, you shouldn’t be out by yourself,” said Oscar.
“I’m not by myself. I’m with you.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I’ll hold her hand,” said Paul.
Oscar rolled his eyes. “All right. But let’s hurry.”
When they reached the water pump, Oscar handed Paul the pail. “You hold it while I pump.”
Paul grasped the pail with both hands, careful to hold it directly below the spout.
“I want to help, too.” Magdi grasped the bottom.
“Hold it steady.” Oscar pushed the pump handle up and down. When the pail was full, he took it from Paul. It had rained earlier that day, and their shoes made splashing sounds as they tramped through the muddy puddles. No one was outside. The houses they passed had curtains drawn over closed windows. It’s as if everyone is hiding. Oscar shivered and motioned for Paul and Magdi to walk faster.
“Thank you,” said Aunt Bella as they came inside. “Now let’s all wash our hands.” She ladled the water into a ceramic bottle, which she held over a bowl. Oscar and the others gathered around her, hands outstretched as she poured the water over them. She handed them a bar of soap and then rinsed their hands. “Wipe them on the towel and then sit at the table,” she said.
“Yes,” said Anyu. “We don’t want the soup to get cold. We—” She froze.
Someone was pounding on the front door.
Chapter 7
“Anyu?” asked Paul.
“Don’t answer it.”
The pounding grew louder. A voice barked, “Open up!”
Anyu wiped her hands on her apron. She walked into the living room, grasped the doorknob, and opened the door. Two soldiers pushed past her, almost knocking her down. Aunt Bella ran in, followed by Kati and Magdi.
“You, Jews! Outside! Now!”
Aunt Bella started to protest and the gendarme aimed his gun at her.
“Let’s do what he says,” Kati whispered. She took Magdi’s hand. “Come outside.”
Oscar took Paul’s hand and walked out of the house with Anyu. The noon sun blinded him. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he took in the scene. Terrified people were spilling out of every doorway. Children clung to mothers as guards barked orders; old people stumbled as they were pushed into a line. The gendarmes had been joined by several German soldiers. Fear hit Oscar. Why are they treating us this way? He tightened his grip on Paul’s hand, but Paul broke away.
“Avram!” Paul waved at a friend on the other side of the road. He started to cross over, but a German soldier with a giant dog blocked his way. The dog strained against its leash and thrust its face forward, level with Paul’s. Drool dripped from its fangs as it growled; its eyes were a wicked yellow.
Paul shrank back toward Oscar, and the dog lunged. For a moment, he thought the animal would rip him apart. Then the soldier yanked the leash and moved down the line. Paul turned and buried his face in Oscar’s shirt.
Oscar watched the soldier and fought back a wave of terror. He looked down at the yellow star on his shirt and then up at the guards herding them into a line.
They shouted orders for everyone to move forward. People shuffled along the dusty street, eyes cast down. As they were marched into the town square, Oscar remembered trips here, every Saturday after lunch. This was where we met our friends. In the summer, we bought fresh fruit and vegetables from the farmers. And ice cream. The thought made his mouth water.
“Look at them, watching us.” Aunt Bella pointed to the townspeople gathered at the storefronts.
Oscar followed her gaze. Zoltan, the shoemaker, stood with his hands folded over his leather apron. Their eyes met and Zoltan looked away. Oscar recognized Tibor, a boy he had known all his life. A boy standing next to him shouted out, “Dirty Jews!”
Oscar expected Tibor to say something. They were good friends. Apu used to tutor him in math, and Anyu even taught him to play chess. We used to play together, after school.
“Dirty Jews!” The boy next to Tibor shouted again. This time Tibor echoed him.
Oscar turned away.
The gendarmes made them stand in the square for hours. The day was hot; the sun beat down on their heads. As each hour passed, the younger children became more and more restless, but every time they started to move, a gendarme—or worse, a German soldier with a snarling dog—ordered them to be still. Paul shivered whenever he saw a dog. His legs ached from standing, and his mouth and throat were dry. “Anyu, I’m so thirsty.”
“Shh, Paul. We’ll have water soon.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at the sky. The sun was getting low in the west. Soon it would be dark. At least it wouldn’t be so hot. She wiped her forehead with her arm.
“No food, no water,” Aunt Bella grumbled. “Not even for the children.”
“What do they want from us?” asked Anyu.
The crowd of onlookers thickened. It seemed as if the whole town had come out to watch them. Finally, six canvas-topped trucks pulled into the square, and the gendarmes ordered them to climb in.
“Please, where are you taking us?” an elderly man asked one of the guards.
“None of your business,” he snapped.
“My father is old and sick,” begged the man’s daughter. “I must go home for his medicine. I’ll come right back.”
“You’ll go where you’re told.” The guard raised his gun.
>
The woman moved back into line, supporting her father as he stumbled.
Oscar helped his mother and brother climb over the tailgate into the truck. Once inside, they were pushed to the front as more and more people piled in, until it became so crowded there was no room to sit. The gendarmes shut the door, and Oscar braced his legs as the truck lurched forward.
Paul was crushed in a sea of legs. There wasn’t room to sit, so he leaned against his mother’s legs as the truck bounced and swayed over dirt roads. He didn’t understand what was happening. Where were they taking them?
He looked up at his mother. She was staring straight ahead, one hand on his head, the other around Oscar’s shoulders. Kati was clutching Aunt Bella’s hand; Magdi the other. No one in the truck spoke. It was if their voices had been sucked out of them.
He closed his eyes. Maybe this was a bad dream, and he would wake up and they would all be safe at home.
Chapter 8
Szolnok, Hungary
June 1944
An hour later, the truck stopped and the gendarmes ordered them to get out. Paul looked up at Oscar, who gave him an encouraging smile. They moved to the back of the truck. Oscar climbed down and then helped his mother and brother. They were in front of a barbed-wire fence with a sign that read, “Szolnok Sugar Factory.”
The gendarmes herded them through a gate into a large open yard, where a windowless building sat next to railroad tracks. An engine in front of a string of boxcars puffed out clouds of black smoke. More trucks pulled up outside the fence and soon the yard was full of tired, frightened people.
Oscar led his mother and brother to an empty spot by the fence. Aunt Bella and the girls followed. They sat on the ground and settled down to wait.
What are we waiting for? What are they going to do to us? Oscar put his head in his hands, covering his ears to blot out the noise: babies crying, women wailing, dogs barking. He looked up at the train. The boxcars’ doors were open, forming a string of dark caverns. Are we the cargo? His stomach knotted. He felt like throwing up.
