The Last Train

by Rona Arato

  “Oscar, where are they going?” Paul asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Other people pressed forward to see what was happening.

  “What’s that?” Paul peered through the crack.

  “It’s a tank.” Oscar’s voice trembled at first and then rose in excitement. “It has a star painted on the front. And there’s a Jeep behind it.” He turned to face the people huddled behind him. “I think they’re American!”

  “The guards said that if we surrender to the Americans, the Americans will execute us,” said a woman near him.

  “I don’t believe that,” said another voice.

  Oscar sucked in his breath. Are we saved or doomed? They moved back to Anyu. The inside of the boxcar had become dead silent, as if everyone in it was holding their breath. Outside, they heard voices.

  And then, the door slid open.

  Chapter 26

  Paul stared at the sliver of light at the edge of the boxcar door. It became a wedge and finally opened into a square of brightness. He shaded his eyes and saw two uniformed men standing in the open doorway of the boxcar. One of them put his arm across his mouth and nose. He turned away and vomited.

  We must stink. Paul looked down at his ragged clothes and unwashed body, then back at the soldiers. He didn’t understand their words but could read their reactions. They are not going to kill us. They will help us.

  The soldiers were helping people at the front of the car get out. Paul scuttled forward while Oscar stayed with Anyu. When most of the car was emptied, Oscar helped a soldier carry his mother out of the car and settle her on the ground. People were getting out of the other cars, too. Some were wandering about stunned—others were searching for something to eat.

  Oscar knelt beside his mother. She was too weak to sit up without his support. He took her hand.

  “We are free, Anyu,” he said. “The Americans have freed us.”

  “Thank God.” She gave him a weak smile.

  Paul watched the soldiers as they helped people get off the train. They were different from the Germans. They were gentle. He wished he could understand what they were saying to each other.

  He looked around. He was in a field and behind him was a low hill. He saw two boys he knew from the camp. He walked over to them.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Eating snails.” One boy held up a shell with a curved top.

  “I found some matches,” said the other boy. “I am making a fire.”

  Paul joined them. He sat on the ground. Pebbles scratched his bare legs. He took a deep breath. After the stink of the boxcar, the fresh air tasted sweet. One of the boys handed him a snail. The shell was hot and burned his hand.

  “I roasted it.” He took a twig and dug into the shell. “This is how you get the meat out. Try it.” He handed Paul the twig and Paul copied him.

  “Yecch.” He made a face. Then he laughed. “But it’s better than potato-peel soup.”

  As the trains were slowly unloaded, Aunt Bella and the girls found Anyu. Aunt Bella walked over and sat down beside her friend.

  “It’s a miracle.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Oscar, where’s Paul?” Anyu propped herself up on her elbow and looked around frantically.

  “I’ll find him, Anyu.” Oscar left the women and walked to the end of the meadow. They were in a narrow valley. On his right was a hill. He found Paul sitting on the slope with two other boys.

  “Paul, what are you doing?” Oscar squatted down beside his brother.

  “Cooking.” Paul looked up at his brother and grinned.

  Oscar wrinkled his nose. “Where did you get the matches?”

  “From the train,” said one of the boys. He pointed to the deserted engine. “The Germans left them.”

  “Here, Oscar. Do you want one?” Paul held out a slightly burned shell.

  “How can you eat that?”

  “I’m hungry,” Paul protested. “They taste awful, but I don’t care.”

  “Don’t wander off. I don’t want Anyu worrying about you. And stop eating snails.”

  Oscar walked back toward his mother. Halfway there, he paused. The now-empty train stretched like a snake’s skeleton along the tracks. We were inside, waiting to be killed, and now we’re free. He examined his body. The clothes he had worn for the past year hung loose on his thin frame. His skin itched from bug bites, his hair crawled with lice.

  None of that mattered now. They were free.

  Chapter 27

  The tank driven by the soldiers who found the train was huge. Paul craned his neck to see the top. A soldier was sitting in the open hatch. He looked down at Paul and waved. Paul shyly waved back.

  The man hoisted himself out of the opening and climbed off the tank. He knelt down. “What’s your name, little boy?”

  Paul shook his head. He took a step back.

  “You don’t understand me.” The man stood and reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy bar. “Here.” He handed it to Paul.

  Paul took the candy. It had a brown-and-white wrapper.

  “Tootsie Roll,” the soldier said. He pantomimed peeling off the paper and taking a bite.

  Another soldier walked up to them. He was carrying a camera. He motioned for Paul to join a group of children standing near the hill. He pointed to the camera. Paul shook his head. He smiled at the soldier who had given him the candy and then turned and ran to join Oscar.

  “What do you have there?” Oscar pointed to the candy.

  “A soldier gave it to me.” Paul held it out. “You can have some.”

  Two soldiers were standing nearby. From their expressions Paul could tell that they were angry. At us? he wondered.

  As if reading his mind, a young woman beside him spoke. “I understand English. They are talking about the Nazis,” she said to the boys’ questioning looks. “The soldiers say they heard stories about the concentration camps but didn’t believe them.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Now, after seeing us, they believe everything they heard.”

  Suddenly, a fleet of army trucks rolled into the valley. Paul grasped Oscar’s hand.

  “Where are they taking us? I don’t want to go.”

  “Don’t worry,” Oscar soothed him. “These are the Americans. They won’t hurt us.”

  Paul looked at him, his eyes bright with fear. “How do you know?”

  Oscar pointed to the Tootsie Roll still clutched in Paul’s hand. “The Nazis never gave us chocolate.”

  “Where are we now?” Paul asked as he leapt from the truck.

  “Fars-le-ben.” Oscar sounded out the word printed on a wooden signpost. They joined the others from the trucks.

  The tall American officer who had opened their boxcar was shouting at a cluster of people—women, children, and a few old men—huddled in the town square. A short man in a dark suit stood in front of him. He was screaming back at the lieutenant. The lieutenant pointed at the townspeople and then at the group from the train.

  “What’s happening?” Paul asked.

  “The man in the suit is the mayor of the town,” a woman beside him said. “The American says that the Germans must give us clothes, food, and a place to sleep. The mayor says that we filthy Jews are the Americans’ problem.”

  Now everyone was shouting—the mayor, the townspeople, and the lieutenant. Paul watched in fascination as the fight escalated. The Germans are afraid of the Americans, he thought. It felt good. And then he gasped. The lieutenant had pulled out his gun and was holding it to the mayor’s head. The German’s face was so red his cheeks glowed like ripe apples. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes, which switched nervously from the Americans to the townspeople.

  “What’s he saying now?” Oscar asked the woman.

  “The lieutenant says that i
t was Germans who started the war and they have to make it right—whether they like it or not.”

  But the townspeople were still protesting. The lieutenant cocked his pistol.

  “The American says they have five minutes to cooperate or he will shoot the mayor.” The woman smiled. “He wants clean clothes, food, soap, sanitary supplies, and housing, especially for old people and families with children.”

  Paul held his breath. Would the American really shoot the mayor? While it felt good to see the Americans ordering the Germans around for a change, he didn’t want to see the man killed.

  The mayor held up his hands. Then he turned to his people and issued orders. The crowd quickly dispersed and the lieutenant put away his gun.

  Paul breathed out. He walked over to the army trucks. He watched as soldiers unloaded medical supplies. Suddenly, a wave of panic hit him as he realized he had left his family behind. I don’t want to get lost again. He looked frantically for Oscar and found him standing with Aunt Bella and the girls.

  Then he saw his mother. Two soldiers were carrying her on a stretcher to a truck with a large red cross in its side. They were taking her away! Fear and anger gripped him.

  “No!” he shouted. He ran over and grabbed the soldier’s arm. “No, no! You cannot take her. You will kill her.”

  The soldiers stared at him in surprise, clearly unable to understand a word he was saying.

  “What the devil…?” said one. He was short and stocky with flaming red hair. “Let go, kid.” He looked at Paul’s angry face and then shook his head.

  “Hey, Bob,” he said to his partner. “This kid is terrified. He thinks we’re SS and we’re going to kill his mother.”

  “Yeah. I guess he thinks everyone in uniform is evil.”

  They set the stretcher onto the ground. The red-haired man put an arm around Paul’s shoulder.

  “We are not Nazis.” He spoke slowly and clearly. “We are here to help you. You don’t have to be afraid. Do you understand?”

  Paul relaxed. For the second time that day, though he didn’t understand the words, he recognized kindness and concern in the voice of a soldier. The Americans were going to keep them safe. He bent down and touched his mother’s face.

  “These soldiers will make you well, Anyu.”

  His mother smiled weakly. “Where is Oscar?”

  “With Auntie Bella, Kati, and Magdi.”

  “Stay together. Don’t wander away.”

  “I will, Anyu. I promise.”

  “You are a good boy.” She squeezed Paul’s hand.

  He kissed her cheek and went to join his brother.

  Chapter 28

  Hillersleben, Germany

  April 14, 1945

  Paul squirmed on the wooden bench as the truck jounced over rutted roads. Only this time he wasn’t afraid, because he knew it was taking him to see his mother. They were going from Farsleben to a town called Hillersleben, where she was in a hospital. Although it was only ten kilometers (six miles) away, the ride was taking a long time because the main roads had either been bombed by the Allies or blown up by retreating German soldiers.

  Finally, the truck stopped and everyone got out. Paul looked around. They were standing in a town square. Two other trucks rolled in, followed by a Jeep. The soldiers organized people into lines and brought them to a tent. A woman in an army uniform explained that they would be sprayed with DDT, a chemical that would kill lice.

  “At least we’re separate from the women,” Oscar said, as they stripped and were dusted with a foul-smelling powder. “Yechh.” He held his hand over his mouth and nose. “I know we need this but why does it have to smell so bad?”

  After the delousing, everyone took a warm, soothing shower. Paul endured the entire delousing process in stoic silence.

  “Are you all right?” Oscar looked down at him.

  “I want to see Anyu.”

  “First, we must get dressed.” Oscar patted his shoulder. “You wouldn’t want everyone to see us naked?”

  “No.” Paul giggled.

  A moment later a soldier appeared with a stack of clean shirts, pants, and underwear, and another soldier brought a box of shoes.

  When they were dressed, the boys left the tent. The soldiers directed them to a building that had been turned into a dining room. Aunt Bella, Magdi, and Kati were already there waiting for them.

  “You look good, all cleaned up,” Oscar teased Kati.

  “You do, too.” She touched his shirt. “No lice.”

  They laughed.

  “Come, children, let’s sit.” Aunt Bella ushered them to a table. “It’s good to sit at a real table,” she sighed.

  She smiled up at the soldier who was ladling broth into metal bowls.

  Magdi looked up at her mother with big, dark eyes. “Can I have more soup?”

  “No. Later, darling.” Aunt Bella smiled at her. “Our stomachs have shrunk because of the camp. They can’t hold a lot of food. So we must eat slowly and only a little at first.”

  Paul couldn’t believe what was happening. The soldiers treated them with kindness and respect. It was as if he had awakened from a nightmare into a glorious dream. If only Anyu would get well, he thought. Now that they were clean and fed, he would ask Oscar to take him to see her.

  Oscar sat in a chair while Paul perched on the end of their mother’s bed.

  “Anyu! You won’t believe what the Americans did,” Oscar began.

  “They sprayed us with this awful stuff.” Paul held his nose.

  “They had to get rid of the bugs.” Oscar ruffled his brother’s hair. “Look, it’s clean.”

  “It still smelled awful. And they took our clothes and burned them. And gave us new ones!”

  “And back in Farsleben, they threatened to shoot the mayor if he didn’t get his people to help us! Now Jews are living in the Germans’ houses and the Germans are sleeping in tents.” Oscar’s voice was filled with triumph.

  “I know, darling. I was there.” Their mother leaned back against her pillow. She looked from Oscar to Paul and smiled. “It’s good to see you both so clean again. Clean and fed. Where do you sleep?”

  “We are in a dormitory. It’s where the SS officers used to live. We go to the dining hall for meals. We only eat what they give us.” Oscar gave Paul a stern look. “Remember that.”

  “Okay.”

  His mother gave him a puzzled look. “Okay? What language is that?”

  “American.” Paul grinned. “The soldiers say it all the time. Okay! It means yes!”

  “So now you speak American. What else did you get from the soldiers?”

  “They gave us chocolate.” He pulled a crumpled wrapper from his pocket and extracted a piece of candy. “It’s called a Tootsie Roll. And a soldier let me play with his gun.”

  “A gun!” Anyu gave him a horrified look.

  “I told the soldier to take it back. It wasn’t loaded,” Oscar reassured her.

  “The Americans are nice.” Paul handed her the piece of Tootsie Roll. “Here, Anyu, this is for you.”

  “Thank you, my darling boy. This is a miracle. Now maybe God will grant us another miracle and we will find your father.”

  Paul and Oscar left the hospital feeling better than they had in more than a year. Their mother was still sick, but she was safe and someone was taking care of her.

  “I like the Americans,” said Paul. Suddenly, he stopped. His face crumpled.

  “They’re leaving.”

  Oscar looked to where Paul was pointing. The tall soldier, the one who had rescued them from the boxcar, was sitting in a Jeep behind a line of army trucks. Soldiers were scrambling to get on board as the drivers gunned the motors.

  Paul ran over to the lieutenant’s Jeep. “I don’t want you to go away.”

  The lieutenant looked a
t him with a puzzled expression.

  “I want you to stay.” Paul pointed to the barracks where the soldiers were housed. “Don’t go.” He shook his head.

  The lieutenant got out of the Jeep. He knelt on one knee in front of Paul.

  “I know you can’t understand me, but you and your brother,” he pointed to Oscar, “are going to be fine.” He patted each boy on the head. Then he cupped Paul’s chin in his hand. “You are going to be fine,” he repeated, saying each word slowly.

  Paul nodded. He didn’t understand the words, but he reacted to the kindness in the lieutenant’s voice. “Thank you,” he said in Hungarian.

  “Thank you,” Oscar echoed.

  “Good.” The lieutenant stood and brushed off his pants. He smiled at the boys, saluted them, and then got back into his Jeep. His driver put it in gear. Then one by one, the American soldiers who had saved their lives left the town.

  “I will miss them,” said Paul.

  “Me, too,” said Oscar

  Sixty years later, Paul would remember that moment and how he thought he’d never see the soldiers again.

  Chapter 29

  Hillersleben, Germany

  May 7, 1945

  “Anyu, it’s over. The war is over!”

  Oscar ran into the ward, where the doctors and nurses were clustered around a small radio. The British prime minister, Winston Churchill, was speaking. Although he could not understand the words, Oscar recognized the note of triumph in the prime minister’s voice. When the speech was over, a nurse translated it for them.

  “Mr. Churchill said that the war will end one minute after midnight tonight. He says that we should let ourselves rejoice, that in all of England’s history, there has never been a greater day than today.”

  The patients, nurses, and doctors all cheered. Oscar bent down to kiss his mother.

  “Where is Paul?”

  “Playing soccer.” Oscar grinned. “Don’t worry, Anyu, the older boys are taking good care of him.” He paused. “Now that the war is over, we can go home.”