Part 6
Witten and illustrated
by Elaine Troisi
Jacob and Hannah were unable to breathe for several moments. The horror of the needless murder of the elderly Jewish man froze them into stony silence.
Hannah spoke first, rubbing her leg wound. “Let’s keep our minds focused on a better life in Paris,” she said softly in Polish.
“Shh! There are ears everywhere. No matter the circumstances,” Jacob put his arm around her shoulders, “we must never again speak Polish. For now, we are German travelers,” he reminded her gently.
The train chugged along, oblivious to their pain. But shortly before the first stop, three Wehrmacht soldiers stormed into their car, pacing about. Once again passengers were ordered to present their papers and provide wallets and purses. They took whatever money they found, even from fellow Germans.
A baby’s crying soon rose above the rhythmic clacking of wheels grinding against the rails. A soldier approached the mother and screamed in her face to control her child. She pulled the child closer and covered it tightly with her heavy shawl. Soon the baby grew silent and motionless, and the soldier moved away.
When the train stopped, the passengers were instructed to line up on the station platform for inspection. Those with brown eyes and darker skin were pulled aside, obviously suspected of being gypsies or Jews.
The same soldier who had tormented the mother pulled the crying mother aside. He tore the baby from her arms. The woman screamed. He struck her in the head with the butt of his rifle. She fell down, lifeless. Then he threw her suffocated baby to the ground. In a final act of depravity, he stomped on the child.
And no one took action. No one spoke out. All stared at their feet, in silent protest and denial.
Safely back on the train, Jacob noted that there were fewer passengers. He urged, “Hannah, if you shield your eyes from the unspeakable, you won’t feel as much pain. We will do what we must to stay alive. Now, my sweet, dry your eyes and lay your head on my shoulder. Rest.”
They grew accustomed to the routine. They escaped the Wehrmacht scrutiny because they had blue eyes, pale skin, and lighter hair.
They rationed the little bread they had. If they were not able to get food, they would become weak. And the weak were pulled from the inspection line and deported to labor camps or worse.
At the next stop, there was a baker selling bread. Jacob removed his wedding ring. “Wait!” Hannah begged. “This is your father’s wedding ring, given when we exchanged our vows. Trading it is a bad omen.”
“No, Hannah, hunger is an even worse omen.” He kissed her on the forehead. Then he went to make the trade. Gold for bread.
He returned a few moments later to find a soldier standing much too close to Hannah, lewdness in his eyes. He brushed against her breast and ran his fingers through her hair.
 A terrified, Hannah stands frozen while soldier grabs her hair watercolor by Elaine Troisi |
Jacob interrupted, “Excuse me, sir. If you don’t mind, it is time to board the train. And we need to get to Paris. An ill parent. You understand.” He spoke firmly but with respect, and in flawless German.
Apparently, he caught the soldier by surprise, and he stepped aside. “Your wife is very beautiful, and you are right to protect her.”
The soldier turned to leave. Then he pivoted to face them. His arm shot up straight as an arrow. “Heil, Hitler,” he roared, staring into Jacob’s eyes. It was a test.
Jacob nudged Hannah whose eyes were downcast. They raised their arms in unison and croaked out, “Heil, Hitler.”
Hannah ran to the toilet. Sickened at her betrayal and shame, she vomited. She cleaned herself a bit and returned to Jacob, sobbing. He took her in his arms, whispering, “I know. I know!”
“I was terrified. I tried acting regal so he wouldn’t think i was a peasant or a Jew. I’m sickened at what it led to. I’m so sorry. So ashamed.”
Jacob kissed her on the lips. “You are my queen. It was not your fault.” He paused. “We do what me must to stay alive. Believe me, HaShem (God) will forgive us.
She was thoughtful. “I hope so. I pray about what He would think about Jews posing as Germans. I worry …” her voice dropped off.
Jacob took her hands and kissed them, lingering.
She smiled. “Your mother was right about you,” Hannah said.
“What?”
“You know. She said there’s no one better to take care of me.”
A faint smile crossed his lips. They shared a crust of bread and two raw eggs. Feeling replenished, they closed their eyes and rested.
Rachel stirred. While Jacob slept, she braided her hair and wrapped it around her head, in the style of German women. Never would she wear her hair down again in public. She rested her head on Jacob’s shoulder and closed her eyes again.
They changed trains at the border of Switzerland. Their papers passed inspection once again. This time Jacob bought a loaf of bread. Then he produced an over ripe apple. He gave it to her. “For the baby,” he smiled.
“But … how?” she managed.
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| for the baby, Hannah watercolor by Elaine Troisi |
“I know you have been vomiting often, amongst other signs.”
“I want to be happy, but it’s hard to be. Bringing our child into this ugly world.”
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| Hannah, though happy about her pregnancy , fears it’s future watercolor by Elaine Troisi |
“Shh, my darling. Look at the beautiful snowy mountains all around us. Pristine. Pure.” He squeezed her close. “Think of these snowy peaks as our hope. Remember them in the dark days. In a few hours we will be in France. Now eat the apple. I will eat the core.”
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| Think of these pristine mountains as our hope in dark times watercolor by Elaine Troisi |
When they reached Lyon, they were aided by a network of Jewish and French Resistance movements with new forged papers and places to stay in non-Jewish homes and churches. They journeyed by foot and lorry for the last 200 miles to Paris. It was arduous but they avoided German checkpoints.
One night they slept in a barn. “It’s been so long since we had fresh milk,” Hannah said. She enjoyed watching Jacob as he milked a cow.
“Ha,” he pressed his head into the side of the cow and pulled a teat. The cow tried to kick him off the stool. “Nah, I’m a city boy.” The cow shifted again. Clearly, she didn’t like the feel of Jacob’s awkward hands.
Hannah laughed, “Perhaps you are not meant to be a farmer. Want me to try?” she offered.
Over warm milk and raw eggs fresh from the coop, Jacob mused. “For as many evil people there are in the world, look at how many people have offered sanctuary and aid to us on our journey!”
Rachel nodded in agreement. “You have a milk mustache, my dear.”
“As do you.” They both laughed.
“Jacob, how close are we to our destination?”
“We are a mere 10 miles from our final hiding place in Paris,” he announced. “Two nights from now we will arrive at a vacant home.”
Holding her very pregnant belly in her hands, she said, “I long to rest in one place.” Humming a lullaby to her baby, she was soon asleep on Jacob’s lap. But Jacob was wide awake, thinking of the dangers that lie in wait for them. He remembered in that moment he had said to Hannah: “Think of these snowy peaks as our hope.” They had survived so much already. “We are so close.”
I hope you are enjoying the story. There’s much more to come, one chapter every other week. You will be able to read part 7 on May 23.
Please take the time to read my novella, THE URN! And whether you like it or not, share your thoughts with me!
Remember, I’m listening! Write to me.