The Urn
Chapter 11
1941, Paris
Written and illustrated
by Elaine Troisi
“Jacob!” Hannah screamed again.
Golde reached her first, followed by the three in the vault. Once the men scrambled up the vault ladder, it closed automatically, silently, disappearing like a puff of smoke. It never existed.
Golde grabbed one hand. Jacob grabbed the other. Max and Moishe stood at the foot of the bunk, hands in pockets, feeling utterly helpless.
“Jacob, help me! The baby’s coming now. It’s too soon. I’m scared!” She groaned as another tidal wave of pain seized her. The contractions were one after the other now. Her breathing grew ragged. She felt as though she couldn’t catch her breath before another contraction pushed her toward unconsciousness. Jacob wrung his hands. The worry on his face was palpable. Hannah braved a little smile. “Babies are born everyday, my darling, so try not to worry too much.” She gasped and squeezed his hand even tighter, fighting the pain.
Golde wiped away the beads of sweat on Hannah’s brow. “Breathe deeply and slowly between contractions, my dear. It will relax you. Do it now, Hannah.” Her words were soft, like a caress. Hannah’s breathing relaxed.
Golde barked orders to the men like a lieutenant. “Moishe, go find clean towels. Max, get your baby blanket. It is in the trunk in the hall. Also grab the baby clothes. They are in the trunk, too, wrapped in tissue paper.” Max stood motionless, frozen in place. “Now, Max! Shove off!” she ordered. “Jacob, heat some water in the kettle over there on the kerosene stove. Oh, and grab the dishpan.”
“But Hannah! I can’t leave her!” His voice trembled with panic.
“Calm yourself, the kettle is only ten feet away. I’m right here, and I know what to do. I’ve delivered babies before.” She reduced the urgency in her voice, softening it. “Hannah is safe.” She smiled at the couple and got busy.
Hannah yelled again. “Quick, the baby is coming!”
By the time all was made ready and the three men hovered, with Jacob holding her hand, Hannah gave a final scream and a big push. With that, a baby girl was born. Golde cleaned the wriggling baby, wrapped her in Max’s baby blanket and kissed her. Then she placed the crying infant on Hannah’s chest.
I don’t know how to thank you, sweet lady!” Hanah whispered tearfully, squeezing Golde’s hand.
The infant latched onto Hannah’s breast immediately. “She’s perfect,” she exclaimed, “she has red hair, and she even has fingernails. She’s absolutely perfect! She looked proudly into Jacob’s brimming eyes, as if to say “Look what I did today.”
Jacob kissed her tears, though he was crying with joy, too. “She looks like you, Hannah. Beautiful!”
Jacob and Max moved away, giving them privacy. They knew they had witnessed the first miracle in their hidden sanctuary.
As the days passed, Hannah's strength slowly returned, and baby Rachel thrived. The household settled into a fragile routine, punctuated by the sounds of laughter and the occasional wail from the baby.
One Friday evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Golde began preparing for the Sabbath. She moved with a quiet efficiency, her hands moving deftly as she lit the candles and whispered the traditional blessings.
The warm glow of the candles cast a soothing light over the room, and the scent of freshly baked challah wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of simmering chicken soup and freshly baked potato kugel. The family gathered around the table, their faces aglow with anticipation.
"Shabbat Shalom," Golde said, her voice filled with warmth. "Let us take a moment to appreciate the peace and promise of the Shabbat blessing.
Moishe added, “And the family gathered here."
As they sat down to eat, the tension and fear that had become a constant presence in their lives seemed to recede, replaced by a sense of hope and resilience, even if but a fleeting reprieve. The Sabbath meal was a time for them to come together, to forget their troubles, and to find comfort in each other.
Then Hannah broke the moment, unable to hold back her fear. “I waited in line for three hours at the Kosher butcher, hoping for a chicken to roast, but all that he could offer me were chicken backs for the soup. He said he is being forced to close the shop next week. Now he fears for his life. The Gestapo knows who he is and where he is! He said rationing is getting even tighter for Jews.” She paused; deep furrows wrinkling her brow.
“Something else happened, Hannah?” Jacob asked. “What is it?”
“The women in the line spoke of the Nazi’s requiring Jews to wear the Yellow Star of David, starting in two weeks. It can’t be true, can it? Just like in Warsaw?” She shivered at the memory.
“Shh, now, child. Let’s not talk of that. For now, let’s enjoy our Shabbat meal,” Golde tried to sound cheerful.
They sat quietly as they ate, too quietly, so Golde broached a more pleasant topic. Smiling to hide her despair, she asked, “Have you chosen a name for baby Solomon. Perhaps you should call her Moishe Solomon! You see how he adores her!’
The tension eased. Everyone laughed. Jacob picked up Hannah’s hand and kissed it lightly. “We can’t call her baby Solomon forever,” he smiled. “Or even Moishe! “So we’ve discussed the perfect name for her…” He paused.
All eyes were focused on the couple. “Well? “Max said.
“We’ve chosen Rachel … Rachel Rabinowicz Solomon will be our baby girl’s name!”
Moishe was so taken with Rachel, he carried her everywhere, usually draped over his forearm. “This is how I carried Max as a baby,” he explained. “It was his favorite way to nap. Sometimes my arm would grow heavy and numb,” he smiled.
Hannah said, “it seems to be Rachel’s favorite way to nap as well. You can carry her any time she cries. You or Jacob. Uncle Max is good at calming her as well.”
Over the next week, while the women sewed the Star of David armbands, Jacob and Max restored the printer to fine working order. Learning to use the printer took finesse, but their skills improved with practice. The basement acquired the smell of machine oil and printer’s ink. Pungent, though slightly sweet at the same time.
Moishe introduced Jacob and Max to the Resistance movement in Paris. They entered the catacombs in the middle of a foggy night. Jacob shivered from fear and cold, full of worry about what would happen toHannah if he didn’t return.
They traveled separately so as not to be caught either by the Vichy police or the Nazi soldiers who prowled the streets in search of Jews for the work camps.
Max felt his hair rise at the back of his neck. He was alone in the dark, seeking shadows as he searched for the meet up point Moishe gave them. What if he got lost?
Many Jews disappeared like ghosts in the wind. On each such outing, the three faced capture. It was frightening. Still, they braved the risk. Their lives were on the line.
Hannah worried each time they went out. “Jacob, I know how important getting this newspaper up and running is to the resistance, and to you. But it is so dangerous ...” her voice dropped off.
“Certainly, there is risk, Hannah. I’m scared every time I go to the catacombs. But we are cautious. I wish I could tell you our code names!”
“You have code names? But why?”
“To keep you safe as well as to hide our identities.” He pulled her so close he could feel her heart beating fast against his chest. “It’s not me we need to worry about anyway. It’s Max. I’ll be here writing and printing,” he explained. “He will be the one out there every night getting the papers to the resistance hubs as they move from place to place,” he paused.” And I worry he’s a bit impulsive.”
Moishe taught them that both caution and cunning were vital. Always stay hidden to avoid capture. Always be wary of who to trust. Finally, learn to use your firearm. For Max, the runner, code name Cougar, these lessons had to be learned quickly.
And so, the practice and the planning went on for several weeks. One dayMax turned to Jacob. “What shall we call this newspaper of ours?” he asked.
“Certainly not ‘Mein Kampf!” Moishe boomed, laughing.
The two smirked. Gallows humor was the only humor they could muster these days unless they were holding baby Rachel.
Moishe offered, “How about ‘Escape’ or ‘Gestapo Lies’?”
The talk continued until Jacob said, “Look, we are trying to combat Nazi lies, right?”
Max jumped out of his seat. “That’s it! You are brilliant, Jacob! We shall call it ‘Combat’!”
At the next meeting they discussed ways to get information for the newspaper. Moishe, code name Fox, had trusted contacts. Some secrets would come through coded messages. Others from the French Forces of the Interior, or FFI.
Moishe secured the information. Jacob, code name Raven, worked tirelessly to write and print the daily newspaper. And Max had the dangerous job of delivering the abstracts through the Resistance networks beneath the streets.
One night, Golde put her foot down. “Gentlemen, under no circumstances are you to miss dinner with your family! There will be no arguing from you on this matter.” She stared the men down. Hannah, babe in arms, stamped her foot loudly. “So there!” she exclaimed, startling Rachel.
“There, there,” Jacob said, placing the crying baby on his forearm.
“Oh, no you don’t, Jacob, “that’s my job,” Moishe said, taking Rachel, who promptly fell asleep on his arm.
Max said,” Mama is right. “No matter our work, we must always come together at dinner. After all, we are raising a child!” He smiled broadly. “I proclaim myself Uncle, and you,” he said pointing to Moishe, “are Zayda, and Mama is Rachel’s Bubbe! I hope that’s acceptable to you?” There was warmth in his voice as he looked at Hannah and Jacob.
“Indeed, it is, though she may actually have 3 sets of grandparents,” he paused looking into Hannah’s eyes.
“Yes! When … if … our parents arrive from Warsaw!” Hannah smiled weakly, biting her lip. A tear slid down her cheek.
“Well, then let’s just say we are honored to hold their place, until they arrive.” Golde beamed.
Golde never prohibited the men from going out in the middle of the night to do their work for the movement. Often, they returned home with a fleeing Jewish family in tow.
Most often the guests stayed only a night or two until an escape route could be planned for them. Golde and Hannah welcomed them with food, a bed, clean clothes. Jacob forged documents for them. Moishe gave them money before he led them on the path to freedom, if the stars aligned.
Such were their lives as the Spring arrived, juggling their support for the movement and their family.
Hannah and Jacob longed to take Rachel to the park, but Jews were forbidden. Golde wondered if she’d ever watch vegetables sprout in her garden again. Life was a struggle. Thank God for Rachel who brought them joy.
But on a stormy night in late April, Moishe had a severe headache, so he asked Max to deliver a family to safety in his stead.
Max agreed even though the moon was up. “Not a good sign,” he thought. He whispered to the Steins not to stray from his side. He searched for shadows.
Max did not return home that night … or the next day.