Chapter Two – Everyone Plays A Part
The Jewish children stayed and played in the basement, and hid behind boxes. This seemed fine for now. However, Gretchen knew she would need to devise a more secure hiding place. A couple Royal Air Force bombers had strayed from Mannheim – a consistent target – because of faulty direction, though after the U.S. entered the war, Heidelberg generally escaped bombing because of American desires to use it afterward. As these planes sprayed their bombs, she and Oskar prayed that they would not be hit. The children seemed greatly agitated, drawing embarrassing questions from Heinrich and Heidi, who, being too young to understand, had been told that the Rubins were in the hospital.
Gretchen found that, thankfully, the younger children had fallen asleep. Oskar, though, remained alert, feeling different portions of the walls and floor, and considering whether a good tunnel might be constructed. "Mother," he inquired tiredly, somehow keeping his eyes open, "what kind of floor is under here?" He yawned.
"It is a rather simple...dirt floor" was interrupted by a large yawn. "Excuse me. Anyway, if you are thinking what I am, where do we hide the dirt?"
Oskar shrugged. "Why not under the snow?" It seemed very simple to his yet developing mind. "We would need to tunnel up someplace, just in case the...was it the Gestapo?" She shushed him, as Heinrich seemed to stir, then rolled over. In a lower voice, he remarked, "In case the Gestapo come down, they can go out another way."
Gretchen looked greatly puzzled. "But...out where?" Using one of Ada's code names, she commented that "Esther's house is blocks away, we could not possibly tunnel that far." Tremors and whimpers began to fill Heidi's body, and Gretchen rubbed her back. "It is all right, dear, it is only a dream," she stated sweetly, and the tremors died down. She continued to rub her daughter's back as a stray bomb hit very near them.
Oskar remarked that "The tree trunk in Mrs. Mueller's backyard could be hollowed out. There is some brush around it, perhaps we could sneak the children out there."
"Perhaps..." She listened to the calm. "The noise has stopped. I should go out and check..."
"No, Mother, I will go," came Oskar's attempt at bravery. Part of it, of course, was striving to determine just how much the Lord would help him.
She nixed the idea for now, knowing that it could still be dangerous. However, she knew that some risky behavior could become needed. "Oskar..." she began, lowering her voice to ensure none of the other exhausted children heard her in that dark, cold basement. "You have grown to accept well the notion that your father may not live after this war. I believe it is best to consider that I, too, may have to sacrifice to save you children and the Rubins'."
The notion stunned and scared him. "You mean..."
"Yes." Her voice was firm, but resolute. "I will be back now, but I wish to ease you into the thought of going to Ada's and Frederick's, and starting on your way to Switzerland without me." She debated for the seventeenth time whether she could trust the eleven-year-old, and decided for the fourteenth that she could. She knew they would find another adult to help them. "Do not fear, for the Bible says the Spirit will teach us what to say in the eleventh hour."
Oskar wished to avoid the thought. Possibly losing both parents greatly disturbed his still-fragile faith, so he dismissed it, as if it were a bad dream. He knew they would survive.
However, a small part of him wasn't sure if he could trust anyone outside of his family. After all, in the last several days his own leaders, whom he was supposed to honor, had turned out to be destroyers of families at best, and could be murderers; his best friend had been forced to leave him; and his childhood had been wrenched away by concerns over three small, innocent friends.
That last, perhaps the most crushing blow, left him only one choice. He needed to grow much faster, to immerse himself in the Lord, who promises great rewards to those who overcome. Otto had taught him wonderful truths. God answers prayers, and God never leaves anyone who trusts in Him. Those who do not have the Lord choose that destructive route of hatred, but God doesn't stop trying to make them follow His perfect love while on Earth.
After several moments, Oskar nodded slowly, and requested only two things. "A lamp, and a Bible." He sank to his knees and prayed, then studied many other great men who faced problems. He fell asleep reading, finally sapped of strength.
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Gretchen stumbled in the darkness, finding and opening the front door. Sleepily, she determined that no damage had occurred in the neighborhood. She walked next door to Mrs. Mueller's, a widow in her seventies. Mr. Mueller had perished in World War One, and his wife and the Schultzes were close. She peeked into the window, only to find the home deserted. Good, she told herself, Mrs. Mueller made it into the basement...wait. She peeked into another window, and saw Mrs. Mueller lying on the floor, apparently passed out, perhaps from the shock. She knocked hard, but there was no answer. She sighed, and opened the door. Mrs. Mueller kept it unlocked. Gretchen walked over and felt the woman's pulse, as she thought scornfully about how safe her leaders made it seem for Mrs. Mueller, and how treacherous for anyone who did what was right.
There was no pulse. Trembling slightly, Gretchen checked for breathing. The woman's skin seemed noticeably pale. She must have collapsed of a heart attack, Gretchen pondered sadly. She called the hospital and reported that there was a casualty, but they were too busy dealing with the injured. Oh, well, Gretchen pondered, she won't suffer any more indignity laying here for a couple hours. Having nobody else to check on, she went back inside her own place.
Then, the phone rang.
"Mrs. Gruber," came Ada's voice with her code name, "it is I, Esther."
"How are you doing? Did you survive the air raid," Gretchen inquired, wondering, in the back of her mind, if her new friend had anything more bizarre to tell her.
"Yes, but my husband thinks this is the right time to take care of the Rubins' home. Now, before the daylight comes." Ada's voice seemed quite resolute. Amazing Gretchen further was that Ada appeared to be wide awake. Did she often deny herself sleep? came the thought
Her musings on another level centered around the meaning of Ada's statement. From a practical perspective, taking the heat off of them was good. It had been reported that the Rubin children were dropped off, thanks to Gretchen's own "anonymous tip." However, each time the Nazis checked, they were said to be out playing.
"We have explosives, which we shall place in the home," continued Ada. "Bring the childrens' snowsuits and some other items, whatever you can spare."
"What about a body?" came the inquiry. Mrs. Schultz may have been sleepy, but she was awake enough to know...wait a minute, she thought. "I know where there might be one, she has no family in the area, and she had no children..." Would it work? Could it work?
Ada considered the remarkable way in which the Lord worked. However, hadn't the doctors been called?
"Not told precisely who or where, they were too busy with the injured," Gretchen remarked, recognizing what Ada might be thinking. "If you can find a doctor who will wait till later, maybe years, to report it..." The notion sounded ludicrous to her, but she would give it a try.
"Yes, good thinking. I know of one," Ada told her. This must be a huge network, the mother thought out loud. "The network is small, really - the smaller it is, the easier to keep infiltrators out. There are numerous left hands which do not know what the right hands are doing; this doctor will sign a certificate and date it later, but he does not know why, and it can be made to look legitimate if there is a problem. Does this woman have any family?"
"No, and she hardly gets out at all," Gretchen considered, suddenly noticing that she'd begun talking of her friend in the present tense. Had they, as a people, become so accustomed to believing everything they hear that they changed tenses whenever someone else did, regardless of the circumstance? The thought troubled her.
Ada sounded pleased, startling the mother. "Good. That is the only way you can keep up the notion of taking food to her," Ada remarked. "You cannot, of course, hide the children in her place, but it will help you explain buying more food." Gretchen shook her head vigorously, thinking about housing the Rubins in Mrs. Mueller's place. The idea appealed to her, but she forced herself to dismiss it. If they were later forced to account for her and claim that she disappeared, they would be back to the drawing board or worse. If the children were to be safe, they would have to remain with them.
She smiled, recalling something Oskar had offered. "My eldest, Oskar, the one you spoke to? He suggested hollowing out a tree trunk in Mrs. Mueller's backyard."
Ada looked pleased at the creative thinking. Fitting, she considered, from a family like that, for their father obviously needed to brainstorm ideas for his company. "Instruct him to begin it. It must be for emergencies only, though, or to fool people. Of course, you will need a key, and to lock Mrs. Mueller's if it was not already." Gretchen gave her acceptance of these terms; Mrs. Mueller did lock it when she left, she would simply take the elderly lady's key.
Ada considered suggesting that Mrs. Mueller be seen to have moved in with them. However, she dismissed those, as she didn't want to make this too complex. Certain strategies could be orchestrated with adults, but not with slammer children. Besides, that would not be trusting completely in God, and by often going in and out of Mrs. Mueller's, they would not need to say anything to anyone about what had happened.
Hence, she simply told Gretchen to "pile the things I told you to in the car, our doctor will come over to look at Mrs. Mueller." That should be about six, Ada thought to herself, and by then we shall have the house rigged, so it looks like a stove or heater exploded. Yes, she pondered sadly, that would be a good cover-up, allowing them to escape even an investigation.
Gretchen slowly gathered the requested items, sensing this act, if nothing before had, would cement their relationship with the Rubin children. She thought little of the destruction she was about to bring, forcing herself out of that frame of mind. The parents were already gone, or soon would be. Somebody would simply inhabit the house, not caring who had lived there before them, and she didn't want to encourage that kind of thoughtlessness. Checking her basement, she discovered that the children slept soundly, and chose not to wake them. That was better, she determined. If she kept them ignorant about the explosion, they would not be implicated. She prayed once more that her children and the Rubins' children would make it out of the war alive.
As she loaded the car and drove off, she pondered why she'd become so fatalistic that she didn't pray for herself. Perhaps the monstrosity of hurting innocents created it. Perhaps she simply realized that, despite all her leaders espoused about a "master race," she could be next, anyway. Regardless, she decided the Lord wouldn't mind if she also requested that His protection also cover her. Still, as she told the Lord silently, the children always come first.
She drove up in front of the Rubins' home, with Frederick and Ada outside. They quietly moved the items in, often glancing around to ensure that nobody watched them. Then, they fled, the explosion set to occur mere minutes after they closed the door for the last time.
Gretchen looked in with a tinge of regret at Mrs. Mueller, whose death the friendly doctor had certified. The body lay in the kitchen, nearly on top of the items which would blow up, lifeless but yet full of warmth. She had, after all, been a fellow human. She stepped within several yards of her old friend one last time. "I never asked you if you believed what they said about the Jews," Gretchen remarked, suddenly fighting back tears, "but thank you for helping to save three of them." And thank you, Lord, that you timed her death in this way. Frederick anxiously motioned her outside, and they locked the door, Frederick setting the timer. It may be a miracle if she lives to complete this mission, Frederick deduced sadly, noticing how emotional she seemed.
Not two minutes later, a loud blast resounded. People would associate it with the air raid, she tried to tell herself, and we will call the fire department quickly so nobody else is hurt. The Nazis, in their wickedness, might well have ordered the home destroyed, anyway.
Still, her heart pumped much more strongly, seemingly in the region of her larynx, much of that Saturday morning. She deliberated whether or not to tell the children. She knew they needed to know at some point. Her desire to hide them from terror - the same desire that prompted Mrs. Rubin to shield her children from the hostility of the surrounding populace - kept her from doing so. She wished to keep them innocent.
However, as harsh pounding interrupted their routine, she realized that might not be possible.
"Gestapo," came the word which sent chills down her spine. She glanced around to ensure the Rubin children were in the basement, and that her own offspring were in the living quarters of the home. She sighed – Albert and Carl, who was seven, were out playing, but that couldn't be helped. A quick glance out the window showed they were okay, at least. She asked the Lord for protection as she hastily opened the door.
Two Gestapo agents, seemingly statues outside in the cold, inched forward. "Good day, Ma'am, we just wanted to ask a few questions about the Rubin children," one said.
Forcing herself to remain composed, she resisted the urge to keep the agent outside, as he seemed intent on getting in. "Well, whatever can you mean, I took them back home two days ago." She didn't mention that she also failed to let them out of the car.
The agent looked around, noticing the Schultz children happily playing with toys or reading. He smiled as he eyed Oskar with the book he'd grabbed on hearing them. It appeared to be a copy of "Mein Kampf." Oskar avoided the man's gaze, then - as he turned - surveyed him from just above the book. The eldest peeked at Heinrich and Heidi playing with small blocks to his right, the Holy Spirit seemingly planting an idea in his mind as he quickly prayed.
Gretchen examined the man, his lack of uniform reminding her how dangerous it would be to tell anyone about the children. She debated what to do as he scanned the area.
"You have many nice toys here," chatted the man as amicably as possible. Small talk caused him to struggle. "I understand your husband owned a toy company before being drafted." She nodded. "Ever join the Party?"
She knew he spoke of the Nazis. Hiding her contempt, she tried to recall Hans' pat answer. "My husband was just too busy," she reported. "We are a traditional family. I would not do anything that he did not do first, even if it seemed the right thing." There, she told herself, that throws suspicion off of me. They said being a military wife, I would be less scrutinized, hopefully they were right. "If he did it, we would."
The sergeant gave a look of fake compassion. "It is no crime to go first. In fact, we in the Gestapo encourage people to be first, with any assistance they can give." He knew many who, while not official members, would still obey their leaders. He got down to business, moving toward the basement. "We came to see if you'd heard from them, there was an explosion in the house, and they seem to have perished..." He uttered a derogatory comment.
Oskar saw the agent near the basement, and suddenly zoomed over to Heinrich and Heidi. "Quick," Oskar whispered insistently, almost in their faces, "both of you, throw a tantrum."
Heinrich stared at his older brother, while Heidi uttered a loud "no!"
Oblivious, Gretchen explained that she heard a couple explosions associated with the air raid, and while one agent's hand neared the door handle, to make a cursory glance downstairs, the battle of wits in the living room intensified.
Oskar grabbed a block out of Heidi's hand, seeing her as the most willing to yell and scream. He recalled that Heinrich had been a rather sneaky toddler, whereas Heidi had been the one with the more shrieking, stomping tantrums. She is more distracting, anyway, he determined.
"Gimme it, Gimme, GIMME," hollered the little girl as Oskar danced around with the block just out of her reach. She kicked the air like a ballerina, falling on her rump. "Gimme!!!" She began to shriek and kick.
Now, to get Heinrich into the act, if I can, the older boy thought. He threw the block a foot over his younger brother, ensuring it didn't hit him.
"No. Stop it," Heinrich hollered. When Oskar said "make me," he began yelling and pushing. All of this took place as Heidi kicked violently on the ground, screeching like a banshee.
Gretchen, unsure of what to do, mumbled "wait" to the agent, intent on putting Heidi in her room, then distracted by the screaming from Heinrich. The agent followed her, increasingly dazed, as the other one stepped outside. They are acting up to get my attention, he determined. Oskar, seeing them coming around the corner, yelled at Heidi to stop.
"NO!!" came the bellowing child, "you're the one who started it!" Because of the fountain of tears, neither adult could understand what the girl had said.
Heinrich instantly pushed Oskar, screaming at him to "stop bothering my sister."
The agent, sensing that little could be done, excused himself, remarking that he had "no real need to come here. I am sorry." He left quickly with a pulsating headache, the shrieking children greatly annoying the man who refused to have a family. He vowed he would never return, deciding that - since he was allowed right in, there was no nervousness when he mentioned the children, and Gretchen's answer matched what the records showed - he could close the case. He fled quickly. He had to - the intense, high-pitched screams would hurt his ears for days.
Before she could enter the living room, Carl stepped into the doorway. He had a black eye.
Gretchen ran to him and looked at it. "Dear, what happened," inquired Gretchen as she led him to the medicine cabinet. "Were you in a fight?" This is the last thing we need, she thought.
Albert looked around, and then stepped inside. "The Gestapo are talking to the others."
"They started it," the boy whined.
"Who?" she asked as she dabbed at the wound to clean it.
"A couple kids. They said bad things about Jews," he said, and suddenly fear struck Gretchen.
Gretchen asked the next question very carefully, as Oskar came into the kitchen. "Dear," she spoke, trying to conceal her distress, "did you say anything to them?"
"Just that they was stupid for sayin' that," he remarked, sensing his mother's fear. "Is... something wrong?"
As Gretchen struggled for something to say, Albert made sure the Gestapo weren't there, and explained lowly. "They started teasing him, that's when he punched one kid, and got punched back." So, will they still suspect us, she asked herself. She wondered if she could turn that around, making it seem like Carl thought the label was intended at hi, not at Jews.
The second Gestapo agent came in; the first was outside, hesitant, his head still pounding. "Boys will be boys," Gretchen said as an excuse.
"I cannot believe this, Carl!" Oskar ad libbed. He wanted desperately to protect him. He, too, was uncertain what the Gestapo would think, and wished to remind Carl how to act – and maybe to pray with him, too. He grabbed his hand before the Gestapo could say anything. "Excuse me, as the man of the house I must have a word with my brother!" he said in a voice that he hoped would make the Gestapo think he was about to scold or even punish the boy.
"We…" The second agent saw Oskar grab the supposed copy of Mein Kampf and wave it in the air, gesturing while also whispering instructions to Carl. He rubbed his chin, puzzled.
Gretchen shrugged. "My son heard a name, he could have thought it was meant toward him. What he did was wrong, and he knows it." Indeed he could have - that was no lie. "Oskar will make sure of it." The first agent dared to come back in, as the screaming had died down for the most part. Heidi now knew that even requested tantrums got her no attention, and Albert, as a precaution, took the youngest two into the older boys' bedroom.
"Your boy reads 'Mein Kampf?" the first agent says.
Her mind on the fake covers, she said, "Cover to cover." She was questioned, then asked to repeat what she'd said once Oskar and Carl returned. She laid the blame on the other boy.
The agent then turned to Carl. "Is what your mother says true?"
"My parents taught me never to lie. It is very bad," noted the lad, slyly staying away from what happened. It had been that boy's fault, all right, but for different reasons.
"But, you have not said anything yet! Were there any remarks about Jews made?"
"I am certain that Carl will remember Who is the real authority," Oskar said, referring to God but hoping the agents thought he meant Hitler. Oskar had told Carl to trust the Lord to help him not have to lie, and also to not elaborate.
"Perhaps we should hear Carl's account now," one agent remarked, a little testily, as the other ushered Gretchen and Oskar out of the room.
"I just want to ask a couple of questions." The agent glared at Carl. "Is your family friends with any Jews?"
Carl explained that "we knew one once, the Rubins. They went away," he said, referring to the parents. The agent asked about the fight. "I heard that boy called me a name." Which was true, he considered – but only after Carl had hollered at him.
The agent was somewhat satisfied that Carl could have thought the comment was toward him. "You were friends with the Rubins' oldest. Do you have any feelings about his being gone?".
Carl pounced on that question. "No," he declared emphatically. So that's how God does it, he thought to himself. This fellow thinks they're dead or something, and I don't have any feelings about them being dead, since they're alive. So, I don't have to lie when I say "no."
Ht eagent seemed calmer. "It does not bother you that you may never see them again?"
"No," Carl remarked, again true. He would see them again. So, how could not seeing them bother him? Hadn't he read something about letting your "yes" be "yes" and your "no" be "no"?
"And you presently have no Jewish friends," came the last question, to which Carl shook his head. Gretchen had said they were practically brothers now, not just friends. The agent ordered the other agent, Gretchen, and Oskar into the room. He told Gretchen, "There seems to be no problem. It was probably an innocent thing. He was very certain when I questioned him"
The other agent spoke. "I questioned her, too. She informs me there have been problems in all the children associated with the stress of war and her husband being away." He held his forehead, thinking of the screaming. "I can believe that."
The Gestapo left, promising they wouldn't have to return concerning the matter, which they didn't. The Rubin children, as far as they were concerned, were gone.
Carl smiled with glee as the car drove off. The Lord had gotten them out of a major scrape by having them tell the truth, because these people were too hurried to get at the facts behind their "yes" and "no" answers. He knew God could do amazing things.
Gretchen grinned contentedly, glad to be able to trust in an ever-faithful Lord. "We did it," Gretchen shouted victoriously, hugging them. Albert brought the youngest two out as he heard this, figuring that the danger was past.
One more problem remained, though, when Oskar apologized for the earlier incidents. "I am sorry about the tantrums, Mother; I was just afraid he would go downstairs and find the Rubins."
Gretchen sighed. Yes, the cat fled the bag with great haste after that statement. If she didn't know whether to tell the youngest children before, she now knew it was mandatory.
"What does he mean," Heinrich inquired with great incredulity, expecting an easy answer.
Gretchen held up a finger. "In a minute, dear." As Oskar's mother turned toward him, she recalled...was it Hamlet who had once told someone that "there's method to my madness." Yes, this was a rather mad way of handling things, but it had a method, the method a child would select. Luckily, it had worked. Lowly, she instructed him to look forlorn, as if she were scolding him. "I want it to look that way for them, so they know not to hurt or bother others, no matter what. What you did was probably the best that could have been done under the circumstances."
The oldest boy nodded meekly as his mother lowly pretended to chastise him. His notion had been a spur of the moment thing, but thankfully, it had worked. In the end, Gretchen added a final, low "danke." She sat Heinrich and Heidi on her lap, hugged them for a few moments, and spoke sadly. "Children," she began, "Mr. and Mrs. Rubin are dead or may soon be dead, and we are hiding their children, because some very bad people - called the Gestapo or the SS - want to kill them because they are Jews. Promise you will never, ever tell anyone we are hiding the children. If you do tell anyone we are hiding the children, they will kill you, too." I wish I didn't have to scare them like this, Gretchen considered, but it is the truth. Ensuring they do not tell is something we will have to constantly work on, she deduced, but it will be worth it. Dear Lord, let it be worth it, please, she said silently.
