\Chapter Ten - Freedom
By the time they reached the next checkpoint, late in the evening, Oskar decided on their destination. Were they going to Switzerland, they would have had close to twice the distance to travel as they did to the front. Now, that would be quite troublesome, as the Swiss had closed their borders. Sweden was their top destination, but the trip would be well over a couple days longer, and over four times as far, counting the ferry ride from Denmark.
While the Danish resistance performed brilliantly in the rescue of Jews, the route contained one enormous problem. It was the expected route, for what right-thinking person would risk running right into the German army? Plus, while the Danish hid their own Jews well, the Nazis knew that the Danes had been up to something; that was why nearly the entire Jeiwsh population - nearly seven thousand - had been ferried across in a single operation that made their own, and Colonel Hogan's, seem like small potatoes. They would be watched very closely near there.
Therefore, Oskar prayed and read as the others slept. Despite his mother's entreaties not to, he'd purposely spent several nights with almost no sleep. Given his age, he could take a sleepless night once in a while and still remain alert, as long as he had enough caffeine. He consumed some coffee, and went to the bathroom.
The rural area surrounding the region coded C-8 appeared much more serene than their neighborhood had, partly because nobody could live next door to them. Of course, it also provided fewer escape routes, meaning that several people maintained vigils in the farmhouse. Leaving in the depths of the night would prove essential.
The stoic leader ascertained there was one choice, and quickly awakened the others. He reminisced about asking his father, when he was little, if anyone ever was awake after midnight; he'd felt that he was up "later then anyone in the world" when he was awakened at midnight to ring in the new year in...had it been 1936 or 1937? The other children would remember a far different circumstance for their latest being awake - or was that their earliest?
The farmer's wife arrived smiling and carrying small amounts of fruit for each child. They'd eaten lightly before, but Oskar knew more would be needed to satisfy them. And yet, they couldn't afford to eat big here because they could become too tired.
Heidi and Moses snuggled on Oskar's lap, with Heinrich laying on one leg. Several others combined to determine how many could squeeze onto one lap at once. Oskar recognized that they should get moving rather quickly, just in case. "Albert, give me one last look in that sealed envelope," he instructed. He skimmed through it before ripping it up and passing the paper around. "Care for a snack," Oskar quipped.
"Is there any syrup," Micah wearily managed to joke. At least a little humor can be found here, he told himself, anxious for freedom and confident it would soon arrive. The route was still frought with obstacles, but he was among friends.
Everyone used the bathroom, and Albert spoke with a small strip stuck in his teeth. "Do you use a toothpick when it's really the same stuff," chided Carl, half awake.
"How should I know? Anyway, Oskar got some last minute names and places, right," Albert inquired of his older brother.
"No, choosing our direction. My friends, when you fight Goliath, you do not sneak around him, you go right up and knock him cold." He glanced at his younger brother on his leg and quipped "with one stone." Seeing puzzled looks on his siblings' faces, he explained. "The best route is right up to the front and through. Presently, there is a dearth of troops on both sides in various places. I am young Franz Gruber," he remarked, reviewing the fake names; the false IDs were the only remaining papers. "We are young soldiers wishing to fight for the Fatherland. We will get our uniforms on the front, except we will never make it there. We will go around to the Allies once we pass the final checkpoint."
"Can that be done," came an adult, their helper during the next phase.
With a smirk, Oskar nodded. "It seems impossible, but we will do it anyway. Really, it may seem hard to man, but not to God." After some prayer, all agreed on the path. Shortly after daybreak, they departed, planning to be at the front and cross in several hours.
Without Gretchen to drive and impersonate a German officer, that task was handed to a Dutch adult they had never met, but who possessed a good deal of experience. Oskar knew the code name from the papers which had recently been consumed. They spoke in code, and Oskar accepted the ride. The others sat in back, with Oskar opposite the driver. He appeared older than his fifteen years. The other man donned a fake German army uniform, with the rank of captain. I wonder if this is how Yankee would have done it, thought the teen.
The others climbed into the back to pray and eat. Sleep would be attempted by all, and each got a little. This, they hoped, would assist them, for they would almost certainly have to march, avoiding their own side and finding an opening through which to cross. Oskar knew little of troop deployments, but recognized that the front would not be solid, as it was in World War One. Some space would be opened somewhere. If not, he told them, "just remember the parting of the Red Sea. God will find a way, we must just prepare to witness the salvation of the Lord."
Oskar and his group approached their third checkpoint, just across the border into France, as the bumpy ride woke them. Though none knew the hour, they sensed it was still earlier than any of them ever arose - well, earlier than they would unless Albert pulled one of his drills on them.
The thought of freedom continued to creep into the leader's mind, and he persisted in squelching it, recognizing that they still needed to concentrate on the mission. Still, a few stray pondering about schools without words of hatred, and about streets without worries about capture, wouldn't hurt. Plus, he recalled, "we need to find a good place to build a campfire."
Concern over the Gestapo and other matters doused any excitement, so much had been swiped from them, Oskar still fretted over the possibility that even this could be taken from them. It already could have been taken from his mother...no, he couldn't allow himself to think like that. He'd lost so much, he insisted upon clinging to something which reminded him of his former, joyful life, before the horrors of Naziism took their toll on his nation.
As the truck ground to a halt, the Dutchman bid the sentry good morning, and consented to the request to search the back as Oskar went around to the rear of the vehicle. The lieutenant opened the back of the truck with great curiosity.
"See, it is just as we told you," noted the phony captain, with Oskar stepping up behind him.
"I see." The idea of such young children fighting seemed odd, but they could use all the forces they could muster at the front, no matter how inexperienced. Hitler Youth had been called upon to help, and some as young as their middle teens had offered to fight. "Your papers?"
Oskar handed numerous documents to the fellow, including the Rubins' fake ID cards. "You will see everything is in order," came the comment. "Now, we must leave quickly."
The lieutenant continued to study the curiosity. "Wait, I can see with the older ones, but what good will your girl and the wee little one do?"
"Their hands are smaller, they can fit shells into guns quickly," replied Oskar, indicating a box of ammunition. Had any of several box plans been in effect, that box would have housed the Rubins, and they would have either carried it - with numerous other people helping - or taken a truck the whole way. Still, he wished to avoid a needless search, even with the box being legitimate, as that would waste precious time. And, time could be as valuable as anything.
"If you are still not sure," the fake captain noted, "they are awaiting us at the front, as you can see; it is marked 'urgent', from Berlin - as any troop movement is. They can always march to the front, and I can take the truck later."
The lieutenant thought for a moment. That sounded legitimate, but he was still unsure. As he hesitated, Oskar decided it was time to be a little less subtle. "Why are you delaying the war effort?! Do you not know that every body we can get on the front buys the Fatherland more precious time?"
The faux captain, whose higher rank carried more authority, chimed in, asking adamantly "would you rather go instead, and be shot for treason?!" The phony captain smiled inwardly. He considered that the expectation that people would follow orders no matter what, and the dread imposed by the Nazis, combined to save many a person posing as a German officer. The evil they built their empire on was becoming their downfall.
As the others began to grin - thankfully, the practices had prevented any from showing nervousness - Oskar continued his harangue, letting off setam. "Here I thought we were coming to a checkpoint where people wanted to see a glorious victory! And what does this man show impressionable children?!" The sentries both began to sweat at this point, and felt a little disappointed that he couldn't' jump in with complaints. "This man shows children their troops care more about stalling. Would anyone else run right into the powerful army of the Fatherland?!?"
The lieutenant quickly relented. Of course, he pondered, escapees would travel someplace like Switzerland. This route would be nothing short of ludicrous. "T-take the truck with the supplies, and leave," he commanded nervously. They got in and drove several miles before stopping.
The day provided great brightness, but this also presented a problem. "Okay," the pseudo-captain stated, "we are away from the worst of the shooting, but there may be Allied snipers."
"What is a sniper," Oskar inquired.
"Someone who shoots at any enemy equipment or men while hiding behind trees, rocks, anything." He looked at Oskar's uniform pieces. "Take those off, they will not fire at you, then. Get the others out, and have them carry the white handkerchiefs so you will be seen to be surrendering." As they did so, the captain provided several possible directions, and bade them Godspeed, taking the truck back a different way.
The dawn showed an immense plateau which stretched for several miles. The smaller children trembled as gunfire echoed in the distance. Heidi glanced up at Oskar while holding his hand, stunned by the gore. "Is this that valley you talk about," came the weak voice.
"What valley," inquired Albert as they began to walk. He held Moses' and Isacc's hand, and Carl held Heinrich's and Micah's.
As they turned away from the long, dark figures of artillery in the ground, Heidi murmured "that one with the shadows, and the death."
She thinks it's a real place, recognized Oskar, who chose to nod his head. "It sure is," he considered aloud, wondering if the psalmist was ever through anything close to this.
As they marched, the group quietly sang hymns, mortar fire pounding all eardrums from a safe distance. Oskar tried to recall what little English his mother had taught him. Reminding the others how to surrender, the idea of freedom, after all these years, almost made him weep. Micah already shed a few tears.
As the marchers trod along, the sun behind them, they carefully avoided anything that sounded like gunfire. The older Jewish children wanted to shout with excitement. While the older youths considered life with freedom, and the younger ones anxiously awaited the ability to play uninhibited by what they could tell people, the Rubin children contemplated how worrisome and tedious their lives had been. Their parents had provided them with love, but they'd sensed the hatred all around them.
Micah recalled how terrified he'd get at times, as well as the relieved sensation when the practices were running so smoothly that Albert would whoop and exclaim that "we could get three hundred Jews out if we perform like this all the time." He thanked the boy for his determination in planning.
Isaac, meanwhile, considered the love shown by the Schultzes, and their undying devotion to them. He found it hard to comprehend, but somehow, he hadn't felt as scared down in the basement as he had in the outside world at times, mostly because he was surrounded by so much love, and by so little hatred.
Wearily, Moses plodded along, constantly losing ground until Albert would pull him forward again. "My legs are too tired," he whined.
Albert dropped back to pick him up. The weight was ponderous, but the lad recognized that - were the box plan in effect - they would all be carting a crate several times that size.
Oskar again meditated upon his favorite psalm. "Yes," the eldest muttered, gazing skyward, "we have journeyed through the valley of the shadow of death. And, through it all, you guided us. Your love and promises of victory over any evil allowed us to greatly glorify Your name in what we did. Thank you, Lord, thank you so very much."
Suddenly, a loud "Halt!" was heard by all, and they froze, stunned. It took them a second to realize the word was spoken in English. A group of half a dozen soldiers with American uniforms noticed them, and cocked their guns.
Albert put down the five-year-old, as he raised his arms and pronounced "we made it, praise the Lord.". They quickly held up their handkerchiefs, except for Micah, who whipped his out and held it for a second, then hugged one of the patrolmen, saying "thank you" and "praise the Lord" in English. Tears inched down all of their faces.
"It is a miracle," Carl declared. But, he considered, had it been? Or, had it just been good planning? After all, they'd prayed earnestly, and chosen the option based upon their hearts and minds. They'd studied the Scriptures, with Oskar being led toward the story of David and Goliath, and analyzed their circumstances - this way seemed odd, but it was also the best one, based on the situation. After that, they had simply prayed, stepped out in faith, and let God lead them. Miracles occurred when something totally unexplainable happened; this, however, was simply God working the way He should in all their daily lives.
"Friends," Oskar stated in English so the Americans would understand. "We are...running away from the Nazis." The group of soldiers maintained their dumbfounded demeanor as they glanced incredulously at one another and discussed what to do.
"Nobody warned us about this in training," one noted.
"Let them keep going, they are clearly civilians," spoke one. All agreed, they not only appeared unarmed, but several likely could not lift one of the Germans' larger guns.
A corporal wondered, "Are there any secret messages they are sending? We should take them back to camp and forego some of our patrolling."
"Is there a concentration camp near here, Sergeant," the private in the embrace with Micah inquired of the leader. While the children appeared uninjured, he'd heard stories of terrible atrocities within Germany's borders. The way this child, and soon Isaac and Moses, reacted, they could be from there. He thought of his own younger brother, probably about Micah's age, and felt sorrowful. These children running to freedom were no different than his siblings.
"Not that I know of," the leader commented, rubbing his chin, "but they could be injured." Several others clearly understood this to be the "official rationale" for taking care of them. "Where's the nearest MASH unit - Jones's, right?" After one fellow confirmed it was the one where the sergeant had recuperated once, the sergeant ordered to a corporal and to the private embracing Micah - "Bradley, Phillips, take 'em to our truck and get 'em there, we'll march back." He considered that some would be reluctant to assist Germans of any kind, but knew Major Jones would gladly help these kids.
Ed Jones considered the incredible number of wounded in their unit. He almost wished the troops would slow down, as they'd moved their unit twice in the last month to remain close to the front. However, he warned himself that in wartime, things changed way too fast. The Germans could always begin a major offensive and force them backwards, toward the Channel.
"Sir," came a hurried voice, as the corporal ran into the post-operating room, "we've got eight children coming, probably no problems, but Sergeant Harkin says you oughta have a look. He suspects they're from a concentration camp, though he didn't know enough German to ask."
Jones nodded grimly. "Okay, Sparky, just let me know when they get here." He grumbled a little, cursing the Nazis who had created such insanity. Already prematurely gray from countless sleepless nights caring for the injured, the doctor longed to be home with his family. Seeing children might make him even more lonely.
Oskar and the others skipped into the unit. Oskar smiled as he observed his charges chatting, letting off steam. They appeared a trifle suppressed, especially Moses, who had no recollection of running and playing happily and freely. However, while he shuffled cautiously, at least Moses moved around, exploring everything with a degree of interest. They'd done much to stimulate the young minds, and provided them with immense amounts of warmth and compassion.
Jones enjoyed the spectacle as he arranged the children on four different beds. He'd forgotten how active children could be. "Whoa," he said, "hold your horses, and sit down on these so I can make sure you're all okay." Oskar looked around and wondered where the animals were. "Sorry, guess you know a little English, huh?"
"Yes, Sir," spoke the teen in a thick German accent. "Very little." He was relieved when Jones switched to German.
"I can tell you're struggling, so we might as well speak German, I know more of that than you probably do English," Jones remarked. He'd taken three years of German in high school, plus he took a crash course for several months while preparing to serve in this MASH unit, just in case there were any Germans who needed treatment. He'd expected that his commanders meant soldiers; only later did any of them learn civilians could easily be involved.
He began to examine them, and smiled as Moses timidly handled the stethoscope. Heidi and Heinrich gazed around in awe while seated across from Moses and Isaac. Jones could tell they'd never seen anything like it. The youngsters discussed, in German, what numerous items might be. Jones understood over half of their words, partly because their vocabulary was not as large. Not as drawn by the myriad stimuli in the room, the older boys thanked the Lord that they no longer needed to fear. The concept of being away from the Nazis took a while to become firmly implanted, especially for the Rubins. The mindset was totally different here.
Jones studied the others for a moment, allowing Moses to analyze the instrument "You like that, huh? Think you might like to be a doctor?" The big eyes gazed longingly at the major, a grin crossing Moses' face. "Or a fireman? What do you want to be when you get big?"
Moses considered the concept for a few moments. Not accustomed to rapid change like the older ones, he still barely grasped that they were out of danger; only constant reassurance told him he could be unafraid. Indeed, several months before, he'd have thought "freedom" was a name of a place, as abstract thinking hadn't been possible in his still-developing mind. Hence, he spoke one word - "Free."
Having forgotten about the concentration camp concerns, the major felt shock, though he hid it well. If he wasn't in a camp, he was in hiding, Jones deduced, ordering Sparky to run to the cook and get the children some warm meals, then over to various places to scrounge up some clean clothes.
Oskar didn't recognize the terms, as Jones spoke of "chow" to the subordinate, but ascertained that food might have been sought. If it didn't come soon, he would quickly request it, for they'd eaten only paper the whole day. He couldn't discern the time, though he figured it must be close to supper time. Mother or Father should have gotten free and asked about us, he pondered, unsure of where they might be. He deduced that if his mother were questioned for a while, she might just now be leaving. She would have inquired as to the path they took, and come along the same route, unless something drastic occurred, such as the contacts being captured between the time they left and the time she left. Of course, if the Gestapo looked in one place, she might go a different way. The evils of his leaders still troubled him, though he considered that one of his parents certainly would have made it. Wouldn't they? Then again, they'd had little warning, and for the Rubins, there had been no warning.
"Could you please find out about our parents," Oskar asked finally, as nurses carried in tin plates and handed out loving smiles. He determined that food would soon follow.
Just finishing with Moses, Jones appraised the boy as fairly healthy, although one ear appeared infected, and he seemed rather dirty, with a couple small bites, possibly from fleas. Jones scribbled a note to obtain medicine for the infection. As he did so, he spoke soothingly. "Where are your parents, son," he inquired. "Did they leave with you?" Moses' face turned incredibly grim, and he and Isaac wept a little.
Micah, his voice trembling, choked as he spoke from another bed. "Our parents...are probably dead."
Jones dropped his pen and pad, his face carrying a look of astonishment as he went limp for a second. What was...how long...but didn't he just ask...thought the confused American.
As the doctor picked up the dropped items, Albert explained that "they are Jews," pointing at the three, "and we hid them in our basement for almost four years when the Gestapo took their parents away."
A little choked up, Jones considered the lad, unsure of how to respond. How could one find words to the myriad of emotions - fear, dread, loss, pain - imbedded in that single statement, let alone those which must be rushing through memories of the last few years. At last, he found the strength to utter "that was...really brave of you. You did a fine job."
Oskar explained that "our mother, Gretchen Schultz, did the most, but she was taken in by the Gestapo, we think, since she was going to come along our path and is not here yet. Our father, Hans, was in the military, at a prisoner of war camp, but we do not know where he is."
"German camp? Or captured by the Allies?" Did he understand what I meant by Allies, Jones wondered. The question soon became moot.
Carl spoke as Jones jotted down this and other vital information, such as their home town and the adults' appearance. "He was Master Sergeant at a German POW camp." Its name struck a familiar note in Jones's mind.
He looked up, raising an eyebrow as several others brought pots of food. Was that where that covert operation originated? He wished he could speak to someone from there, as he'd only heard of a few goings-on, and yet those appeared utterly unbelievable. The full story of the deeds done would be incredible, and he would certainly vow silence in return for hearing just a few snippets.
"I will let them know you are here. Sparky?" The corporal ran into the room and saluted. "Locate a Gretchen or Hans Schultz, maybe in Allied territory, maybe still in Germany, in which case you'll have to use code and find Captain Bedford so you can reach the Underground. Here's the vitals," he instructed him, handing over a sheet of paper.
Later that afternoon, Jones and Bedford, a tough-looking officer in his forties, quizzed the children in a large outer office on whether they'd seen any secret installations on their way out of Germany. The children answered politely, though they possessed little knowledge. However, some of their information on possible troop locations could prove helpful. Bedford prepared to radio the information directly to Allied soldiers.
He was impressed with the fact that the little girl appeared to possess the keenest awareness of unusual sights. "Of course I noticed things," she exclaimed proudly, "it was my job to watch for Ahab out the window."
Noticing blank stares, Oskar explained. "A wicked Old Testament king. That was our code name for Gestapo; we used lots of codes from the Bible." Bedford whistled, duly impressed.
Suddenly, an obese man, accompanied by Sparky, barged into the door, at first gawking with disbelief, then finally coming to his senses. He raced toward the children, hugging his five old, and three new, children, with tears of joy streaming down his face. "Oh, I am so proud of you, I am so glad you are all okay." The sight made Jones, Sparky, and even the normally stoic Bedford weep happily.
In German, Jones spoke after several minutes. "Mr. Schultz, I presume. I'm Major Ed Jones." The excitement still hadn't worn off on Schultz' face, which looked so shiny, Jones swore he saw his reflection in it. His heart filled with joy, Hans quickly signed forms that Jones procured, releasing his children to his care; they'd officially been refugees under government care before that. "I don't know where we can put you guys, but if you can help with the wounded I'm sure we can arrange something, probably at a hospital in London." He couldn't help but grin as he quipped - "And if you don't lose some weight, the next time you run like that, we're going to have our unit's first non-military casualty." The group laughed heartily.
After watching them all exchange large hugs, and hearing some of the tales of their ordeal, the intelligence officer turned and whispered to Jones. He wished he could avoid the subject amidst such glee, for the time seemed clearly inappropriate. However, no time would seem good, given the circumstances. "You know," came the extra-low voice, "I could see waiting till later today, when he got here, but soon you gotta tell him about his wife."
"I plan to, let's not rain on their parade," the major whispered back. Schultz heard the low voices, and quickly inquired as to why they whispered. "Well...we better step into my office." Jones gestured toward the smallest of the children, and instantly Oskar felt pangs of dread; his mother had given a similar glance toward Heidi almost four years ago.
Hans and Bedford quickly followed Jones. A couple small paintings stood around, with the Major's signature. "Now, what about my wife," Hans asked excitedly, deciding to inquire while they were there. Since he'd surrendered on a totally different part of the front than his children, he could understand why she might not have shown up yet. However, the worried looks shocked the man. Unlike Oskar, he hadn't developed the mindset that caused the adolescent to consider that nobody would act considerate, or that someone might actually die helping them. Hans hadn't had so many things ripped away from him. "Is she all right, where is she?"
Jones had told soldiers of deceased parents or siblings before, but never could he have fathomed telling somebody this. He put his hands behind his back and sighed. Anything I do will be easier than this, he pondered. "Well..." he began while looking down instantly. Glancing up, he merely uttered "we...just don't know." He counted his blessings to live in a country where things like this didn't take place.
Thanks for leaving it to me, thought the other officer sarcastically. "Last we heard," Bedford commented, "they were ordering her to a concentration camp in Austria."
"A...what," Schultz wondered. But, hadn't his wife said only Jews were taken...what was a concentration camp? He couldn't recall if she'd told him precisely what that was.
Bedford nodded grimly. "We got word from the Underground. They said the Gestapo had grilled her for while, and then they told her they'd captured a couple of the children and would torture them unless she talked. She couldn't take that for a second. She said they were headed for Sweden. Luckily, she mixed up a lot of names and addresses of contacts, so the Underground's safe, but still...Soon after, one of our agents saw her name on a list of people to be placed on a train for Dachau." The grim tone told him all he needed to know - her chances of survival were very remote.
"Can't...can't you get her out? What about Hogan?" Yes, that was the camp, thought Jones.
The intelligence officer put a hand on Schultz's shoulder, looking downcast. "You did a great job helping to free your countrymen by ignoring him, and you helped save those three. This was a lot earlier they heard, and he's going to try his best. But, I can't promise anything."
Schultz didn't have to tell Oskar anything. His face said it all, and while he told him there was a shred of hope, Oskar figured he knew better. Finally able to release the pent up anger, hurt, and frustration he'd concealed for years to ensure his friends' safety, Oskar cried as they had never seen a person cry, his tears flowing like a river for half the night. Hans comforted them as the last four years of heartache, sorrow, and fear all ran out at once.