The Wolves at My Shadow, page 14
“Do you consider me a fool?” Katya asked.
“No,” Paps said right away, “of course not.”
“Then I’ll say what needs to be said. When I overheard you I realized what you were doing. You were praying. I recognized the language you were speaking—it was Hebrew.”
Paps stammered, “Please, Katya . . .”
“That will do,” she snapped. “I tell you now that I know you are Jews. Your documents and visas must be forgeries. Perhaps you are fugitives. Is that what it is? What crimes you have been accused of I can only surmise.”
My blood turned to ice.
“Please, Katya,” Paps tried again.
“Silence!” she huffed. Then, in a calmer and friendlier tone, “I’m charged with monitoring the movements of those who are a threat to my country, my government, and my people. There are subversives and dissidents everywhere.”
“But you know we are no such things. We mean no harm to anyone.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “You are nothing other than transients. You, your wife, and your adorable little one are on your way to Japan. You’re in search of a better life, especially for your daughter. I’ll do my best to help you accomplish your goal.”
“Then I owe you an explanation,” Paps began. “We are—”
Katya interrupted him. “I see it in your eyes now, you needn’t clarify anything. You’ve assumed many risks and have managed to overcome them so far. It’s remarkable. However, there are risks for me, too. If other authorities meet this train then there may be trouble. Especially if my superiors demand a closer accounting of who is on this train. If they’re not satisfied with the information I provide them . . . well I may be in an awkward position. If it comes to that your safety may be compromised, but I’ll do what I can.”
Paps offered his hands. “I’m indebted to you and your staff for everything you have helped us with. I can’t ask nor can I expect any more than what you already have done. Please accept my heartfelt appreciation and my boundless admiration.”
“It’s odd,” she said, reaching for Paps’ hands, “how there’s such disdain in your country for people like you, as if you’re the cause of everything that ails your Führer. This can’t be.” She turned, releasing his hands. “After all, we are the same underneath, you know, as people, aren’t we?”
I saw them smile at one another. Then they walked back along the side of the train. I jumped out of my seat and ran the entire way back to our compartment.
I told Mutsch everything I had overheard. As I rattled on she glowed with relief and joy. She couldn’t have looked happier.
Shortly after Paps burst into the room, his face lit up with excitement.
Mutsch thrust herself at him. “I know, darling, I know!”
Paps stopped abruptly, his feet suddenly welded to the floor. He was astonished. “How do you know? What do you know?”
“Our angel here,” Mutsch said pointing to me, “overheard from the club car. It seems we have a little spy in our midst.” She playfully tugged on my tresses. “By chance she was privy to your conversation with Katya, what with the open windows, and she told me everything. I’m so relieved!”
Paps smiled. “Amazing,” he said. To this day I remember that smile. I took it to mean that he believed my eavesdropping was purposeful, in some way helping us with a problem affecting our family. I now know it was sheer luck to be in the proper place at the proper time.
I’m sure my parents were thinking about the same things I was, that we were now shielded from suspicion and danger, that we were so very fortunate Katya was the supervising police officer on our train, and that we were indebted to her beyond measure because she pledged to carry our pretense so our safety would be assured.
“It’s all well and good,” Paps said, “for Katya to be our guardian and keep our secret secure, however the lesson is that we can’t be careless.” He spoke slowly, with the tone of his voice cautionary. “Imagine what might have happened if an officer had passed by and heard us praying or perhaps a passenger with no decency toward Jews? We must be more careful. Do you understand?”
Afraid to speak, both Mutsch and I nodded our heads.
Paps said, “The next time we’ll whisper our prayers to the Lord. He’ll hear us, I’m sure of it.”
Just then three deafening blasts of the train whistle pierced the stillness of the forest and the quiet of our compartment. At once we could hear voices yelling, “Quickly! Now! It’s time! All aboard!”
And then we heard the continuous crunch of gravel as the people outside scrambled toward the train.
A commotion developed in the corridor with an avalanche of footsteps, the people on their hurried way to their compartments. Again, the whistle blared three times and then there was that sudden jerking motion. We were on our way!
An hour later Paps ushered Katya into our compartment. I heard her say we would be at our next stop soon. Then she gasped, “Oh my, where is the little one?”
I exited from the lavatory and with abandon I rushed to Katya, hugging her with all my might.
“There, there,” she said, rubbing my back. “For a moment I thought we left you in the forest!”
I stood on tiptoe and kissed her cheek. She blushed. “Anyway,” she said, stepping back, “I want to inform you that at Krasnoyarsk we’re scheduled for only a fifteen minute stop. I don’t recommend leaving your compartment.”
“Of course,” Paps said. “We’ll tidy up our cabin and ready ourselves for lunch after the train leaves the station.”
“Very good,” Katya said. “Then it’ll be on to another station and then . . .” she placed her arms around my shoulders, “. . . it’ll be time to see a wondrous spectacle.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“In about ten hours we’ll come to Lake Baikal. It’s so incredibly vast that we’ll be travelling along its shoreline for days.”
“I’m excited to see it, Katya,” I said.
“And I’m excited to show it to you!” she said, touching my nose with her fingertip.
We were at the station no more than twenty minutes before we heard the screeching whistle and felt the slow movement of the train. I watched as we passed the limits of the city and then clanked along an iron bridge over a large river before we were on our way again.
Later, reclined on my bed munching on cookies I took from our dining table that day, the light went out.
Although it was mid-afternoon it was as dark as night. Rain fell on the roof with such force it sounded like rivets were being hammered into it. Nature’s orchestra was in full force with all its staccato and vibrato, the clash of the elements in a magnificently discordant song. The storm was churning in the same direction as our train, chasing us for several kilometres before overtaking us, its intensity so great the train slowed considerably to safely navigate the bends and turns through the forest. At this rate it was going to take us a lot longer to reach our next stop so I decided I would make myself snug and take a short nap.
The train whistle woke me. I perked up, looked out my window and saw that we had reached another station. It was still very dark but it had stopped raining. I could see puddles on the platform.
Mutsch came into my room.
“I see you’re awake now, Lorechen. How was your nap?”
“It was fine, mother,” I said. “Where are we? When did the storm pass?”
“A few hours ago. I’m not sure what the name of this city is but I imagine we’ll depart shortly. Those whistle blasts are hard to ignore!” Then she said, “It’s past seven o’clock. Your father and I are hungry. Will you come with us for supper?”
“No,” I said, “I’m not hungry.” The cookies were still heavy in my stomach. “I’ll stay here. I promise I won’t leave our compartment.”
“All right. Your father and I will return shortly.”
As soon as they left I went to freshen up. Then I cleaned up the evidence left behind on my bed from my snack.
A knock at the door startled me. With fear creeping up my back and neck I went to the door. My nightmare sizzled in my mind.
“Yes?” I said, “Who is it?”
“Little one, it’s Katya.”
I immediately opened the door. She greeted me with her wonderful smile. I was so happy to see her! “Aren’t you feeling well?” she asked. “I met your parents in the dining car and they said you chose to remain in your compartment.”
“Oh,” I said, “I’m fine. I guess I had too many cookies at lunch.”
“Well then, I wanted to check on you and tell you that by tomorrow morning you’ll be able to see Lake Baikal on the horizon. Look at the colour of the water and carefully scan the shorelines. You might be able to see the seals.”
“That would be wonderful!” I said. “Will we have a chance to . . .”
“Go swimming?” she asked. I nodded. She laughed. “No. But at the next station we’ll have a long stop for supplies so we’ll be able to leave the train for a few hours. However, this time I’ll escort you so we don’t have a similar situation as the one where, well, you know!” We both giggled. “Anyway,” she concluded, “you’ll watch the horizon tomorrow, yes?”
“I will, Katya.” She leaned toward me, looked into my eyes, and kissed my forehead. “You’re special,” she said. Then she left.
When Paps and Mutsch returned I told them about what Katya had said about leaving the train at our upcoming stop and escorting us to sightsee.
Paps was laughing. “As long as we don’t wander off to a fountain for a drink!”
Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow
June 1936
At the age of eleven, almost twelve, on the cusp of adulthood, it was difficult for me to comprehend fully the forces that were at play during that stage of my life. But I now understand that at that time I was a fragile and skittish fox, fearful of the hounds at my heels, a willowy impressionable young girl who tensed at every shadow and a dutiful daughter who worried about her parents. Yes, our voyage was necessary. It was paramount to escape the Nazi oppression in Germany that certainly would have dissolved our way of life in Berlin. I deeply regret that I wasn’t able to do more to help my relatives and friends flee as well.
By early June of 1936 I had been on a train nearly every day for three weeks. But our trek across Eastern Europe into Asia wasn’t over and Japan was still far away, farther than the distant horizon. For some reason I thought of Hansi, my canary, in his cage, unable to fly. It occurred to me that I was in a similar situation. The confines of my compartment, the corridors, the club car, and the dining car were not the brass spokes of Hansi’s birdcage but part of an iron sheath that enfolded me along my way. Hansi and I were experiencing the same fate, trapped in a world that seemed never to change.
The next morning I saw pieces of azure horizontal stripes peeking through the tops of the trees, bold splashes of colour abutting the soft blue sky. The lake was not far off, just as Katya had said. That meant an extended stop, a respite, and a chance to get off the train, to walk in the fresh air, and see some interesting things as well.
As I was putting on my trousers Mutsch came into my room. She was wearing the only dress she had with her.
“Mother,” I said, “you look beautiful!”
“Thank you, dear,” she glowed, “and for you, please wear your dress as well. We want to look our best today. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, of course.” I took off what I was wearing and searched for the one dress I had brought along.
As the train pulled into the station I was overcome with relief. Another leg of our journey was realized and we were safe. Then eagerness surged through me like a tide. I couldn’t wait to disembark.
There were hundreds of people on the platform, most with more luggage than they could carry, children prancing along, couples, the elderly, the alone, all in a frenzy to get where they needed to go. Police were standing at the doors to the station and near the doorways to the railcars. Because we were stopping for a few hours they needed to monitor who was getting off the train and make sure that no one else attempted to board.
We were ready! We fled down the corridor and onto the platform. Katya was already there. She was with a policeman a dozen or so metres from the car behind ours, waving one hand while holding a whistle to her lips with the other, tooting short blasts to gain everyone’s attention. We hurried to her. There were eleven people in our group, all of us eager to get going. The two fashionable couples from a few days ago were among us, their clothing superb, the women’s hair in appealing order, and, of course, their jewellery shining in the light slicing through the station’s windows.
“Does everyone have their papers and tickets?”
Mutsch leaned over to Paps. “Are we prepared?”
“Yes, darling,” he said patting the lapel of his jacket, “I have everything we need.”
When our group was quiet and attentive Katya laid out our plan. “We’ll be taking a bus into the city. The bus will take that bridge across the Angara River. We will get off the bus at its first stop and then proceed to some points of interest including shops, cafés, museums, churches, and other places. But please,” she implored, looking at me, “let’s stay close together as we go.” Like ducklings waddling behind their mother we ambled with Katya, catching glimpses of our surroundings while feverishly peering ahead to make sure she was in front of us.
Our group left the station. Within a few metres we came upon an unadorned cubicle that served as a bus stop. As we gathered ranks, Katya told us that the governing body of the Russian railway system had set aside bus tickets for passengers to take sightseeing trips at extended stops under her supervision. Our wallets would not be necessary. She reminded us to stay close together and then, to reassure the two couples with the jewellery, she said the police officer standing beside her would be accompanying us, as was customary.
The bus approached and then stopped. Katya grabbed my wrist and ushered me to the first row where we sat down. Paps and Mutsch were behind us. The two couples with the jewellery found benches farther back and the other sightseers plopped down wherever there was room. The policeman stood at the front of the bus.
As we crossed the bridge Katya said, “I have a special treat for you, little one.”
“What is it?” I wondered.
“There’s a quaint café where this bus will stop. Our group will assemble there. Then one part of our group will go one way to some . . .” she scrunched up her nose as if she had smelled a skunk, “. . . really featureless and humdrum tourist places. But the rest—which will be you, your mother, and your father—you’ll go to see some special houses, a magnificent church, and other fascinating places.”
“Yes, Katya,” I said, “that sounds much better.”
We got off the bus and followed Katya and the policeman to the café. We huddled at its doorway.
“This is where we will meet later this afternoon. We have exactly two hours. We’ll reconvene then.”
Then Katya addressed the group. “Fräulein Völker and her parents will pursue a sightseeing course to my left while the rest of our group will head off to my right.”
The woman with the wrist full of gold bracelets asked her gentleman companion, “Why are they being singled out and separated from our group?” she asked disquietly.
“It’s all right,” I whispered to her. “Katya wants me to see some really interesting things —something special, but more suited to a child.”
“I see,” the woman said condescendingly.
The larger part of our group walked away. I was puzzled because Katya went with them. The policeman came over to Paps. “I’m here to accompany you as Katya has directed.”
“Wait!” I screeched. “I thought Katya would be guiding us.”
“No. I’m your guide. My name is Alexi. Follow me.”
He started on his way. Paps and Mutsch didn’t seem overly concerned. “Let’s go with him,” Paps said. I was heartbroken that Katya wouldn’t be with us. I didn’t understand why she chose the other group.
The policeman was very cordial. He took us to see several houses decorated with intricate trim. “These,” Alexi told us, “many years ago, were the homes of the families of exiles, those writers and thinkers sent here as punishment for their participation in a revolt against our Czar.”26 Then a short while later, “This is the Kazan Church. Note the incredibly intricate architecture.” Alexi didn’t say much, but when he did speak I found myself eager to listen.
He led us through some foreboding side streets to several streets with enormous brick buildings. There was a great variety in this city, variety everywhere.
Two hours later, as instructed, we arrived back at the café. As we approached, I saw the other sightseeing group had already arrived. Through the window I could see that everyone was seated, conversing, laughing, and gesturing among themselves, the steam from their hot beverages wafting in the air.
But I didn’t see Katya.
Alexi opened the door. Mutsch entered, then Paps and I stepped in. Everyone stopped talking at once. I saw only blank expressions on their faces. The air was thick with silence. Time seemed to stop. I was horrified. Had I done something wrong? The seconds seemed like hours.
Then, from the rear of the café I heard a familiar voice. “Who are we here for today?”
There was no reaction from anyone.
Mutsch turned to me. “Lorechen, close your eyes.”
“Yes, mother,” I said squeezing my eyes shut. A knot of guilt was tightening in my stomach. There was a commotion, first of chairs being pushed back, then people standing, then handbags, napkins, and cutlery being moved and then that familiar voice singing out, “Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag!”
I opened my eyes. Everyone smiled as brightly as I had ever seen. And there was Katya, holding a cake, one lit candle at its centre.
“To our guest of honour!” Katya bellowed. Everyone applauded. Room was made for us at a centre table where Katya placed the cake. It looked delicious, a square concoction of layers topped with flowery swirls of icing and nuts sprinkled on top. Voices chirped all those nice things said at birthdays. I staggered with surprise.
