Turned Away Read online

  Finally we came back to the hotel, tired and discouraged.

  August 18

  We are back on the train to Winnipeg. We left Ottawa early this morning and connected to the Winnipeg train after lunch. Mommy told me that we mustn’t be too disappointed because we tried our best and that’s all we can do. But I am! And I’m mad! Why couldn’t they have at least seen us? It would have been only a few minutes of their time.

  August 19

  Daddy is very happy to have us both home. And I’m glad to be back! It was a real adventure, but somehow it seems all spoiled now because we didn’t accomplish anything. Daddy says we tried, and that’s the important thing. But Sarah couldn’t see it that way, could she?

  There is a big battle going on in France at Dieppe. Dieppe is on the French coast and there are many Canadians on the ground. One thousand planes are trying to shield them and I’ll bet Adam is up there, maybe even now. The papers say that the Germans have lost over a million troops in Russia. I’m glad they are on our side now — the Russians, that is.

  August 20

  I went to see Mrs. Miniver again today with Marcie. She loved the scarf. She says I should be happy I got to do something and that it was nice that Mommy asked me along, and that it probably helped Mommy to have some company and that I shouldn’t expect anyone to change. But I do! Why can’t they change? What is the matter with grown-ups? I hope when I’m older I’ll always keep an open mind.

  But I am proud of Mommy for trying. She’s a grown-up who tries her best, that’s for certain. And Daddy too, of course!

  August 21

  A wire from Adam saying he is safe. Lots in the papers about how brave the Canadians were at Dieppe. The Brits are saying it was Canada’s greatest day of the war, the greatest air scrap since the Battle of France, and the U.S. is saying the same thing — and as usual that means Adam!!! The pilots in the paper say it was a tremendous dogfight and a flyer is quoted as saying that they really gave it to Jerry. But Daddy says there have been many lost.

  Later

  Lists of dead from Dieppe and pictures in the paper’s front page of Manitobans who died. Marcie’s cousin is one of the dead. She’s been crying all day. So many died! And so many others wounded. If that was a success, I’d hate to see a failure — that’s what Mommy said at dinner tonight.

  August 26

  I know I’m not writing very much, but this week we played until very late every night — and then I’m too tired to write. Tonight there was an eclipse of the moon and the whole gang from the street watched together. Have I said who’s been playing? Sandy, Mary, Elizabeth, Paul, John, Hester.

  The Duke of Kent, the king’s younger brother, died in a plane crash. Even being royalty won’t save you.

  We’re starting junior high soon. I’m a little nervous.

  August 29

  MORRIS IS ALIVE and has sent us a letter! A LETTER! The most amazing, fantastic, wonderful, spectacular, stupendous news!

  One beautiful page.

  Mommy won’t let me put it in here so I’ll have to summarize. He says he is fine and that he is tanned! And that Isaac is fine too and that they received tooth powder and other things and that we shouldn’t worry about him, but to take care of ourselves and that he hoped to write once a month. And that he is being treated well and that they play volleyball and basketball and bridge!

  This is the best day ever — except for the day Adam came home!

  August 31

  Most horrible letter imaginable from Sarah.

  Ma chère Devorah,

  I wonder whether it is worth going on. Everything seems so black. Our neighbour, Mme Bresson, volunteers at the Drancy prison trying to help the poor unfortunates held there. She came to have tea with Maman the other day and I overheard their conversation. I wasn’t meant to, but with nothing to do anyway, I just sat on the floor outside the parlour and listened out of sheer boredom. What I heard!

  Remember I told you of all the Jewish families that were rounded up in July? Well, after being held in the sports arena and various places they were sent off to camps. The authorities did not yet have permission to deport the children to the east, but they did not want to delay the trains so they sent the adults. Parents were separated from the children with no mercy — apparently it was heartrending. The adults were sent to Germany, she thinks. Children from two to sixteen were left behind with no one to care for them. Finally the children were packed onto trains and sent to Drancy where she encountered them. Oh, Devorah, how can people be so cruel? And French people? These were not Nazis, these were French organizing these transports.

  The children had travelled for days and nights all alone without parents, one or two adults to each cattle car. The older children helped the younger ones when they got off the trains, some carrying the babies in their arms. When they arrived at Drancy they were covered in insects and their clothes were soiled, and smelled. They were covered in bruises and impetigo. Mme Bresson had to tell them they would be reunited with their parents. They showed her pictures of their parents if they were old enough. Most of the children had diarrhea and dysentery and for a bathroom only a rusty can. They slept on straw on the floor. She and her fellow volunteers tried to get them food but there was so little to go around. Two days later, the gendarmes began to ready them for the trip east. The French guards ripped any bracelets or jewellery off them, even earrings, tearing them out of their ears. Some child called the place they were going “Pitchipoi” and for some reason, soon they all began to call it that. They would say, “We’ll see our parents soon, in Pitchipoi.”

  At 5 in the morning they were awakened and somehow they knew and did not want to go to the courtyard and they started to cry. So the gendarmes carried them down as they screamed in terror. And then they were taken away. Mme Bresson went in the buses with them and saw them packed into sealed cattle cars.

  I never let on that I heard because Maman said, “We must not let the children hear about this. They will be too frightened.”

  Now I see why Martha’s maman threw her out the window. How she knew what was in store I cannot guess. Perhaps she only guessed or had heard from others, but I am glad Martha died quickly with her family. But to be glad of such a thing, you can see how far we have sunk. So I ask again, why go on? I’ve been feeling rather unwell, but it is probably the result of the lack of food. Your packages are all that keep us going, I think.

  Your dear cousin,

  Sarah

  I showed the letter to Daddy. He looked very sad after he read it. “These must be some of the children we wanted visas for so we could get them over here,” he said. “That they should have met such a fate!”

  “Why are people so cruel?” I asked him.

  “Another big question,” he replied. “Maybe they each have a different reason. One person does it because he enjoys it, one because he’s afraid to say no, one for power, one because he actually believes he is doing the right thing.”

  “How could anyone believe that kind of cruelty is right?” I asked, and he said, “You can convince yourself of anything. But if people followed Hillel’s advice, they would be far better off: Treat others as you would wish to be treated. That’s basically what Hillel said. And when you think about it, Devvy, if we all did that, the world would be a much better place.”

  I’m very worried about Sarah. She sounds like she’s given up hope.

  Later

  One hundred and twenty-two families received letters from Hong Kong. Today pictures were in the paper and the names of those whose families received letters, including Morris.

  There were more casualty lists from Dieppe. The number of dead, wounded and missing is so high and I feel so badly for those families getting bad news. I’ve looked through and see that many of them live around here, so when school starts tomorrow there are bound to be lots of very sad students.

  I’m a little nervous about starting a new school and wonder who will be in my class.

  September 1942
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  September 1

  First day was pretty good. There was a very emotional assembly where Mr. Bruce talked about those sacrificing so much, so that we could be free. There was a moment of silence and we all said The Lord’s Prayer and sang “God Save the King” and marched outside to raise the flag.

  Then we were sent to our new rooms. Elizabeth is in my room and so are Paul and Hester, Sandy, Mary — too bad — and actually I won’t write them all down here, but it seems like a good class. Our homeroom teacher is Mrs. Clark. We go from class to class now and that will seem strange. The school is very busy with war work, much more so than Grosvenor was. The boys can join the cadets and the girls can help with projects, like knitting, collections and such. I feel better about that. It means I won’t have to separate all the war work from school as much as I did last year. But they expect more from us now we are in junior high.

  I write Sarah once a week and Mommy collects the letters and then sends them whenever she mails her parcels, but today I wrote an extra letter. I urged her to keep hope alive. The war can’t last forever and we are making headway against Hitler. She just needs to remain strong. I worry though, because she is so sensitive and has such a kind heart. She must find this kind of inhumanity more than she can stand.

  September 3

  A letter today from Uncle Nathaniel. Sarah is very ill with pneumonia. He asked if anything was being done about the visas. Mommy has written him back.

  She told him about our Ottawa trip and how she’s tried everything and just doesn’t know what else she can do. She told him that he has to consider what to do without thinking about a visa because she truly doesn’t think that he will get one. She had to tell him the truth.

  September 4

  More numbers of wounded and missing are coming in from Dieppe and it looks as if Mommy might be right — how could it be called a success if so many men died or were wounded or taken prisoner?

  There’s a beef shortage developing but Mommy says that we can’t spend time worrying about that when there are really important things to worry over — and at least that means fewer cabbage rolls!

  September 11

  A twister came to ground outside the city today near Boissevain. In the city we had a pretty scary hailstorm and lightning crashing all around. I love storms. I turn out all the lights and watch the lightning from the living room window. After it was over I felt as if I’d forgotten something but I couldn’t think what, and then I realized that it was strange to not be worrying about the war and Morris and Adam and Sarah even for a few minutes. I’d forgotten to worry!

  September 12

  The whole family got together tonight at Auntie Adele’s for New Year’s. It’s 5703 in the Jewish calendar. The adults talked non-stop about the refugees and what the Congress was doing and what they were doing. Cousin Jenny let me walk around in her high heels and try on her lipstick and powder. Mommy will have everyone over for Yom Kippur.

  September 15

  Dieppe casualties, 3350. That includes missing and wounded. Hester has a brother missing. Marvin has a brother who’s been wounded, and there are at least three people from other classes who have lost family — two were brothers and one was a father.

  September 21

  Yom Kippur. We went to services today and last night. We don’t often go, but Daddy suddenly wanted to so we went to the Shaary Zedek in the north end. I wore a little grey skirt and white blouse and black patent shoes and Mommy wore a new hat and a brown suit. Most of the TO’s were there and we went out during the sermon and hung around outside talking. It was a nice day and the leaves are turning. Joe seemed very surprised to see me and quite pleased. I actually enjoyed the service. I read along in English and found it interesting. I don’t have to fast until I’m 12, but Joe was fasting and so was Marcie. They didn’t look like they were having too much fun. Mommy never fasts, Daddy always does. Mommy says she doesn’t feel she needs to fast to be a good Jew and it makes her feel sick, and why would it make her a better Jew to feel sick?

  September 29

  Sarah is dead.

  September 30

  Sarah died of pneumonia.

  I think she died of a broken heart.

  Hitler killed her. He might as well have shot her in the head.

  Uncle Nathaniel wrote on the twelfth with the news. But we just got it. All that time when I was happy and celebrating the New Year and going to synagogue and thinking about silly things — all that time she was gone. Gone.

  Dear diary, you know I tell you everything, but how can I tell you something I don’t know? And I can’t describe to you how I feel. No one close to me has ever died before. Shouldn’t I be crying and wailing and screaming? I haven’t even cried or anything. It doesn’t even feel real to me. It’s like a bad dream and I’m sure I’ll wake up and everything will be all right. And since I haven’t seen Sarah in so long, I can’t grasp that this isn’t just the same — I can’t see her now, but soon I will. Maybe my heart is made of ice.

  October 1942

  October 1

  I am still numb from the news about Sarah. Mommy has suggested I have a memorial service for her on the weekend. I don’t want to do anything. So Mommy came into my room tonight and gave me quite a talking to.

  “Do you want Hitler to win?” she asked me.

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “Then don’t let him. He’s killed your cousin. He might yet kill your brothers. And you’ve let him kill your spirit.”

  “Gloria,” Daddy said, “Don’t be so hard on her. She needs to grieve for her cousin.”

  “She needs to fight!” Mommy said. And she stalked out of the room.

  Oh yes. The parcels for the Grenadiers have arrived at Hong Kong along with medicines, cigarettes, dehydrated vegetables and fruit juice. I’m relieved to think of Morris getting some of the things they need so badly.

  October 3

  Today was the memorial service for Sarah. All the TO’s came and so did Elizabeth and Sandy and Paul. I gave a speech. This is more or less what I said:

  “My cousin Sarah was a very special person. She played piano so well and was so talented that one day she probably would have played in a symphony and become famous. She was kind and she was sweet. She loved to eat — especially big thick sandwiches and French fries from Kelekis. But even if she had been a bad person with no talents, she didn’t deserve to die just because she was Jewish. No one deserves that. I don’t know why people love Hitler and follow him. I don’t know why people hate Jews. It makes no sense to me and I don’t understand it. I just wish that this wasn’t happening because I’ll miss her so much.” And then there was more I wanted to say but suddenly my throat felt like it had closed up and I couldn’t speak.

  Joe came over to me and took my hand and looked in my eyes and said that he was very sorry she had to die and suddenly it hit me, really hit me, that I would never see Sarah again or even get a letter, no matter how miserable she sounded, and that she would never return in any way. How can death be so final? And so quick? I started to cry and couldn’t stop. I ran into my room and flung myself onto the bed and I cried and cried and cried. Mommy came up and hugged me and I wept in her arms until she wiped my face with her handkerchief and sent me back out to my guests. Then she brought out cookies she had made and also her special chocolate cake using all our sugar rations and I think chocolate must be like medicine because I actually felt a little better after I ate.

  Elizabeth thinks everything is good and happy, Marcie the opposite. Since this has happened I’ve been thinking a lot about it. Is the world a good place, I mean basically good? Or is it a bad place? I mean really bad? I need to ask Daddy. And I need to ask Adam. Will write him tonight.

  October 5

  I’ve gone from not being able to cry to crying all the time. If I hear something sappy on the radio or am reading a book, or anything, I’ll burst into tears. It’s happened twice at school. Elizabeth, thankfully, isn’t telling me to buck up all th
e time. I feel better when I’m doing the war work at school. But not much better.

  St. Louis Cardinals won the World Series today. It’s all the boys could talk about at school, who would win. And I think a few skipped school to listen to the game because attendance was down. I know Joe told me he was going to be “sick” today.

  October 17

  Today was my birthday, as you well know, dear diary. I didn’t want to do anything for it, but Mommy arranged a party for me. She invited all the TO’s and Elizabeth and Sandy. She took us to see Footlight Serenade, with Betty Grable, at the Capitol. Then everyone crammed into the car and came back home for a dinner of hot dogs and fries and ice cream and cake. I tried to have a good time because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially Mommy, who had gone to all that trouble. Sometimes I found myself crying because Sarah will never have another birthday. Sometimes I had fun and then I felt guilty.

  I asked Daddy whether the world was a good place or a bad place. He says good will always triumph over evil. But why do so many have to die for that to happen? Why can’t we have a world where good wins before millions of people have to die? How can I live in a country where so many are willing to sign up and fight and die and they are so good and noble, and yet our very own government won’t let in a few Jews and so they die and no one cares about that. It doesn’t make sense. We are fighting against Hitler and all his racial laws, but then we have all these hatreds right here in this country. I wish I understood. Maybe when I get older.