Pieces of the Past Read online

Mama lets out a gasp. Abe pauses and then continues. “I found out from the others who worked in the chambers what happened there. Everyone was forced to run naked down this long path — they called it The Tube — toward a chamber where they were told they would have showers. Once at the door they were ordered to hold their arms in the air — that was so they were able to fit in as many people as possible. Once the group was inside, the door was locked. Carbon monoxide gas was pumped in from an engine in a shed right beside the chamber.” He pauses again and I think he must be crying. He says, “That’s why they didn’t need their identification papers anymore, Mama. Dead people don’t need those, do they?”

  For a moment there is silence. Then I hear Mama whisper, “How did you escape?”

  “When the trains leave they are filled with all the clothes and shoes and coats from the dead — they bring all that stuff back here to the city. Someone I know from the Resistance smuggled me out on the train, under the coats. When it stopped just before Warsaw, I jumped out.”

  “Thank God,” Mama says.

  “There is nothing to thank Him for,” Abe replies bitterly. “Mama, I am going to fight. I need to join my group. You and Rozia must get out. Now. Tonight. You know where the spot is. You cannot wait for the next roundup. No one will be spared, papers or not. That was just a trick to calm people down so they wouldn’t resist.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, you’re right. But you must come with us. You can see we will need you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama, but I must stay and fight.”

  She traces her hand along his face and then kisses him on the forehead. “We will meet on the other side,” she says.

  “Let me say goodbye to Rozia,” he says.

  I don’t move fast enough and he finds me there on the floor near the door.

  “Did you hear?”

  I nod.

  “Then you know you must be good and listen to everything Mama says, and if she tells you to be quiet and to make no noise, you must do that, and if she tells you to run, you must do that. Do you understand?”

  I nod again.

  “Then give your big brother a kiss and a hug.”

  I hug him so tight I hope he won’t be able to get away.

  But he pulls my arms from around his neck and he kisses me and then Mama, and then he is gone.

  Late

  Saul just opened the door a crack and told me that it was late and I should think about turning off the light and getting some sleep. That’s the first time he’s ever done anything similar to a real parent, and it made me miss Papa and Mama so much my stomach hurt. I told him I would just be a bit longer and he agreed that at least I could sleep in tomorrow if I wanted to.

  He paused for a moment and asked if I was all right. Then he asked was I writing my memories? I nodded but didn’t really answer, because I need to write this next bit down. He closed the door quietly and left me to it.

  I REMEMBER

  Late August, 1942

  Mama picks me out a dress that is still nice looking, not frayed or soiled. She puts a winter sweater over the dress, even though it’s very warm out, and over that a summer coat so that it looks like I am dressed for summer. She also has me put on a good pair of boots and socks. She puts an extra pair of shoes in the bottom of my rucksack, over that stuffs in as much underwear and stockings as she can, and over that a rolled-up skirt and blouse for her. She also puts on a few layers of clothes. She tells me that she will only bring a purse, or it will look suspicious, but me carrying a rucksack won’t. In her purse she scrunches up some extra socks and stockings.

  When we are packed she takes my hand and we venture out onto the street. Quickly we make our way into an alley and from there we hurry from alley to alley. Finally we get to a pile of rubble near the brick wall surrounding the ghetto. It’s a big pile, larger than she is. She removes some rocks and I see that it is really just a rough covering of an opening in the wall. Mama pushes me ahead of her and pulls the rocks back into place once we are through.

  She picks me up then, because she obviously wants us away from here as fast as possible. Once we’re on a main street she puts me down, takes my hand and says, “Walk with your head held high. Do not look afraid. Now we are just a Polish mother and daughter. My name is Ania and you are Rozia, as always, but our last name must be something else. Let’s use Dudek. You will be able to remember that, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Mama,” I answer. “You know I can remember everything.”

  “Of course you can, darling. Now we shall try the homes of some of our old friends and see if they will take us in. That is the best I can come up with.”

  It is getting late in the afternoon. Mama walks so fast my feet are almost off the ground. We reach a street that looks familiar to me. “There is Mrs. Jaworski’s house,” Mama says. “She was a good friend for so many years.” And then I see our house! Our dear old house! It looks so safe and so inviting. I want to run there and go back home, and I must be pulling on Mama’s hand because she tightens her grip on my hand and says, “This way, Rozia, this way.”

  We climb the front steps and she knocks on the door and Mrs. Jaworski opens it. “My God!” she exclaims. “I thought you were taken away for good!”

  I can’t tell from the way she says it if she is sorry to see that we were not, or happy about it, but the next thing she says makes it very clear. “You must leave here. I can’t be seen with a Jew. A Nazi official is living in your house. There is nothing I can do for you.” She shuts the door.

  Mama and I stand there for a moment, Mama obviously at a loss for what to do next. Then she takes my hand and says, “We will try again.”

  We go a few doors down to the Nowaks’ house and Mr. Nowak answers. His response is almost the same as Mrs. Jaworski’s, and before we know it the door has been shut on us again.

  “We must walk,” Mama says.

  We hurry down a few more streets and then onto a side street that parallels a main thoroughfare. I remember it so well, that street, all the shops — the butcher where I’d go with Mama, the bakery, the sweet shop where I would buy lemon drops (my favourite), the millinery where we’d buy blue ribbons for my hair before it was cut, although now it’s quite long again. We walk for at least an hour and finally Mama turns down another street. We pass people but no one pays us much attention. Mama is tall and blond and I am tall for my age, and fair too, so we can easily pass as Poles, although if we run into the Germans or even the police, that won’t help us. Fortunately we don’t, until we are about to walk up to a house and a big black car moves slowly down the street. Mama quickens her pace even more and knocks loudly on the door. A young woman opens it. Her eyes widen as she takes in us and the car. Without hesitating she draws us into the foyer and shuts the door behind us. Mama sighs with relief. The young woman grabs her in a hug. “Mrs. Rabinowitz!” she cries. “I am so happy you are alive!” She looks at me. “This must be Sophie?”

  “No,” Mama answers, “this is Rozia.”

  “Ah, it has been that long.”

  The young woman peeks through the window blind beside the door and nods. “They have gone. Please, please, come in. Can I get you something to eat? Have you had your dinner?”

  I can see tears in Mama’s eyes. “Something to eat would be very nice,” she says. “Rozia, this is Mia Adamski. She was a pupil of mine — actually, my star pupil!”

  Mia blushes. She is very pretty, with brown hair cut fashionably short, and dressed as if she is about to go out. “My parents are visiting friends,” she says. “So let’s eat and think about what to do for the best.”

  She ushers us into a large kitchen and offers us the water closet to wash up in. Once we are seated she brings out a large cold turkey and cold potatoes and beets and radishes. When she sees the look on our faces she grins. “It’s not our usual wartime fare, either, but Papa had it smuggled in from the country!”

  She slices huge pieces for us both and brings Mama a beer and me a ginger beer. I don’t
think I have ever tasted anything so good. I eat as if I haven’t eaten in months, and the truth is, I haven’t, not like this. Mama doesn’t stop me though or say anything about manners, and neither does Mia. When I feel like I can’t eat another bite, she puts a big piece of apple strudel in front of me and I finish that off too.

  “I can’t thank you enough for taking us in,” Mama says.

  That’s when Mia looks worried.

  “Mrs. Rabinowitz, I can’t take you in,” she says. “Mother and Father will be home in about an hour and they are capable of turning you in. They are quite happy with the Jews being taken away. Father has taken over ownership of a clothing factory owned before by Jews, and he is manufacturing uniforms for the Germans. He is making money hand over fist and wouldn’t let anything jeopardize that. I, however, am working with an underground organization right here in Warsaw, pretending to be the good daughter and a collaborator. It’s an excellent cover.” She says all this as if she is talking about a trip to the grocer. “I think I know where I can take you,” she says. “Wait. Let me make a call.”

  She comes back shortly and says, “We must leave right now if I am to get you over there before the curfew sets in. We will have to walk.”

  I am very tired by now, but I know I can’t show it. Mia walks on one side of me, holding my hand, Mama on the other, and we look like a family or friends out for a walk after dinner. Mia keeps up a brisk pace and after a long walk we arrive at a small house set in a neighbourhood I do not know. She hurries us up the steps and a young man opens the door. Without a word we are ushered in. “This way,” he says. He takes us to a back room. There is a small bed and a very, very large wardrobe in the room, and that is about all. He opens the door to the wardrobe. It is empty except for a glass of water and a small chamber pot.

  “There are spies everywhere,” he says. “I live here with my sister. We can trust her, but if a visitor should suspect anything, or a neighbour, that would be the end of all of us. This is where you will have to stay.”

  Mama gasps.

  “Mama, it will be all right,” I assure her. “We can talk to each other.”

  “Only at night and only quietly,” the man says. “Anything else could give you away.”

  Mama smiles at me. “It will just be for a short time, darling. Then we’ll figure out something else.”

  First Mama takes off my coat and my warm sweater and puts them on the top shelf of the wardrobe and does the same with her heavy clothes. After that she steps in and offers me her hand. I take it and step in as well. Mia waves goodbye as the man, whose name I don’t even know, quietly shuts the door and all becomes dark.

  Mama puts her arms around me and whispers, “Go to sleep, darling. Just go to sleep.” And I do.

  Sunday, February 8, 1948

  Stayed up way too late last night, writing, so didn’t really enjoy my day with the Maccabeans as much as I normally would. My eyes felt like sandpaper all day and I was too tired to go swimming. Oskar seemed worried about me and asked me if I thought writing down what happened is actually helping in any way. I told him I had no idea, but that now I can’t seem to stop. He said he could never do it.

  Saturday, February 14, 1948

  A huge blizzard set in so I’m going to spend the day writing more memories. I didn’t get a chance to write at all this week because I was so busy with school. Susan turns out to be quite the taskmaster and I’ve been either meeting with her or doing homework she assigns me! But she does have a wonderful way of explaining things and I can already see an improvement in my math skills. Of course I have to return the favour and help her with her English — she often laughs and says it’s not fair when it’s not even my first language! — so I’ve had to come up with homework for her, and between all of that I’ve been up late every night as it is. The worst thing about this blizzard is that the dance for tonight has been cancelled. Not only did Rita say I could go, she was going to take me shopping this afternoon for a new dress. Oh well. I hope they reschedule it soon.

  I REMEMBER

  November 1942

  “What day is it, Mama?” I ask.

  “Day sixty-one,” she answers.

  “And what will we do tonight?” I ask.

  “Tonight I will tell you the story of The Ice Queen,” Mama answers after some thought. “And we will speak only in English, as we have been. What an improvement you have already made.”

  The day is actually over and that’s why we can speak out loud. I also am permitted to walk back and forth in the wardrobe, about two steps each way, only bending my head a little so as not to bump it on the shelf. The young man brings us food three times a day and empties out our chamber pot. He never complains no matter how smelly it is! I don’t mind it so much in here. I feel safe. Mama and I cuddle up and we eat well enough and she teaches me every single night.

  The young man opens the door and I expect our dinner, but instead he says, “You must get dressed. Put on all your warm clothes. I think they have broken our Resistance cell and you aren’t safe here anymore.”

  He gives Mama his hand. She can’t get up, though. So he and I pull and push her out and then he lays her down flat on the floor. He gets her to raise her legs up and down and then bend them, and after what seems ages, she is finally able to stand. He looks really worried and says, “I have a car ready to take us to a small village just about fifty kilometres out of Warsaw. A farmer there has agreed to take some of us — I need to get away as well.”

  We grab our clothes and put on as many layers as we can and Mama takes my rucksack and her purse — still full of clean clothes because the young man has been cleaning them. It is dark when we go out, but it must be before the curfew — since we haven’t eaten, I am thinking perhaps suppertime.

  We go outside for the first time in two months and for a moment I am so shocked by the cold, fresh air that I can hardly breathe. I stand still, unable to move. The man picks me up and carries me to the car waiting outside and when we get in I see Mia in the passenger seat. The man puts the car into gear and off we go. I can’t believe I am out! Mama holds tight to my hand.

  “How will we get out of the city?” she asks.

  “We have a route,” he answers. “They guard almost all the roads leading out, but we have people in place at some of the checkpoints.”

  It isn’t long before we are stopped by Polish police with machine guns pointing at us. The young man flashes a paper at one of them and the policeman waves us on in a hurry, as if we are very important. No one speaks as we drive along, and after about a half hour we take a narrow, bumpy road and finally arrive on the outskirts of a small village. We pull up to a farmhouse and are waved into a garage by an older man. When we get out, he points to an opening in the floor and says, “Down there.”

  I see a ladder leading down. Mama has me go first and she follows. Four others are there already, a man, a woman and two children — a girl about my age, seven; a boy about ten, I think. Mia and the young man come down and the farmer pulls a cover over the opening. There is a small oil lamp burning. I look around. We are in a little cave, about the size of a small bedroom. I can see it’s not a natural cave. It has been dug out.

  The girl comes over to me and says, “My name is Leah. What’s yours?”

  Saturday, February 21, 1948

  Today Saul took us all to such a funny movie that my cheeks hurt from laughing so hard. Danny Kaye must be the funniest person alive! It was wonderful to forget about everything for a few short hours. After the movie we went shopping and Rita helped me choose a new dress for the dance next week. Terry got a new one too. Mine is blue, my favourite colour — a sort of sky blue, with a shiny black belt and a small black collar. Terry’s is stripes, black and white. I actually think it’s horrible, but I didn’t feel I could tell her that.

  I can’t write my memories tonight. I know why. I’m not sure if I can, or even want, to continue.

  Sunday, February 22, 1948

  Bombshell today at
the Y!

  Both Jakub and Oskar took me aside after our swim. They had very serious looks on their faces. Then Jakub cleared his throat and said, “I think we may know what happened to your brother.”

  “Abe?” I answered, stunned. How could they know? And why hadn’t they said anything until now?

  Quickly Oskar said that he had wanted to tell me right away, on the boat, but that Jakub wouldn’t let him.

  I looked at Jakub for an explanation.

  Jakub sat me down on a chair and then he and Oskar pulled up chairs across from me. Jakub explained that he hadn’t wanted to tell me before, since he hadn’t been sure it was really my brother, and because I already knew Abe was dead since his name was on the lists, so why go into it and upset me all over again. He paused for a moment before he continued. Then he took a breath and said that when he realized that I was still writing down what had happened during the war, and hadn’t given up, he knew that now it was time to talk to me. I nodded.

  He said that they knew a boy whose name was Abe. He was tall and blond and once he did mention that he had two sisters and that his father was a rabbi, but he was dead. When Jakub saw the look on my face he held up his hand and told me that there were other tall blond boys named Abe, so he and Oskar weren’t sure it was my Abe.

  At that moment I think I was ready to jump up and take Jakub by the throat and shake him until he was dead! Of course it had to be Abe! The description of both him and his family matched. But there was one way I could know for certain.

  “Did he have a birthmark over his left eyebrow?” I asked.

  Oskar gasped. And then I knew the answer that Jakub would give.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.” That was all I said. But I felt my whole body shaking.

  So he did. He told me that he was aware that my mother and I had escaped after the first roundup, but of course there were many more roundups after that. The aim was to collect everyone — over three hundred thousand — and kill them all. And they mostly succeeded. He and Oskar had hidden with their father and the other doctors and their families in a storage room at the hospital, in January of ’43. But Jakub knew that the Jews had to fight, so he joined with a group of young men and women to do just that. Abe was not in their group, but the groups did work together smuggling in weapons, so that the next time the Nazis came to round up Jews, the soldiers would at least have to pay, and the Jews wouldn’t go like lambs to the slaughter.