The Children's Train

CHAPTER 4: The World Turned Out Its Light (November 1938)

CHAPTER 4

THE WORLD TURNED OUT ITS LIGHT

(November 1938)

A few days later, Eva played checkers with Olga on the floor of her room. Her bandage was gone, the wound was healing, but the damage to her soul felt unfixable. Eva’s fluffy white cat, Snowflake, watched them, rubbing against Eva.

The cat meowed. Eva laughed. “Snowflake wants to play checkers.”

Olga laughed. She looked around Eva’s beautiful room with the big lacy bed. “I wish I had a room like this.”

Eva’s brother William burst into her room. He was eighteen, a handsome boy with a confident swagger and the twinkle of a daredevil in his eyes.

“Hey, ugly sister, I need money.” He ran his hand through his hair.

“No, you never paid me back last time,” Eva said. “Get a job.”

“I don’t have time to work.” He tossed his head, jerked open the drawer to her bedside table, and grabbed a few reichsmarks. “This is all you have?”

Eva nodded.

“It’s not enough. I need more,” William said, as he tucked the stolen money into his pocket. As he walked by the girls, he kicked their checkerboard. The checkers flew, and Olga glared at him.

“Get out of here, William!” Eva threw her shoe at him, hitting him in the back before he slammed the door.

“I wish I had a bigger shoe.” Eva shrugged at Olga. Then she put her finger to her mouth and motioned Olga over to her dresser drawer. She pulled out a fat sock, reached into it, and pulled out a small roll of reichsmarks. She smiled slyly. “He’s not as smart as he thinks. Hey, let’s go to the candy store.”

Olga nodded and followed Eva out of the house. They skipped, linking arms, as they approached the candy store. They sang a children’s chant:

Best friends, best friends

The best days are when we’re together.

Best friends, best friends

Best friends forever and ever.

Peter walked back from delivering a beef loin roast to Herr Frank, who hadn’t been back to the shop since he had left in such a hurry during Peter’s last serenade. Instead, he had called to have his meat delivered to 435 Edelweiss Street, a few blocks away. Peter didn’t mind. Herr Frank usually let him take Bruno for a walk after he delivered the meat. Bruno loved to scamper up the steps to the bandstand at the edge of the park, as Peter pretended he was playing his violin to a crowd, waiting anxiously to hear him. He dreamed that he would be the talk of Berlin someday: Peter Weinberg, the famous musician.

That day, Herr Frank had said both he and Bruno were sick, and asked Peter to leave the meat on the table. Peter had done what he was asked, but neither one had looked sick to him.

Outside, Peter walked slowly with his head down until he was almost in front of the candy store. He heard Eva and Olga’s voices and looked up.

“Let’s get chocolate-covered cherries,” Eva was saying to Olga.

“Yes, lots,” Olga said.

Then Eva and Olga stopped suddenly. Painted in yellow and black across the candy store window were six-pointed stars of David and the words: “DON’T SELL TO JEWS. THE JEWS ARE OUR MISFORTUNE.”

A Nazi officer stood outside with his arms crossed. He looked at Olga, and then nodded sideways at Eva. “What are you doing with that girl?” he asked.

“She’s my friend,” Olga said, but she let go of Eva and backed up.

The officer shook his head. “Is she a Jew? Didn’t you see the sign? The Jews are our misfortune. Jews cannot be our friends.”

Peter peered out from behind a tree. His heart pounded. His feet felt like they were made of lead, and he couldn’t run away. He was too scared to do anything but watch.

Another Nazi officer down the street whistled loudly and motioned. “Come on, Boris.”

“All right, Thomas.” Boris waved his hand. “Be a good German girl and leave the Jews alone.” He turned away from the girls and headed toward the other officer.

As the Nazis headed off down the street, Eva hesitated, and then ran to the candy store steps. She motioned for Olga to come with her.

Olga shook her head. “I don’t think they’ll let you in.”

“Come on. They won’t know I’m Jewish.”

Eva paused on the candy store steps as movement and raised voices from down the sidewalk reached her ears. The girls turned to see Boris and Thomas harassing Rabbi Mosel, who nervously stroked his gray-streaked beard.

“Step off the sidewalk when you see us coming!” Thomas shouted at the old man.

Peter watched the confrontation unfold from behind his tree bunker.

Boris pushed Mosel’s shoulder. “Show respect, old man.” He pulled a standard issue Nazi dagger from his belt with one hand, and knocked Mosel’s kippah off his head.

Mosel looked down at the ground. The children could hear him praying in Yiddish: “God, look down on me now.”

“Shut up, old Jew man!” Boris swung the dagger close to Mosel’s neck, then roughly grabbed Mosel’s beard and cut it off. Blood oozed from the old man’s injured face. As the whiskers fell to the ground, Boris and Thomas laughed and pushed the rabbi.

Peter’s eyes grew big and his mouth hung open. Rabbi Mosel was a powerful man of God, but the soldiers were controlling him.

“Next time, step off the sidewalk when you see a German officer coming, or you’ll end up like your beard,” Boris said. The two Nazis turned on their heels and continued down the street.

Peter looked over to where Olga had been standing, but she was no longer there. He could see her running down the street toward her home. Eva stood still, as if frozen, on the candy store steps.

Mosel picked up his kippah and walked away. Eva shook herself a little, and then ran after him. “Rabbi Mosel! Are you all right?”

“They’re robbing our souls, and the world has turned out its light and gone to sleep,” Mosel said sadly.

Eva looked up at the wise man. “The world can’t sleep forever.”

“This I hope and this I pray. Go home where it is safe, Eva.” Mosel hobbled down the sidewalk, cloaked in humiliation, his beard cut, and his spirit crushed but not broken.

Peter warbled his usual three shrill whistles to get Eva’s attention, then stepped out from behind the tree and ran to her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Eva ran over to him. “They cut Rabbi Mosel’s beard,” she said, still in shock.

“I know. Come with me, I want to show you something.” Peter thought that maybe he could distract her from the rabbi’s attack.

Eva followed more from numbing shock than really wanting to go.

Peter led her down the block to a fleet of red-and-green garbage trucks parked in neat rows, waiting their turn to negotiate the city streets and pick up the remnants of trash no one wanted.

“This? This is it?” Eva asked, when she saw the tidy line of garbage trucks.

Peter nodded, as he climbed into the cab of a truck and motioned Eva to follow. He reached out his hand and helped her up. Her hand was smooth, soft, and warm.

She sat beside him, as he pretended to drive the powerful truck. Then she pointed to the ignition. “There’s no key.”

“I wasn’t really going to—”

“It’s no good without the key,” Eva said seriously, suddenly very interested.

“I know where the keys are.” Peter smiled. “Wait here.”

Peter jumped down from the cab and walked over to the tiny building that served as the office. He knew the schedule of the trucks and that no one would be in the office for a little while. He carefully pried open the office window and reached in to the board of hooks that held each truck’s key on its painted number. He counted down three from the front, matching the position of the truck in the parking lot, and pulled the key off the pegboard.

Peter smiled and warbled three short, shrill whistles as he walked back to the truck, holding his prized key aloft like a trophy for Eva to admire. He climbed back into the cab, reached down, and put the key in the ignition. He had often driven his father’s meat truck on their delivery route, while sitting on his father’s lap, substituting for his father’s legs.

He turned the key. As the garbage truck started up, he hollered like he had seen his father do at a football game. Eva clapped.

Peter felt powerful. “Look at this.” He leaned out the window and pretended to steer the wheel with his feet. “Don’t worry, I’m a good driver. I don’t even need my hands.” Someday, he would be a remarkable driver. People would stare as he drove by with a beautiful girl, hopefully Eva, he thought. “Someday, I’ll take you for a real ride in one of these,” he promised.

“Okay, but don’t drive with your feet,” she said. They both laughed, the constricting fear from watching the rabbi’s humiliation temporarily forgotten.

Peter knew the drivers would be arriving soon, so he turned off the motor. They both jumped down, before the fleet of trucks took off on their bold journeys across the city, seeking the perpetual rubbish. He put the key back on the pegboard. “I’d better get back to the shop. My father has some lamb chops and a roast for me to take to the Vogners.”

“Okay.”

Eva followed Peter back toward their block. Peter turned toward the shop to get the meat packages for his next delivery, and Eva headed toward home.

Eva turned back. “Peter?” she called.

Peter stopped and turned around.

“Someday, you will drive that truck.”

“And you will ride with me.” Peter smiled. “I’m a good driver.”

Eva laughed and waved. “Tell my favorite little spitfire ‘hello’!”

Peter ran down the street toward his father’s shop, jubilant that he had sat so close to Eva and that she thought him capable of driving the massive truck.

As he turned the corner, he saw William, Eva’s brother, opening up his father’s tailor shop that was closed for the day. Bert was a tailor, and Helga was a seamstress. William let a well-dressed man, with a scar across his eye, slip inside.

Curious, Peter detoured across the street to the shop. He reached up to the windowsill to peer in, but lost his grip and slid back down. He wedged the toe of his shoe into a crevice in the bricks and pulled himself up again to see into the window.

Inside the tailor shop, William held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Hurry up! Did you get all my documents?”

The man nodded and handed William an ink-smudged envelope.

William opened the envelope and looked inside. He nodded. Then he pulled a key from his pocket, opened the store’s money drawer, and handed the man some money. “You’ll have to find someone else to be your connection. With these papers, I’m out of here.”

William shoved the papers inside his shirt and turned quickly. Peter ducked down, his foot trapped in the crevice, and fell to the ground. His foot was freed by the fall. He jumped up as William opened the door.

“Peter? What are you doing here? Get out of my way when you see me coming.” William pushed Peter out of his way.

Peter limped down the sidewalk, hurrying away from William, who clutched his secret documents that would get him out of Germany inside his shirt.