what will happen to you?”
“I’ll stay here. I’ll look for Mother and I’ll try to take care of myself. There are two more days until the trip. You should start packing.”
She hesitated.
“There is no choice, Helga. You have to go. I promise you that the minute I find your mother, I’ll send her to Palestine, too.”
“I want you to come, too.”
“I’ve got obligations, Helga. I’ve got to stay here, at least for a while.”
She wiped her tears.
“I’ll miss you both very much,” she said.
Early in the morning, Karl Rink rode his motorcycle through the still deserted streets of Berlin. Helga rode on the backseat, holding a small suitcase in one hand and grasping her father’s body with the other. This time, too, Karl wore civilian clothes so as not to attract attention at the railroad station, which was packed with uniformedmen. The father and daughter hurried to the platform where the train to Zurich was waiting. The group of Jewish children was already onboard one of the cars. Their parents stood on the platform, looking sadly at their loved ones through the windows and wiping away tears.
Karl accompanied Helga to her seat in the car and hugged her, barely keeping himself from crying.
“See you soon,” he mumbled, without believing it himself. He kissed his daughter, pulled some money out of his pocket, and gave it to her.
“Don’t forget Mother,” she demanded.
The engine tooted.
“Have a good trip,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”
“Write to me a lot, Father.”
Karl Rink left the car, froze on the platform, and watched anxiously as the train pulled away with his only daughter. He felt as if one of his limbs had been cut off. His wife had disappeared and his daughter had gone to another country. Deep in his heart he feared that he would never see either of them again.
7.
On August 31, 1939, all the obstacles were cleared away at long last and the contract between Jacob Solowitzky and the French railroad company was signed at a joyous ceremony. In the offices of the train company, bottles of champagne were opened and joyful speeches were delivered. Jacob Solowitzky ignored news of Germany’s intentions to go to war and prepared to return home.
He stayed in Paris one more day to buy gifts. At a famous couturier on the Champs-Élysées, he bought an elegant dress for hiswife. For Michael he bought a fleet of toy cars and racetracks. And he remembered to buy small gifts for each of the servants.
He returned to the hotel and asked for a phone line home to tell his family when he would arrive.
“Sorry, sir,” said the operator. “All lines to Warsaw are disconnected. Please try again later.”
He tried to send a telegram, but couldn’t do that either.
He didn’t understand what was happening. Never in all his travels had he been unable to call home. He felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right but he didn’t know what.
He went down to the hotel restaurant and ate a light meal. When he went back to his room, he tried again to call home. The lines were still disconnected.
Stolowitzky asked the operator to keep trying. For hours he waited in vain for a line. At last he fell asleep and woke up in the morning to a tap on his door. A waiter put breakfast next to his bed. He sat up, muttered thanks, and put the tray on his lap. As he was drinking his coffee, he turned on the radio. The news delivered by the announcer froze his blood:
The German army has invaded Poland
.
September 1, 1939, a gray and rainy day, would be recorded as one of the worst days in human history. In the morning, like swarms of hungry locusts, two thousand German fighter planes covered the skies of Poland, as 1.8 million German soldiers and twenty-six hundred tanks invaded the state from three sides. Rumors about big military operations Germany was preparing had been in the air for some time. Poland feared the expected events and called up the reserves, but other than that, made no real
“I’ll stay here. I’ll look for Mother and I’ll try to take care of myself. There are two more days until the trip. You should start packing.”
She hesitated.
“There is no choice, Helga. You have to go. I promise you that the minute I find your mother, I’ll send her to Palestine, too.”
“I want you to come, too.”
“I’ve got obligations, Helga. I’ve got to stay here, at least for a while.”
She wiped her tears.
“I’ll miss you both very much,” she said.
Early in the morning, Karl Rink rode his motorcycle through the still deserted streets of Berlin. Helga rode on the backseat, holding a small suitcase in one hand and grasping her father’s body with the other. This time, too, Karl wore civilian clothes so as not to attract attention at the railroad station, which was packed with uniformedmen. The father and daughter hurried to the platform where the train to Zurich was waiting. The group of Jewish children was already onboard one of the cars. Their parents stood on the platform, looking sadly at their loved ones through the windows and wiping away tears.
Karl accompanied Helga to her seat in the car and hugged her, barely keeping himself from crying.
“See you soon,” he mumbled, without believing it himself. He kissed his daughter, pulled some money out of his pocket, and gave it to her.
“Don’t forget Mother,” she demanded.
The engine tooted.
“Have a good trip,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”
“Write to me a lot, Father.”
Karl Rink left the car, froze on the platform, and watched anxiously as the train pulled away with his only daughter. He felt as if one of his limbs had been cut off. His wife had disappeared and his daughter had gone to another country. Deep in his heart he feared that he would never see either of them again.
7.
On August 31, 1939, all the obstacles were cleared away at long last and the contract between Jacob Solowitzky and the French railroad company was signed at a joyous ceremony. In the offices of the train company, bottles of champagne were opened and joyful speeches were delivered. Jacob Solowitzky ignored news of Germany’s intentions to go to war and prepared to return home.
He stayed in Paris one more day to buy gifts. At a famous couturier on the Champs-Élysées, he bought an elegant dress for hiswife. For Michael he bought a fleet of toy cars and racetracks. And he remembered to buy small gifts for each of the servants.
He returned to the hotel and asked for a phone line home to tell his family when he would arrive.
“Sorry, sir,” said the operator. “All lines to Warsaw are disconnected. Please try again later.”
He tried to send a telegram, but couldn’t do that either.
He didn’t understand what was happening. Never in all his travels had he been unable to call home. He felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right but he didn’t know what.
He went down to the hotel restaurant and ate a light meal. When he went back to his room, he tried again to call home. The lines were still disconnected.
Stolowitzky asked the operator to keep trying. For hours he waited in vain for a line. At last he fell asleep and woke up in the morning to a tap on his door. A waiter put breakfast next to his bed. He sat up, muttered thanks, and put the tray on his lap. As he was drinking his coffee, he turned on the radio. The news delivered by the announcer froze his blood:
The German army has invaded Poland
.
September 1, 1939, a gray and rainy day, would be recorded as one of the worst days in human history. In the morning, like swarms of hungry locusts, two thousand German fighter planes covered the skies of Poland, as 1.8 million German soldiers and twenty-six hundred tanks invaded the state from three sides. Rumors about big military operations Germany was preparing had been in the air for some time. Poland feared the expected events and called up the reserves, but other than that, made no real
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