Robert D. Friedman/TILL WE MEET AGAIN 159 CHAPTER TWENTY The noose that has been around our necks for the past year is now at a breaking point as we are herded upstairs and out of the house. The grey skies match our moods as the sober looking soldiers escorting us out do so with guns and bayonets pointed and poking at our bodies as if we are a herd of wild animals. As we were led out of our house for the last time, we saw our former neighbors as they stood across the street, staring at us with a look of sympathy and bemusement. I shudder from cold and fear as I watch them load Mrs. Samoht s body onto one of the waiting trucks. My heart aches for Guy in more ways than one; he still hasn t come back from his food run and has no idea his mother is dead. At the same time I feel guilty and fortunate because I still have my parents, even if papa has been beaten badly. We watched as the soldiers tossed papa s battered body into the back of a truck as if they were throwing away garbage.
Robert D. Friedman/TILL WE MEET AGAIN 160 Mama was hustled into the back of the truck along with him, and I nudged my siblings ahead a little, assuming we would be going with them. Looking at me with sheer hatred, Lt. Streicher said, Where do you think you re going? Timidly, I responded, We re going in the truck with our parents. You re going in a truck, but not with them. What do you mean? I asked naively. Why aren t we going with them? You don t question what I say, pretty thing, he said, sending chills down my spine from his words and the lewd way he looked at me. Your parents are going somewhere else, but if you re really nice to me I ll see what I can do for you, he continued, winking at me as we were loaded into a truck as if we were cargo. In the back of the truck was a large group of people who looked as sad and confused as us. The reality of what he was saying and what was happening hit mama hard and fast, and she pleaded quietly at first, Please, don t take my children away from me. They re all I have other than my husband. Please don t take my babies. If you don t want to end up like him, Streicher said, nodding towards papa, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Her entire body trembling in fear and convulsing in sobs, mama said, But I need my children. We need to be together. Sounding like the vessel of death that he was, Streicher said, I m not going to tell you again. You ll all be together in hell real soon if you don t shut your mouth. They are not going with you, so don t make trouble. Mama, why can t we go with you and papa? Paul cried out from the back of our truck. Where are we going? Bernard asked. Are we really going on vacation like papa said?
Robert D. Friedman/TILL WE MEET AGAIN 161 Either mama didn t hear him or she didn t know how to answer as she begged Streicher in vain, reaching out and touching his arm as she said, If you have any compassion at all you ll let my babies come with us. Who do you think you are touching me? Streicher asked, pushing mama s hand away with force. I have compassion, but not for Jews like you. You can t do this, papa said weakly, lifting his battered body with all the strength he had left. We have the right to be with our children. We have the right to do what we want. You, on the other hand have no rights. Hitting the side of the truck carrying them, he commanded, Take these Jews away. I m sick of looking at them. My children; I need my children, mama screamed, reaching her arms out in a futile gesture. Her pleas were drowned out by the shouting of soldiers, the jeering of some of our old neighbors, and the roar of the truck as it began to take off down the street. I wanted to scream; I wanted to run after their truck; I wanted to grab a gun from one of these bastard soldiers and shoot all of them. I wanted to do all those things and more, but I knew to do any of them could mean instant death for all of us, so I stood there in shock; scared, angry and broken-hearted, and did nothing as Streicher gave the order for our truck to leave, as well. As we waited for soldiers to clear the street so our truck could take off, I wondered why we were caught, and what happened to Guy. I got the answer to one of those questions when I saw Lt. Streicher cross the street to where our former neighbors were gathered. I was angered but not shocked to see him laughing and joking with Lucy and her parents.
Robert D. Friedman/TILL WE MEET AGAIN 162 I wanted to scream traitor at them. I want to jump off the truck we re on and spit at them for betraying us. I wish a curse upon Lucy s family, because they may not have killed us individually, but they have killed us as a family. This is borne out when I see mama and papa in the back of their truck, slumped down on the floor, looking sad and defeated. I was distracted momentarily when a hard object flew through the open flatbed of our truck, striking me in the leg. My shin hurt from the force of the impact, but any pain I felt disappeared immediately when I saw what it was, and where it came from. The object was a piece of paper wrapped around a large chunk of cheese. As hungry as I am, I carefully peeled the paper off of the cheese so as not to attract attention from the soldiers, and then I shared our beneficence with Birna and the boys. I was about ready to throw the piece of paper away, but I hesitated because the writing on it looked familiar. It was from Guy, and making sure no one is watching me I read the letter to myself. My dearest Hannah, I write this letter with a heart laden with the burden of the unfortunate circumstances we find ourselves in. Whether I die today or fifty years from now, I want you to know that you will always be the brightest light in my life. In this time of conflict and war, I have no idea what tomorrow or the next five minutes will bring, but if I survive this war I promise I will come for you no matter what it takes. The enemy can break my bones, but they cannot break my spirit. Although there is death all around us, I have a strong will to live so I can hold you once more and never let you go. With my parents gone and hope fading fast I have a million reasons to die, but one reason to live, so I can see you again. Till I see you again...
Robert D. Friedman/TILL WE MEET AGAIN 163 Clutching on to his letter as I hug Birna and the twins, I reread his words and my tears turn into a smile. Now, my resolve to survive is stronger than ever. As I look out the side of our truck, I spot Guy in a stolen soldier s uniform, standing on the curb looking at me. He s holding something in his outstretched hand, but I can t see what it is as the truck takes off, taking us to an unknown destination. Taking a last look at Guy and my old life, as we drive away for the final time I mouth the words to him- Till I see you again. # # #