“How long were you there for?” queried Ed.
“I lost track of time. It was definitely years. It was strange because it got more intense as time went on. Fritz, the baker, got more and more uptight about the whole situation and in the end it started to get really difficult. We thought he was going to throw us out but then figured he wouldn’t risk it in case we told the Germans who had hidden us. It carried on incessantly until one day we heard the allied bombers overhead. The bombs got closer and closer and Ellie and I huddled together in the corner, terrified. Then there was a deafening explosion right next to the house and it blew the wall clean off, exposing us and our secret little lair. As we got up and dusted ourselves down we were exposed for all to see.
“I could see the smoking bomb crater with bits of wood, brick, plaster and pottery mixed up in a confused and nasty mess all around. I could see the bloodied severed arm of a German soldier lying neatly on top of a small pile of random rubble, balanced delicately as if by design. Then as the smoke cleared further, to our amazement we were suddenly face to face with two young German soldiers, also dusting themselves down and staring in disbelief at what had been uncovered. Ellie was still half-asleep. She panicked and freed herself from my clasp and then started to run around the crater. One soldier clumsily tried to pull his rifle from over his shoulder as if he had never had to do it before and started vomiting the word HALT over and over again with guttural disgust, waving his gun angrily in the direction of the tiny girl.
“She continued to run and stumble in panic and then BANG! She was gone with a single shot in the middle of the back, ripping right through to the front and dropping her on the spot in a pool of blood. It was total horror for me. This sweet little girl who had been such a close friend for that period suddenly vaporised in a moment of mindless impurity. I was devastated and resigned. The tears ripped out my lungs and heart as I stood up, put my hands behind my head and walked out towards the soldiers. They grabbed me, shook me back and forth and shouted abuse in my face.”
“We’ve got a black one here, my first black Jew. Might get a promotion for this one.”
“It was just a joke to them. They tied my hands behind my back and marched me through the rubble of the streets like a wild animal on display. I could see though from the tatty look of the soldiers and the rubble everywhere, this was a war they definitely were not winning. It filled me with joy, even though I knew I likely had only a very short time to live.”
“Do you know when this was?”
“Not exactly, but I do know that the fighting ended a few weeks after my capture, at least in the area that I was finally taken to.”
“What happened next?”
“They were very disorganised. I thought I would be interrogated or taken to a nasty police station but there was none of that. They kept me locked up for one night and then bundled me on a train, a wooden cattle train absolutely jam-packed with people, all with their little yellow stars. I wore mine proudly. I would have chosen being one of the persecuted every day of the week over and above becoming a mindless animal destroying human souls like disposable crockery.”
“That’s so incredibly brave.”
“It’s just standing up for what you believe in. If you honestly believe it then you have no choice anyway because you couldn’t suddenly start believing the opposite.”
“Well your father did,” replied Ed, wondering if he had pushed the boat out a bit too far, nervously aware of the sound of their feet squelching along in the sand. There was a brief silence before she replied.
“You’re right. In fact that became incredibly clear to me when, after two days of agonising discomfort in the train, we arrived at our destination and started to be unpacked like a delivery of coal bags. We jumped down from the train in little clumps of people, some falling and getting crushed by the next group that jumped down. Then we were funnelled like sheep into lines, all facing the train. Inside the carriages you could see the corpses lying motionless, the faeces and urine running between their pained bodies, dripping across the slats and out from the open doors onto those lucky enough to be trampled to death. That was our dignity and pride draining from those carriages right there.
“All around the vicious dogs barked on their strained leads and the guards shouted with terrifying violence. Then I saw my father in his Nazi uniform, rifle in hand. I cried out to him,
“VATER! VATER! It’s me, Yedida, Yedida.”
“He looked away instantly, focussing on another part of the line, whilst another guard came over and started laughing.