We Have To Leave

"We have to leave" Katherine said. Her voice was high and tight. Robert sighed. 

"I have a good job here, Katherine," he said. 

"They need engineers in America," she replied. 

Robert was tired of arguing. He wasn't sure his wife was right, but he wasn't sure she was wrong, either. That German maniac had promised to be satisfied with the Sudentenland, but no one believed it. Still, could he come here, to Bratislava? Robert wasn't sure that was likely. Here, he had a good job. His family had a nice house, clever, interesting friends, and his parents lived in Austria, or what used to be Austria, before annexation into Germany the previous spring, still only a few hours away by rail. Close enough to visit regularly, but not so close that they stopped by unannounced or to require attendance at Sabbath dinner every week. 

Even if Hitler did invade, what would that mean to this family? Some ominous rumors had come with mail from Robert's parents. Hitler's Nazis were identifying Jews and confiscating their property. But Robert and Katherine weren't observant Jews Robert had expressed his disdain for the old, antiquated customers of his religion nearly a decade and half earlier, when at his Bar Mitzvah he'd'told the assorted crown of friends and family that his first announcement as a man was to let them all know he was an Atheist. They had many friends and customers among the goyim, In their social circle, what mattered was intelligence and progressive thinking, not religion. 

But he'd voiced all these concerns before. The reality of the threat meant nothing in the face of his wife's paranoia. Catherine had become fragile in recent years. She had suffered terrible, debilitating post-partum depression after Veronica was born, and while it had abated somewhat she was still afflicted with bouts of crying and paranoia that were impossible to ameliorate. 

Robert had hoped that Martha's birth two years ago would help restore his wife to the sparkling, vivacious woman he'd married. Instead,  she'd handed the squalling red bundle to a wet nurse immediately. She seemed equally uninterested in the sturdy, rambunctious toddler the baby had grown into. Veronica, at least, was her mother's helper, at five a quiet child with a luminous beauty and nimble fingers that quickly mastered the crocheting and embroidery lessons Katherine gave to her.  

Robert sighed. The threat from the north wasn't entirely in his wife's head, and it was patently obvious there would be no rest in this house while they stayed. "Fine. I'll apply for a Visa to America." Robert said. 

September turned into October with no reply from the American consulate. In early November, Robert's family sent word that they had survived the violent pogroms that swept Austria but were prevented from traveling outside the Vienna Ghetto. Robert prayed that the visa his wife had insisted he apply for came through. Finally, a few days before the minor holiday of Chanukah,  the envelope came. Robert opened it. "Denied," the paper said. 

"We can't go to America," Robert told Katherine, relieved that he wouldn't have to leave the things he loved.  "There's no where in Europe safer than here. We might as well stay." 

"We have to go somewhere," Katherine insisted. She said no more that night, but when Robert came home after installing a new air conditioning system in a new office building downtown the next night, the breakfront in the dining room was covered with a stack of books on English instruction from the library. 

"We are learning English," Katherine announced, her Hungarian tongue turning the W into a V and separating the word 'learning' into three distinct syllables: Lee Are Ning. 

Winter passed into spring and summer and while rumors seeped out of Germany about restrictions imposed on the Jews there Robert continued to hope that the trouble would be contained there. 

Summer was giving up it's last days of warmth and sunshine when Robert came home one day to find his wife frantic, tearing the art from the walls and rolling up the carpets.  

"What's wrong?' Robert asked his wife. 

She pointed at the cover of the newspaper. "Hitler Invades Poland," the headline declared.

 

"He's coming," she shrieked, in a voice twisted tight with fear and anxiety. "He's coming. We have to leave." 

"There's no where to go," Robert replied. "America wouldn't let us in, remember?" 

"We have to go," Katherine insisted. 

His wife raced around the apartment like a dervish, stuffing candlesticks into luggage. When she started folding their horsehair mattress in half, he could take no more. He caught her by the wrists,  

"Katherine, please. Calm down. We can't leave tonight," Robert said. "We don't have anywhere to go. But sit for a moment, dear. There's nothing to be done right now. I'll find somewhere for us to go, I promise."

A few weeks later, Robert came home and presented his wife with a small booklet.  A picture of an impossibly high mountain and the words, "Bolivia" were printed across the front. 

"Katherine, this is our only choice. If you insist we have to go, this is where." 

"I'm not going to live in the jungle," she cried.

"This is our only choice." 

"Then we're going." she decided. 

The family packed up what they could and gave away the rest. They headed West in a car laden with the things they thought were the most precious; wedding crystal, a Modernist lithograph that Robert gave Catherine when Veronica was born to cheer her up, the horsehair mattresses. 

They thought they were fleeing one step ahead of the Nazis They were nearly right. 

At the border to France, their vehicle was blocked by strapping young men in gray uniforms and high, shiny boots. 

"Get out of the car," they ordered. 

Robert was instantly afraid, both of what the soldiers would do and what Catherine would do as well. "Mind the children," he said to Catherine, trying to mentally will her to take the children and stand quietly by the side of the road. 

Eyes bulging with fear, Catherine stepped from the car and opened the rear door. Veronica meekly emerged and stood quietly shivering on the side of the road. Martha, at three, utterly failed to comprehend the danger the family was in, She bounded from the car, ran down the embankment, back up, and hid behind the legs of the soldier standing nearest the car. She peered out from behind his boots and waved at Catherine and Veronica. 

"Come here," Catherine ordered behind clenched teeth. Martha grinned and disappeared behind the boots

"Show me your papers," the soldier demanded to Robert 

The only papers they possessed marked the family clearly as Jewish. Robert's hands shook as he pulled them from his inside coat pocket. He knew France, and freedom, were just a few yards away, but those yards were guarded by men with guns who would not hesitate to shoot.   

Robert handed the papers to the soldier. His eyes begged the man to just let them go. 

The soldier looked at the papers. The word Juden leaped from the page in heavy red letters. The soldier looked at the papers again, and then at the tall, elegant man standing in front of him with shaking hands and imploring eyes. He looked at Catherine, a slight woman with six-year-old Veronica clinging to her skirts. His face hardened. He opened his mouth to issue the order for arrest. 

"Peek a boo!" Martha said, smiling up at him. She had smooth shiny hair topped with a ridiculous bow that was half again as large as her head, and big dark eyes.

"She's a cute little girl," the soldier said to Robert. Robert offered a shaky smile in return.   

Something changed in the soldier's face. "Just go," the soldier ordered sharply, thrusting the papers back into Robert's hand. "Go. Now!" 

Catherine and Veronica ran to the safety of the car. 

Robert grabbed Martha from behind the soldier's boots and shoved her into the back seat so quickly she was too startled to start crying until the soldiers were tiny matchsticks in the car's rearview window. 

The remainder of the drive to Le Havre was uneventful. The family boarded a boat to Bolivia. 

Boats from Europe were crowded and expensive. Robert paid for the cheapest berths, but when the rats threatened to gnaw on Martha's toes, Catherine insisted Robert bribe a porter to move the family out of Steerage and into slightly better accommodations. 

After what seemed an interminable journey, the family arrived in a hot, humid, and totally unfamiliar place. 

Reviews

[NoelHC]

Wow, this is a really good story, it is hard to comprehend what went on back then, 75 years ago, and you captured what must have been going through peoples' minds, first denial, until the realization they had to leave, and often by then it was too late. I liked how you gave the German soldier a human side, I am sure there were many of them that wished they could show compassion, but did not dare.

[Claudia Stark]

Thanks, it's a true story -- the family was lucky my mother was so cute!

[NoelHC]

That is great to hear. Do you have any plans to expand this further, it would be a compelling tale.

[Claudia Stark]

Thanks, and yes it's on the way back burner, but yes and thanks so much for the encouragement.

[NoelHC]

I am very pleased to have stumbled across your writing, a comment or a review caught my attention last week, and I have recommended friends of mine visit your page.

[Claudia Stark]

I just wanted to let you know that thanks to your encouragement on this story I worked on it some more and sent it in to a literary magazine. Your support really made a difference thank you.

[NoelHC]

That is great to hear. I hope you will share the revised story with me if you can, someday.

[Lyn Anderson]

This is so interesting, and well written. I really like the style of it. One thing I did notice, the spelling of Catherine flipped back and forth from K to C. Wonderful writing here.

[Claudia Stark]

Hah, she changed it after she came here from the K to the C I have to make up my mind which to use thanks for the comment very much appreciated.

[Claudia Stark]

Hey KLGoode I just wanted to let you know that thanks to your encouragement on this story I worked on it some more and sent it in to a literary magazine. Your support really made a difference thank you.

[Lyn Anderson]

Oh I am so pleased and honoured, you are so welcome.