Chapter 4

Mannheim, Germany
March 1940

The wind moaned like the voice of the damned and banged against the balcony door, rattling the glass. Trying to ignore the turmoil outside, Anna rested on the sofa in the music room and leafed through the newspaper. Hugging her pink flannel nightgown close, she hoped the noisy wind wouldn’t wake Holger. She hated the lonely nights with Wilhelm at the precinct and only her three sons at home. Cocking her head, she listened to the cuckoo bird belt out its message from the kitchen clock. Only seven o’clock? What could she do with the hours before bedtime? The house and the streets were quiet, the silence broken only by an occasional car horn or bicycle bell.

She laid the newspaper aside, yawned, and mulled over the events of the past few months. The fighting in Poland had stopped. In November, a bomb meant for Hitler exploded in a Munich beer hall, but Hitler had left a few minutes earlier. Now, he had gained even more followers. If only he had taken the full blow. She couldn’t find any compassion for the man determined to take away everyone’s agency, their God-given right to make their own choices. That was Satan’s way and it went against church teachings.

Her thoughts drifted to the Jews. They had been denied clothing coupons in February and the Nazis took some into ‘protective custody’ a week later.  In her heart, she knew those two words meant something terrible. She blew out her breath and turned on her side.

A moment later, the sounds of an engine humming and car doors slamming caught her attention. Curious, she pulled the light chain that hung from the ceiling and hurried through the darkness toward the balcony. Prying apart the dark green blackout curtains on the upper portion of the door, she saw a car parked across the street in front of the coal yard. Visible in the moonlight, two men in suits talked on the sidewalk before walking across the street to her building. Anna’s hand flew to her chest and a hot flush washed over her. Was it the Gestapo? A person could never be sure because of their secretiveness, lack of uniforms, and ordinary cars.

She hurried to the front door and waited. Hearing footsteps come down the hall and fade away, she pushed aside the curtain covering the glass at the top of the door and saw the backs of the men who walked down the hall.
“Thank God they didn’t stop at our door,” she said quietly. She sat down on the sofa and tried to slow her pounding heart. They had to be the Gestapo. Their steps sounded too determined. Were they arresting anyone she knew? After several minutes, she peeked into the hall and saw the men returning. Her heart lurched. Oh, God, not the Schmidts!

Slipping to the balcony door again, she pulled the curtain back a bit and saw the Schmidts get into the car with the men. Grief stricken, she pulled on the light and sat on the sofa, holding her face in her hands. Those old people wouldn’t do anything bad enough to be arrested. If it could happen to them, it could happen to anyone.

She padded to her bedroom to check on Holger and found Dieter and Werner looking out the window. Their eyes bright and mouths open, the boys turned.

His words set in high gear, Werner said, “Hans signaled us from his window and wants us to meet him in the courtyard!” His body moved up and down slightly as he spoke, making him look like a kid on a pogo stick.

“Shhh. Don’t wake up Holger,” Anna said, beckoning them into the hall.

Dieter blurted, “We think Hans wants to tell us something important.” He leaned forward, looking like he would explode with excitement.

Anna looked at their animated faces and said, “Maybe he knows about the Schmidts. I saw them get into a car with some men that may have been the Gestapo.”

“That must be it,” Werner said, his eyes bulging. “Is it okay if we go, please?” He and Dieter looked at their mother and shuffled their feet awkwardly, as though learning a new dance.

Anna agreed to let them go and watched them zoom down the hall. Would it look suspicious for them to be in the courtyard? Probably, but it might attract more attention if they signaled from window to window. She eased into the bedroom to peek into the crib at Holger, stationed herself by the window, and clutched the edge of the curtain.


Bundled up in coats and earmuffs, Werner and Dieter bounded down the stairs and met Hans next to the courtyard wall. In the darkness, the three boys hovered close and braced themselves against the icy wind that lifted litter and swirled it into piles. Dieter noticed Hans’s trembling hands and wondered what had unnerved him. Was it really about the Schmidts?

Hans whispered, “I’ve never been so scared. Frau Schmidt was in our apartment talking to my mother when I answered a knock at the door. Herr Schmidt stood there in front of the men, shaking all over. The men took hold of Frau Schmidt’s arm and said she was under protective custody because she was Jewish. Herr Schmidt insisted on going with her.”

“I wonder if they will ever come back,” Dieter said, his voice low. His head bobbed toward Hans and his brother in a confiding manner.

Werner drew closer to the other two and said softly, “I doubt it. The government says they are re-educating Jewish riffraff, but Papa said they sometimes disappear without being heard from again.”

For a second, Dieter worried about Werner repeating his father’s words, but decided to relax. Their good friend, Hans, wouldn’t say anything.

“No one knows for sure what happens to them,” Hans said, looking up at his apartment. “I have to get back to my mother.”

“Okay,” Werner whispered, raising his hand in a little wave.

“See you,” Dieter murmured. Wondering if anyone had seen them, he looked around the courtyard and up at the windows. He didn’t see anyone but thought the curtain moved at Mama’s bedroom window. He smiled to himself. Maybe she was peeking out, watching them. On the way to the stairs, he looked back. Hans had already crept out of sight.