I Will Plant You a Lilac Tree (5 page)

“It was grueling,” Wolfgang said. “I have never worked so hard. Our foreman was a Ukrainian with little patience. He beat anyone not working fast enough. It was obvious he hated us.”

Our daily visits to the
Judenrat
offices turned into days of wandering through the ghetto as we awaited our job assignments to begin. One morning we came upon a post office and believed it to be just a hoax. Still, I wrote a short note to Papa's sister, Hannah, and her husband, Karl, who had fled to Holland. I never expected the note to reach my uncle and aunt, but weeks later we
received a package with rice and beans from them.

We saw people lining up at soup kitchens, trading ration cards for a bowl of soup. Ration cards alone never provided enough food, and people traded clothes and other items they had brought with them for a handful of beets, potatoes, or onions.

I lingered near the ghetto's store at times to check what was available that day. The items were listed on a chalkboard, including the amount of ghetto marks needed to purchase them. Poles came into the ghetto to make deals. It was also a place to get news from the outside and speculate on the duration of our situation.

One day I saw Erich, the young man I had met on the train, emerge from the store. He told me he had been looking for me to tell me that his father was on the same transport after all. The Nazis beat him up badly at the station in Weimar. He had not recovered from it.

“Let me tell you where we live,” I said. “If
you ever need anything, come to us.”

After that I didn't see Erich for a long time. The
Judenrat
gave Mama that job in the lamp factory, and I was scheduled to start as the nursemaid at the SS man's house.

On the first morning of my new assignment a young police officer from the
Judenrat
accompanied me out of the ghetto to show me the way. His name was Eugen Heiman, and he was quite talkative.

“My family and I came with a transport from Stettin a year ago,” he said. Because Eugen was a
Judenrat
policeman, he said, he and his family survived quite well.

“As long as you work for an SS family, you and your family will not be deported,” he assured me.

“What if I do something to displease them?” I asked. “Could they cause trouble for us?” But Eugen seemed to think it would all work out.

“This is it,” he said when we arrived at a
street lined with charming villas. “You are on your own now.”

A uniformed maid opened the door. “Wait here,” she said, “till I get the mistress.”

Moments later the woman of the house, a tall blonde, motioned me to come inside. This is how she greeted me: “How clean are you? Do you wash every day? One never knows with you people.”

I was told to hold out my hands for inspection. I prided myself on my appearance, and in spite of the difficult circumstances I kept myself clean and neat. Satisfied, my employer, Frau Lichter, led me to the children's room, where two little girls awaited me. Eva, the older one, was five and Anneliese four.

“This is Hannelore, one of the Jew girls from the ghetto, like Mindy down in the kitchen,” Frau Lichter told them. “She will take care of you.”

I didn't know where to look first, at the beautiful eiderdown quilts encased in
embroidered covers or at the sheer white curtains tied back with sashes. Built-in shelves held dozens and dozens of children's books and toys.

Frau Lichter listed my duties: “Help them bathe, pick out their clothes, take them down to breakfast and lunch, teach them how to read, and keep them amused. You are responsible for them at all times. Is that understood?”

Relying on the skills I had used in the past with my younger cousins, I set out to find the right tone with which to approach the two girls. “I know a game,” I said. “Would you like to try it? I will start saying a word, then Anneliese will say another, and after that it's Eva's turn. We'll use words to make a sentence, and soon we'll have a story.”

The girls thought this was funny. They giggled as the sentences took shape. By the time they were ready to go to the kitchen for breakfast, I had won them over.

I reported for work every morning except
on Sundays, when I was allowed to stay in the ghetto. I grew fond of the two little girls, and they, in turn, adored me. At breakfast and lunch I took them down to the kitchen, where Mindy fed the children and supplied me with plenty of leftovers from the day before. How I wished I could take some of this food back to my hungry family! But bringing food into the ghetto was much too risky. I could be sent to a concentration camp for the offense.

We continued to live on Novotnastrasse in the crowded room. If there was any consolation in living in such close quarters with strangers, it was that we got along well with the other family. The woman, like Mama, was widowed. But unlike Mama, she still had money to buy food on the black market. Uncle Karl and Aunt Hannah had sent another package of rice, beans, and other lentils. It didn't last very long, and soon we began trading whatever clothing we could spare for something more to eat.

One day, when I knew there was practically
nothing left to trade, I brought home a bag of food from the Lichters' kitchen. “Look, Mama, what I have,” I said, proudly displaying some soup bones, three big potatoes, even some leftover roast. “Doesn't this look delicious?”

But Mama was angry. “What if you had been caught? Where would we be then?”

I did not bring home any more food.

Month after month deportations swept through the ghetto. People were often taken away right from work. But I kept clinging to the hope that my job with the Lichters would protect my family and me from deportation. The children had grown attached to me, eagerly awaiting me every morning. As soon as I rang the bell, they would come running to the door to greet me.

All that was to change one afternoon when the
Untersturmführer
came home unexpectedly. I couldn't help but overhear the heated conversation that took place.

“I want that girl out of my house now! She has deliberately alienated the children from me.
All they talk about is Hannelore, Hannelore.” Frau Lichter's shrill voice was out of control.

“Are you out of your mind,” her husband said, “calling me home in the middle of the day for this nonsense? Are you drunk? Don't think I haven't noticed your drinking.”

“So now you, too, are bewitched by the Jew girl!” Frau Lichter shouted.

“You are going too far, Anna,” the
Untersturmführer
snapped. “The children are happy with her, and you should be as well. Your servants are Jewish. God knows they have no choice but to serve you well. And the diamonds and jewelry I bring home are taken from Jews, as if you didn't know that already. What is all the fuss about your little nursery maid? Are you jealous of her because the children like her?”

“I demand you throw her out right now. I don't want her near the children,” Frau Lichter said.

“She will soon be on one of those transports going to a concentration camp. I heard from
Berlin yesterday. The ghetto is being emptied of all Jews, and we will be going back to our old lifestyle. I'll be out of a job or, worse yet, sent to the Russian front.”

Until now I didn't know why the woman disliked me so much, other than that I was Jewish. Now I knew the real truth. But overshadowing all that was the news of the liquidation of the ghetto. My heart pounded wildly in my chest. For the rest of the afternoon I walked around in a daze, barely hearing the children's chatter.

The next morning I went back to work as usual. Instead of the children, though, it was Mindy, the cook, who opened the door. “I am sorry, Hannelore,” she said, “I was told not to let you in.”

I worried about the impending liquidation of the ghetto and the danger I had put my family in. I had hoped the
Untersturmführer
would have been able to change his wife's mind, though I was not surprised by the outcome. What was
important now was a job—any job—and right away. I hurried to the
Judenrat
office. Erich Neuman, the young man from the train, was there too. He looked as if he hadn't slept or eaten in days.

“Erich,” I said, “you look terrible. What's wrong? Are you being deported?”

He nodded. “Yes, but what my father did to himself is far more upsetting than that. Rather than face another deportation, he hanged himself!”

“Dear God!” Not knowing what to do, I grabbed his hand. “Please, come home with me, if only for a little while. We are sure to have some soup you can eat.”

“You tried playing mother once before on the train,” he said. “No, Hannelore, it is no use. I don't think we'll ever meet again.”

It sounded like a knock on the door, but I wasn't certain. It was still night; perhaps I had only dreamt of a knock on the door. When it persisted, I knew it was real. Mama was already at the door talking to a policeman from the
Judenrat
.

“According to my list, Wolfgang Wolff is here,” the man said. “Why don't you make it easy on all of us and get him?”

Mama's words came out jumbled: “He did not get a deportation order. You are making a mistake.”

“Who said anything about deportation? I am taking him to work. He will be back in the morning.”

“You want me to believe that?” Mama shouted.

Desperately grabbing the man's sleeve, she begged him to forget he ever came looking for her son.

“What are you so excited about? I told you I would bring him back in the morning. You have my word.”

Wolfgang had already dressed. He gave Mama one last embrace. She whispered something about God keeping him safe and pressed some bread into his hand. Then he was gone. Mama rocked forward and backward.

“Dear God, why,
why
? What have I done to deserve this?”

I sat near Mama on her bed holding her tight. Both of us shivered in the cold night air, not understanding why Wolfgang was taken from us in the middle of the night when he was still able to work.

I promised Mama that as soon as it was daylight and I was allowed on the street, I
would go to the
Judenrat
. A young policeman I knew might be able to help get Wolfgang back, I told her. For the rest of the night we comforted each other with false hope.

At the first sign of daylight I went looking for Eugen Heiman, the young man who had escorted me on the first day of my job at the Lichters'. I had seen him several times on the street. He always flirted, but I was too shy to respond. Eugen was surprised to see me so early in the morning.

“What brings you here at this hour?” he asked.

I told him what had happened and that the policeman had assured my mother Wolfgang would be back in the morning. I wanted him released right now and hoped Eugen could help.

“What makes you think I can do anything like that?” He pushed his policeman's cap to the back of his head and looked at me with a measure of arrogance.

“You probably know where he is. Please, help us get him back. He is only a boy!”

Eugen was blunt: “You are too late. Your brother left hours ago for Majdanek. I suppose you know what that means?”

“Majdanek!”
I cried out. “Oh my God, what will I tell Mama?”

“He didn't have to go if you would have paid attention to me. A girl as pretty as you should take advantage of her looks. You kept ignoring me every time I came near you. I might have been able to save your brother.”

“
Stop it!
Can't you see what this is doing to me?” I turned to leave.

“Think about what I said,” he shouted after me. “Your younger brother doesn't have to wind up like that if you decide to be nice to me.”

I ran out of the office in disgust.
You swine
, I thought.
How dare you talk to me that way! I am only seventeen, and you want me to be a bad girl and fool around with you. Never!

I ran back to the room to tell Mama that I had talked to the policeman. I was vague, assuring her my policeman friend would do anything that could be done. She knew right away that I wasn't telling the truth.

“I would like to believe you, Hannelore, but can I?”

Mama cried herself to sleep every night. A mother knows when her children are in danger.

•   •   •

My new job, working in a factory making parts for heavy vehicles used by the German Wehrmacht, was not all that bad. One afternoon while I was on my way home, I saw Eugen coming toward me. Trying to avoid a confrontation with him, I quickly mingled with all the other workers, but he followed me anyway.

“I would like to walk you home,” he said.

I kept on walking as if he didn't exist.

“I can't blame you for ignoring me,” he persisted. “I behaved badly the morning you came to me for help. Please, forgive me.”

“Try not to insult me again and I'll forgive you,” I answered.

“I want to help you and your family.”

“Help us? What is it you propose to do for us?”

“The ghetto will be liquidated any day now. Unless you go into hiding, you'll be in big trouble.”

“We have no money, no connections. I wouldn't know where to hide.”

“That is where I come in,” Eugen said. “I know of such places.”

He told me that he had been thinking about me ever since the morning I ran out of his office and how he should have known I wasn't that kind of girl. “Talk it over with your mother and let me know soon,” he said.

“No strings attached?” I asked before we parted. “You want nothing in return?”

“You have my word of honor.”

Mama greeted me in the hallway. She had been anxiously waiting for me. “Why are you
late? Don't you know how I worry when you and Selly don't come home on time?”