The Invisible Hero (15 page)

Philip has been away again since last Friday. Three days, this time. And the pity is that he missed out on the school's biggest ever event. He knew it was coming up. I tried ringing his house to remind him, but a recorded message said the number had been disconnected. Mr Johnston arrived with a magnificent, tall eucalypt on the back of a huge truck. It looked weird to see that tree travelling along like some tall, dignified king on parade.

The new tree couldn't be planted in exactly the same spot as Little Red because of fear about residual poison, but it's still in a spot where kids can enjoy the shade of its branches on a hot summer day. An earth mover had to make this almighty great hole. Us students had to stand back during the planting. When the tree was in and stabilised, Mr Johnston pushed a small wooden plaque part way into the soil. The printed words on the plaque are:
Angophera Coastarta.

It was a formal ceremony. Lots of hype. This time there was the local MP as well as the Shire president, Macca's dad (chairman of the school council and president of Rotary), a representative from the local Business Association and, of course, Mr Johnston. The press were there, too – and not just the local newspaper. There was even a Channel 9 news crew.

When us kids from the Little Red group saw what a big deal this was going to be, we felt terrible for Phil. After a bit of discussion, we decided to speak to Mr Peterson, the Principal, and let him know about Phil's important role in all this. But it was such a busy day for all the staff, the only time we got to say
anything to Mr Peterson was when he was surrounded by VIPs, including Macca's dad who was dressed to impress in a pin-stripe suit with a bright yellow tie. Ruth spoke first. She said, ‘Excuse me, Mr Peterson, we can't get hold of Phil Dugan and he was a key player in all this.'

‘It's a bit late to bring that up, isn't it, Ruth? Philip just has to pay the price for absenteeism, I'm afraid.'

‘But you don't understand, Mr Peterson,' said Mustafa, ‘Phil is essential.'

‘He's like the Founding Father,' I added.

‘Let's not get too dramatic, Raphaela,' said the Principal. ‘I've been talking with Mr MacKinnon here and, if we're going to be talking about Founding Fathers, he's reminded me that young Jake was the inspiration behind the re-treeing of our school.'

Here Mr MacKinnon threw his head back and went haaw, haaw, haaw in both a proud and humble way.

‘If justice is going to be done, your group needs to include Jake in some of today's media coverage.'

‘But–' began Imogen.

‘No ‘buts' about it,' said Mr Peterson.

We couldn't tell Mr Peterson what an outright bully Macca was. Not right in front of Macca's father. We just slunk off feeling like we'd made the situation worse. So here's something for me to figure out. How come bullies and villains just keep on winning? Because an outright win is all you can call today. Macca was in every one of the press photos. And tonight on the six-thirty TV news, it was Macca who was broadcast speaking to the interviewer.

I can understand why the media would choose the bit with Macca. He's good looking. He was what my mum would call ‘well groomed' with his short fair hair combed back off his face. And he was looking spiffy in black jeans and a black T-shirt with a design in white of a tree on it. But what he said made me want to shoot the TV.

‘I can't thank everyone enough for this living gift to our school. It's one thing to have a dream, but it needs everyone else to pick it up and run with it.'

In one and the same breath, Macca had taken all the glory from Phil.

There was more, but I had to shut that hypocritical Macca up. I walked across to the TV and slammed it off. Mum and Dad had never seen me get so worked up. They wanted me to talk it out, but I honestly couldn't pin down why I was feeling so angry. When I tried to come up with the words, it sounded bitter – as if I was upset that my friends and I didn't get the attention that Macca did. ‘Sour grapes' is the expression, I think. But it wasn't that at all.

And all this made me realise that what Phil and the rest of our group are going through is nothing compared to what those young people in The White Rose had to face. It's one thing trying to stand up to creeps like Macca and his dad, but it's another thing making an enemy with Hitler and his mates.

It started so well. The White Rose decided to print anti-Nazi leaflets and send them all over Germany. In just under a year, they printed six leaflets. The first began, ‘Isn't it true that every honest German is ashamed of his government these days?' It went on
to predict the shame that Germans would one day feel when the world heard about what Hitler's regime had done. Another part said, ‘A crime syndicate can never achieve victory.' Calling Hitler's National Socialist government a
crime syndicate?
Heavy stuff to say in a country where Hitler was beginning to be treated like a god.

The leaflet distribution method used by these young students was simple and clever. They picked out addresses from the telephone book and posted envelopes with leaflets all over Germany. The group also scattered the leaflets in public places so that people would just pick them up off the ground. As well as this, some of the group wrote graffiti over the Munich University walls and the walls of other public buildings. They wrote things like ‘Freedom' and ‘Down with Hitler'.

And then disaster. Sophie and her brother, Hans Scholl had a suitcase full of a sixth leaflet. They dumped a heap of them in a main university hallway where students would be sure to pick them up. Later in the day, Sophie and Hans noticed that some leaflets were left in the suitcase. Sophie stood on a balcony at the top of a flight of stairs that looked over the hallway and started to empty the suitcase of its last leaflets. Tragically, a janitor was standing below and saw Sophie do this. The janitor was a loyal member of the Nazi party. Sophie and Hans were arrested. Soon after, another member of The White Rose, Christoph Probst, was arrested.

Sophie, Hans and Christoph's trial was short. It took place in what was called The People's Court – a Nazi court that decided it did not have to stick to any of the nation's rules about justice. It
was specially created to try ‘traitors'. Hans von Haeften was tried at the very same court. Lots of people were. If you ended up in the People's Court, there was no point in having a barrister to defend you. Even if you did have someone to defend you, they wouldn't try too hard. They were too scared.

Sophie and her brother, Hans, were given a tough interrogation before their trial. Apparently they looked pretty beaten up. The so-called trial took less than an hour. Brother and sister as well as their friend, Christoph, were condemned to death. Death – for writing and distributing leaflets!

It's midnight. I'm wrecked. Maths test tomorrow. Presentations are the day after tomorrow and I need to know more about Sophie. I've got onto Facebook and, because it's afternoon over in Germany, Hendrik has come online.

He's written, ‘Hello Raphaela. I am so pleased to be able to help you with this research. You want to get a clear picture of Sophie Scholl? Then may I recommend a DVD,
Sophie Scholl: The Final Days.
It has won an award. Good luck with your studies. Let me know how your presentation goes.'

I wrote back,
‘The Final Days.
That doesn't sound too promising, but maybe it means the last part of the war or something.'

Hendrik wrote, ‘Watch it and then write back to me.'

Mum has just stuck her head round my bedroom door. ‘For heaven's sake, you'll get sick if you don't get your sleep.'

So I've promised to go straight to bed if she tries to track down the Sophie Scholl film tomorrow. Oops. Today. It's now after midnight.

Rafela and the groop think Ive stade al quite becos Im dispointd abowt missing owt on the tre planting and getting on TV ecetra. Well of cors Id of loved Nan to see me in the newspaper or on TV but its no big deel and the mane thing is that a butiful big tre is going to be ther afta we al di.

And al this coperashon btwen us kids abowt Big Red has got me thinking. The hol wold is scard stif abowt climat chang. Sudnly peple in hi and lo places are getting togethr to sort the problem owt. Im wundring if peple mite slow down with ther wars abowt who is rite and rong, or abowt been greedy, and we mite al get together agenst climat chang, lik its sum enmy from outa spac.

I meen weve got to stop thinking that yor a looser if you don't win al the tim and enyways weel al be loosers unles we work together on climat chang.

So yes its reel god abowt Big Red and I told the groop no its not becos of missing owt that im gon quit but they dont beleve me. But they woldnt want to no the reel reson and Im not teling. Im eting my lunch by myself agen and I don't go ner the new tree. Im keeping quite and owt of the limlite for Nans sake.

At the horspital the docters sed I shold tel the polis but Nan and I didn't want to but they calt the polis enyways. Ther wasn't much I cold tel them becos I only saw the end of it. Nan had the most to tel lik how she herd the dor bel ring and saw the papr bag on fire and owt of the corna of her eye thre boys runing away larfing ther heds orf.

I don't supos they saw Nan stamping the fire owt and a flam caching her nilon Dres but shorly they wold of herd her screeming? That's what I herd wen I was down the bak of the hows and cam runing and pusht Nan down and rolt out the flams. And it wasn't til I was wating for the ambleanc that I notisd that ther was dog poo in the bag and the polis sed that probly meens it was kids who done it. But I new that enyways and I cold probly nam them kids but it dosnt pay to do that.

Wat woris me efan mor then the plis getng envolfd is that they tol Nan her terbile storee showd be rportd in the locl nuwspaper. They say it mit bring mor eye witnss evdens. Nan tk sum pswadng but than she agred an the rporta is coming son, maybe lata to day.

The hardest part is cumin bak to owr hows withowt Nan. The fone isnt werking becos we wer cut orf wil Nans ben in horspital. Im eting a lot of egs and bred but Im a bit worrid abowt how Nans going to get her penshon. The mane thing is I mis Nan.

The berns on my hans arnt that bad. I have a bandage on my rite han wich isnt my writing han but its jus as wel I had my speech redy for Mista Kwales clas tomorrow becos I don slep that wel and I carnt sem to conserntrat on werk. They are keeping Nan in for a long tim. Shes in pane and has berns down one leg and her uther leg that has the fractsha stil isn't beta yet. Nan keps arsking me wot sort of truble Im in. She nos the bag on fire has sumthing to do with me and I tel her no truble but Im not that poplar with sum of the boys and she dusnt undrstan how they cold hat me for no reson. Hows a person to explane hating for no reson?