Four Hundred Bones

As Joel and Leon arrived in the living room, Adrian told them the Mercedes were those of Fritz, his former chauffeur, and his brother-in-law. “He and Fritz sometimes come to visit us. They told us today not to venture outside. Probably nothing will happen, but they said there were warnings this morning on the radio. The Mareshal wants to get rid of the Iron Guard. He wants to get them out of police headquarters, the radio and telephone stations and all government offices which they occupy. He may use the army to get them out. Maybe you and Leon should stay here rather than walk out on the street.” “But the police headquarters and all the government offices are far from here, while the hospital is practically next door!” said Joel. “First take a look at Clara’s letter and decide afterward!” said Adrian, while Nina brought them two cups of tea. The news wasn’t good. Uncle Ariel had had a stroke which had left him half paralyzed. The doctors were not optimistic about his recovery. When they finished reading the letter, Joel slipped it back in its envelope and gave it to Adrian. “I hope he does get better soon,” he said as he got up. “Won’t you stay here with us?” Nina asked. Joel was ready to accept this invitation, but when he looked at his father he changed his mind. Leon’s face was pale; he was shivering, while cold sweat kept dripping down his cheeks. He was complaining of severe thirst, even though Nina had brought him two glasses of water and two cups of tea. Joel now had no doubt that he had to take his father to the emergency room. “Maybe Fritz can drive you?” said Adrian. They went downstairs looking, but Fritz was cleaning the engine and was not ready to leave. Joel didn’t want to wait so they said goodbye and started to walk. The cold air refreshed Leon and gave him more energy. The hospital was less than ten minutes away so they should be there in no time. They kept walking, Joel supporting his father’s elbow. They soon reached the end of the block. They began to cross the street when the shooting started. Joel stopped and listened, trying to figure out where the shots were coming from. The first volley was loud and had come from the west. Joel thought that it must be the local police station. But it was immediately followed by a second volley which came from the opposite direction. Was it the Jewish Community Center, the building where the Rabbi lived? “I think we should go back to Adrian’s house,” said Leon. “This isn’t good. You’re taking risks for my sake! Let’s go back.” But Joel couldn’t make up his mind. He stood still, trying to think. The shots were loud, it was true, but the hospital was near. Then, also, if his father didn’t get his insulin injection, he might slip into a coma. It had happened about two years ago, but then they had found a lost insulin vial at the eleventh hour and brought him around. As they stood at the street corner, they heard trucks rumbling and voices singing the Legionnaire anthem. The songs were interrupted by occasional shots. The trucks turned the corner and stopped next to them. Four young men in green shirts jumped down, surrounded Joel and Leon and pointed their guns at them. They ordered them to show their ID papers. “We knew right away that you were stinking kikes!” they said, as they pushed them into the truck. It was dark and cold there. When Joel’s eyes got used to the darkness, he saw that there were eight other men crouching on the wet floor. They were guarded by a giant of a man wearing a green shirt and armed with a braided leather whip. He ordered the newcomers to sit on the floor which was covered with sawdust. The truck started moving again. Joel looked around and saw that it was old and rusty. There were holes in the walls, which let him watch what happened outside. In a short time the truck stopped in front of Adrian’s house. The four Legionnaires jumped off the truck and tried to open the garden gate. But they were immediately stopped by Fritz and his brother-in-law who were wearing German Wehrmacht uniforms. Joel could hear fragments of their conversation. “The Stein family isn’t here anymore and we don’t know where they are.” Fritz told them. “The whole house belongs to the Gestapo. It is German property and you can’t go in.” The Legionnaires finally left and the truck rumbled on. The next stop was the Jewish Community Center, where the Rabbi’s home was also located. Joel thought that he had heard shots coming from that direction. There was a loud commotion at this stop: shooting, screaming, cursing and crying. Joel wondered whether this had been one of the “torture and beating places” into which Jews had been herded and then tortured. Now about ten men were pushed into the van; among them were the Rabbi and his two young sons. They all looked disheveled, with torn clothes and pale, swollen faces. The left part of the Rabbi’s beard had been pulled out, and his face was a bleeding, open wound. While the newcomers were pushed into the van, Joel watched a group of green-shirted youths carrying big bundles of clothing, bedding and baskets filled with china, cutlery, vases and tableware out of the house. Others were loaded down with carpets, pillows and even chairs. Joel was frightened by the sight of the Rabbi and the injured men. He was shaking and wondering what was going to happen to them? Where were they going to take them and for what purpose? He held his father’s arm and tried not to move, for any movement or change in position could be punished with a blow from the whip. The Rabbi and his sons were sitting, facing Joel and his father. The boys looked to be at most 10 and 12. The Rabbi had draped his arms around their shoulders and was reciting the shema in a low whisper.