30. Danner

THIRTY

Gorzeszowskie Ska?ki, Poland

Here in the crevice of two mountains, I could convince myself there’s no such thing as war, which might be easier if we hadn’t left people we love behind in Germany. We can’t send letters or make any phone calls. We eat off the land and rely on candles, gas lamps, and firewood—much different to living in a city. However, Mama, David and I are safe here, for now. There’s no saying when or if the SS will find their way through this unpopulated area, but Great-Uncle Igor and Great-Aunt Eunika believe we will remain safe throughout the duration of the war.

After the Gestapo sent us to the German/Polish border, we had no choice but to find refuge or rot with only what we could carry in a suitcase. Mama had her address book, something I wouldn’t have thought of bringing among the few items we could fit. Though we hadn’t spoken to Papa’s aunt and uncle in over a decade, we could only hope they would welcome us into their home.

The three of us walked for days, living on nothing but berries and lake water, and when we arrived in the empty town, we were sure it had been taken over as there were less than a handful of people to be seen as we continued through the valley. Only one of the people knew who our family was and pointed us in the right direction.Our arrival came as a great shock to our long-distance relatives, but thankfully, they took us in without hesitation.We’ve been here just over two years now, and aside from helping with their small land of crops, the few farm animals, and tending to the bee hives, I’ve done little else but try to devise a way to find Papa.

The front door of the cottage opens and slaps shut, wood against wood, echoing between the walls. “I have good news,” Great-Uncle Igor says.

“You found Papa?” David asks, jumping up from the straw woven chair he’s been sitting on.

“No, no, I’m—I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have excited you. I’m sorry, son.”

Great-Uncle Igor is known to speak before he thinks through his thoughts, so I’ve gotten better at withholding my reactions to whatever he’s about to say until he says it. He has more hope than any of us combined, and I wish I could borrow some.

“Where have you been, Igor, oy, you’re going to give us all a heart attack one of these days. Calm yourself down,” Great-Aunt Eunika says, throwing her hands up in the air. That’s her typical reaction to much of anything Great-Uncle Igor does. I suppose fifty years of marriage will do that to a couple.

Mama places a teacup down on the handmade, worn wooden table and returns to the wood stove for the kettle of water. “Have some tea, Uncle Igor,” she says.

“I was visiting my friend who lives about an hour south of here in a small village, one still untouched by the Germans.”

“The man you listen to all of the radio broadcasts with?” Great-Aunt Eunika asks. “You haven’t spoken to him in ages. What made you decide to go searching for him?”

“Yes, I know,” he says, shaking his head.

Great-Aunt Eunika folds her arms over her chest, a scowl outlining her lips. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going so far from here?”

“There was no reason to worry all of you. We need to know what’s happening outside this village, dear. Being in the dark won’t help us.”

Great-Aunt Eunika steps up to her husband, standing a head length shorter than him and slaps the side of his head. “You’re a putz, Igor. For God’s sake. Imagine how worried we would be if you didn’t come home? My heart just can’t take this for much longer,” she groans, clutching her chest. “Well, get on with it…what did the man say?”

“He had exciting updates.”

“Igor, what updates? What is it?” Great-Aunt Eunika shouts, losing her temper with him as she often does.

“There was a group of Jewish prisoners in Munich released because of overcrowding issues due to the resistance fighters. The release may only be temporary until another solution comes about, but there may be a chance Abraham was sent home.”

My heart drops to the bottom of my stomach like a heavy rock. “You think Papa might be back at our house in Munich?” I ask.

Igor shrugs. “I can only tell you what I’ve heard. The details are scarce, but what else would they do with these people?”

“What about the concentration camps? Is that where they’re bringing all the Jews now?” David asks, his voice hoarse. We all know about the concentration camps intended for political prisoners, but there have been rumors of Jewish people being sent there too, and assuming that’s where Papa has been weighs heavily on all our minds.

“My good friend’s knowledge does rely on Polish radio waves, but only Polish radio waves, which don’t receive the most detailed updates from Germany.” Igor holds his hands out as his eyes fill with a sense of hope. “However, from what he said…the concentration camps are also overpopulated and running out of space. So what else is left for them to do?”

The mere thought of Papa being released and going home to find we’re no longer there, tears through my chest. He would think we’d abandoned him or forgotten about him. After everything he’s been through, most of which I’m not sure I can imagine, I can’t allow that to happen. “I must go home. Somehow, I need to find a way back there to find Papa. Then I’ll bring him here,” I say without a second thought. There’s nothing to consider. If there’s a way to find him, I must.

Mama says, “Danner, that’s absurd. There’s no way you’ll make it across the Polish border. This is impossible. I want to find your father more than anything in this world, but we’re just one family fighting against an entire country. They don’t want us, and they won’t bend rules for you, I assure you of that.”

“There’s a way,” Igor says, pacing the length of the kitchen.

Mama stares at him, her eyes bulging and cheeks burning red. I can see she wants to tell him to stop whatever thought is brewing in his head before he says it out loud, but he knows better than to make eye contact with her when there’s something he wants to say. Mama would protect David and me from everything if she could, but I’m a grown man now and it’s time for me to be making the decisions for what’s best for us.

“What is it?” I ask him.

“Igor,” Mama hisses.

“I don’t like whatever thought is burning through your head,” Great-Aunt Eunika says. “Don’t suggest something you will regret.”

“The man I receive my radio updates from has a brother. He’s a notary with impeccable penmanship. His notary skills haven’t been needed much in recent years due to the war, so he has taken up other—eh—jobs, so to say.”

We are all staring at Igor as if he’s telling us the most thrilling story and about to reveal the major twist. “What kind of jobs?” Mama grunts.

“He has been working underground, altering identification cards and passports for many Polish people who need to leave the country. Not one of them have been caught due to their identification.”

Mama places the teakettle down heavily onto a hot plate, clattering the metals against each other. “No,” she says. “No. We have no need for false identifications.”

“Yes, we do, Mama,” I say. “If there’s a chance to bring Papa here, it’s what I must do.”

“I’ll go with him,” David says, a sickening eagerness in his eyes. My stomach burns with the thought, likely the same as Mama is feeling at the mention of just me going through with this.

“No, you must stay here to take care of Mama,” I correct him.

“But she has Uncle Igor and?—”

“No, David. You need to stay here in case they need you.”

“I won’t agree to this,” Mama cries out. “There’s no way. How will you get your father back to Poland? We don’t know if they are allowing more German Jews into the country.”

“It’s Papa,” I say, staring at her with the dread I feel inside. “I’ll do what it takes to get him back here.”

The argument ensued for the rest of the afternoon and evening until Mama couldn’t argue anymore. I would never dream of pushing her to the point of throwing her arms up in defeat, but this is one fight I couldn’t afford to lose.

Despite knowing how the disagreement ended, Igor was gone when we woke up this morning, as were my forms of identification. I decided to keep that part to myself until he returned. Mama was not in the mood to speak or converse about the topic any further. David was still bitter about the idea of me leaving him behind. I would never intentionally hurt anyone in my family, but I know this is something I must do for the sake of our family.

Great-Aunt Eunika, Mama, David, and I have been sitting at the kitchen table in silence, all looking toward the two front windows every time we hear the sound of a twig crunching. It’s just a family of squirrels running circles around the nearby trees.

Great-Uncle Igor’s footsteps are much louder and too quick for anyone to spot him out the window before the front door flies open. He closes us inside and draws the curtains. He’s out of breath and a bit pale as he approaches me. “I’ve got everything you need,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat. He retrieves my forms of identification and hands them to me with a trembling grip.

I scan through the papers and booklet, finding my name changed to Albert Amsler. My occupation is listed as: Cook, rather than the blank space that was there before.

I’ve taken more than enough time to inspect the papers, dreading the thought of peering up and finding the look on Mama’s face.

“When—” I begin to ask.

“I’ve purchased you a train ticket for later today, but first, you’ll want to use this…” Great-Uncle Igor reaches into the front pocket of his coat and pulls out a small container with a brown label I can’t make out.

“Is that hair dye?” Mama snaps.

“Blonde hair will be best to avoid unnecessary questions. Many women have been doing so and it works just fine.”

“Listen to you. What do you know about what women are doing?” Eunika lashes out at him.

“He’s right. It’s been happening for years,” I agree. “I’ll use the dye.”

My deep-set brown eyes and long nose are enough to look at and question.

I’m unrecognizable even to myself after coloring my hair, giving me hope it will do enough to help me through this train ride without being questioned.

While combing my hair into place, Great-Uncle Igor steps up to the door of the washroom. “Listen to me carefully, Danner,” he says. “You’re a personal chef for an SS-Obergruppenführer, sent to Poland on a special request to collect bottles of Dwójniak Mead for a dinner party you’re responsible for preparing. You’re returning to Germany from your quest. You will have four bottles of Dwójniak in a crate to carry with you as your proof.”

Dwójniak is a mead only made in Poland because of their access to honeydew and heather honey. The rest of Europe is used to paying a hefty price for such a valuable brand of mead. Great-Uncle Igor had a different experience in his years of raising bees than Papa did. Being in Poland was a great advantage to contributing to a product constantly in demand. Before the war, we would receive bottles of honey from the uncle from Poland, who we had never met. I always asked Papa why his uncle would be sending us honey if we made our own, but I quickly came to learn the difference between Polish honey and German honey.

“Okay, I’ll use that story if approached,” I agree.

“You mustn’t look nervous or unsure. You will stare them in the eyes and tell them this is your job and believe it as well as they should.”

“I understand.” I’ve never been a good liar, but my life will depend on it now.

“We need to be going. The train leaves in a couple of hours.”

I swallow against my dry throat and leave the washroom to collect my suitcase and coat. On the cot I’ve been sleeping on, is a small wooden crate.

With my hands full, I make my way to the front door, finding Mama in tears and David with a stiff jaw. “I’ll find him and bring him here,” I tell them.

“What if you don’t find him?” David asks.

“I won’t give up.”

“I can’t lose you too,” he mumbles.

I place the crate down between my ankles and slap my hands down on my brother’s shoulders. “You won’t lose me. You’re safe here, and we will be together again soon. I promise.”

“You always said to me that a brother never breaks a promise,” he says before pressing his lips together tightly.

“And I’ll stand by that promise forever,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing him with all my might.

Mama is next and the sobs quaking through her chest pound against me as I hold her in my arms. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become, Danner. I’ve always been so proud of you. You’re just like your father.” She pulls away from me, tears streaming down her chapped cheeks. “I have something for you.” Mama reaches into the pocket of her white apron and pulls something out, concealing it within her clenched hand. She places it in my palm and closes my fingers over the beveled round piece. “Your father’s pocket watch. He told me it brought our family good luck and kept us safe. He didn’t have it with him the day he was arrested, and I don’t know why, but I know he would want you to hold on to it for him.”

I circle the pad of my thumb across the dated golden embellishments I have traced hundreds of times before, enamored by this pocket watch Papa always kept with him.

“This is all I need along with your understanding and faith in what I’m going to do for us.”

“You have my blessing, even if it is covered in tears, my sweet boy,” she says, kissing my cheek. “I love you, my son.”