The Children’s Train

At Eva’s house, there was a sudden, insistent knocking on the door.

Bert slowly opened the door. Eva and Helga watched from behind him.

The Schmidts were on the front steps. Olga’s father stood nearest the door, his fist raised to pound the door again. Olga, dressed in a League of German Girls’ brown uniform with a red kerchief and a swastika on her armband, stood smiling beside him and her mother.

“This house is now ours,” Olga’s father said, almost shouting.

“No,” Bert said, staring at his neighbors of fifteen years. He tried to close the door, but Olga’s father held it open with his foot.

“We don’t need your approval. Evacuate the premises, immediately,” Olga’s father said.

“No!”

“Haven’t you heard? Tonight is our revenge. You have ten minutes to get out, or I call the police and tell them you are a thief. And tonight they will be not be on your side. They will finally see things my way. So unless you and your family want to be arrested, you should leave quickly,” Olga’s father snarled. “There is no reason for you to have such a nice house.”

Eva stared at Olga, who giggled into her hand. Eva scrunched up her fists, ready for a fight. Bert gripped her shoulders.

Olga suddenly sprinted past Eva and up the stairs. Eva broke free of her father’s restraining grasp and chased her. Bert ran after them.

Eva ran into her room after Olga, who flopped onto the big lacy bed. As Eva threw herself at her old friend and pulled her long blonde hair, Olga screamed.

Bert pulled Eva off the flailing Olga. He pointed to her Kindertransport bag standing by the door. “Eva, get your things. It’s time to leave.” The calm in his voice was forced.

Eva jerked up her suitcase and glared at Olga. Glancing at Eva’s sock drawer, Olga leaped across the bed, her feet sinking into the soft mattress. Eva dropped the suitcase, and dove for the sock drawer, but Olga got there first and grabbed the sock containing Eva’s secret stockpile of reichsmarks.

Bert put his arm around Eva and pulled her to him. He spoke in a firm, hushed tone. “It’s over, Eva. Let it go. There are more important things now.”

Olga’s father’s footsteps clomped, as he quickly climbed the stairs.

Eva stopped, breathing heavily. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, as she glanced over at Olga, who clicked her heels together and gave the Nazi salute.

“Sieg heil!” Olga said.

Eva’s eyes opened wide. She gritted her teeth and lunged for Olga, but Bert was faster. He grabbed Eva and her Kindertransport bag with the reluctant teddy bear inside, and pulled her out the door.