The Children’s Train

Although Poland was now occupied by Germany, the residents of the Jewish Residential District in Dinsdorf were not sent to Poland immediately. The brick factory had come to rely on their free labor, and the war effort needed bricks to build the new camps all over Poland.

In the apartment shared by the Vogners and the Levys, Eddie slept on the floor next to Oma Greta’s bed. Although she had been sick for several days, there was no other place to sleep. His mother slept on the floor on the other side of Oma’s bed. Nora and Jacob slept in the small makeshift bedroom.

As morning dawned, Eddie got up and tapped Greta. “Wake up, Oma! They’re passing out bread and cabbage this morning, and I’m hungry. I want to go early to get some before I have to carry bricks all day.”

Oma didn’t respond. Eddie nudged his grandmother, whispering, “Wake up, Oma.” He rubbed her cheek. “You’re very cold, like an icicle.”

Oma didn’t move. Her mouth hung open, and her skin was drained of color and slack, its vitality gone. “Oma, Oma, wake up. It’s morning,” Eddie said in a singsong voice. “Why are you so cold?”

He stared at Oma. He poked her, and then grabbed his head. “Oh, no! Oh, no! Mutti, Oma is empty!” He screamed, rocking back and forth, holding his head.

Anna jumped up off the floor and tended to Oma. But it was too late. Oma was dead. She held Eddie and rocked with him. “She’s gone, Eddie. She’s gone.”

“Where did she go? She was right here last night, in this bed.”

“She’s dead, Eddie. She went in peace,” Anna said.

“She didn’t go in peace. The Nazis killed her!” Eddie shook his head rapidly, refusing to accept that his oma would willingly leave him.

“Eddie, you must not say that!” Anna shook her finger at him. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”

“It’s true,” Eddie said. “She’ll tell you when she comes back.”

Anna put her arm around Eddie. “She’s not coming back, Eddie.”

“Like Papa?”

Anna nodded. “She’s gone for good.”