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  “Done, sir,” said the gendarme and threw the boy onto the mattress before Sandor and Andre.

  Terry heard them laughing over her shoulder. Their voices and their smell remained etched into her memory. She fell on the mattress screaming, covering her son, who was now bleeding to death.

  *

  Even now, on the wooden floor, she could still hear herself screaming like an animal whose heart had been split by an arrow.

  “Where are you?” sniped Frau Stauber. “Are you daydreaming today or what?”

  “I am done marking,” Terry responded quickly. “You can take the dress off, and I will sew the hem.”

  Just like all the other wives of the oppressors, Frau Stauber was rude to Terry. None of the German wives hurt her physically, but they all symbolized the evil and malice that were beyond redemption and atonement.

  “Sit here,” Frau Stauber ordered Terry, pointing at one of the room chairs.

  The wall clock rang. “When will you be finished?” asked Frau Stauber impatiently when she returned.

  Terry did not reply. She spread the dress open on her knees, clenched her fists, and opened her hands. Slowly, she felt her fingers obliging, and she began sewing.

  “I’m done,” she said after about half an hour. “You can try it on now.”

  When she had dressed, Frau Stauber looked pleased as she faced the mirror. “Fine. Ok. You may go now.”

  “Thank you, madam.”

  Terry remained firm in her place. Frau Stauber gave her a severe look. “You are so impudent; do you expect something in return?”

  Terry gave her a begging look.

  “Fine then, come with me.” Frau Stauber went over to the kitchen, pointed at the bin and said, “Here.”

  A small pile of potato peels lay at the bottom of the bin, along with scraps of bread. Terry took off her headscarf, gathered the contents of the bin and tied it quickly as she left the apartment.

  “Damned Jewess,” muttered Frau Stauber righteously. “She left without so much as a thank you.”

  *

  Terry crossed the street. She could see the light coming out of only a few apartments. Many of the Germans had left town already. Their numbers are dwindling. They are running away. Looks like the Norse god of war, Odin, has grown tired of them. They dug their own hole,’ thought Terry, and the saying awoke a memory in her.

  It was hardly the first time a quote from the scriptures had flashed through her mind since she converted to Judaism and left her devoutly evangelistic family. She was born into a Christian family who was originally from Swabia in South Germany. Her own fundamental belief in direct communion with the Lord through prayer did not change. The importance of personal purity was paramount to her, along with adhering to a modest lifestyle and dedication to family and work. She found those principles very much in line with Judaism. Consequently, she felt no conflict when she decided to follow her heart and convert. She underwent religious training and guidance under Yehoshu’a Sonnenfeld, the local community’s rabbi, and his wife. Since Terry’s marriage, she carefully observed kosher dietary laws, lit candles on Friday, and prayed at the local synagogue on the high holidays.

  The evangelistic community did not shun her. Quite the opposite; they continued to see her as one of their own, so none of them were surprised when she continued to attend parish meetings, kept in touch with the congregation and listened attentively to the preachers’ sermons.

  *

  At the beginning of 1944, when Hungary’s Jews were ordered to vacate their homes and concentrate in the ghettos allocated to them on the outskirts of Hungarian cities, Terry too was obliged to comply. It did not even occur to her to cling to her Christian roots.

  While she was packing and getting ready for the move to the ghetto, there was a knock on the door. It was a soft knock, so Terry was sure this was one of the neighbors. Much to her surprise, it was the shepherd, the Debrecen parish’s distinguished preacher, Father Johann Philipp Burger. Her face lit up all at once, and she invited him in. However, the preacher did not come alone. Behind him stood a stocky man in fascist uniform, wearing the Arrow Cross [aka Hungary’s Nazi party]. She recognized him immediately. This was the very same person who had come along three years before when the gendarmes took her husband.

  She took a step back and had a puzzled look.

  The stocky man cleared his throat and said, “You are a Jewess, so you need to move straight to the ghetto! Nevertheless, fortunately for you, I discovered you belonged to the evangelistic community. I have documents and testimonies. So as a Christian, you may remain at home.”

  “I am not a community member. I just visit every now and then.”

  “My child,” said the preacher, “you were born a Christian and have remained a Christian. I have been at your family’s side for years now; I come at God’s behest. You have nothing to fear.”

  “But Father,” Terry protested, “I converted ten years ago. I’m Jewish.”

  The stocky man looked at the preacher. He seemed to be grappling with a decision. He cleared his throat once again. “I see,” he said. “You can remain at home with the little one, but the grown children need to move to the ghetto.”

  The clergyman looked at him.

  “I have made up my mind,” stomped the stocky man. “They’re Jews. There’s no argument.”

  “But…but they are only children,” said Terry, in a stifled voice. “No, I’m not sending them all by themselves. I am staying with them.”

  Terry looked at the preacher. Her eyes filled with tears. He averted his gaze to watch the wall. Crying, she was filled with a sense of both rage and helplessness. She lifted the baby who was crawling on the carpet and said, “I’m not leaving them.”

  “But you can save yourself,” implored the preacher. “You can save both the baby and yourself.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Consider this opportunity.”

  “No, Father,” said Terry. “The Lord does not allow a mother to abandon her children.”

  She knew what she had to do and was determined to refuse the offer. As long as she drew breath, she would not abandon her children, come what may. God was watching her and those fascists. Their day would come, even if only in the distant future. Even if she, herself, would not get to see them go punished, burnt in hell for all eternity.

  “Thank you, Father,” she whispered, her eyes filled with tears of appreciation for his efforts.

  3. The Deportation

  Hungary broke her alliance with Nazi Germany in 1944. This move led Germany to invade Hungary in March of that year, occupy it, and establish a puppet government headed by Ferenc Szalasi, their primary collaborator. Concomitant with the German occupation, Hungary’s Jews were transported to German concentration camps.

  The transports were rapid and efficient. The Germans scrambled to complete them as long as they controlled the railways in the territories they still held. The Germans completely ignored the defeats they and their allies had been suffering at the front.

  For the past several nights, Terry had heard the trucks’ engines through the ghetto’s streets. She knew everyone living there was being gathered and taken by train to camps in somewhere far away. Beyond that, she didn’t know a thing. The same sounds repeated each night: crude, loud, shouts, cries echoing between the buildings, frightened yelling and babies crying. She anxiously awaited what was sure to come, but kept readying herself. She packed their few belongings into a suitcase: clothes, a woolen headscarf, two tin cups, a few scraps of stale bread she planned to soak in water, and carrot peels she had cooked with a pinch of sugar.

  Their turn came. The truck pulled over by their building. The Germans’ jackboots were loud up the stairs.

  “Raus!” [German: Out!]

  Terry heard the doors burst open one by one. Then came the shouts to hurry up and the yelling. Sandor and Andre sat by her on the mattress. Two soldiers kicked the door open, stood there and looked at them. Terry got up at once; Sandor held the suitcase,
and she lifted Andre into her arms.

  “Raus! Schnell!” [German: Out! Quickly!] ordered the two soldiers.

  The three rushed out into the street to a truck parked in the square in front of their building. Two of her neighbors stood by the truck, hesitating. The soldiers rushed them to climb up. Terry and her two sons climbed aboard. The truck was teaming with people. The entire building was packed in there. Everyone held each other as the truck pulled away. Heads banged into each other, shoulders pushed up, backs ran into backs. Sandor stood next to her, then squeezed right on to her. Andre was in her lap. The truck stopped after about half an hour and they were ordered off. The only light in the total darkness came from the truck’s headlights. The truck left as soon as the last passenger stepped off. Her eyes became accustomed to the dark slowly. She knelt there and ordered Sandor to do the same. The blanket around Andre barely covered half of Sandor’s body. Terry took her coat off and wrapped the boy with it. She was deafened by distressed cries and muffled yelling. The kids fell asleep in the growing commotion.

  *

  Dawn was rising from the cloud of heavy fog that had engulfed them. Terry was shocked at the sight of hundreds of Jews lying and sitting in a tight circle. They found themselves in the yard of the brick factory that had closed a few months before. She cautiously raised her head and saw piles of bricks concentrated along the outskirts. She also saw the men she hated, those minions of Satan, walking throughout the teaming yard, their rifles over their shoulders. They had feathered helmets.

  Her legs were hurting from sitting for so long. She tapped Sandor’s shoulder. “Get up, boy. I have to walk for a bit. You too need to move around and stretch.”

  The factory’s pond stood at the center of the yard. Terry lifted Andre, stood him up and looked around. She saw dozens of men, women and children kneeling by the pool. She did not realize what she was seeing at first, but then she gazed in amazement. They were all relieving themselves by the pool. She tried to ignore the repulsive sight and turned away with her sons to one pile of bricks at the far end of the yard. About ten steps before the pile, she heard screams. Terry stopped, terrified. She saw two gendarmes dragging a woman over the muddy ground. One pulled the woman by her arms, the other by her hair. The woman’s dress was riding up, exposing her legs. Terry covered the boys’ eyes and glanced at the ground under her.

  “You filthy Jewess!” shouted one of the two gendarmes. “We said you are only allowed to piss in the pool.”

  Terry quickly turned away and led her children to the pool.

  The shouting tore Terry’s heart apart. The gendarmes kept yelling, “Strictly in the pool!” Terry drew closer to the pool. “Quickly now, piss here now,” Terry told Sandor and pulled Andre’s pants down. She kneeled and raised the hem of her skirt slightly. A terrifying cry followed suit and she saw the poor woman being thrown into the filthy swamp.

  “People, help! Help me, I’m drowning!” the woman cried out. Her body sank into the filthy waters. Her hands trembled over the water; her head was still visible.

  “Help!”

  Terry shut her eyes. When she reopened them, the woman was nowhere in sight.

  Andre began to cry. She rushed Sandor and stood up. “Where’s the suitcase?” she asked, perplexed. “Run quick and bring it over here.” The boy put his pants back on and disappeared into the crowd that had gathered by the side of the pond. It was only then that she truly noticed them. She blushed. Then, she suddenly heard the sound of a whistle.

  She looked for Sandor. Where is the boy, she thought. Why isn’t he coming back to me? Her eyes were nearly popping out. After a moment of concern, he appeared. He was gasping as he held on to the suitcase, which contained all their worldly possessions. “Finally, thank goodness,” she whispered, her lips quivering.

  “Line them up. Not one by one, in groups of three,” a voice ordered in German.

  “Come with me,” Terry said. “Stay close. Don’t you dare move away!”

  The gendarmes shouted over the crowd, “We are going. Form a line, three at a time.” They raised their rifles to indicate where the people should gather. The swarm of people began to follow the raised rifles. It began to drizzle, and Terry raised the suitcase over her children’s heads. They walked on for a long while, huddled together, stepping deep into the mud and puddles, each wrapped in their own thoughts, ignoring everyone else.

  “Stop!” called out the gendarmes, and the column of people slowed down and halted.

  Terry looked right and left but saw nothing. The sounds of the people that had engulfed her became an endless, unintelligible murmur. The sound of yelling and crying was deafening. All of a sudden, a whistle tore the sounds.

  “Form a single file!”

  The rain was growing stronger now. The sound of a train arriving at the station made the gendarmes run around the people and beat them indiscriminately with their rifle butts. They trampled on small children, hit old people who had fallen down, and kept shouting, “Stand still! No moving, do not sit, stand where you are!”

  Terry handed the suitcase over to Sandor and lifted Andre despite her sharp backache. “Shush…keep still, don’t cry now,” she whispered in his ear and wiped his wet face.

  As the train stopped, its brakes made a screaming sound. Terry noticed the cars were completely closed and could not understand what that meant. These are transport cars, without any windows or seats. However, she kept these thoughts to herself. She was now drenched and aching all over. She tried to move around a bit and breathed in deep, but when she closed her eyes briefly, she immediately saw the woman drowning in that pond of filth, shit, and piss, yet another image etched deep in her now burgeoning file of sights from the inferno.

  Hushed tears ran down her face, mixing with the raindrops. You too, God? Are you too crying for that poor woman, the victim of those ferocious angels? And what of my Arno? Are you watching over him? Terry moaned as she thought this, raising her head up to the sky. The rain poured on her face, soaking her to the bone. She was shivering with cold and pain.

  *

  As a child, she heard a great deal about Satan, about his malice and his wicked influence. She tended to believe Father Burger’s sermon in church, that Satan is everywhere, fighting God over the soul of every person. “This is Satan’s way,” said the preacher. “He has but one purpose: to lead God’s creatures to carry out evil deeds, and thus, through his wicked ways, to seize control over the world.” But when she learned the ways of Judaism and Mosaic Law at Rabbi Sonnenfeld’s house, the rabbi’s wife, Rebecca, explained that any Jew could defend himself or herself from Satan. “Each morning when you rise and each night when you go to sleep, read the Shema Israel prayer.” [Hebrew: Hear O Israel our Lord God, is One!] “The good Lord’s prayer will reach Him,” added the rabbi’s wife. “Faith and prayer have a power of their own, capable of driving the devil out and preventing him from getting to you and affecting your soul. And at the end of the prayer, conclude with ‘blessed art thou, who maketh me sleep. May you rest me in peace, deliver me from harm. Blessed art thou, O Lord, who shines light upon the entire world with his honor.’”

  *

  Hundreds of people were now huddled together, forced to stand in the pouring rain. No one was allowed to sit down or leave the line they all formed. Andre wet himself all over her, yet she consoled him. “Never mind, the rain will wash my blouse clean.” Children cried incessantly, reminding Terry of wolves in the forest. Yet the gendarmes’ shouts were even louder, resembling bloody hunters in Terry’s eyes. People began falling into the mud, and the gendarmes beat them immediately. Terry decided not to let this get the better of her, but an old man with an arched back was standing in front of her. She heard herself muttering a prayer for him, “Hang in there, Pops.”

  Suddenly, she heard an order. Then, the order changed. She listened attentively to the sound of a different order but did not understand, as the order was uttered in haste. As time passed, Sandor sat on the suitcase, but she d
id not berate him. She too was barely standing. Her back was now aching so hard, it felt like swords ran through her flesh. The old man, who had stood in front of her, collapsed. She once again heard the metallic sound of the order she had heard before. It was then that she realized the gendarmes were ordering the people to remove those who fell to the ground out of the column and throw them by the side of the road. Two men lifted the old man as though they could not hear him imploring them.

  Two hours or more passed before the gendarmes opened the transport car doors. The gendarmes kept shouting over the people’s heads. “Move on!” they shouted in German and Hungarian. “Climb on the cars! Onward, get a move on! Now!”

  Terry was pushed forward. As more and more people got on, her turn to climb also came. She hurried Sandor and climbed right after him. It was so packed inside, she could only find a little bit of room to sit. She was worried that those standing would trample over her children, so she leaned over to shield them. There were only two narrow ventilation hatches, both pretty close to the car’s ceiling, running from one end to the other along the car. A small window with bars was the only source of some dim light. The car was very dark, and it began to smell bad even before the train left the station.

  Terry noticed a pail for feces being passed around, and this made her queasy. The train began to move. There was turmoil everywhere, with plenty of moaning and sighing. The car reeked of feces. She was now dizzy; she had to bend over and went sick all over the floor of the car. On her left sat Olga, her neighbor from the ghetto. Olga’s four-year-old daughter, Agi, sat on her knees. The little one kept crying and asking for water, until she fell asleep, exhausted from crying and from the journey.

  An elderly man stood next to the window and shielded his two adolescent sons. They spent hours on end trying to break through the bars. Then, the last few rays of light were gone, and night fell. They finally broke the window bar. One of the sons climbed and threw himself out of the window. The other brother followed suit, and they were both gone in no time. Their father also tried to climb out but got caught in the bars. He struggled to extricate himself from the narrow window frame until he finally forced himself out. Maybe he shrank to the size of the window, thought Terry. He jumped out with a pained cry. Shots were heard from outside. Did they get him? Was he saved? Terry could not tell. Her eyes closed shut, feeling heavier than lead.