Naomi’s Tale

By Terrence Charles

“Ok klasse,” says Mr. Schmidt. “I am going to see how well you know the math we have been working on.”  

The students groan. Tests in Mr. Schmidt’s class are always long and hard. I am the only one happy about the test. I love tests! School, in general, is my favorite. I know all the material and study every night because you never know when Mr. Schmidt will have a test. Louise, who sits behind me, raises her hand.  

“How many questions are on the test?” she asks.   

“The test,” Mr. Schmidt states to the whole class, “is 30 questions. If you listen to me teach, then it should be no problem. If not, then you will most certainly struggle.   

Suddenly there is a knock on the door. We all look at the door as a woman walks in.  

Wait. That is not just any woman. That is my mother!  

“Sorry to interrupt Mr. Schimdt, but I have come to take Naomi out of school,” Mama says.  

“That is quite all right, but Naomi will have to make up the test we were about to take.”  

“Sorry to inform you Mr. Schmidt, but Naomi will not be returning. I will be homeschooling her from now on,” Mama replies.   

“WHAT?” I yell.  

“Naomi, not right now,” Mama says. “Let’s go.”  

I grab my bag and walk out of the classroom. Was this the last time I would be in school? 

“Mama?”  

“Not yet dear.”  

We go in silence the whole walk home. I look around and see posters advertising Hitler and the Nazis. We walk by a familiar bakery that broadcasts a closed forever sign.   

My heart stops.  

“Mama! Why is papa’s store closed?” I say.

“I will explain everything when we arrive at home Naomi. Now please stop talking,” she replies.   

—

When we arrive home, I find papa at the kitchen table with a somber look on his face. I know something is wrong, but his grim demeanor tells me it is worse than I think. My mother sits down next to him, and they both look at me.  

“What is it?” I ask. “Why do you both look so sad?”  

“Naomi, there is no easy way to say this, but…” Mother starts.  

“But we are leaving Germany,” Father finishes.  

I start tearing up. Germany is my home! I grew up here, my friends are here! I know things in Germany are getting worse, but I thought it was all passing over.   

“What?” I speak with a broken voice. “Why? We can’t leave?”  

“We have to, Naomi,” Papa says. “The Nazis are growing stronger, and they have started taking other Jewish families.”  

“Rumors are they get taken to camps where they are tortured and eventually killed. Do you remember the Schneider family next door?” Mama asks.  

“Yes,” I reply.  

“They didn’t move. They were the first to be taken,” she says.  

“First in our neighborhood,” Papa interrupts.  

“We are not open Jews,” Mama says. “Only one family knows our heritage. With this to our advantage, we can get on a ferry and head to America.”

“But what about our life here? Are we just going to leave it all behind?”  

“Sadly, yes,” Papa sighs. “I sold my last pie in Germany today and your mother fixed her last gown. We leave tomorrow.”  

I can’t take it anymore, so I run to my room and lock myself in there. I come out after the sun has set to use the bathroom.

As I do, my mother sees me and gives me a look of sympathy which makes me feel even worse. I give my mother a small smile that she returns. I try retreating into my room after the bathroom but then the phone rings.   

I walk over and answer it. “Hello?” I say into the mouthpiece.  

“Naomi? Is that you?”  

I recognize the voice of my best friend, Ingrid.  “Oh, hello Ingrid. Yes, it is me. How are you?” I reply.  

“Good. What happened in class today? Was your mom serious about not going back to school?”  

“I’m afraid so. She believes it’s not safe to be in school.”  

“Only the Jewish have to worry, and you’re not Jewish, right?”  

I hesitate. Ingrid has been my friend since the second grade. It doesn’t feel right to lie to her, but I must be careful. Ingrid is my friend though. It wouldn’t hurt to just tell her, I think.   

That’s when I hear a click, the noise of someone picking up the second phone in my house. My parents are listening.  

“Right. I am not Jewish, Ingrid.” I finally reply. This is one of the hardest things I have ever done. “I have to go. Supper is almost ready.”  

“Ok, well, I hope to see you around,” Ingrid replies.  

“Me too.”  

—

“How is Ingrid doing?” Mama asks.  

“She is doing fine,” I reply. “She is sad I won’t be attending school.”  

“Oh.”  

Mama doesn’t mention the fact that she was listening to the call. Papa stays silent all through supper. He doesn’t even say a word as he leaves the dinner table and retreats into the living room.   

“Papa?” I call. “Where will we go when we reach America?”  

“Yes, Meine Blume.” I hear him reply. “I don’t know, Blume. I will have to find new work to support our family. If the country is even as good as I have heard, anything is possible.”  

“No matter what happens, it is important that we will all be together,” Mama says.   

Exactly,” Papa says. “Family is the key to a happy life, wherever it may be.”  

“Will we bring Oma?” I ask. “She is Jewish. She won’t be safe here.”  

My parents fall silent. I look at my mother and then at my father. “What is it?” I ask. “Why are you guys looking at me like you feel bad for me?”  

My father comes back into the dining room and embraces me in a hug. “Bluma, we haven’t been able to contact my mother in weeks. We asked one of her neighbors to check on her,” Papa starts. “When they did, the house was all messy. There was stuff everywhere.”  

“No,” I say, tears forming in my eyes. “No.”  

“I’m sorry, baby. Your Oma was taken.”  

I don’t stay. I run to my room. Two things have shattered my heart in one day.   

— 

I don’t want to leave Germany, but I know it must be done. Will I be able to make new friends? Will I be accepted in America?  

I think of all of this as I lay in bed trying to sleep. Mama and Papa came in an hour ago to say goodnight. The house is silent, but I can just make out the sound of my father sleeping.  

8:00 am. We leave for America tomorrow at 8:00 am. We leave behind all our memories tomorrow. I have packed all the belongings that have sentimental value to me in my backpack so that when we leave it will seem as if I am being walked to school. We have decided to just leave, not telling anyone we are going to another country.   

I say Mishpatim’s The angels among us for protection as I sleep and drift off. My Oma taught me it. I miss her so much… 

“In the name of Adonai, the God of Israel: 

May the angel Michael be at my right,  

and the angel Gabriel be at my left,  

and in front of me the angel Uriel,  

and behind me the angel Raphael  

and above my head the Sh’khinah”  

—

“We have to hurry,” Mama says. “We must leave if we are going to catch the ferry.”  

I am dreading leaving but I quickly gather my stuff after breakfast. We left all the lights on in the house and locked the doors so that it looks like we are home. Mama leaves her key under the mat; we no longer need it once we are gone.  

“I guess we are ready to go,” I say. “Goodbye Germany.”  

—

We arrive at the dock a few minutes before the ferry leaves. Mama has started to tear up and Papa has dabbed his eyes a hundred times.   

“Will we ever return?” I ask.  

“When all of this is over,” Mama replies.  

That could be in years, I think. Hitler is only getting stronger. Will he ever be defeated?  

My thoughts are interrupted by yelling coming from behind us. I look back to see soldiers with Nazi bands around their arms. I freeze and walk closer to my parents. Mama has spotted the Nazis and is tensed up.  

Papa starts to lead us into the crowd of people when we hear, “There they are! By the end of the dock!”  

I look and see a man I recognize as our next-door neighbor, Mr. Weber. He somehow knows we are Jewish and is ratting us out to the Nazis.  

Before we can try and run, we are grabbed by the Nazis.   

“Nice try Abrams,” one soldier says to my dad. “It’s a good thing Mr. Weber was looking out his window, or we would have never seen you three trying to get away.”  

I start to cry hysterically. We were so close, but now we are going to be taken to a concentration camp!  

“Please! Don’t hurt us! We aren’t even Jewish!” Mama pleads. “We are just going on holiday in America!”  

“According to Mr. Müller, you told everyone that you were going to take your daughter out of school because it was unsafe. Am I wrong?” asks another soldier.  

“No, we took her out of school because of the trip. We just decided that we would homeschool her until we returned,” Papa says.  

“Liar!” yells Mr. Weber. “All of us know you are Jewish! We can tell by the prayers we hear you say at night! Prayers only Jews recite!”  

“Wait,” I say. “Did you say, Mr. Müller?”  

“Yes. What of it, child,” says the first soldier.   

“Mama. Mr. Müller is Ingrid’s Grandfather. Ingrid is the one who told the Nazis. I don’t know how she found out, but she did,” I whisper to my mother.   

Mama makes a sad face that shows her hurt. She stands in a slumped position in the grasp of a Nazi soldier.  

“You guys are coming with us,” the second soldier says.  

Suddenly, everything goes black as the men throw burlap sack bags over our heads.  

—

We are on a train.  

The rumbling and the noises tell me that. We have been on the train for days. I am not completely sure, but I know we have been on the train for a long time. We stop very rarely. They give us food now and then. We are never let out for anything; our bathroom is a bucket in the corner.  

When the sacks were thrown over our heads at the dock, the Nazis piled us into a van and drove us to the train station. Mama and Papa haven’t talked all day or week. I have been crying the whole train ride and will still be crying when we arrive.   

“How much longer will we be in here?” I finally ask.  

At first, I get no reply but then Papa speaks up. “Hopefully soon. But we all know we won’t like where this train is taking us.”  

I hear the train’s brakes and wonder if we have finally arrived. I hear yelling coming from outside. Then, the train door to the car we are in opens. It’s the first time it has opened since we got in.  

“Let’s go, Jews,” says a man I have never seen before. He’s wearing the same uniform as the other Nazis.    

Papa goes out first, then Mama, then me. The first thing I see is the tall, barbed wire fence. It stretches until it is no longer visible. I can just make out shacks in the distance. Is that where we will be staying?  

“Line up against the fence, Jews,” says the Nazi.  

When we line up against the fence, a man who looks to be a doctor of some kind walks out of a nearby building. He surveys us from head to toe. When he is done, he whispers something to the other man.  

“Male Jew!” the Nazi yells. “You will go to the left entrance with this man to the men’s section of the compound. The females will go with me to the women’s section.  

“Why can’t we stay together? We are a family. That must count for something right?” Papa asks.  

This causes both men to laugh. They laugh so hard that the Nazi must hold on to the train door handle for support.  

“Did you think that’s how it was going to be? All of you, including the girl, will be put to work in this camp until you die,” replies the Nazi.  

I almost collapse. We are going to be forced to work. Will we ever see my father again?  

“Girl, how old are you?” says the doctor.  

“She is 18,” replies Mama.   

“Then she will stay with you to be put to work with the other women,” the doctor says.  

Why did Mama lie about my age? Is it safer for me to be an adult than to be a child? My true age is 16. Could I be put to death for being too young?  

“Come on, Jew. Let’s get moving,” says the Nazi.  

—

The Nazi guides Mama and me to one of the shacks within the fence.  

“You will report to this sleeping chamber after each day of work. You share this room with 30 other women,” the Nazi explains. “I will be overseeing your work. If I see any sort of mistake, you will be punished.”  

We walk into the shack. It is empty now, so I can only assume the other women are out working. The Nazi leads us to two empty beds in the back of the shack.   

“This is your bed. It shall always be made unless you are sleeping in it. If it isn’t, you will be punished,” he says.  

Mama walks over to the bed and feels it. I follow her and feel the bed as well.   Hard as a rock.  

“The beds are hard,” Mama states. “Is there any way we can get softer beds?”  

“There are none. You are here to work, not relax. The hard beds are to ensure you do not become too lazy,” the Nazi replies.   

I survey the room and see that all the beds are made with items in them. The room will be extremely packed when all the women come back.  

“You will have time to get situated,” the Nazi continues. “But you will start your work first thing in the morning.”  

With that, he leaves the shack. Once he has shut the door, Mama breaks down. She plops onto the bed and cries so hard that I can’t tell if she stops to breathe. 

I walk over to her and place my hand on her back. 

“I’m sorry, Naomi,” she says. “I never should have put you in so much danger. It was foolish to think we could escape the Nazis.” 

I sit on the bed and give my mother a hug.  

“It’s ok, Mama,” I say. “I know that you and Papa were only trying to protect me from them.” 

At the mention of my father, Mama lays down on the bed and lets out a scream.  We are both unsure if we will ever see Papa again. Rumors of concentration camps suggest that once you enter, you won’t leave.  

—

I hear a horn blaring in the distance. We assume it symbolizes the end of the working day.  Mama finally stopped crying and is lying in her bed. Soon the room is filled with women from the ages of 20 to 40 years old. It takes them all about 10 seconds to realize me and Mama.  The moment they do, their talking stops and a sad wave washes over them. 

A woman walks over from the door and introduces herself. “Hello, I am Ursula. Who might you two be?” 

“I am Naomi, and this is my mother, Talia,” I reply.  

“It is nice to meet you both, although I wish it was under better circumstances.” 

The ladies all nod in agreement. They are dirty and sweaty. “We must go to bed before Hans comes to check,” says another woman. She looks to be in her mid-20s. 

“You are right, Gisela. We will chat tomorrow,” responds Ursula. 

All the women file into their beds and blow out the candles by their bedsides. 

—

It has been 3 months since we arrived. I haven’t seen Papa once. The ladies have helped us get into the routine of working at the camp. We have to wake up at dawn. The Nazi, who we learn is called Hans, walks in and yells at up to get up each morning. We work until it is time for lunch. We eat food that is plain and moist.  

“What is this?” I ask.  

“Oatmeal,” says a woman named Matilda.  

I hear a bell that tells me that I have to get back to work.  My job is to clean the Nazi cafeteria. It isn’t that dirty, but I have to do the dishes, clean the floor, clean the tables, and wash the doors and windows. 

When the day ends, I walk with Mama to the sleeping chambers. We are about to enter when we hear yelling coming from behind us. We turn to see a fire in the distance. I can just make out the sound of gunfire coming from the fence.  

“What is happening?” I ask. 

“I don’t know,” Mama replies. 

I see Ursula and some of the other ladies running toward us. The weird thing about them is that they are smiling. Smiling! 

“What is going on?” Mama asks. 

“The Americans! They are here to rescue us!” says Ursula.  

My body shuts down. I can’t believe it! We are leaving this awful place. I am not like some of the others who have been here for years like Ursula, but I have been here long enough to know that this is no place to be. 

“What?” Mama asks. I can see the smile creeping onto her face. The smile becomes so contagious that it spreads to my face as well.  

“We have to hurry! Gather all your belongings and come with us. There is a rescue squad going around taking people to planes that will get us out of here,” Ursula says.  

Mama and I run inside and grab the few clothes we have. We sprint towards the fence with the other women.  

When we arrive, there is a battle going on everywhere. We must go through back way to avoid being seen or shot at. Ursula guides us through the buildings and shacks to the gate. It is wide open due to the forced entry of American soldiers.  

When we are just outside the fence, I hear something that I have wanted to hear for so long. 

“Bluma?” 

I turn around and see Papa in a group of men. My eyes are already tearing up, but at the sight of my father whom I haven’t seen in 3 months, I start bawling. I run towards him at full force into his stretched-out arms. 

“Papa!” I scream.

He squeezes me so hard that a squeak escapes my mouth. We hug for at least 3-minutes before I hear Mama behind me.  

“Isaak? Is that really you?” 

“Yes, dear. It is.” 

Papa walks around me and embraces Mama in a hug, something I know he has been waiting and hoping for.   

“I’m sorry to break up this touching moment,” Matilda says. “But if we are to leave, we have to go now.”

The men that were with Papa join us as we run to where there are five planes resting in an empty field. There are soldiers running around everywhere. One comes up to us and motions us to jump into the plane.

As we pile in, Nazis with guns drive toward us. They fire their weapons in our direction, taking out some of the American soldiers.  

The last of us hop on the plane and we immediately take off. We are already in the air when the Nazis arrive and take out more of the Americans. 

“Hold on, Jews,” says the pilot. “We are taking you home.”

Home. After all these months, I finally get to go home.  “Thank you,” I yell. “Thank you so much.”