Clara's War by Clara Kramer

Author:Clara Kramer [Kramer, Clara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-05-26T14:00:00+00:00

It was our third sleepless night since the fight. We had run out of food and water. We sat in such lethargy that despite the heat we barely remembered to fan ourselves. Barely a word had been spoken since Ala and Julia had left. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t ask Mama or my father the horrible question: ‘What happens to us if the Becks don’t come back?’ I knew it was the question on everyone’s mind. But to ask it would make the terror even more real. So even though 18 people were living on top of each other, in our most desperate moments we were often alone. We were silent because we were afraid words would give voice to our panic and could very well lead to frantic, impetuous actions. Mania had run away during the fire. The Steckels had their vials of poison. There was even a five-litre can of petrol buried in the bunker. We were prepared and the grown-ups had already vowed that the Nazis would never take us alive. I prayed that the Becks would remember we were here. Yom Kippur was coming and we didn’t even know if we would have a chance to atone for our sins. But atonement wasn’t on my mind. When someone has a pillow over your face and is smothering you to death, all you’re asking God for is one more breath.

The sound of the front door opening hit us like a bolt of electricity. I hoped it was Mr and Mrs Beck; that somehow they had found each other and were coming home together. But I only heard Mr Beck’s heavy drunken footsteps, and he wasn’t alone. He was with Sergeant Krueger of the SS, his best friend, drinking companion, gambling associate and partner in several black market enterprises, of which every one of us downstairs knew all the details. Only Julia and Ala were in the dark.

Beck was drunker than usual. Only when he was close to oblivion was his speech slurred.

I wondered if he had finally gone off the deep end. When I prayed, I always prayed for him…I prayed for his health; I prayed that all his schemes would work; I prayed that he wouldn’t get caught. And I prayed that he would stay lucky. My father said sometimes it was better to be lucky than to be smart. Beck’s luck was our luck.

He called out for Julia and then for Ala, over and over. He searched the house, going from room to room. We heard the doors open and then slam shut. Finally, he collapsed into a chair. ‘To hell with them. C’mon, Krueger, sit down already, you’re making me nervous standing around. I’ll get us a drink.’

‘Not tonight. I just wanted to make sure you got home in one piece.’

‘We can play some cards. Listen to the news from London.’

‘London?’

‘C’mon, Krueger…don’t tell me you don’t listen to Radio Free Poland. It’s your job.’

We couldn’t believe that Beck had just admitted to a sergeant in the SS that he had an illegal shortwave radio.

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