Don't Tell the Nazis by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch

Author:Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch [Forchuk Skrypuch, Marsha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2019-01-15T16:00:00+00:00

It was nearly dusk on the last Monday of September and we needed more water. “Go with your sister, Krystia,” said Mama. “I don’t like either of you being out alone this late.”

As we carried the water pail to the pump, I glanced over at Maria. It’s funny how you can live with someone, even sleep in the same bed, but not pay attention to the subtle changes that happen over time. I hadn’t really looked at Maria since the Hunger Plan had started. I still thought of her as my chubby-cheeked baby sister, but her face now looked almost gaunt. I glanced down at our two hands side by side, holding the water pail. They looked like leather on bone.

“Do you feel the hunger?” I asked her.

“Not usually,” Maria said. “Except at night. I guess it’s because there’s nothing to take my mind off it then. I get up and drink some water. That usually helps.”

“I wish there were something we could do to change this situation.”

“Me too,” said Maria. “But I feel so powerless.”

When we got back with the pail, I was surprised to see Dolik, Leon, and Nathan just coming home from the labor they’d been assigned. Maria chatted with Nathan, and I met up with Dolik before he went into his house. “The police kept you working for extra hours today.”

“It’s to make up for time we’re taking off. Tomorrow at sunset, Yom Kippur begins,” he said, running his fingers through dirt-encrusted hair. “We’ve been given tomorrow and Wednesday off.”

I knew that Yom Kippur was the holiest day of the year for Jews, and that it was mostly spent at synagogue. “It’s encouraging that the Commandant has given you time for Yom Kippur,” I said. “Maybe things will start to get better now.”

But the next morning, another poster was nailed to the church door. This one read: All Jewish males are ordered to report to the town square at noon today.

Most people who weren’t Jewish stayed away from the square at noon, for fear of being targeted by mistake, but I had to go. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else while the fate of my friends was at hand. Mama felt the same way and so did Maria, so we stood together with the Kitais and the Segals.

When the Commandant walked through the crowd, he paused, his eyes on Mama. His brows creased as if in thought, but he said nothing. He continued to the center of the square.

“It has come to my attention,” he said, “that the Jews of Viteretz have been hoarding gold. I hereby demand one kilogram of gold to be collected from them.”

This statement was met by shocked silence. The Commandant paced up and down, then stopped again. “Where is the head of my Judenrat?”

There was movement in the crowd just behind us and Shimon Cohen stepped forward.

“Herr Commandant,” he said, his eyes fixed on the toes of Commandant Hermann’s leather boots. “We are very poor in this town. I cannot imagine there being a kilogram of gold in this entire region, let alone Viteretz itself.

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