Bound by the Scars We Share Read online

  As her parents departed, she waved goodbye while pirouetting around Uncle Peter’s front room, as they disappeared into the distance.

  Zoshia 3

  At fourteen years old, Zoshia had grown into a beautiful, mature, young woman, with gold hair, a pale, creamy skin and mournful, blue eyes, which were captivating and compelling. She continued to play the piano and Gunther was extremely proud of his protégé. He recognised her talent and believed that she played better than most adults he had taught. Zoshia displayed a sensitivity for music which he adored. He knew in his heart that if she carried on with this vocation, that one day she would be able to play in the most glorious concert halls throughout the world and he was delighted that it was he alone who had nurtured her genius and flair from a very young age. Zoshia loved her piano and adored Gunther, who she recognised as a gifted musician. It was with great sadness however, that Gunther told his pupil that he would have to stop teaching her. Zoshia was utterly devastated. He had taught her so much about music but also helped her master the German language. He apologised profusely but explained that circumstances beyond his control prevented him from continuing. He left, knowing that he would never see his musical disciple again. He left to join the German army.

  In 1940 German soldiers marched menacingly into Antwerp with a murderous spring in their steps, carrying orders to destroy and ultimately exterminate the Jews living there. As the Nazi invaders paraded along the road, they were accompanied by huge metallic monsters, slowly and determinedly entering the streets; a pack of voracious lions ready to destroy their prey, with the leader of the pack sitting proudly astride his tank, enjoying the fear that he was creating amongst the petrified Jewish and Gentile population who had been conquered by Hitler’s army. Fearing the Germans, many Jewish families living in the city fled to other parts of Belgium in the hope of escaping torture and death. The military government passed a series of anti-Jewish laws which enabled them to seize Jewish-owned businesses and to railroad all Jews out of civil service positions. The Antwerp pogrom followed and two synagogues, the centre of Jewish life, were callously burned down. As time passed, Jews were forced to register in a special ‘Juden register’ so that the government could identify all Jews living in Antwerp. They were forbidden to leave their homes from evening till morning and were not permitted to enter pubic parks. The German authorities deported a large number of Jews to rural areas in the Belgian province of Limbourg. Eventually all Jews were compelled to display the yellow badge. Mass arrests of Jews were initiated throughout Belgium. A transit camp was opened at Mechelen and from there, the human fodder was deported to the Nazi concentration camps of Central and Eastern Europe. This was the living hell which ruthlessly and heartlessly stole the precious souls of these innocent victims. The Freedman family were fortunate to have had Belgian citizenship and were able to remain hidden for a while.

  It was terrifying for Zoshia and Hannah to hear the thundering footsteps of the German butchers in uniform and the agonising screams emanating from outside. It petrified them to look through the window and see men and women being brutally beaten and thrashed. Jews were being ordered not to walk on the pavement but in the gutters. Houses were broken into and shop fronts were smashed violently. Glass was flying through the air like snowstorms in the bitter cold and painted on the fronts of Jewish houses were the words ‘Juden’ and ‘Schwein’. Huge stars of David were sprayed randomly across the doors. Evil continually sprang and took its insidious hold.

  On one occasion when Zoshia dared to peer through the net curtains, she saw two young Jewish children walking in a huddled fashion close to their parents who were bent over, as if they were trying to be inconspicuous. How their yellow stars glared brightly! Two German soldiers tore the children, by their hair, away from their parents and hurled them into a waiting van. When the shocked people of the gathering crowd pathetically pleaded with the soldiers for the lives of the parents, they were both shot instantly. The gunshot sent a chill through Zoshia. Choking on her vomit, Zoshia ran to the bathroom. When she returned to the living room she looked desperate and shaken “Why Papa? How could human beings do such a thing?” she asked Smule with tears stinging her face.

  “They are not human. They are monsters. Tonight has shown that. We must be extremely careful,” he replied, clearing his throat so that he did not let Zoshia sense his own fear. Their terror was far beyond anything they could have imagined and the Freedmans became accustomed to the sounds of their own heartbeats thumping and pounding as if they would explode. They had not yet been discovered as being Jews because Smule had the foresight to close his shop before the impending arrival of the invaders.

  The family continued to hide in their apartment, except for Zoshia who would go out bravely to purchase essential provisions. With her blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin, Zoshia was able to create the illusion that she was a Gentile. She wore a large cross around her neck, which helped her to take on this character and project the required image. She felt guilty at this outward betrayal of her faith, but she kept the true sense of herself within her heart. Zoshia knew that venturing out every day was a gamble but this was her contribution to help her family survive.

  The first time she risked going out alone, the anxiety and terror that Zoshia felt as she walked through the streets of Antwerp was all consuming. It was as if she could feel everyone looking at her saying, ‘THERE IS A JEW.’ Zoshia took control of herself as her inner voice directed her to… “be strong”… “don’t look down”… “look straight ahead and be confident.” Despite this, she heard her fearful voice telling her… “they know”… “they are going to shoot me.” Zoshia could see wild flames and clouds of black, bellowing smoke emanating from the apartment blocks where fellow Jews had lived. She could see and hear the fearsome sounds of the large jackboots ferociously kicking Jewish men and when they fell, there was the reverberation of several shots; the certainty of a job done properly. There seemed to be endless vans being driven back and forth and soldiers randomly collecting people to be ruthlessly thrown into them. A refusal or a plea would mean instant death. Bodies were dragged violently and mercilessly from their homes like pieces of blood-soaked raw meat ready to be taken to the abattoir. Zoshia had to bite her lip to prevent herself from hitting out at these vicious and savage sadists. The clouds of human grief enveloped her as she presented an outward show of nonchalance. Just before she went into the shop, Zoshia nervously walked past a German soldier who was fighting with a woman who was holding steadfastly onto her little boy. Screams and shrieks resounded through the atmosphere as the little boy, whose arm had been ripped off by the soldier while he dragged him from his mother, was callously thrown into the van; his limb was left on the ground and his beaten mother accompanied her son in the van with blood gushing and splashing him. Zoshia ran urgently into the shop having quickly swallowed and stopped herself being sick, so that no one could see her distress. She could not reveal what she had seen to her parents, as it would devastate them to know that their daughter had been exposed to such horror. “I have to keep going,” she thought to herself. “I am strong and Papa knows this. I have to help; I have to.”

  Smule and Zoshia were part of the Comité de Défense des Juifs which was a co-ordinated resistance movement that helped to organise food, refuge and hiding to support other Jews who were desperate. All the members came from areas of political and religious diversity. Some of them were from non-Jewish Belgian families who managed to hide, and support Jews who might be deported. Smule would often sneak out at night, if he was needed, to help anyone. If he was caught, he had his false papers. But the threat had not yet materialised and he hadn’t been noticed. Zoshia would often help by taking children to hide with non-Jewish Belgian families and in Catholic convents.

  The fateful day came. Their worst fears were now a reality: Jewish registration records arrived through the post and Smule knew at once that they had reached the point where they would have to go int
o protected hiding. All Jews had been sent these documents. So far, they had managed to remain in their home without having been discovered. But this was it! Why had they been sent papers to sign? Had someone told the authorities that there were Jews living at this address? This was risky now, Smule thought to himself. We will have to do something urgently. Hannah kept insisting that it would be illegal not to sign and fervently tried to persuade him to do so.

  “Papa, you can’t just leave it! It is illegal not to sign. You will be found out and we will be caught! You must sign, Papa! Everyone else has.”

  Smule replied adamantly, “Rip up all papers! We will not sign anything; this paper is our death warrant, and our signatures will mark us. If we sign we are doomed. They will trace us. Absolutely not!” It did not worry Smule that he would be different; he instinctively knew the right course of action to take in a crisis. As a young woman, Hannah was always determined to get her own way, but this time she had failed. Smule was steadfast in his resolve.

  Zara agreed with her husband that they should act quickly. Through his contacts in the Belgian Resistance, Smule obtained alternative false identities. They moved with speed to different premises: some attic rooms owned by a gentile neighbour, Madame de Smett. In the past, Smule had supplied her with material and had tailored suits for her. They had become friends. Madame de Smett was an honest, sincere woman who was helping the Jews in their plight and offered the Freedmans a lifeline. She lived with her husband, Monsieur Paul de Smett, who was a banker. They had one daughter Marie who they had adopted. Each day when Marie left for school with her father, his wife would take provisions up to the attic for the Freedmans, who relished everything they were given. They even began to look forward to the dried peas from which they made ‘coffee’. Marie was not to know in case she told her friends. The tiny attic, though a safe haven for the moment, seemed to crush their bodies as they stooped to walk around. A makeshift toilet was minuscule, in a man-made separate room, which allowed them a hint of modesty. Each day Madame de Smett would take their ablutions and dispose of them. Their beds were four flat mattresses with horsehair blankets. In the corner of the room was a sink with running cold water. Washing in cold water was something they would have to get used to. A primus stove enabled them to heat enough water to drink and made it possible for them to cook some food. Belgian citizens were heavily restricted in terms of the amount of food they could purchase – each person would only be afforded 225 grams of bread a day and 250 grams of butter, 1kg of meat and 15kg of potatoes each month. This was all Zoshia was able to obtain and this had to be shared between the four of them.

  “How long are we going to have to stay in?“ Hannah implored her father. Zoshia is able to go outside. It’s not fair! We are cooped up here, while she is out!” Smule loved his daughter and had to find ways to pacify her. “It won’t be long now, my Hannah. Zoshia brings us food, doesn’t she?” Hannah did not reply.

  This way of life had a profound effect on Zoshia who had to live in a world of horror, always wondering when they would be discovered and deported to a concentration camp with thousands of others. It was still essential for her to obtain food as this would supplement the provisions which Madame de Smett brought. Zoshia insisted on this. She knew her own inner strength. Every day she would have to walk past the German soldiers who would whistle and leer at her, making her skin crawl. Her apparent Arian beauty attracted a soldier on her way home one afternoon. “Ah, meine schönheit,” she could hear him call, after a menacing whistle and an evil snigger. She used every strength of her being to ignore him and walk at a steady, self-controlled pace. Faster! Her legs moved quicker! She ran. Zoshia could hear her heart beating so strongly and so swiftly, that it was as if some interior drumstick was hitting her chest. Her body was soaked and drenched, dripping with sweat as she tried to run as fast as she could. Suddenly she felt a strong arm grabbing her roughly. She stood rigid and was now completely powerless to do anything as the monster held her with a forceful, fierce, vice-like grip and put his strong, muscular arm tightly around her waist. She felt utterly nauseous and in an instant, she vomited voraciously with fear and anxiety over his immense black jackboots. She felt as though she would never stop. It was as if she was subjecting him to the wrath of the entire Jewish people. The shock of this promptly and miraculously stopped him from pursuing her further and she managed to escape his clutches.

  Zoshia intended to keep this incident to herself, but she could not sustain the silence. She had to share the experience even though it was heart-breaking to do so. “I feared for my life, Papa,” Zoshia told Smule, weeping uncontrollably.

  “My poor, babala,” he replied, not daring to show her how he really felt. “We must leave as soon as possible,” he stated, with a determination in his voice.

  “But where can we go?” Zara whimpered. “We can’t move again, can we?” She was petrified, but tried not to let them see.

  “We cannot stay here,” Smule responded knowing that he would have to contact his friends in the resistance movement to arrange a plan. Madame De Smet would ensure that Smule’s contacts would be made aware of the situation.

  Once again new papers, and further false identities were arranged as the Freedmans planned their escape to Central France. They had to evade the persecution from the Nazis which would almost certainly result in transportation to a death camp or immediate annihilation.

  They packed minimally for their trip to Limoges and during the darkness of the night they were huddled into a van which was filled with hay. There was a false bottom under which Smule and his family were hidden. This was an extremely dangerous expedition and Alan Janseens, the driver, was risking his own life to take the charges to safety. As he was part of the underground movement in Antwerp, he was experienced at helping Jews to escape. It was a long arduous journey. When he approached an overgrown area of the French countryside, he stopped and allowed his passengers to attend to their personal needs. Zoshia was stoic in her approach to this situation but poor Hannah begged her father to allow her to sit in the front with the driver. Alan told her severely, that she should obey her father and remain hidden. It was possible that they would be discovered, and that the outcome would be far worse than hiding under some hay. Each time they stopped, the situation was the same.

  It seemed like they had been travelling continually for such a lengthy period of time and everyone eventually fell asleep. Suddenly, the van shuddered and stopped. They could hear sharp voices. Alan was asked, by German soldiers, to show his papers. Terrified, Zoshia held her sister’s leg tightly. Smule grasped Zara’s hand firmly. Had he brought his family into this danger only to end up dead? Was he foolish to have done this? The soldiers inspected the van and prodded the hay aggressively with their rifles. The noise could be heard from the Freedman’s hiding place but they remained completely still, barely daring to take breath. As they did not find anything, the soldiers allowed Alan to continue with his journey. The family were petrified and it took every ounce of their energy to cope with the anxiety and carry on. Eventually, after an extremely long and onerous journey, they arrived at a farm in Limoges, where they were led by a French Resistance worker, to where they would be staying.

  Their refuge was a large barn. Many of their needs were catered for by Monsieur Duchamps, a member of the French Resistance Movement who aided Jews to hide from the deadly enemy. His wife, Lorraine, helped Zara by providing them all with comfortable bedding and curtains, to divide up the space for some privacy. To the rear of the barn, there was a toilet and a rusty wash basin. This was a delight. Every small gift was a luxury.

  Everyone settled into their accommodation and endeavoured to make the best of their life. They did not have much reading material to pass the time away; just a few books which Zoshia and her father had managed to pack. Frequently, they would sing quietly together and each one of them took turns to tell stories. Zoshia would often look at her picture of her friends and wondered
whether they were safe. She liked to sit and imagine what it would be like in the future when the war would be over, and they could play once more. But Zoshia knew, that those childhood days were gone forever. She was no longer a child but an adult, who had to endure this tortuous life like a caged animal. Worried for her parents, she would often try to make them laugh with imagined jokes or jocular antics. Hannah was extremely unhappy, and no amount of cajoling could change her miserable persona. She felt deprived of her life as resentment built up inside her about her captivity. Hannah was allergic to hay and sneezed continually. Unable to bear it, she constantly moaned and groaned to everyone. She was not alone in her suffering. Zoshia also experienced the utter misery of being constantly bitten by mosquitos. Being forced to remain indoors, especially in the heat was utterly unbearable for them.

  They were prevented from going out for fear of being discovered by German soldiers, who often did spot checks on the farms. One afternoon, the sounds of overhead aircraft could be heard like invading aliens zooming high and low. Zoshia pressed her ears tightly to drown out the sound and cried, “I can’t stand this, Papa! How long will this go on for? I am bitten. I itch. I can’t stand it!” Hannah also complained bitterly and begged, “Please can we go outside for a while?”

  Smule at once took control of the situation and reprimanded them. “Don’t you see that we are here for our very survival? We cannot take the risk of being discovered. We will be sent to the gas chambers which I can assure you is a lot worse than a few bites or some sneezing. You will have to make the best of it. We have shelter, food and drink. No more moaning!” He knew how hard it was for his precious daughters but did not want to weaken because of their suffering. He had to be strong for all of them, including Zara, who was often quiet and withdrawn.