and the very young.
But what would she do? She feared for Herr Holtzmann’shealth. Everyone’s health. They had all gotten wet. No matter which way she looked, no answer presented itself. There were no barns, just fishing shanties and summer homes.
A rumble sounded in the distance. She gazed at the sky, expecting more fighter planes, wanting to shake her fist at them. They couldn’t leave civilians alone. But then again, they didn’t sound like aircraft. She cocked her head. More like trucks. From the sound of them, a convoy of trucks.
Lord, is this the answer to my prayer?
A short time later, a dozen or more green canvas-covered trucks rolled into the village. The throng surrounded them so they were forced to stop before rolling over the clamoring crowd. Gisela shoved aside those in her way. A German officer sat inside the first truck she came to, his billed hat embellished with a brass eagle.
“Where are you headed?”
“To Danzig.”
“Don’t leave.” As if he could. She twisted her way through the crush of bodies to where she had left the rest of her band. “Come on, we have to hurry. Leave the carts. Stuff the rucksacks with everything we can carry and go. There’s a truck headed west.”
Herr Holtzmann rubbed his eyes and stretched his limbs. “God does provide.”
“He did this time.” Gisela nodded.
Everyone pitched in to pack what few possessions they had left. The old women stuffed sweaters and wool pants and the girls’ underwear into the bags. Gisela added jars of pickled beets and the remaining sausages wherever she found room. In her search, her fingers touched her leather Bible.
Opa, what is happening to you? Are you still alive?
She pressed the book to her chest, feeling her opa’s work-roughened hand on her cheek. Not much room remained, but she packed it among their clothes.
More refugees joined the crowd. Mitch slung a rucksack over his shoulder, then picked up the girls—one in each arm. Herr Holtzmann hung on to Katya. Gisela grabbed three bags and Bettina’s hand. “Come on. We don’t have a minute to lose.”
Already a few men clung to the running boards of the idling trucks. Gisela hauled her band to the first vehicle where she had told the driver to wait. She had never seen even sardines packed as tightly as the people in the back. “I’ll see what the driver can do.”
She dashed to the cab. “Can you fit in a few more? I have little children and old people.”
“Fräulein, if there is not room back there, there is not room up here.”
Now she noticed the four other soldiers who filled the seats. “What am I going to do?”
“Whatever it is, do it fast. Frauenberg fell yesterday, the eleventh of February.”
First Elbing and now Frauenberg.
“The Soviets will be in Danzig very soon.”
“Are the trains still running out of there?”
“If you find one, get on it.”
The noose around the refugees tightened. When they were all pressed against the Baltic Sea, then what would happen? They had to get to Danzig and onto a westbound train without delay. With their slow progress, they would never be able to walk to Berlin and keep ahead of the Russians.
She scooped up Renate and grabbed Annelies. “Let’s go.” She pushed and pulled the group down the line of trucks.
All of them were filled to overflowing.
They came to the final truck, revving its engine. No matter how full it was, she would get them on board. She felt the Red Army’s breath hot on her neck, and it made her shiver.
This time, she wouldn’t fail.
Mitch climbed up. “Hand me the girls.” He had to shout above the noise of the crowd and the vehicles.
Diesel fumes choked her and she coughed. She lifted first Renate and then Annelies into Mitch’s arms. The trucks ahead of them in line pulled away, one at a time.
Bettina and Katya proved to be nimble and, though not very ladylike, climbed aboard without assistance, then tumbled over the closed tailgate.
The truck’s lights went
But what would she do? She feared for Herr Holtzmann’shealth. Everyone’s health. They had all gotten wet. No matter which way she looked, no answer presented itself. There were no barns, just fishing shanties and summer homes.
A rumble sounded in the distance. She gazed at the sky, expecting more fighter planes, wanting to shake her fist at them. They couldn’t leave civilians alone. But then again, they didn’t sound like aircraft. She cocked her head. More like trucks. From the sound of them, a convoy of trucks.
Lord, is this the answer to my prayer?
A short time later, a dozen or more green canvas-covered trucks rolled into the village. The throng surrounded them so they were forced to stop before rolling over the clamoring crowd. Gisela shoved aside those in her way. A German officer sat inside the first truck she came to, his billed hat embellished with a brass eagle.
“Where are you headed?”
“To Danzig.”
“Don’t leave.” As if he could. She twisted her way through the crush of bodies to where she had left the rest of her band. “Come on, we have to hurry. Leave the carts. Stuff the rucksacks with everything we can carry and go. There’s a truck headed west.”
Herr Holtzmann rubbed his eyes and stretched his limbs. “God does provide.”
“He did this time.” Gisela nodded.
Everyone pitched in to pack what few possessions they had left. The old women stuffed sweaters and wool pants and the girls’ underwear into the bags. Gisela added jars of pickled beets and the remaining sausages wherever she found room. In her search, her fingers touched her leather Bible.
Opa, what is happening to you? Are you still alive?
She pressed the book to her chest, feeling her opa’s work-roughened hand on her cheek. Not much room remained, but she packed it among their clothes.
More refugees joined the crowd. Mitch slung a rucksack over his shoulder, then picked up the girls—one in each arm. Herr Holtzmann hung on to Katya. Gisela grabbed three bags and Bettina’s hand. “Come on. We don’t have a minute to lose.”
Already a few men clung to the running boards of the idling trucks. Gisela hauled her band to the first vehicle where she had told the driver to wait. She had never seen even sardines packed as tightly as the people in the back. “I’ll see what the driver can do.”
She dashed to the cab. “Can you fit in a few more? I have little children and old people.”
“Fräulein, if there is not room back there, there is not room up here.”
Now she noticed the four other soldiers who filled the seats. “What am I going to do?”
“Whatever it is, do it fast. Frauenberg fell yesterday, the eleventh of February.”
First Elbing and now Frauenberg.
“The Soviets will be in Danzig very soon.”
“Are the trains still running out of there?”
“If you find one, get on it.”
The noose around the refugees tightened. When they were all pressed against the Baltic Sea, then what would happen? They had to get to Danzig and onto a westbound train without delay. With their slow progress, they would never be able to walk to Berlin and keep ahead of the Russians.
She scooped up Renate and grabbed Annelies. “Let’s go.” She pushed and pulled the group down the line of trucks.
All of them were filled to overflowing.
They came to the final truck, revving its engine. No matter how full it was, she would get them on board. She felt the Red Army’s breath hot on her neck, and it made her shiver.
This time, she wouldn’t fail.
Mitch climbed up. “Hand me the girls.” He had to shout above the noise of the crowd and the vehicles.
Diesel fumes choked her and she coughed. She lifted first Renate and then Annelies into Mitch’s arms. The trucks ahead of them in line pulled away, one at a time.
Bettina and Katya proved to be nimble and, though not very ladylike, climbed aboard without assistance, then tumbled over the closed tailgate.
The truck’s lights went
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