French Socks, German Bombs | Teen Ink

French Socks, German Bombs

June 7, 2018
By Pianogirl08 GOLD, Hugo, Minnesota
Pianogirl08 GOLD, Hugo, Minnesota
11 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine." ~Eeyore


“Can’t we stop for a moment?  Hide in a shop maybe?”  Jack panted as three teenagers slowed to a quick walk down a Berlin street.
            David and Hannah hurried along behind Jack while scolding him for such and absurd idea.  They couldn’t stop until they reached safety.  Running from a gestapowas difficult work and it would be too long before they could find a safe house or forest to duck into.  They were Jews which somehow made them criminals in their world of 1940 Germany. Another threat was the British bombers who constantly flew overhead, leaving the three Jewish teens forever in fear of death in more ways than one.  They had been kicked out of plenty of houses for the simple reason of fear. No one wanted to keep three young Jews in a house that could be bombed any second.  No matter where they ran, people feared the bombs and the Nazis.
            Jack swiftly turned a corner ahead of the trio, not thinking to look at what was in front of him.  That was a big mistake.
            “Oh boy!”  He yelled.  His shouts summoned David and Hannah to see what was there.
Two Gestaposstood around the corner, speaking in fluent German.
“Jude sind saumensch!” One mocked.  He had a deep, frightening voice that would make any normal person run.
The other laughed in a loud and cruel voice. His laugh was as horrid as a dirty pig’s squeal.
Hannah let a tiny shriek out.  It was complete fright in her voice.  They all understood what would happen if those men saw them.  The three were fast, but not fast enough to outrun two grown men.
“Hast du etwas gehört?”  Deep voice asked.  “Did you hear something?”
“There are plenty of somethings around here, Dummkopf”
“Nein, Ein Jude is around here, Kommen.”
Hannah peered around the corner to check on the two burly men.  It shouldn’t have been her to check because if they began to move, she would scream, but neither boy thought of that as she poked her head around the corner.
“Run!” She screamed with a rising terror in her voice.
David and Jack stood, unmoving.  They had learned over the past month not to trust her judgement when it came to this type of situation.
“Move!”  She screamed. “Get out of here!  They’re coming!”
This time the boys listened once they checked for themselves. Sure enough, here came the Gestapos.  The three desperately ran into the crowd of Nazis and Germans.  Here they would stick out even more.  Something had to be done.  They needed to get out of there.
All three turned their heads around as the muffled sound of the lost Nazis echoed through the crowd.  They cursed the kids whom they couldn’t reach.  For now, they were trapped in the midst of the square.  David didn’t stop moving.  Jack and Hannah kept up right beside him. Despite how malnourished and underfed they were, the three were surprisingly quick on their feet.
David veered left around a corner and onto Eigelstein Street where he and Jack had grown up.  There was a small orphanage there and even though they refused to take in Jewish children, David knew he would find refuge there.  The women who ran the place had cared for him and Jack since they were young and later, Hannah had joined them there as well.
David stopped dead in his tracks, leaving the other two to crash into him.  No one said a word.  They could only look around.
“David, come on.  There’s nothing we can do here.”
            His two friends watched him as he took small steps around mess that the British had made.
            “I-I’m coming.  Just hang on for a moment.”  David stared at the rubble before him.  Eigelstein Street was in ruins.  The filthy Brits had flown over and destroyed the only place David had ever been able to call home.
            People mulled around, turning over bricks and stones, hoping to find a loved one or prized possession beneath it all.  Most were the orphans who had survived the bombing, the oldest no more than twelve.  Half of the children lay on the streets or atop piles of former homes, sleeping or dead; it was hard to tell the difference.  Some cried on the ground while holding ragged teddy bears and dolls. Others stood staring at the heaps of dirt and shortened walls that had once kept them warm and safe.
            David wanted to sit and cry.  He had grown up in the orphanage.  It had been his place of refuge from the taunting children in school who used to be his friends.  Until Hitler had taken over, the world had seemed perfect.  The sun had shone through his window at the orphanage every morning as the birds outside had chirped their joyous songs.  He could remember those days like they were yesterday although they had really been years ago.
            “David.”  Hannah’s voice says softly from behind him.  “We have to keep going.”
            “I know.  I just want to say goodbye one last time.”  David whispered.
            He knew his friends wouldn’t understand. The three of them weren’t welcome anywhere in Germany, even the old orphanage where they had grown up.  Being a Jew was dangerous these days and nowhere was safe.  The best you could do was hiding in a kind person’s house until they became too frightened to keep you any longer.  After that, you would be thrown onto the streets for the gestapo to catch you and take to one of their death camps. The three teens were on the run from one of those now.  He had been chasing them long enough and there was no time to lose.
            David turned around to look at his friends. They’re eyes were pained and teary.
            “Let’s go.” Jack said angrily.  The hatred for war and Hitler was slowly entering him. It was seldom that a boy like Jack ever grew hatred in his heart.
            “Wait.”  David said, looking around at the scene.  Several streets had been bombed already though it was completely invisible if you were standing on any other street.  People wandered aimlessly around, calling for children, friends, and parents.
            David’s eyes landed on a small boy sitting in the center of the former road.  His formerly white socks lay on the ground in front of him, turning darker and darker as the smoke rose from them.  Small tears dripped down his cheeks and onto the ground.
            David walked over to the teary-eyed young boy. He recognized him from the orphanage. This was Wyatt.  He had been at the orphanage for five years, his whole life. The French boy’s parents left France when he had been an infant to bring him to a German orphanage.  They hadn’t wanted Wyatt to stay with them in France.  All they had left him was the white socks that lay burning on the ground.
Wyatt’s dark hair wavered as he shook in the cold.  It was long and needed a trim, but that was impossible these days.  David watched as the boy repeatedly picked up the burning socks and dropped them from the heat.  The tears dripped through the smoke rising as though they were attempting to help cool the socks off.
“Hallo, Wyatt.” David whispered, sitting next to the stunned boy.
“Guten tag, David.” Wyatt whispered, unable to put an end to the tears falling from his face.  “I hate Hitler.” He muttered quickly under his raspy breath.
“Nein, Wyatt!  Don’t talk like that!  Versthest? Understand?”  David scolded.  It was far too dangerous to say things like that, especially with all these people around, all homeless now.  Any of them could turn the two boys in for some money or a visa.
“Ja. I do.” Wyatt whispered.  He tried to pick his socks up again.  No luck.  His small hands lost their hold on the socks and down they went again.  He winced and drew back his hands.
“Are you’re feet cold?”  David looked at the boy’s feet which had turned pink.
“Sehr.” He said. “Very.”
David thought for a moment before untying his shoe laces.
The little boy continued to grumble about Nazis and how they ruined his life.  “Those Idioten! Ich hasse sie so sehr!”  It was obvious he hated them very much.
David looked at Wyatt solemnly.  “Here.  Take these socks instead.  I don’t need them; I’ve got these boots to wear instead.”
“Danke!”  Wyatt cried. His tears stopped dripping down his tiny face.  “Will you take mine then?  So you remember to come back and get your socks after this blöd war.” A smile began to form on his face.  A smile David couldn’t bear to turn down.
“Sicher Kind.” David said, a smile forming on his own face. “Sure kid.”
Wyatt reached over and squeezed David into a hug.
“Alright, alright.  I’ve got to go now.  Gut sein. Be good.” Wyatt released him and stood up.
David snatched the other boy’s pair of socks off the ground. They were still boiling hot.  He supposed that would change over time.
“Good bye, Wyatt.”
“Good bye, David.”
And, turning to the street one last time, David smiled, “Auf Wiedersehen, Eigelstein Street.”


The author's comments:

This short story is about a trio of Jewish teenagers during World War II who revisit their old orphanage.


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.