Chapter Twelve
Sam tugged hard on the delicate handkerchief he found hanging from the washing line. He stuffed it into his pocket before running back to where Elsa was waiting for him.
She said something to Klara, who laughed and replied. Elsa looked at him with shining eyes. ‘She wants to know what you have been up to.’
Klara folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, reminding him of his mother after some prank he’d played as a boy. He loved seeing them like this, with their eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy with the spring air.
‘You’ll see.’
‘When?’
‘Later. When we are alone.’
She playfully slapped his arm, which he pretended hurt far more than it did. ‘Wearealone. You are teasing me.’
‘Hush.’ He looked around the barren countryside. ‘Someone will hear you speaking English. I will blame you if I’m caught.’ He smiled at her when he saw her puzzled expression. ‘You are right. I am teasing you, but I’ll show you later, when we have time to rest.’
With a shrug, she conceded, took Klara’s hand and slipped her other arm through his. They marched in perfect synchrony towards the city of Lüchow, glad to have left the dark woods far behind and constantly on the lookout for their next place to shelter.
They eventually found it in the unlikely setting of a small village school. It was set some way apart from the neighbouring buildings and surrounded by high brick walls. They gained entry through a back window and were able to explore the small school without raising suspicions from the inhabitants nearby.
Sam had never understood the German people’s devotion to Hitler, but now he saw the classrooms, he saw how deep the indoctrination went, even from childhood. The Führer’s image and large printed quotes from his speeches adorned the covers of textbooks and at least one wall of each room, as if he was a saviour who must be respected and adored.
He paused to flick through a sombre textbook. Although he could not read it, the illustrations were clear: courage in battle, sacrifice for a greater cause, hatred of Germany’s enemies. As they walked on, he saw the same messages infiltrated every lesson. He paused at a worn poster on the wall. Twelve young faces, aged between seven and fourteen years, were captured in time by the photographer’s flash. Many were in profile. The majority of those on the left had fair hair, all on the right had dark hair. Only one small boy was smiling.
‘What does this poster say?’
Elsa looked away.
‘The title of the poster.’ He pointed to the prominent sentence at the bottom. ‘What does it say?’
‘The soul of the race speaks from the face. It’s a comparison between German and Jewish youth.’
Hearing Elsa’s mumbled translation made his gut churn. How long had they been teaching such abhorrent lies? ‘Did you teach this?’
She looked up and followed the direction of his pointed finger. ‘Not that.’
‘But you went along with—’ he picked up a book and showed her the cover — ‘all these lies?’ He gave it to her and picked up another.
The book hung limply in her hand. ‘If I’d resigned the children would have had no one.’
‘But you didn’t speak up about it.’ He looked at the cover of the book in his hand. An image of Hitler’s face stared back at him.
‘What should I have said?’
He dropped the book on the table.
She dropped hers on the table too. ‘Tell me, Sam. What should I have done?’
Words were not enough to explain the repulsion he felt inside. ‘If you have to ask me that, then it seems I don’t know you at all!’ He walked around the desks, lifting the lids to see what other books were inside.
Elsa followed him. ‘You think I should have refused to teach and left my job?’
‘Yes. Yes I do.’
‘If I’d left because I refused to teach as instructed, I would not have found another job.’
‘Yes you would.’
