Such displays of patriotism seemed to please most Berliners, but Sara was careful to keep her expression impassive when she overheard grumbling about other Nazi intrusions upon the holiday. Rationing and the scarcity of goods made shopping for gifts frustrating, if not impossible, and devout Christians took offense at wrapping paper printed with swastikas and Christmas carols revised to include Nazi themes. Sara too was taken aback when she first heard the updated version of the beloved “Stille Nacht”:
Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright.
Adolf Hitler is Germany’s star,
Showing us greatness and glory afar.
Bringing us Germans the might.
Bringing us Germans the might!
The most ardent Nazis did not celebrate Christmas at all that year, but a newly contrived holiday calledJulfest, a time to reflect upon one’s Aryan ancestors and honor soldiers who had sacrificed their lives in service to the Fatherland. As a Jew, Sara found it all strange and surreal and menacing. She could only imagine how it felt to those German Christians who still revered Jesus more than Hitler.
She woke on the first morning of 1940 to find a fresh blanket of snow covering Berlin, soft and white and clean, concealing all its recent ugliness, restoring the charm and beauty she recalled from winters past. She ached with longing for her parents and sister, for their home in the Grunewald, for family suppers and her nieces’ laughter and Amalie’s beautiful music rising from the piano.
When Natan found her staring out the window with tears in her eyes, he seized her by the hands and pulled her up from her chair. “Bundle up,” he ordered. “We’re going out. Leave your identification card here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your older brother and I said so.”
Dutiful, curious, she put on her warm coat, boots, hat, and mittens and followed him outside, along sidewalks that storekeepers were busily clearing of slush. “Where are we going?” she asked when they reached the entrance to the Untergrundbahn.
“You’ll find out.”
Although he gave her no hints, she could make an educated guess based upon the direction they were traveling, and her suspicions were confirmed when he gestured for her to get out at the Bahnhof Zoo. “Natan, no,” she said, even as she followed him outside.
“Why not?”
“Because—” She lowered her voice as she hurried to keep up with him. “Because Jews aren’t allowed in the Tiergarten.”
“Who’s going to know? It’s not like we’re wearing a sign.”
Somehow they always know, Sara thought, but as they caught sight of the bare-limbed, snow-covered trees just ahead, a knot of resolve in her chest hardened and she strode ahead.
“Not so fierce,” Natan said, muffling laughter. “You’re just an ordinary GermanFrauleinenjoying a New Year’s Day stroll, remember?”
Sara took a deep breath and let her shoulders relax.
Snow and ice had transformed the Tiergarten into a magical realm of stark beauty. Together Sara and Natan walked the snowy paths, breathing deeply the crisp, cold air, jumping out of the way as a group of young boys rushed past pulling a toboggan. Smiling, Sara closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sky as a gust of wind blew a shower of snow down from the treetops. “Do you remember when you taught me to ski?” she asked her brother. Grinning, he nodded, and one reminiscence prompted another, until her cheeks ached from smiling.
All was joyous until they passed a group of Nazi soldiers at rest, smoking and passing a flask back and forth, rifles slung idly over their shoulders. Abruptly the spell was broken. “Let’s go home,” Sara murmured, clutching her brother’s sleeve.
“Why, are you too cold? Do you want my scarf?”
She took a step backward, her gaze fixed on the soldiers. “No, let’s just go.”
He looked as if he might argue, but something in her expression stopped him. “All right,” he said, slinging an arm casually over her shoulders and turning her away from the soldiers. “We’ll come back another time.”
Sara doubted they ever would.
As January passed, bitter cold descended upon Berlin, the worst Sara could remember. For days on end, daytime temperatures struggled to rise above −5°C, plunging even deeper in the night. Canals, ponds, and lakes froze over, and when one heavy snowfall after another buried the city—one storm dumped almost a meter within eight hours—and high winds carved the snow into deep drifts, travel became so difficult it was rarely worth the attempt. Strict snow removal policies were enacted for homeowners, and work teams of Hitler Youth, drafted citizens, and conscripted Jews were assigned to clear sidewalks, roads, and public thoroughfares. Despite these efforts, it was almost impossible to keep up with the snow, which fell almost without respite upon the beleaguered residents.
Sara thought rationing was bad enough when there were things to buy, but as winter dragged on, shortages of food and fuel made difficult circumstances nearly unendurable. Frozen canals prevented coal barges from reaching the city, and when shipments managed to arrive by rail, they sold out almost before merchants had time to announce they had restocked. Schools were instructed to return all coal over a fortnight’s supply to their distributors so that it could be made available for the public, while churches were ordered to surrender all of their coal supplies and make do without heat until the crisis passed. Factories engaged in war production were promised an adequate supply, but others received none. Sara and Natan adapted by heating only the living room and wearing thick layers of clothing indoors, but then municipal authorities mandated the shutdown of all domestic central heating boilers so that hot water was available only on weekends. To be cold and hungry and anxious, and then to be unable to enjoy the comfort and necessity of a hot shower—it was a terrible blow.
Natan and Sara were creative in their attempts to stay warm, braving the cold streets to seek out the few heated public places where Jews were still permitted. One bleak February day, they walked to a hotel where they intended to order two cups of ersatz coffee and sip slowly in a discreet corner of the lobby. “See that?” Natan said, nudging her until she glanced up at one of the ubiquitous placards that had been posted all over the city:Niemand hungert oder friert in Deutschland!“No one goes hungry or freezes in Germany, so we have nothing to worry about.”
