Sara’s heart thudded as a stir of apprehension passed through the crowd. Eventually the white-haired, bespectacled rabbi, Leo Baeck, emerged from the synagogue. “I am Rabbi Baeck,” he said, his voice both curious and welcoming. He was known for his kindness as much as for his intellectual gifts, and he was greatly beloved in the Jewish community.
“We require the keys to your building,” the Gestapo officer said. “You and the other elders are ordered to report to the Gestapo office on Burgstrasse at once.”
A murmur of protest quickly fell silent when the rabbi turned and calmly gestured for peace. “Might I ask why?” he asked, turning back to the officer.
“You will find out soon enough.” The Gestapo officer strode up the steps, halted before the rabbi, and held out his open palm. “The keys. Now.”
The rabbi frowned, but he nodded and sent a boy back into the synagogue to fetch the key ring. In the meantime, several older men gathered around the rabbi, their expressions grave and puzzled. Most of the congregation quickly left, but others lingered, scattered between the officers and the tall, pillared portico at the front entrance, beneath the quote from the Book of Isaiah engraved high above: “O house of Jacob, come ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord.” The Jews had greater numbers, but the Gestapo carried sidearms and had the law on their side, however corrupt it had become.
“I’m going to follow them to the Burgstrasse,” Natan murmured in Sara’s ear. “I’ll meet you back home after I find out what’s going on. Save me some supper, if there’s enough.”
“I’ll come with you,” Sara protested in a whisper, just as the boy returned with the keys and the Jewish elders reluctantly set off on foot in the direction of Gestapo headquarters.
“It’s too dangerous. In the blackout I can move more swiftly alone.” Then, as if to prove his point, Natan slipped away and lost himself in the darkness before she could follow.
Frightened, indignant, Sara made her way back to their apartment, where she broke her fast with the Hirsches and anxiously watched the clock and listened for Natan’s footsteps in the hallway. When he finally arrived, his expression was so harrowed and grim that her recriminations caught in her throat.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice a breathless whisper. “Tell me.”
“The Jews of Berlin are going to be resettled in the east, in the captured regions of Poland and the Soviet Union.” He shrugged out of his coat, but as he turned to hang it on the peg by the door, in a sudden burst of rage he flung it to the floor. “Our own elders have been ordered to prepare the lists for deportation. The synagogue on Levetzowstrasse will be used as a transit camp until the deportees can be transported out of Germany.”
Anna cried out and clasped a hand to her heart. Her husband, Levi, drew her into his embrace, where she trembled, choking back sobs.
Sara kept her gaze locked on her brother. “What awaits us in the east?” she asked.
“The Gestapo was somewhat vague on the details.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Little more than a fortnight. The first group selected for deportation will be notified by mail within the next few days.”
“They will take young men first, don’t you think?” said Anna, wide-eyed and trembling, glancing toward little Elke, asleep on her makeshift bed on the floor next to the sofa. “Usually they want young, strong men, good workers, because there is always work to do. They won’t want children.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Levi soothed, throwing Natan a sharp look, pleading for reassurance, but he had none to offer.
A few days later, the Hirsch family received notice that they must report to the transit camp on Levetzowstrasse on October 16 in preparation for their emigration two days later.
Anna shrieked and burst into tears, clutching Elke so tightly that the little girl began to cry.
“It might not be so bad,” said Levi, holding the letter in one hand and stroking his wife’s back with the other. “Look, this letter is from the Berlin Jewish Organization, not the Gestapo. Our own people. Everything seems in order. They provide a list of everything we should bring—warm clothing, underwear, bedding, medicines, umbrellas. Matches and scissors and shaving tools. We’re allowed fifty kilograms of luggage apiece. I’m sure you could bring your entire sewing basket if you want to.”
Anna sniffed and wiped her eyes, dubious.
“May I see that letter?” Natan asked. After a moment’s hesitation, Levi gave it to him. “You have to turn over all family papers,” Natan noted after scanning the pages, “including birth, marriage, and death certificates—but you get to keep your passports. Looks like they also want all your cash, jewelry, savings books, bonds, and financial papers.”
Anna looked from her husband to Natan and Sara. “Maybe we could leave our valuables with you instead, for safekeeping.”
“They will probably follow us on the next transport,” said Levi. “What would become of our papers and valuables then?”
Nodding, Anna lowered her gaze and kissed Elke, who had stopped weeping but squirmed in her mother’s lap, glaring at Natan as if he were to blame for upsetting her parents.
Over the next few days, Sara helped Anna prepare for their departure, and Anna gradually resigned herself to their circumstances. Rumors swept through the ghetto that the deportees would be settled on a kibbutz modeled after those in Palestine. Although the work would be strenuous, they would have plenty of food and fresh air. “It will be good for Elke to be in the country,” Anna remarked as she folded her daughter’s clothes into a suitcase. “Away from this wretched ghetto, away from the bombs.”
“It sounds lovely,” Sara admitted, but that was precisely why she found it so unlikely.
On the night before the Hirsches were to report to the transit camp, Natan took Sara aside. “Say your goodbyes tonight. When the Gestapo comes for them in the morning, we can’t be here.”
“Why not? We didn’t receive a letter.”
