French mother and an Italian Catholic paternal great-grandmother. I have a very interesting and varied heritage.” Replied Cameron, as he took another sip of his brandy.
“It sounds like it. Tell me about your father? Where was he from? Is he American?” Dieter asked.
“Yes, he was. His family has roots going back to the eighteenth century. His family came from Scotland, and his mother came from Ireland. My mother was raised as a Catholic and her grandmother was originally from Italy and was very religiously motivated, and had a staunch Catholic background. My grandfather on my mother’s side was a well-known attorney who was executed by the Fascists and Germans in Spain in 1937. Her family suffered horribly and eventually escaped to Morocco in 1937. Unfortunately, the Fascists/Germans invaded Morocco in 1940, and one of my uncles spent several years at various concentration camps. He was fortunate to escape on three separate occasions, and because of this, he was my childhood hero. My uncle hid out in the hills until November 1942 when the Americans and the allies invaded North Africa. He later joined the Free French Army and fought throughout Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia. It was at this time that my father met my mother in Morocco.” Cameron finished with a long sigh.
“That is quite a story. I had no idea. Does my daughter know this?” Asked Dieter, staring at Cameron.
“Well, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone except you. It was a very personal and difficult time in our lives and I wanted to keep it that way.” Cameron replied.
Dieter Jonannes stood up and walked over to the bar area and grabbed himself another drink. He looked at Cameron but, he shook his head, he had had enough to drink.
“I can understand your feelings, but perhaps you should tell her someday. I think it might interest her. Would you like me to continue with the Goldmann story.” Asked Dieter with emphasis.
“Please, go ahead. I can’t wait to hear the rest of it.” Continued Cameron, leaning forward for emphasis.
“OK, then. I will carry on.” stated Dieter. He sat back down in his comfortable leather couch and continued with the story.
The rest of the Jewish inhabitants were rounded up one by one and brought over to Rabbi Goldmann’s house. It took the Nazis almost all day to locate them and drive them to Das Haus. With the exception of Werner and Lisa, who had fled to England, all of them obeyed orders and allowed themselves to be taken without resistance. By nightfall approximately forty-two Jewish members of the community were crammed in Das Haus. Conditions to say the least were miserable. Das Haus had only one bathroom and an unused outdoor outhouse. Within hours it would be back in operation, and was rapidly being used by all inhabitants.
Around seven P.M. a loud knock sounded at the front door of the now de-facto mini-concentration camp. All of the residents reacted in unison by freezing in to a mummy like trance. They all looked at Franz for inspiration. He slowly walked over to the door, trying very hard to maintain his composure, and opened it. Standing there in his full Gestapo regalia was his old comrade Johann Krieger. Near him stood six heavily armed Nazi goons.
“May I come in.” Asked Johann.
“But of course, Sir! You have the ultimate power, and we are here to follow your orders. Can you please answer one simple question? Are we being detained because we are Jews, or have we committed any crimes?” Asked Franz, as he looked his old buddy straight in the eyes.
“Don’t be so impertinent! It will go easier on you if you follow orders and don’t ask too many questions. Do you understand me?” Replied Johann, as he growled at Franz.
Franz was surprised by his old friends’ nasty temperament, but he knew that being surrounded by his soldiers, Krieger had to play the role. He ordered most of the adults in to the living room, hallway, stairwell and kitchen. The crowd was so large that many of them stood on the stairs and foyer and tried to listen in. Those that could not fit, gathered outside in front of the door.
“Listen and listen well. I do not have the patience or the time to repeat myself. Higher headquarters has ordered the deportation of all Jews to work relocation areas. Those of you between the ages of thirteen and sixty years old, will be immediately sent to various camps throughout Germany. Those of you over sixty, or twelve and under, will remain in this house until we decide what to do with you! Is that understood?” stated a serious and harsh Johann. Rabbi Goldmann will be responsible for all of you. You must obey him and give him all the information I require. These soldiers will be on duty to prevent any of you from escaping. Any attempt will be met with harsh punishment.
Before anyone could ask questions, or complain. Johann turned around and started out the door. Franz felt the urge to speak with Johann, and gathered his courage once more.
“Sir, sir. Excuse me? What is to happen to our homes and property. Are we to leave everything behind?” Pleaded Franz to his old friend.
“I don’t have all the particulars worked out yet, but when I know I shall inform you. You, you there the Rabbi. Come with me.” Ordered Johann as he pointed his finger towards Franz.
Both Franz and Johann walked outside and stood near the backyard. Franz was extremely uncomfortable, and did not know what to expect. Johann turned his back away from his soldiers and whispered.
“You fool, you stupid fool! Why did you not listen to me! My hands are tied now! I cannot disobey or I will be following you to those camps. I warned you last night!” Screamed a visibly upset Johann Krieger.
“Franz! You must yell when I strike you in the face.” Stated Johann as he suddenly struck the Rabbi across the face with the back of his hand. Although the blow was not hard, the suddenness of it caught Franz by surprise. Franz dutifully obeyed his orders and let out a loud piercing scream.
Franz whispered to Johann, “Why did you do that?”
“I had to make them believe that I really hate you, otherwise I would find it difficult to help you and get away with it.” Replied Johann as he looked away. It was the first time in many years that anyone had struck Franz, and it brought back strange feelings of hate and revenge.
Rabbi Goldmann looked at his old friend and was speechless. He knew his position was very tenuous, but he prayed to God that a miracle would happen and save them from this horrible nightmare. After a few seconds, Krieger asked him one more question.
“Franz, how old are you?”
The question caught him by surprise. What on earth could his age have to do with the current situation. Before he could answer, Krieger growled at him again.
“How old are you!”
“I am fifty-nine eleven months and a few days.” Answered a nervous Franz.
“Good!” Replied Krieger.
“May I ask what my age has to do with my situation?” Asked a somewhat bolder Goldmann.
“It has a lot to do with everything. I am obligated to ship all Jews between thirteen and sixty years old, to a work camp within two weeks from today. Since you are within a few weeks of being sixty, I will make an exception for you, but there is nothing I can do for the rest of you. I warned you last night! You did not listen, and now you must pay the price.” Finished Herr Krieger with emphasis.
“You mean all members of my family who are under sixty will be leaving Niedergeyer within two weeks?” Asked an incredulous Franz.
“Yes, and as a matter of fact, I am going to require you to get me a list of all Jews and their ages. However, you cannot inform anyone of what is going on. It will only cause panic and hurt everyone. Do you understand?” Asked Krieger.
“I can’t do this thing you are asking of me. It would be the same as Pontius Pilote in the bible. This is too horrible to even contemplate. Why are we being treated this way?” Cried Rabbi Goldmann as he stared at his old friend.
“I guess you are right. This could be a bible story, and I am one of the Roman soldiers following orders. Try to make the best it and help your people get through this mess. If things work