A TALE OF BLOOD AND INK

Chapter 2 | Lost

"Well, you see, that's how it all turned out. Nobody disappeared. A small misunderstanding, nothing more," the Obersturmbannführer explained to one of the men. "I'll take it from here alone - I'll escort these two to Levetzowstraße. You know, to prevent that they get away from you again."

There was a delicate hint of mockery in his tone reflected in the amused twitch of the corners of his mouth and the twinkle in his eyes. What might have momentarily deprived another person of the aura of inhuman menace that surrounded these men made him seem, oddly enough, all the more frightening - more so than the scowling figures around us.

Levetzowstraße? What's there?

The tall man seemed quite satisfied with the outcome of the situation when he turned back to Leah and me and told us to get into the car. Resistlessly we obeyed, and for a moment, I allowed myself to feel relief at having escaped the steady rain.

"So now they get their own chauffeur for trying to escape," one of the men hissed, just loud enough for me to hear.

But I was not the only one who did.

The Obersturmbannführer must have heard it, too, because his expression instantly darkened to one that far surpassed the seriousness of the one on the propaganda posters. He stood up in front of the other.

"What did you say? Please repeat it, Herr Unterscharführer," he demanded dangerously quietly.

My attention was drawn from him to Leah, who had been staring silently until just now, as she barely audibly spoke up. "They knew."

Blinking in confusion, I looked at her. Who had known what?

"What are you talking about?"

Her pale lips trembled.

"Maminke and tate. They knew we had to get out of here," Leah whispered as she dug a piece of paper out of her coat pocket with clammy hands. "I found this in his desk."

The words that shone out at me on the crumpled letter refused to make sense. At least my mind refused to make sense of them. Emmerich Cohen, Rachela Cohen, née Abensztejn, Hanna, and Leah Cohen would have to leave their residence on October 17, 1941, to go to the Levetzowstraße synagogue. Enclosed was a list of items they were allowed to take with them. A glance at the date finally revealed the actions of our parents mercilessly - they could undoubtedly have found an opportunity to tell us about it, and yet they had preferred to conceal this news. Why?

As I lowered the typewritten page, my hands trembled.

"Why didn't they tell us?" asked Leah softly. Why didn't they try to stop it?, resonated unspoken in her voice. Of course, they couldn't. She understood that too. She just didn't want to accept that the safe protection of parents was a pure illusion, that even they couldn't stand against everything, weren't untouchable, and couldn't shield us from all dangers.

"I don't know." I wish I could have given her a better answer - one that wouldn't leave her even more unsettled in this frightening situation. But how, when I didn't understand it myself?

Was it possible to lie through silence?

The raised voice of the Obersturmbannführer made my eyes twitch back to him.

"If you want to accuse me of not acting by my position and question my decisions, you should be aware of the consequences."

"Yes, Herr Obersturmbannführer. It was certainly not my intention to -"

The higher-ranking man silenced him with a wave of his hand, as if he were shooing away an annoying insect, and granted the Gestapo official only an equally disdainful glance before he turned away without a word and got into the car.