Maxwell and Jacob part II
By TheRandwickEnd
- 500 reads
V
As dinner finished up Maxwell and Rebecca began clearing away the dirty plates and empty food containers. The candles had burned a little more than halfway down to the base, and Lena and Irving still sat at the dining table- her with a mug of coffee in her hand and him with a snifter of brandy. When the tabled was fully cleared, the children rejoined their parents- Maxwell with a small cup of coffee while Rebecca had poured some more wine into a mug while in the kitchen, so it looked as though she were drinking red cordial.
No one had spoken for some time, the family’s thoughts still abounded by their people’s plight, when Maxwell broke the silence.
“Shall we turn on the radio, or perhaps a board game or cards? Rebecca could play her viola for us.”
Speaking slowly, Irving answered, “No radio, but a board game could lift our spirits. Go see what’s in the closet.”
Maxwell stood up and walked over to the foyer closet, which was full of a variety of items- mostly coats and shoes, but also some sports equipment such as tennis rackets and a soccer ball, and on the top shelf, a small selection of games; he muttered to himself what he saw.
“Backgammon, Chess, Parcheesi, Ursuppe, ah, Mensch ärgere Dich nicht.” Maxwell reached up onto his toes and with arms stretched slid the game of choice out from between the others, and brought it into the dining room. He placed the box on the table and moved the still lit candles to a mantle against the wall. Taking the top off of the box, he brought out the game board, unfolded it and set it in the centre of the table. Each family member chose their color piece, and began to play. Mensch ärgere Dich nicht- a name that translates literally to ‘Human, don’t get angry’ is a dice game and is begun by the players each starting from their own starting point, and try to move around the board and bring their pieces ‘Home’. If while moving around the board, one of the players pieces should be landed on by a piece of another player, the landed on piece goes back to its respective starting position.
At first no one was much involved in the game, but gradually they all started gaining interest, and playing to win rather than playing as a distraction. Soon everyone’s spirit had been lifted, and the game gained a previously unseen intensity.
Lena turned to Maxwell and reintroduced one of her favourite topics, “You know who would enjoy this?”
“Please moth-“
“Rachel Cohen.”
“Mother…”
“What? Just that maybe next time we play a game, you invite her over, she can take my place, or you two could play as a team.”
As Maxwell began to prepare himself for another round of persistent suggestions for marital partners, the sound of a few loud automobiles invaded the house. Several pairs of lights are soon seen turning through the night, and briefly shine through the front windows of the Eichenbaum’s home. With the sound outside not decaying, Rebecca runs to the window to peer out.
“There are three army jeeps outside.” She says, her voice cracking with nervousness.
Maxwell and Irving promptly stood up, their visages now austere.
“Rebecca, you and your mother go upstairs, quickly.” Irving directed as Maxwell went around to shut off any light that was on in the house.
The women were now upstairs, inside Lena’s room huddled together with the lights off, Lena clutching her offspring with all her strength. Orders could be heard being shrilly given outside. Maxwell was holding one of the Shabbat candles while helping his father hurry up the stairs. Before they could get to the top step they heard a door being rammed open; both father and son turned around in a flash as from only a few feet away they heard the two high-pitched yelps of their wife and daughter, sister and mother. But what they saw was not German soldiers; their door remained intact and closed. What the Eichenbaums all heard next was the sound of a man, woman, and child, being screamed at and ordered to get into the back of the jeep. They heard taunts of being dirty, lower than dogs, and comments of how the wife wasn’t bad looking, considering that she was a filthy Jewess. The only sound heard from the family was the weeping of the young child.
Irving and Maxwell went joined their family in the bedroom, taking the feeble precautionary measure of locking the door, and then quickly blew out the candle, lest the flickering light attract attention to the evil harbingers outside. In darkness the family sat, unseen but known to each of them, the terror that showed openly on the faces of a family in the midst of the rule of a madman.
Had they had the courage- and foolishness, to look outside their window, they would have seen their neighbours being herded into an army vehicle, with several soldiers standing around, two pointing guns at the young family, two more looking around for any possible danger, and one more- presumably an officer, looking intently at a clipboard.
The sound of a jeep driving off was heard, though for minutes on end there was still the sound of at least one idling jeep, and the family held its collective breath. Ten minutes had passed, and the ordeal seemed fading, with thoughts going out to the young family just taken away, The Lang’s.
A few more voices were heard outside, and then the sounds of another door being broken door and a home being invaded. There were sounds of breaking glass and stomping around- the sounds of a home being molested, and when the family heard the familiar creak of the steps that lead upstairs, Lena broke out in an uncontrolled sob.
VI
Shops along the main road were in desperate wonting- of respect, patronage, and intact doors and windows. Every store front had long since been desecrated and abandoned before new tenants were forced to take over for the utility of having a functioning town, even if that town was a ghetto.
The streets were littered with refuse, and the sewers were struggling to facilitate the heavy flow of waste that comes from an abundance of overcrowding. People scoured the streets out of hopelessness and boredom; those who were fortunate enough to reopen shops as butchers and tailors did their best to hire those who had been made redundant from the lack of the once respected occupations of bankers and lawyers, but even those employed as assistants and apprentices were only given scraps of working hours and wages.
Of the many people who spent their days shuffling around looking for work or conversation, their clothes were showing a large amount of accumulated dirt and mud, while other areas were evincing the countless hours of walking around through the thin layer of fabric that had been so worn out, and the off-color patches that had been sewn on to repair any holes and tears. Soles of shoes had been worn through and replaced with cut out cardboard that had been found and fished out of dumpsters. The majority of women spent their days inside their new quarters or outside on the stoops, mending socks and trousers, with older children by their side handing them thread and fabric, and the younger ones playing nearby in the street, being lucky enough in not being able to bear the full brunt of their situation.
As night started rearing itself, the thronged streets would quickly dissipate, lest anyone be caught outside after curfew. Curfew was whenever the sun went down, regardless of the time of day, and with Fall in full force, night came on faster and earlier every proceeding day.
One place where there was still a gathering of people was the bakery. A queue of waiting customers went out the door- though given the size of the shop that wasn’t an unusual sight; each person kept one eye on the line in front of them, and the other on setting sun behind them. Of the few people waiting in the shop, one of them was Maxwell. As his turn to order arrived, he stepped up to the counter.
“Hello, could I get four loaves of Challah please?”
“You must be new here, we don’t have the ingredients to make Challah, and everyone can only get one loaf of bread per family.”
Maxwell was taken aback, but it was true that he didn’t know the customs of living in a ghetto; some of these people had been living here for months, while this was his and his family’s first Shabbat there. Having been unceremoniously dropped off late Friday night the week before, the Eichenbaums had been told to go to an address, where they would find their new home. The address was of a block of apartments, and when they found the door with their number on it, they could hear noises coming from inside. Unsure of exactly what to do, they cautiously knocked, and were greeted by a grown woman about Lena’s age. Seeing this unfamiliar family standing in the doorway, visibly shaken and holding onto a small amount of clothing and trinkets, the woman realized why they were there.
“Oy vey, Bernard, another family!” she yelled back into the flat.
Still standing awkwardly in the hallway, the Eichenbaums looked on as the woman’s husband showed up in the doorway, eyeing them sympathetically.
“For goodness sake Abby, let them in!” Bernard said to his wife, pushing her out of the way to usher in the Eichenbaums. “I am sorry for my wife, but there is already another family living here in this apartment, and we are already two to a bed, so we thought that it might stay that way. But it isn’t your fault, come in.”
The rest of the night was spent consoling the Eichenbaums and meeting the other families- their new flatmates. Stories of now former lives were told, and what little food there was, was passed to the newcomers- two litres of lukewarm soup, a few slices of bread, and the remnants of some wine.
The next week was spent with Maxwell and his family learning the ways of the ghetto- looking for work, the rules and curfews, and the food rationing. When Maxwell stood in line at the bakery, the thought of not getting what he asked for had certainly presented itself to him, even as the most probable outcome; but he was told to buy several loaves of Challah to help repay the kindness of the two families for the preceding week. Knowing that it wouldn’t hurt to ask, and that Shabbat could warrant exceptions, he asked for his four loaves of Challah against all odds.
“If I’m supposed to buy bread for three families though, could I get three loaves then?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. It’s not that I think you are lying- though that is something I’m wary of, it’s that if these people here see you leave with three loaves of bread, then they will all want three loaves, and I don’t have enough bread for that. If the other two families want bread, they’ll have to come down to get it themselves.”
“But it’s nearly curfew, they won’t be able to make it in time.”
“Then they are going this Shabbas without bread.”
The baker held out a loaf of bread for Maxwell to take, which he eventually did. Paying the baker his money for the bread, Maxwell walked out of the bakery wondering what his mother would say. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but his mother cared a bit too much, one could argue, for what others thought of her. To Lena it wouldn’t matter that what she asked for was impossible, instead that it could be said that she was ungracious rather than grateful, and greedy rather than generous.
Lost in thought and very slowly walking away from the bakery, Maxwell heard, then saw two large army trucks drive past, which shook him back to his harsh reality. The sun had already started setting and Maxwell couldn’t gestate on what his mother would say any longer; he quickened his pace home.
VII
Nearly back to his home, the sound of bawling young children, orders being barked, and rumbling trucks was heard from around the corner. Maxwell broke out into a run, and rounded a bend to view numerous families standing in groups, some waiting, some being led into the back of either one of the two trucks he had seen not ten minutes earlier.
“Schnell! Schnell!” roared two German officers, each pointing at various groups of people and then pointing to one of the trucks, their orders being carried out by small groups of foot soldiers, most of them with their rifles drawn.
There were at least fifty people outside the building, and ten or so in each truck, with the numbers dwindling and rising respectively each minute. The German soldiers taunted the families standing around, telling them to make a run for it or to try and overpower them, anything that would give the soldiers an excuse to gun down another rat. Mothers tried to shield their little ones while the fathers and their sons tried to shield their mothers and sisters.
In one of the upper floor windows of a block of apartments, a face peered down to witness the horror. A soldier looked up and saw the face, making eye contact for the briefest moment. The soldier told another one nearby to come along, that they were going to inspect the building from the top down. They pushed their way past the last of the tenants coming out of the building, and a few minutes later, the first gunshot was heard from inside, followed by three more within the next minute. Now, the same window that shone a face five minutes earlier was being lifted, and a body was tossed through the opening to the yell of ‘Bomben Weg!’ The crowd scattered to avoid being hit, and with a horrifying thud, the body of a girl no more than nine lay on the ground, with a bullet hole in her head and two in her chest. The crew of soldiers burst out laughing and began to applaud the soldier upstairs, who leaned far out of the window to bow to their adoring audience.
Maxwell watched with terror and disgust at what was taking place directly in front of him. When he turned the corner and saw the Nazis, he had stopped in his tracks, and observed what was happening. None of the soldiers had noticed him by this point, but they were going around and taking role call among the tenants, and it wouldn’t be long before someone would see him.
One soldier began to walk towards the group of people that contained the Eichenbaums and the two other families they had been living with, and Maxwell watched with his heart in his throat.
“I will say your name, and you will respond with ‘here’. If that person is not here, you will tell me where they will be found, lest you should like to end up like the little baby bird over there.” The soldier said, pointing his gun to the dead girl that lie no more than ten meters away from them. He flipped through some pages on his clipboard, and began to pace back and forth as he spoke.
“Bernd Lieberman.”
“Here.”
“Ester Lieberman.”
“Here.”
“Hans Lieberman.”
“Here.”
“Sara Lieberman.”
“Here.”
“Erich Ackermann.”
“Here.”
“Anna Ackermann.”
“Here.”
“Eliezer Ackermann.”
“Here.”
The soldier paused for a minute, looking at his list and then at the crowd, “Ach du lieber, enough of these ugly kike names. Will someone here have the decency to have a proud German name?” he hissed at them before continuing down his list.
“Sara Ackermann.”
“Here.”
“Ester Ackermann.”
“Here.”
“Irving Eichenbaum.”
“Here.”
“Lena Eichenbaum.”
“Here.”
“Maxwell Eichenbaum.”
There was silence and everyone held their breath as the soldier walked up to Irving, hunching over slightly so that his face inches from the elder.
“Where is your son?”
“He was sent out to get some bread for dinner.”
“How long ago?”
“He should be back soon because of the curfew.”
“I hope for your sake that he shows himself very soon. But I hope for my sake that he doesn’t.” The soldier began to pace again. “Rebecca Eichenbaum.”
“Here.”
“You think you’re a strong man because you have power? Because of your guns?” Irving said, interrupting the soldier. “You aren’t a strong man at all, you aren’t even a man. Killing little children to boost your inflated egos, you are the dogs, not us!”
The German soldier stopped his pacing and turned sharply to face the insolent old man. He took his position again in front of the wrinkled face.
“You think that I am the dog, and not you? You think that you are a man, but I am not? Yet you, a man older than my own father, you are afraid of me. You are petrified of me, aren’t you?” A grin started creeping along the soldier’s mouth.
Irving stood silent, which the soldier took as encouragement. “I am the dog, but who hates the Germans? We are providing a global service. Everyone hates the Jews; the Pharaohs of Egypt hated you and enslaved you. King Ferdinand II of Spain hated you and expelled you. The World hates you.” A few of the other German soldiers had heard this soliloquy and began to listen intently.
“And while The World hates you, they love Deutschland. Four years ago we hosted a wildly successful Summer Olympics. Two years ago, Chamberlain returned to us Sudetenland, and we went on to claim the rest of Czechoslovakia, while The World observed, but did not oppose. The World adores Germany, Germany adores the Third Reich, and the Third Reich adores Hitler. The World will soon adore him as well.”
Another rousing applause went up among the soldiers while the orator never took his sneering gaze off of Irving. The soldier held his position for a few moments to add effect, before standing up straight and turning away.
“Feh, adores. The World will adore Hitler when he rests in his endlessly defiled grave.”
As if he were expecting a dissenting rejoinder, the soldier immediately continued his turn, so that he was coming full circle, with the butt of his rifle leading the way. The end of the gun struck Irving a few inches below his sternum, knocking the wind out and forcing his collapse onto the ground, dropping like a large bag of cement as Lena let out a scream and children continued sobbing into their mother’s bodies.
Upon instinct, Maxwell flew from his position towards the Nazi that harmed his father, the sound of his feet forcefully hitting the dirt alerting the soldiers to his presence. The soldiers were caught off guard at the sight of a man so enraged appearing from out of nowhere, but the soldier who had ran his rifle into the old man on the ground, calmly lifted his arms until the barrel stood parallel to the ground, its mouth pointing straight at Maxwell.
Halting his momentum with as much force as he used in creating it, Maxwell stopped mere meters away from the rifle, and shifted his glance from the eyes of the German, to his sister- who was turning away in fright, and back to the German soldier. At once, everything went black as Maxwell crashed to the ground.
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This is extremely well
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