Together Again

April 1936

When Paps and I left Amsterdam bound for Brussels I wondered why we couldn’t take a more direct route through Germany to Italy. After all, our forged papers had worked and neither of us had aroused suspicion. When I questioned Paps about this he was reluctant to explain not wanting to worry me.

As our train hurtled across the countryside he finally told me, “It’s necessary to avoid crossing into Germany. No Jew is safe there.”

“But we travel as the Völker family,” I said, “and when I was questioned at the border on the way to Amsterdam there were no problems. Everything was in order.”

He looked at me. “I’ve kept it from you until now but there’s been another arrest warrant issued for me. The Nazis set upon my company offices in Berlin and examined its records regarding employees and their whereabouts. They learned that I’d forwarded all my financial business to London. They surmised that I was planning an escape. By cross-referencing the records from the roster at your former school it was easy for them to positively identify me and my relationship to you. They know who I am. They know who you are. We must continue to travel without re-entry into Germany.”

It was difficult for me to imagine my father as a fugitive. His alleged offenses could only be a tragic misunderstanding. His heritage and his faith were his undoing. It was a pathetic injustice that the root cause of the prejudices against him was something over which he had no control.

We arrived in Brussels. The first leg of our journey was complete. At the station Paps verified the particulars of our upcoming travels. “We must remain alert because if we miss our connections there may be complications.” Next, we went to Luxembourg. From there to Strasbourg, in eastern France.

On the train, I wrote to Gerta. It had only been eleven days since I left her but already I missed her terribly. I would write to Omi and Opa, too. I hoped they were safe. Paps told me he was grateful I was thinking of his parents. I would also write to Uncle Sieke.

At the station in Luxembourg we had time to stretch our legs and walk about. The large crowds carrying luggage mesmerized us. I wondered if they were running from something too. We made our next connection with no trouble.

In France, we were safe. As we were leaving the Strasbourg station I got to show off in front of Paps when I had a conversation in French with a teenaged girl seated in front of us.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is our train approaching the station in Basel. Again, Paps and I checked our tickets and schedules for the next connection. When the train stopped we made our way to the designated platform. The train to Merano would be leaving momentarily.

“We’ve travelled approximately eight hundred kilometres,” Paps said. “We’ve maybe three hundred more. In a few hours we’ll reunite with Mutsch and our family will be together again.”

The train chugged along straining to climb the steep inclines of the mountainous terrain of Switzerland. There was snow everywhere at the higher elevations.

I decided to read from the book Gerta had given me. The story was Rotkäppchen. Paps said, “It’s a favourite of mine, too, Lorechen, the little girl in her red clothing on her way to her grandmother with a basket of food. It’s such an endearing tale.”

I read silently and then closed my eyes imagining Gerta’s voice reciting the words, remembering our sessions in the library. I swooned with delight at the memory of the sweet intonations of her voice.

And then my ogre appeared, dressed in a black fur overcoat, chasing me through the rail cars. He limped after me just a few steps behind. I ran past startled passengers, far enough ahead of him to crank open the doorway, step precariously onto the wavering iron platforms between the cars, and then slam the door behind me. I ran through several cars and then I entered one where I found Paps. I screamed as I hurried toward him, “Father! Save me!” He had his head down, reading from a newspaper. He didn’t look up. Overwrought with terror, I tried desperately to open the next door. Would the monster catch me? Would I fall between the cars? Would I die at his hands?

“Lorechen,” I heard my father say as he tried to shake me awake. “You were screaming in your sleep. You’re safe. You’re here on the train with me.” I composed myself. Paps embraced me assuring me all was well. “Soon we’ll be with your mother.”

And so it was. In less than an hour we found ourselves in Merano, Italy. We walked the short distance from the station to the hotel where Mutsch was staying. Dusk prevailed as we made our way, the early evening air crisp and clear.

The hotel was surrounded by a semicircular area of lawns with fountains and flowerbeds leading up a slight slope upon which the hotel sat twenty metres away. We walked up the pathway, both of us bubbling with excitement. And there near a stand of trees was Mutsch looking off into the distance. She was munching on grapes completely oblivious to our approach.

I ran to her. At the sound of my footsteps, Mutsch turned, the grapes dropped from her hand, and she immediately extended her arms calling out, “Lorechen! Lorechen!” We embraced. I buried my face in her dress. She smelled fresh and clean. Seconds later father came and encircled Mutsch and me in his strong arms. We were together again, the three of us, swaying in a caress as our tears came with Paps kissing Mutsch, all the while my parents squeezing me nearly to death.

“You look so well,” Paps said, “so healthy and so tan!”

Mutsch said, “I’m well, my darlings. Everything’s fine. A day or two after my arrival I was up and about. The doctor said I had fared exceptionally well. Now I’m as good as new!”

“I missed you so much,” I said. “I was scared we never would be together again.”

“Yes, of course, and I’ve missed you as well. So much so.” Her eyes were tearing up again. “But now, let’s go inside. There’s someone I’d like you both to meet.”

We walked into the building. As we came to the front desk Mutsch said in Italian, “This is my family, Anna.” The woman, about Mutsch’s height but much heavier, looked up. “Very nice,” the woman said. Then after we exchanged greetings she said, “Now it’s time to eat!”

Anna ushered us into the dining room. Candles glowed everywhere. The aromas of sharp cheeses, pungent garlic, and sweet sauces filled the air as she led us to a table.

We sat, arranged our napkins, and then sipped water from stemmed goblets. “And so,” Paps said to Mutsch, “you look so . . .” He stumbled to find the right word, “. . . so, so . . .”

Mutsch laughed. “Yes, I’ve gained some weight. Anna insists I eat my spaghetti and bread at every meal, even breakfast!”

It was wonderful to be together again each of us safe and well. We chatted without stopping, Paps detailing his trip from Berlin to London and then onto Amsterdam, and my telling Mutsch of my voyage from Berlin to Amsterdam—the incident at the German border made her gasp. She wanted to know about Uncle Heinburg, Aunt Ida, and Ullie and I told her how they took very good care of me and how I enjoyed the tulips. Then Paps and I took turns recounting our exploits from Amsterdam to Italy.

Our reunion in Merano lasted three days. The weather was perfect, warm and sunny with a slight breeze and at night the air was dry and refreshing. We talked about our family and our dearest friends whom we’d left behind. No word had come yet from Gerta, Omi and Opa, or Uncle Sieke, although my letters to them surely must have been delivered by then. I’d written my return address as Mutsch’s hotel since Paps said there’d be no other chance to receive mail until we arrived in Japan. Mother hadn’t heard from anyone.

On one occasion I overheard Paps and Mutsch talking about his brothers, Hans, Alfred, and Erich, and his sister, Jenny. My parents didn’t know of their whereabouts and they were extremely worried.

I remember Paps asking Mutsch whether she felt strong enough to carry on.

“You’re prepared to travel?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “though the doctor wants to see me on Friday for a final examination. That’s six days from now! I know we can’t wait that long. We must proceed. I’m fine. I’ve notified his office and cancelled my appointment.”

“You’re sure then?”

She smiled at him, clasping her hand about his wrist. “Yes, darling. I’m fine, I’m sure. I’m ready.”

At our evening meal Paps reminded us of what the next part of our journey would entail. “From here we will go to Vienna. We may be interrupted at the Austrian border. The Nazi influence in that country is great, Lorechen, so you’ll need to make sure your pouch is secure. Then we’ll enter Czechoslovakia and make our way to Prague. We don’t know what the political situation is there. Once we leave that country we’ll be in Poland. I hope it will only be matter of days before we see Mutsch’s sister in Warsaw. Our journey is far from over and there may be many . . .” he looked pensively at Mutsch, “. . . many situations that will test our resourcefulness and resolve.”

I knew I wouldn’t rest well on that last night in Italy.

“Lorechen,” my father was yelling, “it’s time to get up! You‘ve slept enough, young lady!”

I sat up, groggy with sleep.

“Paps, Mutsch,” I whispered, remembering what day it was. “It’s time to leave already?”

“Yes,” Mutsch said, “we must pack our things and be on our way.”

That morning, at breakfast in the hotel’s dining room, we reviewed our tasks and plans for the day. Our schedule included arriving at the train station, purchasing our tickets, and boarding the next train to Vienna.

“Si mangia il maccheroni di questa mattina?” I heard behind me. I turned to see Anna, her apron splashed with sauce. She was bright-eyed, smiling. Mutsch translated, “She wants to know if I will eat the macaroni this morning.”

“No, grazie, Anna,” mother said. “We’re leaving today. Grazie di tutto.”

Anna opened her arms to Mutsch. They embraced. With tears in her eyes, Anna said, “Dio sia con voi e la vostra famiglia.”

“I’ll miss Anna,” mother said as we left the hotel, “she’s been very kind to me. She’s looked after me every day. When we hugged her last words to us were, ‘God be with you and your family.’”

At the station Mutsch and I waited for Paps to purchase tickets.

Returning, he said, “The train will leave in twenty minutes. Let’s go to the track now.”

Paps insisted I have a window seat. “Remember to take in the landscapes and topography, Lorechen. Already you have passed through six countries. Someday you may choose to write about your travels!”

The landscape of northern Italy is nearly beyond words. I relished the expansive, craggy mountains, the verdant fields, the netted lemon orchards, pockets of small villages glistening in the late morning sunlight, august churches perched on hills, and sleepy dirt roads meandering through meadows and grasslands. The scenery of that trip to Vienna hypnotized me. At the time I considered Italy to be the most wondrous of lands.