Our Secret is Safe

May 1936

Boredom overtook me. There’s only so much to do on a train. A fog of repetition and a cloud of monotony were passengers, too, always with me. I read my book several times, played word games with Paps and Mutsch, dallied in the club car as the train hurtled through the Russian landscape, danced in the corridors on my way to and from the dining car, fell into naps during the day, and wrote letters to Gerta, Omi and Opa, and my other relatives and friends. I’d run out of paper but Katya graciously had given me handfuls of flyers, pamphlets, and information booklets, most printed on one side, their other side blank. “Direct your reader’s attention to the opposite face of the paper so they’ll see where you are,” she urged, “a souvenir of sorts, yes?”

We came upon a river over which a bridge was built. As the bridge came into view I was doubtful it would be strong enough to bear the weight of the train. For several increasingly fearful moments I imagined that when we were halfway across its span the bridge would collapse, throwing the entire train and all its passengers into a watery grave.

As we crossed I felt the bridge swaying from left to right in cadence with the train’s forward motion. The massive supports beneath squealed in an effort to bear the load of the train. This is where our voyage ends, I remember thinking. But the train cleared the bridge. It proceeded slowly, a distance of perhaps several hundred metres, before it stopped at an enormous station. I saw a placard with letters of which I only can recall the first: H.²⁵

I placed my nose against the window. There were hundreds of people coming and going on the platform. The station was cavernous, much larger than any I’d seen since we left Moscow.

Paps entered the compartment from the corridor. “We’ll be here for a few hours while the train is restocked with food and supplies, Lorechen,” he said.

Just then Mutsch came from the lavatory. “Can we walk about for a while?”

Paps frowned. “I know it’s been tiresome to be pent up all these days but Katya told us we’re never to leave the train without her. Let me see if she might escort us and some other passengers on a brief stroll about the station.”

Mutsch and I looked out at the platform, as forlorn as young children peering into a candy store.

“I’m sorry,” Paps said as he reentered the cabin. “Katya said there are no plans to detrain. Apparently, there would be too much commotion with other trains boarding and workers bringing supplies aboard and it would be too difficult to monitor everyone.”

Mutsch and I were disappointed. “There mustn’t be enough police to do so,” Mutsch reasoned.

We had imagined parading around the station, if only for a short while. Perhaps we could sneak off the train and stand on the platform near the doorway to our car. The fresh air would be a welcomed treat. We haven’t been on solid ground for quite some time.

Mutsch looked at me. “I know what you’re thinking but it’s best that we stay where we are rather than risk any sort of incident that would draw attention to us.”

And so, Paps and Mutsch retired to their room. I nestled down on my bed, peering out my window with envy, longing to be among the people moving about.

For hours workmen and police swarmed the train, hustling on and off like bees at a hive, buzzing from task to task.

When the train eventually left the station it rolled out of the city and its environs and began to barrel through a dense and endless forest. I recognized evergreens of all sorts, including firs, spruce, and cedar. The view was so monotonous I fell asleep. For the first time in a rather long time the rhythm of the train was soothing.

Hours later I woke up. The scenery had not changed. The forest was as green and as dense as it was hundreds of kilometres before. Had we not made any progress?

Another day passed. On our way to the dining car that afternoon, a German passenger told Paps our next stop would be Krasnoyarsk. All across Russia I had a terrible time with most place names but this one has stayed with me.

We were well into our meal when Katya and four policemen entered the car. She smiled, waving at us. I saw her point to a vacant table. The men rushed to ready a place for her. One pulled a chair back. Katya sat and then the other policemen did as well.

“It’s impolite to stare, Lorechen,” Mutsch said.

“I know but it’s so interesting how she commands such respect from the men,” I said.

“Perhaps it’s respect tempered with a hearty dose of fear,” Paps said with a slight chuckle.

“Yes,” I said, “I’m sure it is.”

We were about to leave our table when I saw Katya animatedly talking to the policemen, her hands gesturing a point of clarification or one of insistence as they scribbled in their notebooks.

“Lorechen,” Mutsch said, “you’re staring again.”

I turned away. “Sorry,” I said.

Leaving, we smiled at Katya. She returned a radiantly happy face to us.

I looked back one last time, and I know I was staring again. This time I noticed Katya’s policemen did not appear cheerful at all.

With my temple pressed against the window in my room I saw the perfectly parallel tracks burrowing through the thick forest. We were on our way again, the train barreling through the countless legions of trees. The next stop was not for several hours and I was determined to make the most of the time. I would read from my book and enjoy once again the fairyland magic that had captivated me from the first readings in the library of our home in Wilmersdorf with Paps and Gerta.

I must have fallen asleep because I was startled awake. I hit my head on the window when the train slowed down. Then it came to a screeching stop. We were not at a station but in the middle of nowhere, the trees flanking the long line of railcars, sentries at their posts.

As Paps came into our compartment I heard him say to Mutsch, “There are mechanical problems with the locomotive. We’ll have to wait here until maintenance personnel and parts can come from the next town.”

“How long will it take?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Lorechen, so we’ll have to be patient.”

For once, I was frustrated not to feel the motion of the train. I was annoyed and disappointed to be stuck in the forest, hundreds of kilometres from our next stop. Paps and Mutsch also were discontented.

The sun was beginning to set. Paps suggested we freshen up and then go to the dining car for an early supper. “It’s Friday so let’s say a prayer before we go.”

We joined hands and bowed our heads. In Hebrew, Paps said, “We lift up our hands and our hearts to the Lord. We are grateful for our safety and beg for the safety of our family and friends wherever they may be. Bless Omi and Opa, bless my brothers and my sister, bless the siblings and family of my beloved Doris, and bless all our friends who we hold close to our hearts. We lift up our hands and our hearts to the Lord.” We stood motionless for a time and then Paps and Mutsch recited another prayer. “Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who hath such as these in His world.”

“Mutsch,” I whispered, “I don’t recall that prayer. What is it?”

She cupped my chin in her hands. “On seeing beautiful trees, Lorechen, there’s a prayer for that. And we’ve seen so many!”

Katya was seated in the dining car when we arrived. I waved to her and she waved back. Paps said, “Why don’t you ask Katya if she’ll join us for supper, Lorechen.” Paps and Mutsch went to find a table and I skipped over to Katya.

“Hello, little one,” she said with a warm smile.

I was so excited to see her that I blurted out, “My father asks that you please join us for supper.”

“No, thank you,” she said. Her eyes darted toward Paps and Mutsch, eyeing them coldly. Then she looked at me but said nothing. Her gaze was searching, almost annoyingly probing. Finally she said, “Tell your father I need to speak with him in private after you finish your meal.”

“Yes, Katya,” I said.

At our table I told Paps what Katya had said. Mutsch was concerned. “Do you have any idea what this is about?” she asked Paps.

“No, I don’t.” Then he asked me, “How did Katya seem when she said that? Was she angry? Upset? What was the tone of her voice?”

“I believe she is bothered by something,” I said.

Katya stayed at her table the entire time we were having supper. She did not have any food brought to her, just a small glass that was filled several times. I thought, it must be vodka.

Paps stopped at Katya’s table on our way out while Mutsch and I waited by the door. After a few minutes Paps joined us and we left. Along the corridor I kept turning back to see the expression on Paps’ face. He looked as cold as a stone in winter, his expression blank.

Inside our compartment he sat hunched over on his bed with his head cradled in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Mutsch asked as she sat down beside him.

“It’s Katya,” he said in a whisper. “On her way through the corridor to the dining car she overheard us talking in our room. She wants to discuss it with me first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “We were just praying. I’m sure Russians pray, too.”

Mutsch was horrified. “Did she hear us speaking in Hebrew?”

“I don’t know.”

Mutsch was gasping now. “What’ll we do if she accuses us of being Jews?”

Paps and Mutsch stood up holding hands. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Katya is our friend,” I said.

“Yes, Lorechen, she is, but it may be her duty to report the presence of Jews. If she does ask, I’ll deny it,” he said. “She’s seen our papers. We have come this far with our charade and we will not give up now. If she accuses me, I’ll say I was speaking in a German dialect.”

Mutsch let go of Paps and began feverishly wringing her hands. “No!” she cried out, “No! It is enough! We are who we are! I will no longer hide our faith! You’ll tell her the truth!”

I was terrified. What would happen to us? Here we were in the middle of the forest, the police on our train. Would we be taken away like Gregori and the porter? Would we suffer the same fate?

The next morning Mutsch stirred me from my sleep. “Right now, Lorechen, up and dressed,” she said. I rose quickly. I didn’t feel any motion, the train must still be stagnant in the forest. Quickly, I changed from my nightclothes and met Paps and Mutsch in their room.

Paps looked weathered. His right eyelid was flittering. For the first time in my life, I saw the impact that worry and age were having on him.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll go meet with Katya.”

As soon as Paps left, Mutsch blanched before my eyes. “I’m so worried,” she said, “that after all this, after all we’ve done, we will have failed to keep you safe.” She was crying.

“Mother,” I said, “you and father have never failed me.”

We embraced for a moment. “Thank you, Lorechen.” She was still crying. She sat on the bed. I sat beside her, held her hands, and rested my head on her shoulder. “Please don’t cry. I love you and Paps more than anything. I’m so blessed to have you as parents.”

“You’re my angel,” she said. “But right now you need to take a walk for a bit, maybe to the dining car for some breakfast. You can even have a cookie.”

“Yes, mother.”

“But don’t leave the train,” she said. “We’re stuck here and there’s no telling when we’ll be moving on. We don’t know what will transpire between your father and Katya so when they have finished speaking and he returns we must be near one another in case . . . so quickly go . . . quickly.”

She got up, kissed my cheek, and then went into the lavatory. From inside she reminded me, “Do not leave the train. Come right back.”

While strolling through the corridors I passed several passengers who regarded me with greetings. I felt the warmth from outside as I crossed from one car to the next. When I got to the club car I saw the two couples from several days earlier, the ones with the jewellery, again impeccably dressed, their clothes of shining rich fabrics neatly pressed, the women’s coiffures flawlessly arranged, the men’s perfectly knotted neckties. I sat down in the first seat, as far from them as possible. But within a few minutes they left the club car to walk along the gravel edging of the tracks. It was then that I saw scores of people milling about outside. I was the only one still in the rail car.

The windows to the car were open, allowing cool breezes to enter as I stared out at the wall of trees. I was snapped out of my daydream when I saw a massive flock of birds flying in formation, winging their way from north to south. Although they were far away, they looked to be swans or geese. Moments later I saw a large elk and its calf peeking out from in between two large trees. They stood still, staring at the sleeping iron monster in front of them. They were ready to cross the tracks but couldn’t because the train was in their way and there were people all about. They disappeared back into the dark forest.

Just then I heard footsteps in the gravel below. I looked down and saw the top of someone’s head, the hair on it as straight as nails. I knew it was Katya. Right behind her was Paps. They walked a few more steps and stopped. I heard Katya say that she required an explanation.

“For what?” Paps asked.

Katya held Paps’ arm. “I’m concerned about what I heard last night as I passed by your compartment.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Paps protested. “Perhaps my wife and I were talking too loudly. I’m sorry if we disturbed you.”

She let go of Paps’ arm. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” she said curtly.

Paps insisted again. “I don’t know what you mean.”

They walked a few more steps. I tiptoed to the next seat. I worried that I might be discovered but I couldn’t help myself.

“Do you consider me a fool?” Katya asked.

“No,” Paps said right away, “of course not.”

“Then I’ll say what needs to be said. When I overheard you I realized what you were doing. You were praying. I recognized the language you were speaking—it was Hebrew.”

Paps stammered, “Please, Katya . . .”

“That will do,” she snapped. “I tell you now that I know you are Jews. Your documents and visas must be forgeries. Perhaps you are fugitives. Is that what it is? What crimes you have been accused of I can only surmise.”

My blood turned to ice.

“Please, Katya,” Paps tried again.

“Silence!” she huffed. Then, in a calmer and friendlier tone, “I’m charged with monitoring the movements of those who are a threat to my country, my government, and my people. There are subversives and dissidents everywhere.”

“But you know we are no such things. We mean no harm to anyone.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “You are nothing other than transients. You, your wife, and your adorable little one are on your way to Japan. You’re in search of a better life, especially for your daughter. I’ll do my best to help you accomplish your goal.”

“Then I owe you an explanation,” Paps began. “We are—”

Katya interrupted him. “I see it in your eyes now, you needn’t clarify anything. You’ve assumed many risks and have managed to overcome them so far. It’s remarkable. However, there are risks for me, too. If other authorities meet this train then there may be trouble. Especially if my superiors demand a closer accounting of who is on this train. If they’re not satisfied with the information I provide them . . . well I may be in an awkward position. If it comes to that your safety may be compromised, but I’ll do what I can.”

Paps offered his hands. “I’m indebted to you and your staff for everything you have helped us with. I can’t ask nor can I expect any more than what you already have done. Please accept my heartfelt appreciation and my boundless admiration.”

“It’s odd,” she said, reaching for Paps’ hands, “how there’s such disdain in your country for people like you, as if you’re the cause of everything that ails your Führer. This can’t be.” She turned, releasing his hands. “After all, we are the same underneath, you know, as people, aren’t we?”

I saw them smile at one another. Then they walked back along the side of the train. I jumped out of my seat and ran the entire way back to our compartment.

I told Mutsch everything I had overheard. As I rattled on she glowed with relief and joy. She couldn’t have looked happier.

Shortly after Paps burst into the room, his face lit up with excitement.

Mutsch thrust herself at him. “I know, darling, I know!”

Paps stopped abruptly, his feet suddenly welded to the floor. He was astonished. “How do you know? What do you know?”

“Our angel here,” Mutsch said pointing to me, “overheard from the club car. It seems we have a little spy in our midst.” She playfully tugged on my tresses. “By chance she was privy to your conversation with Katya, what with the open windows, and she told me everything. I’m so relieved!”

Paps smiled. “Amazing,” he said. To this day I remember that smile. I took it to mean that he believed my eavesdropping was purposeful, in some way helping us with a problem affecting our family. I now know it was sheer luck to be in the proper place at the proper time.

I’m sure my parents were thinking about the same things I was, that we were now shielded from suspicion and danger, that we were so very fortunate Katya was the supervising police officer on our train, and that we were indebted to her beyond measure because she pledged to carry our pretense so our safety would be assured.

“It’s all well and good,” Paps said, “for Katya to be our guardian and keep our secret secure, however the lesson is that we can’t be careless.” He spoke slowly, with the tone of his voice cautionary. “Imagine what might have happened if an officer had passed by and heard us praying or perhaps a passenger with no decency toward Jews? We must be more careful. Do you understand?”

Afraid to speak, both Mutsch and I nodded our heads.

Paps said, “The next time we’ll whisper our prayers to the Lord. He’ll hear us, I’m sure of it.”

Just then three deafening blasts of the train whistle pierced the stillness of the forest and the quiet of our compartment. At once we could hear voices yelling, “Quickly! Now! It’s time! All aboard!”

And then we heard the continuous crunch of gravel as the people outside scrambled toward the train.

A commotion developed in the corridor with an avalanche of footsteps, the people on their hurried way to their compartments. Again, the whistle blared three times and then there was that sudden jerking motion. We were on our way!

An hour later Paps ushered Katya into our compartment. I heard her say we would be at our next stop soon. Then she gasped, “Oh my, where is the little one?”

I exited from the lavatory and with abandon I rushed to Katya, hugging her with all my might.

“There, there,” she said, rubbing my back. “For a moment I thought we left you in the forest!”

I stood on tiptoe and kissed her cheek. She blushed. “Anyway,” she said, stepping back, “I want to inform you that at Krasnoyarsk we’re scheduled for only a fifteen minute stop. I don’t recommend leaving your compartment.”

“Of course,” Paps said. “We’ll tidy up our cabin and ready ourselves for lunch after the train leaves the station.”

“Very good,” Katya said. “Then it’ll be on to another station and then . . .” she placed her arms around my shoulders, “. . . it’ll be time to see a wondrous spectacle.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“In about ten hours we’ll come to Lake Baikal. It’s so incredibly vast that we’ll be travelling along its shoreline for days.”

“I’m excited to see it, Katya,” I said.

“And I’m excited to show it to you!” she said, touching my nose with her fingertip.

We were at the station no more than twenty minutes before we heard the screeching whistle and felt the slow movement of the train. I watched as we passed the limits of the city and then clanked along an iron bridge over a large river before we were on our way again.

Later, reclined on my bed munching on cookies I took from our dining table that day, the light went out.

Although it was mid-afternoon it was as dark as night. Rain fell on the roof with such force it sounded like rivets were being hammered into it. Nature’s orchestra was in full force with all its staccato and vibrato, the clash of the elements in a magnificently discordant song. The storm was churning in the same direction as our train, chasing us for several kilometres before overtaking us, its intensity so great the train slowed considerably to safely navigate the bends and turns through the forest. At this rate it was going to take us a lot longer to reach our next stop so I decided I would make myself snug and take a short nap.

The train whistle woke me. I perked up, looked out my window and saw that we had reached another station. It was still very dark but it had stopped raining. I could see puddles on the platform.

Mutsch came into my room.

“I see you’re awake now, Lorechen. How was your nap?”

“It was fine, mother,” I said. “Where are we? When did the storm pass?”

“A few hours ago. I’m not sure what the name of this city is but I imagine we’ll depart shortly. Those whistle blasts are hard to ignore!” Then she said, “It’s past seven o’clock. Your father and I are hungry. Will you come with us for supper?”

“No,” I said, “I’m not hungry.” The cookies were still heavy in my stomach. “I’ll stay here. I promise I won’t leave our compartment.”

“All right. Your father and I will return shortly.”

As soon as they left I went to freshen up. Then I cleaned up the evidence left behind on my bed from my snack.

A knock at the door startled me. With fear creeping up my back and neck I went to the door. My nightmare sizzled in my mind.

“Yes?” I said, “Who is it?”

“Little one, it’s Katya.”

I immediately opened the door. She greeted me with her wonderful smile. I was so happy to see her! “Aren’t you feeling well?” she asked. “I met your parents in the dining car and they said you chose to remain in your compartment.”

“Oh,” I said, “I’m fine. I guess I had too many cookies at lunch.”

“Well then, I wanted to check on you and tell you that by tomorrow morning you’ll be able to see Lake Baikal on the horizon. Look at the colour of the water and carefully scan the shorelines. You might be able to see the seals.”

“That would be wonderful!” I said. “Will we have a chance to . . .”

“Go swimming?” she asked. I nodded. She laughed. “No. But at the next station we’ll have a long stop for supplies so we’ll be able to leave the train for a few hours. However, this time I’ll escort you so we don’t have a similar situation as the one where, well, you know!” We both giggled. “Anyway,” she concluded, “you’ll watch the horizon tomorrow, yes?”

“I will, Katya.” She leaned toward me, looked into my eyes, and kissed my forehead. “You’re special,” she said. Then she left.

When Paps and Mutsch returned I told them about what Katya had said about leaving the train at our upcoming stop and escorting us to sightsee.

Paps was laughing. “As long as we don’t wander off to a fountain for a drink!”