The Journey From Essen
By Gad MeiryAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2010 Gad Meiry
All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4490-6722-9Contents
SYNOPSIS........................................................viiDEDICATION......................................................xiACKNOWLEDGEMENTS................................................xiiiTESTIMONIALS....................................................xvAUTHOR'S NOTE...................................................xviiASHER...........................................................1THE WEINBERGS...................................................9OSCAR...........................................................15CAROL...........................................................23THE RESCUE......................................................41OSCARS SECOND STEP..............................................53OSCARS THIRD STEP...............................................671931............................................................85THE TTE........................................................91LEARNING TO BE JEWISH...........................................105THE BEGINNING...................................................109ANOTHER LESSON..................................................117BEFORE CRYSTALNACHT.............................................125HANS'S BAR MITZVAH..............................................131MR. WEINBERG'S DEATH............................................135A GIRLFRIEND....................................................139CHRYSTALNACHT...................................................143THE SECOND CHTYSTALNACHT........................................153INCIDENT AT THE SYNAGOGUE.......................................171OSCAR'S WOES....................................................177THE RABBI AND THE BANKERS.......................................179ARISIERUNG......................................................189THE PARTING.....................................................195ENGLAND.........................................................201THE LYN FAMILY..................................................207A WONDERFUL FAMILY..............................................213IMPORTANT DECISION..............................................257CHESTER.........................................................269THORNAMFOLD FARM at CASTELTON near ROCHDALE.....................283SUMMER AT CADBURY COLLEGE.......................................287LAST STOP.......................................................301ALDERSHOT.......................................................323LONDON..........................................................353ON THE WAY......................................................367NAPLES..........................................................373FORLY...........................................................387BRISIGELA.......................................................399GUARD DUTIES....................................................407TARVISIO........................................................415INTO AUSTRIA....................................................425INTO GERMANY....................................................427TENDERMONDE.....................................................433IJMUIDEN........................................................445EINDHOVEN.......................................................447ALIAS...........................................................457EGYPT...........................................................469INTO PALESTINE..................................................479GLOSSARY........................................................483
Chapter One
ASHER
Asher Goldberg was born in Rosenthal, Holland, near the conjunction of Dutch, Belgian and German borders. The small, sleepy town of 2000 people hardly noticed the few families of Jewish farmers, descendants of refugees from the Spanish and Portuguese Inquisition. Those immigrants had feared the wealthy, competitive cities of Amsterdam, Rotterdam and Utrecht. They preferred the rural area of Holland, where they could succeed as farmers while preserving their traditional orthodox way of Jewish life. Their small synagogue was a place to pray and to send their children to study, but they felt isolated from the larger Jewish communities in the cities.
Asher's father, a learned man, inherited his father's trade as a kosher butcher, and served as Mohel* when a son was born into the Jewish community. Because that community was small, the living he earned was meager. Nevertheless, he had fathered a large family. Asher was born in 1885, the fifth son and last of twelve children.
As the youngest of the family, Asher learned early of life's hardships. The older children often stole part of his food when their parents weren't looking, and usually convinced their father or mother that Asher's complaints were untrue. The insult and injury of unfair punishment quickly taught him to trust no one and confide in no one. His clothes were hand-me-downs, his toys mostly broken discards from the other children.
By the age of thirteen, Asher had learned that both his mind and body had to be well developed. He was shorter than his brothers and sisters, but had exercised to strengthen his body and to make up in flexibility and speed what he lacked in stature. He also treasured books, and would read even scraps of torn pages to add to his store of knowledge, often reading by candlelight after the rest of the family had gone to sleep.
In Asher's fourteenth year, after his Bar Mitzvah, his father suddenly became too ill to work. Asher and his brothers had to work after school. Asher's problems with the older children intensified with their tricks and torments. He often found the sleeves of his shirts sewn shut and pebbles in his shoes.
The children couldn't earn enough to support the family, and after a year the butcher shop was sold, cutting off the last means of maintaining a livelihood. Mr. Goldberg's friends urged him to go to one of the cities, where his skill and knowledge of meat and Jewish law would be more valuable. But, the thought of leaving his family and friends, and the community where his people had lived and handed down the farms and jobs from generation to generation, was unbearable. He could not consider leaving Rosenthal.
After two more years, Mr. Goldberg regained his health, but could find no suitable work. When he learned that there was a job available in one of the two non-Jewish butcher stores, he applied for the job and got it. The repercussions were much greater than he had expected. The entire Jewish community was dismayed that he would work in a store where he must handle and even sell pork.
Even worse, his wife did not understand and support his decision, but added her anger to his burden. He was appalled at the affront, and became more and more estranged and withdrawn. He suffered in silence, wondering what he had done to deserve it all. Was he not pious? Did he not keep the Sabbath? Did he not teach his children? Was one not allowed to transgress in order to provide, to bring food to the table?
The children were deeply affected by the change in their father and their status in the community. Asher felt it most keenly. The taunts of his friends, added to the injustice and meanness from his brothers and sisters, were unbearable. In his isolation and depression, he felt that the only solution was to leave, to run away from home and never return. He was fifteen years old. If he remained in Holland, there was the risk of being found and returned home. He could escape across the border and go to Germany.
Setting out one night with no money and no food, only a change of clothing and a few treasured books, he crossed the border and by morning reached the town of Aix de Chappell. That day, and for eight months, he did odd jobs in exchange for meals. He slept in attics and barns, spending the few pennies he earned only for books, candles, to read by, and one glass of milk a day. He washed dishes to get a free meal. When he finally got a real job, distributing advertising posters for some of the town's stores, he saved almost all his earnings, ignoring the attractions designed to tempt a young man away from his money.
In 1914 World War I began. Perhaps, because of his difficulties at home, perhaps, because of the strength of German nationalism all around him, Asher volunteered for the Kaiser's army. At the battle of Bordeaux, he earned the Iron Cross second class by rescuing two other soldiers and directing German mortar first against a crucial French position, saving the day for the German forces. In 1917, while he was still in the German army, Asher received a letter from the Red Cross informing him of his father's death three weeks before. Mr. Goldberg had lived to be 68 years old, but had never recovered from his earlier difficulties. Asher was 22 years old when he began to recite the Kaddish.
When the war ended, all German soldiers were ordered to designated camps for screening by the Allied forces, and mustering out. Asher boarded a train with the rest of his troop at a small town on the Belgian border, with no intention of arriving at the camp at Bochum for mustering out, and perhaps discovery of the fact that he was really Dutch and not German.
When the train stopped for fuel near Essen, the soldiers were allowed to get out and stretch their legs along the tracks. Asher saw a small shed near the end of the train, perhaps fifty yards away, and walked slowly toward it without looking back. If someone noticed him, he could say he was curious as to what was in the shed.
With a smile and a sigh of relief, he reached the shed and slowly opened the small door. It was a signal shed, as he had supposed. He stooped low, entered, dumped his back-pack to the ground and leaned his rifle against the wall. When he heard shouts from the direction of the train, he slumped down on his back- pack and feigned sleep. The shouting died away, he could hear the hiss of the steam from the distant locomotive, no footsteps sounded near him, and his pretense of sleep began to make him drowsy.
The shrill whistle of a locomotive brought him wide awake again. He could only listen with great concentration, for the shed was well built and had no cracks and no windows. He had come this far without detection, and wasn't about to risk stepping outside to look around, nothing to do but wait for darkness to cover his next move. His time in the trenches had taught him to sleep at will, and he dozed off.
He woke again but had no idea how long he had slept. As his senses returned, the first thing he noticed was the smell of cigarette smoke. His mind racing, he became aware that it was dark outside. He could not remember whether he had left the door open as it was now Then tried to decide the source of the cigarette smoke. He had to relieve himself. He crawled slowly and quietly to the door, wondering if it would squeak. He brought his face to the opening.
Someone was sitting outside leaning against the shed, a half-smoked cigarette dangling form his fingers. It was too dark to see much, but the man outside was wearing a German uniform. Asher couldn't make out the form of a rifle outside, but perhaps the soldier had a handgun. He felt for his own rifle. Reassured by its weight in his hand, he stepped through the door.
"Guten Abend," he greeted the stranger.
"Gute Nacht, bei mir. How can you sleep at a time like this?" the other answered
Noticing the rifle in Asher's hand, he motioned toward it and continued,
"Relax and sit down, and we'll talk about how to get out of here."
"Wait a minute; I have to take care of important business first."
Asher stepped aside a few feet and relieved himself.
"That's better. How long have you been sitting here?"
"Since the train pulled out. I watched you. You know, you're not stupid, but we both took a big chance."
"I wasn't thinking about that. All I knew was that after this crummy war I wasn't going to sit in no shit-prison."
"Same here. You gave me the idea when I watched you sneaking away; really used your head, boy!"
"Now what? Do you know where you're going form here, or what you're going to do?"
"Well, I come from a little village near Kassel. I have family there, so I'll make my way there and then we'll see."
"That sounds all right to me. I think I'll go into Essen and have a look around. I think we'd better start walking now, and maybe we'll get a ride, maybe something to eat, too. I'm absolutely starving."
Gathering their things together, they started walking along the tracks. After a while, they came to a crossroad and could see lights in the distance. They agreed that it would be easier to think clearly after they got something to eat, and set off in the direction of the lights.
"Don't even know your name. Mine's Asher Goldberg."
"Gerhard Stummel."
The small village they reached fifteen minutes later seemed to be untouched by the war. The proprietor of the only store watched them with obvious mistrust as they selected a few items. Then he relaxed as they paid what he asked for the food. When he offered them beer and cigarettes, they accepted gladly and were soon trading stories of their war experiences. When the two soldiers took him into their confidence about jumping the train to avoid prison camp, he found them a place to stay for the night and in the morning gave them coffee, sandwiches, and directions to their destinations.
Asher said good-bye to his companion at the edge of the city of Essen, where Stummel took another route to his home village. It was late afternoon as Asher arrived in the town. It had turned chilly, almost October, almost his twenty-third birthday. The light of the stores and streetlamps revealed the gloom written on the faces of the people he passed. Germany had lost the war. Soldiers were not heroes now, and people were staring at his rifle uniform. Asher knew he should lose no time in finding civilian clothes and some kind of work.
Chapter Two
THE WEINBERGS
Recalling his pre-war jobs with distaste, he glanced at the sign on the shop he was passing. 'Johan Weinberg, Gardienen & Decoration.' He stepped inside.
"Guten Abend and Shalom Alechem," he greeted the shopkeeper.
Total surprise flooded the shopkeeper's face. His mouth opened and closed without a sound. He swallowed and tried again.
"Alechem Shalom! Who are you and where do you come from?"
As Mr. Weinberg listened intently, Asher told his story and asked for help. It was nearly six o'clock; there were no more customers in the shop.
"I have to close up now," Mr. Weinberg said. "Tell you what. You come home with me, and we'll see what can be done for you."
Mrs. Weinberg's welcome was as warm as her husband's had been, although she was hesitant at first about his uniform. When he had washed up, straightened his uniform, and cleaned his boots, they sat down to Asher's first home cooked meal in many months. Afterward, the two men talked in the den. That night Asher slept in a real bed for the first time after the war.
'After the war'. It was a relaxing thought. The day's events still tumbled though his mind, but he felt good. The bed felt good. He said, "Hear, Oh Israel. God is your Lord. God is one." He had remembered that he was a Jew. He had found a welcome in a Jewish home. Everything would be all right. He slept soundly.
It was early in the morning when he woke up and felt totally refreshed for the first time in a long time. He washed up and went down into the kitchen. Mr. Weinberg and his wife were already sitting by the table having their morning coffee although he noticed that they were still in their nightclothes but dressed in elegant housecoats.
"Good morning, how did you sleep" asked Mr. Weinberg. "
"Like a log. It has been a long time since I slept in a bed like I slept in last night. It was wonderful, thank you so much for putting up with me. Now I have to see what I must do to settle down."
It was a long answer to Mr. Weinberg's simple question to how he had slept. Asher was not yet quite at ease on how to act around civilians. The last time he did that, was when he received furlough to bury his father. His mind raced. His funds were very limited and he had to buy some civilian clothes, a suit, a couple of pants, some shirts, ties and shoes and yes he had to find a barber.
Also, he needed his own place to stay. And of course, he also needed money for food. He had noticed when he walked through the town that there were soup kitchens at several street corners. There were many Germans civilians who were hungry. He also noticed that the French army was in control of the city. He was very fortunate that nobody had stopped him for walking down the street in his uniform and with his rifle. He almost went into shock, now that he thought about it. After breakfast he was very happy that Mr. Weinberg had the foresights to keep his rifle at home. But now what to do?
The more he thought about his plight, a solution to his problem formed in his mind. He would ask Mr. Weinberg for a small loan that would with his small army savings permit him to buy clothes. Also he would ask him to see if any of his friends would be able to offer him a job.
As Asher accompanied Mr. Weinberg to his shop, he had approached him with his thoughts and plans. He was dumbfounded when Mr. Weinberg agreed. Mr. Weinberg explained to Asher that he had talked to his wife about him during the late evening after Asher had gone to his room. "What are we going to do with that young man?" he had asked his wife."
"Well, we cannot keep him here forever, I need that room for the children or your mother when they come to visit, you know? But honey I have an idea. Why do you not take him to work in the store? He'll learn how to be a salesman and you also can be sure he pays you back. He seems to be a nice young man and he must have learned something in the army. That way you would also not work so hard, feel less tired and if things work out for you we'll have more time for me, yes?" and she gave her husband a little nudge.
Mr. Weinberg: "Mmmm ... sounds like you thought this out before I asked the question on the way to the shop. I bet you thought of this the moment you found out whom I brought home for dinner." And he gave her a little poke and chuckled to himself.
"I'll sleep on it and discuss it with Asher in the morning, on the way to the shop."
This morning, after they had walked a bit and Mr. Weinberg had listened, he declared:
"Listen Asher. I talked with my wife after you went to sleep. I have a proposal for you."
He told him what he and his wife had discussed. Asher agreed at once and told Mr. Weinberg:
"I do not know how to thank you sir. You were the first person I contacted when I arrived in the city. To be frank, being in the German uniform I was afraid and didn't know what to do, then, I saw your name on the store window and thought, this is a Jewish store and I got a feeling that it would be safe to enter. Thank God, for leading me to you. Mr. Weinberg, you and your wife are angels. And I promise I'll do my best for you. You will not regret it." and Asher thanked him again.
As soon as they entered the store, they took their coats and jackets off and donned service coats. Mr. Weinberg's coat was white and he handed Asher a gray one. It was a little tight on him. He had put on weight during his army career.
"And now, Asher," Mr. Weinberg intoned, sitting on one of the bar stools in front of the counter and pointing to the other for the new employee to sit on.
"Now you are going to learn all about Gardinen (curtains) and decorations, but before that, from now on you will call yourself Oscar Goldberg, it is a more a German name and our customers will remember it better. All right Oscar? So now let's go to work. First thing in the morning, you will sweep the store. Once you finish that you will find time to brew coffee for us. I'll show you where I keep the cream later. Now come with me and I will show you how to open the gate. This is where I keep the key."
He reached behind the last showcase at the back of the store and took a key from a nail. Then they went outside and Mr. Weinberg showed Oscar how to open the gate and push it up. Then they came back inside. Mr. Weinberg showed Oscar where he kept the coffee, sugar and cream, and watched how Oscar made the coffee. Two cups were produced and one spoon. Then he handed Oscar a broom and the 'new Oscar' had began his first day as a civilian!
Many days were spent learning all about the different materials. The different brand names, prices, color codes, costs and measurements. There was a lot to learn. Now there were a few things of importance of which Mr. Weinberg had no clue. Oscar had an incredible memory and secondly he was absolutely fantastic when it came to mathematics.
When he ran away from home and struggled to get by he had always allowed himself time to study mathematics, he remembered his old teacher in 'Cheder' (Hebrew school) who had admonished him that to remember numbers was as important as was learning the Talmud*. He was very impressed with that advice and always played with numbers in his head. During his army career he would teach his buddies to remember cards and numbers. He made some good friends that way, but they never understood why he himself would not play.
Excerpted from The Journey From Essenby Gad Meiry Copyright © 2010 by Gad Meiry . Excerpted by permission.
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