Sample Chapter - Holocaust Survivor Story

From My Window

"Get away from there. Don’t let them see you." Mama grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the window, her brows pushed down over her eyes. I didn’t know why she was so angry. I was only looking down the street for Opa, hoping to see him coming to play with me. A cool breeze blew Mama’s beautiful mesh curtains over my head, as if they were fishnets thrown out at sea. Perhaps she thought I might ruin one of the crocheted round pieces she’d sewn into them. She was so proud of the way they looked—she told me once they reminded her of the stars in the sky on a sparkling, clear Viennese night.

I liked playing chess with Opa. At age five, I couldn’t always remember how each piece had to be moved, but somehow, we made a game of it. When I moved a rook like a bishop, or a pawn like a queen, his eyes would dance and he’d say, "No, Illy, no. You must move it like this." And he’d move the piece the right way. After letting me move pieces this way and that, without any plan whatsoever, he managed to let me win. Then, with a wounded, defeated look on his face, he’d say, "Ach, you did it again! You beat me again!"

But Opa wasn’t there. Instead, I saw many people streaming out of their apartments onto the sidewalk. In the distance I heard music. Was it a march? Yes—it was a march—and I was excited. I heard the trumpets blasting a catchy melody with short, crisp notes, which I started to hum in my head. I thought I heard a band like the ones I’d seen in the Prater. They came closer and I forgot all about Opa.

At last I saw them under my window—men in uniforms that didn’t look anything like those I’d ever seen before. These uniforms were muddy brown instead of sky blue or grassy green. They weren’t decorated with two rows of brass buttons and gold fringes on the shoulders. The men in these uniforms wore black leather belts and black straps crossing their chests, from one corner of their waists to the opposite corner of their shoulders. They wore black knee-high boots on their feet and caps with shiny, black visors. The only colors I could see were the red armbands with white circles that had black, hooked crosses inside them. Some people watching the parade waved flags that looked like the armbands. I couldn’t understand why they were so excited about men in such ugly, drab uniforms.

But the beat of the music made me jump up and down as the band passed by. It was followed by rows and rows of men lifting their feet high in the air, pounding their heels onto the pavement as if they were hammers—their chests were puffed out—their chins held high. All our neighbors were smiling and cheering and waving their arms. The excitement made me hop like a rabbit—until Mama grabbed my never seen her like that before. I didn’t understand why she was so frightened.