Mila 18 - Leon Uris [180]
Rachael looked continually to the back door through which Wolf might appear. A long time ago when he returned from the Bathyran farm at Wework, he had come to her during a recital in this very place. Perhaps he would come again today.
Rachael held up her hands for attention and told the children what her first number would be. It was a new one in which she narrated the life of Chopin behind a sampling of waltzes, nocturnes, and etudes, ending with the patriotic crescendo of a polonaise.
The next number was a medley of Yiddish songs. She watched the faces of the children searching their memory for a faint voice in the past which had sung to them.
“Should I be a rabbi?
I don’t know my Torah,
Should I be a merchant?
I have nothing to sell.
“And I have no hay,
And I have no oats,
And I’d like a drink of vodka,
But my wife will curse me,
So I’ll find a big rock,
And I’ll sit me down and cry.
“Should I be a schochet?
I cannot use a chalef,
Should I be a melamed?
I don’t know an alef.
“Should I be a cobbler?
I don’t have any last.
Should I be a teamster?
I have no cart or horse.
“Should I be a blacksmith?
I won’t have any anvil,
Should I run a tavern?
No, my wife would get too drunk.”
“What would you like to hear next?”
“Palestine!”
“Rachael! Sing to us about Palestine!”
“Palestine!”
“Palestine!”
“The roses bloom in Galilee,
And the land rejoices.
Round the day and through the night,
We lift our thankful voice.
“We love you, our Galilee,
Your land makes our hearts sing.
We guard it dear with soul and gun
And fear not what fate brings ...”
Susan Geller entered at the rear of the hall. She looked round quickly, then whispered to her second nurse. The woman looked startled for an instant, then nodded and whispered to another nurse.
“All together now, children!”
“The roses bloom in Galilee,
And the land rejoices ...”
Susan Geller looked around once more and spotted Stephan. She wove through the pack of children, took his hand, and led him to a side door. “Make no outcry, Stephan. The building is surrounded by Militia. Get upstairs. There are twenty-five or thirty children in an attic classroom. Do you know where it is?”
Stephan nodded.
“Take them over the roof to Mila 19. Tell Alexander Brandel to get to the Umschlagplatz quickly.”
Rachael frowned as she saw Stephan slip out of the hall.
“We love you, our Galilee,
Your land makes our hearts sing ...”
Susan sat on the bench beside Rachael. “At the end of this song I will make an announcement. You keep playing. We want no panic. Do you understand?”
“Oh God ...”
“Keep playing, Rachael, keep playing.”
“I ... understand ...”
Susan stepped before the piano and held up her hands. “Children!” she said. “Aunt Susan has a most wonderful surprise! Today we are going to the country on a picnic!”
The announcement was greeted with “ohs” and “ahs” of disbelief.
“We are all going on a train ride out of the ghetto and we will see all of those things we have talked about—trees and flowers and farms. All those wonderful things which you have never seen before. This is going to be the greatest experience of your life. Now we will all file out of the hall and to the street. Don’t be frightened of the soldiers, because today they are there to help us. Now, Rachael, would you play something while we march out?”
Susan stepped into the corridor just as Piotr Warsinski entered the building. She blocked the door to the assembly hall.
“We are quite ready,” Susan said. “If you will kindly tell your men not to alarm the children we will keep them calm.”
“We just want the children, not you.”
“We choose to go too.”
Warsinski shrugged. “Have it your way. Get them out into the streets.”
“Quickly,” Stephan Bronski ordered two dozen six-year-olds in the attic classroom. Ghetto life had conditioned them to respond to his order with unqualified discipline. Stephan was first up the escape ladder to the roof. He nudged the trap door open an inch and peered around.
A Ukrainian on the roof!
Stephan signaled for the line behind