The Underground Reporters (3 page)

Beda and his family lived in a building at the entrance of the town – their home was right across the street from the train station, the point where people arrived from other places. Chestnut trees lined the street,
creating a thick umbrella of branches in the summer. Each fall, the Neubauer children collected fallen chestnuts, adding sticks and material to fashion toy people. They even made tiny pieces of furniture from wooden matches and twigs. A table covered with a blanket became the stage for their “chestnut theater.”

Left: Reina (left) and Frances (right), standing in the central square of Budejovice. Right: Beda.

Other times, the Neubauer children just sat on the stairs in front of their apartment, counting the cars that drove by. “I win!” Frances would shout. “I saw the brown car first! That makes ten cars for me, and only three for you.” Spotting cars was their favorite competition. When they were bored with that game, they waited for the one-armed milkman, who came by every day with his cart full of aluminum milk cans pulled by a pair of large, ferocious-looking dogs.

Before Beda was born, Frances had begged for a sister. She had even
left a note for the stork who brought babies, along with a cube of sugar as a bribe. Imagine her initial frustration when this baby boy arrived. “Send it back,” Frances told her parents. “I want a baby girl!” But almost immediately she forgot her disappointment. Beda became “her” baby. She loved to care for him, pushing his baby carriage under her mother’s watchful eyes. Her precious dolls were neglected, left untouched in a corner of her bedroom, while Frances spent all of her time taking care of Beda. When Beda started to walk, Frances took him to the swings in the playground. They walked among the thick bushes and under the tall trees. They played in the sandpit and watched the puppet shows. Later, Frances taught Beda the alphabet, and how to read, before he even started school. “You’re such a bright boy,” she said, beaming with pleasure as Beda read his stories aloud.

Reina, Frances, and Beda Neubauer.

Beda’s father was an accountant and worked in an office close to their home. But he also worked as a traveling salesman to earn extra money for the family. He used his bicycle to get to his customers, but always made it home in time for dinner. Beda’s mother was a talented knitter, and the family never lacked for warm mittens, scarves, hats, and sweaters. She even sold some of her wares to stores to help with the family income.

The family loved nature walks. Each Sunday they would stroll through the nearby forest, where Mr. Neubauer would identify different birds from their distinctive whistles and chirps. The children would pick blueberries and wild strawberries. On the way back, they would pass the chocolate store. The children found the smell of chocolate through the open windows irresistibly mouth-watering. Sometimes they were lucky enough to get a chocolate treat. For days after, they would remember the pleasure of the sweets.

In winter, the Neubauer children would go sledding on a small hill by the Jewish cemetery. Ski trails were abundant on the mountains and hillsides around the town. Wintertime was special for Frances for other reasons. Her birthday was in December, and Chanukah, the festival of lights celebrated by Jewish people, followed it. At Chanukah, her family would light their menorah – a candelabra with eight candles, one lit for every night of the eight days of Chanukah. The candles were lit from the master candle, which then took its own place at the center of the menorah. Frances’ mother would place their menorah between the double windows in the front of the apartment, where the children could see the reflection of the flickering flames. “Let’s guess which one will be the first to go out, and which one will last the longest,” Frances would say, as Reina and Beda pressed closer to watch the candles burn.

In the synagogue, John stared hard at Beda, straining to catch his eye. Finally, Beda looked up and spotted his friend. Together they nodded silently, agreeing to an unspoken plan. “Father,” said John, in a soft whisper, “I’m just going outside to get some fresh air”. His father nodded. “Don’t be gone long,” he said, and turned back to his prayer book as John stood to leave. Across the room, Beda was having a similar conversation with his father, who likewise nodded as Beda, Frances, and Reina got up together and walked to the back of the synagogue.

Once outside, the children shouted at the top of their lungs, delighted to have escaped the boredom of the service. “Let’s go!” yelled John. “I’ll race you to the park.” And off they ran, across the road and into the park, past the miniature mill, dodging under the draping branches of the huge oak trees. Passing the park benches and dashing along a gravel path, they finally emerged at the playground. The service was soon forgotten as they played hide-and-seek among trees filled with birds that flew as freely as the children played.

CHAPTER
3
A P
ROUD
C
OUNTRY
O
CTOBER
1937

One morning, John walked the two blocks to his school with his head down, wondering what the day would be like. His was a boys’ school; there were no girls. And John was the only Jewish child in his class. That didn’t bother him very much. Aside from Beda and a few others, most of John’s friends were not Jewish. The children played easily together, not thinking about their religious differences.

John entered his classroom and looked around. His teacher was already at the blackboard, writing out the lessons for the day. He was a kind man who had taught John in several grades. He nodded as John walked over to his desk and sat down on the narrow wooden bench. Three boys sat next to each other at each bench, with a long desktop in front of them. Zdenek was already there, busily writing down the lessons from the blackboard.

Zdenek Svec (pronounced Shvets) was John’s good friend. They had known each other since they were five years old, having met and become instant friends in kindergarten. Zdenek lived with his parents and sister,
Mana, in a small apartment on the main floor of a nearby high school, where his father was the superintendent. As John slid over next to his friend, Zdenek looked up and smiled.

“Come over this evening,” he whispered, glancing up to make sure the teacher did not hear.

Zdenek Svec lived in this school and played here with John in the evenings.

John nodded. He loved going over to Zdenek’s home. Zdenek’s family were kind, hard-working, hospitable people. Zdenek’s mother always had a plate of delicious cakes ready for the hungry children whenever John went over to play. And John loved playing with Zdenek in the school. Together, the boys walked through the dark corridors, chasing each other and sliding on the polished floors. There was a rope-driven elevator, mostly used for supplies and off-limits to the boys. Nevertheless, when they felt very brave, John and Zdenek ignored Mr. Svec’s orders and rode the elevator between floors. “I have to go to my Hebrew class after school,” John whispered back to Zdenek. “But I’ll come over after that.” Twice a week, John attended Hebrew classes led by Rabbi Ferda. The rabbi came to his school, and Jewish children from across town congregated for the one-hour session.

Zdenek frowned. He was not Jewish, and he didn’t understand why
John had to give up some of his playtime for religious studies. “Okay,” he finally replied. “But come quickly after that.”

John turned back to his studies. He had a long day ahead, and he needed to focus on his Latin, and on mathematics and history. But on that day the children were in for a treat.

The teacher turned from the blackboard to face the class. “Children,” he said, “today is a very special day. Raise your hand if you know who Mr. Benes is.”

Everyone in the class shot up a hand. Edvard Benes (pronounced Ben-esh) was the President of Czechoslovakia. For years he had been Foreign Minister in the government of Thomas Masaryk, the country’s much-revered first president. Upon Masaryk’s retirement in 1935, Benes had assumed the leadership. “Today, President Benes will be traveling through Budejovice. Our entire class will go outside to watch his motorcade pass through town. It will be an honor for all of us to see our president in person.”

The class buzzed with excitement as the boys lined up and marched out of their classroom and out of the school. The streets were already jammed with people, young and old, waiting with anticipation. John scanned the crowd. He spotted Karel standing with a group of older children from his school, and he imagined that his parents were somewhere in the mass of people. In fact, all his friends were probably out here, waiting with the same excitement he felt. Beda, Frances, and Reina Neubauer were out there somewhere. Rabbi Ferda was likely standing with a group of people on another corner. Someone handed John the red, white, and
blue flag of Czechoslovakia, and he waved it high above his head. And then, suddenly, there it was. A long, black, open-topped car rounded the corner, with a smiling president inside. Mr. Benes waved and nodded at all the people as they shouted greetings. Just as the car pulled close to John, the people around him began to sing the Czech national anthem, their voices rising in unison in tribute to their leader and their country. John, of course, joined in.