The Underground Reporters (6 page)

“Well, we’ll be safe as long as we all stay here,” her husband assured her.

“These days, I’m not so sure. Perhaps we should think of escaping while we still have the chance. Many countries are not too eager to open up their borders to fleeing Jews. Just this past May, a ship called the S.S.
St. Louis,
with almost one thousand Jewish refugees on board, was turned away by both Cuba and the United States, and sent back to Europe. Who knows what will become of those families. We can’t ignore what is happening.”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” sighed John’s father. “I just think that we
can’t rush into doing something extreme. I still believe we are safest here.”

John watched his parents, feeling torn apart by the suspense. Would they decide to leave their home? Did they really believe it was too dangerous to stay? His mother looked so sad, while his father tried, as always, to remain cheerful. Finally they sat up in their chairs and shook their heads. It was not necessary to run, surely. It couldn’t be.

Even so, John’s parents were stirred to do something they thought might be in their sons’ best interest. One night, they sat down with John and Karel to discuss the possibility of sending the boys away. “It’s impossible for your mother and me to leave our home,” said their father. “But perhaps we should send you somewhere until the trouble passes. There are transports of children leaving Europe for England, to stay with families who are willing to take them in. It is called the ‘Kindertransport.’”

“It will be better for you if you leave with the other children,” their mother added.

“But I don’t want to leave,” insisted John. “My friends are here, and you are here. I want to stay.”

His parents lowered their eyes. They didn’t want to send their young sons away, of course, but they desperately wanted to protect them. It was so hard to know the right thing to do. But before they could even begin to arrange for Karel and John to leave, the transports of children were stopped. The whole family was trapped, and surrounded by the war.

John was secretly relieved that he would not have to leave his home, and his friends and family. He and his parents never spoke about his leaving again.

P
ART TWO

The swimming hole today.

CHAPTER
7
T
HE
R
EQUEST
J
UNE
1940

Spring had arrived and John was restless. “What are we going to do all summer if we can’t go swimming at the public pool and we can’t go to the park?” he asked his parents. Like most people his age, John lived for the summer months and the chance to play outdoors in warm weather. The winter months had gone agonizingly slowly for all the Jewish children, with so little to do and nowhere to go.

“We must find a way for you and the other children to play together,” his father agreed. The children needed a place where they could have fun without restrictions and without fear. They could no longer play on the streets or in the parks, and they needed each others’ company during these difficult times. Jewish parents across Budejovice turned to the city’s Jewish council for help in finding a playground.

The council was called the Kile (pronounced Key-leh), and it had always organized the social activities of the Jewish community in Budejovice. Kile comes from the Hebrew word
kehilot,
which means “communities.”
After the arrival of the Nazis in 1939, the Kile had become the group responsible for carrying out the orders of the Nazis. In every occupied city or town, the Nazis encouraged a central Jewish authority; this was a good way to keep track of all the Jews. The Kile was forced to create a list of names of all Jewish people living in Budejovice, along with their properties and businesses. The Kile then enforced all the laws regarding curfews and job restrictions, and chose who would participate in the forced labor.

Sometimes, the Nazis appointed certain Jews to be on these councils. These were often prominent members of the Jewish community, people whom other Jewish families would be inclined to listen to. Many Jews refused to take part in these councils, believing that they would be betraying their own people if they carried out Nazi orders. Other Jews volunteered to be on these councils, hoping that, by doing so, they might improve the lives of their friends and family members, and delay or prevent conditions from worsening.

When the Jewish community wanted to ask the Nazis for some particular treatment or service, the request had to go through the Kile. So it was that in June 1940, the Budejovice Kile appealed to the Nazis for a summer playground for Jewish youth. Then they all held their breath, wondering if the request would be granted.

From his small farmhouse on the banks of the Vltava River, a farmer named Mr. Vorisek (pronounced Vor-ee-shek) heard about this request, and wanted to help. He was a kind man who had many Jewish business
friends, and he hated seeing what was happening to the Jews in his town. Most important, he had some land by the river that was not being used. Despite the fact that it was dangerous to show any type of generosity to Jews, Mr. Vorisek came forward and offered his land – the swimming hole – to the city’s Jewish youth.

To everyone’s amazement, the Nazis agreed to his offer. No one could believe that the playground had actually been approved. Perhaps the Nazis thought it was harmless for the children to have a playground of their own, or perhaps they believed that it would be a way to keep the children out of sight. Whatever their reasoning, the answer was yes.

The playground was a patch of land, right on the Vltava River, that was fifty meters deep and three hundred meters long (about fifty-five by three hundred and thirty yards). The swimming hole was located across a bridge, just outside the town limits. On the land was a rundown shack and nothing else. The area was not particularly attractive, and the river flowing past it was polluted, but the playground provided the children with a place to gather.
It’s just for us,
thought John.
There are no signs there to keep Jews out. It’s a place where we can forget what is happening in our town and our country.
The swimming hole was where the Jewish youth of Budejovice gathered for the first time in the spring of 1940.

On that first day, John climbed onto his bicycle and said goodbye to his parents. “I’ll be back later today,” he said. He couldn’t wait to get to the playground.

“Be careful,” his parents warned, reminding him that it was
dangerous to be a Jew on the streets. But John didn’t care. He was so excited to finally have a place to go. He rode his bike through Budejovice, across the bridge and toward the city limits. He arrived at the swimming hole, and who was the first person he saw? It was Beda, his good friend. Beda missed his sister, Frances, who had by now been away at Aunt Elsa’s for some months. When he saw John, his face brightened. The boys happily greeted one another, and then looked around. About sixty girls and boys were already at the river, and more were arriving.

The swimming hole, painted in 1941.

When John spotted Rita Holzer, his face turned a bright shade of red. John had a secret crush on Rita, a round-faced, curly-haired girl whose nickname was Tulina. (Tulina is Czech for “cuddly.”) She was a pretty girl with big, beautiful eyes and an infectious laugh. John was pleased that
Tulina had come out to the swimming hole. That would make things even more interesting. But he was too shy to talk to her, or to show that he liked her. Maybe he would get over that as time went on. For now, it was time to have fun.

One of the older boys suggested a game of soccer, the most popular sport in the area. The boys formed teams and a game began. John loved to play soccer; it was one of his favorite games. He ran with the ball, kicking it down the length of the grassy land in front of the river, dodging this way and that, trying to score. Other bigger and stronger players tried to push him out of the way, but that didn’t stop him. On the sidelines, children cheered and jumped up and down.
Maybe Tulina is watching me,
thought John, as he ran and kicked the ball harder. By the time the game ended, everyone was exhausted but happy.

That same afternoon, Beda and John played a game of chess by the river, lazily moving their pieces around the chessboard and lying back to let the warm spring sun wash over them.

John looked over at his good friend. “Are you coming back tomorrow?” he asked.

Beda nodded. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

CHAPTER
8
S
UMMER
D
AYS AT THE
S
WIMMING
H
OLE
July 1940

Day after day, John, Beda, and the other children returned to the swimming hole, where they found their friends. They spent the warm days playing sports. Soccer was always the favorite, but volleyball was a close second. On weekends, even adults would come out to watch and play. By July, two table tennis tables had appeared on the playground. As long as it was not too windy, the children could play table tennis outdoors, smashing the balls with their well-worn paddles.

The balls from these sporting events often ended up in the waters of the Vltava. The river in this part of town was cold and the current was dangerous. But worse than that, the water was filthy. Raw sewage floated on the surface. Debates raged over who was going to retrieve a ball lost in the water – but not for too long, or the ball would disappear forever, swept away by the fast-flowing current. Eventually some brave person would wade out to rescue the ball and return it to shore, and the games would continue, only to stop again when the ball once more sailed into the river!

A game of table tennis at the swimming hole. Ruda is the tall boy in the center, wearing a bathing suit. John is the second boy to Ruda’s right.

When it was very hot, the children went swimming. The first time John and Beda went for a swim, they held their breath and closed their eyes. “Whatever you do,” said Beda, “don’t put your head underwater.” John agreed wholeheartedly. The river stank. But the air was stifling hot, and even this foul water was inviting, so the boys waded in and dunked themselves. Some young people even had inner tubes, and lazily drifted by.

John always kept a lookout for Tulina. From the corner of his eye, he watched to see if she was looking his way. If she glanced at him, or smiled and waved, he was pleased.

Everyone had to pay to enter the playground, about ten Czech cents for a younger child, and twenty cents for older youth. Even though money was hard to come by, John’s parents always gave him the change he needed to go to the swimming hole. The boy who took the money was the one who cleaned up the cabin and the whole area. He had been hired by the parents to keep an eye on things at the swimming hole, and he insisted on being paid for his services. “Ten cents,” he ordered, as John and the others lined up to get inside.