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The station at Bucharest was a far more substantial affair than that of Medgidia, with an impressive architecture of balustrade, column and canopy that appeared somehow to keep the worst of the weather at bay whilst still efficiently dissipating the steam and smoke from the myriad locomotives that had converged beneath its vast ceiling. Even so the smell of creosote and engine oil combined to assail my olfactory senses in almost overpowering fashion.
Eventually, the guard arrived at our carriage, attending first the Jewish family. He directed them to disembark from the train and go to a building on the far side of the station, where other Jews were also bound. They followed his instructions without question, only young Elone turning to glance in our direction before her mother grabbed her arm and pulled the confused child to her side.
The guard turned to us, but I did not take in the exchange between him and my mother, my own attentions drawn in watching the Jews, for I could fathom no logic in separating them now if we were all bound for the same destination. I heard Mama’s voice rise as she challenged the guard’s directions.
“All night? Surely you are mistaken? I have two children with me.”
“I am sorry.”
“No. This is not acceptable. Why were we not told in advance?”
The guard lowered his voice. “Please, for your children’s sake, do not cause a scene.”
“But this cannot be right,” Mama insisted. “Why, even the Jews are being taken to a place of comfort. Surely that cannot – “
“Be quiet, woman!” The guard cut her short with a sharp retort. “I do not make the rules. Would you rather argue your case with the Gestapo?”
Mama’s indignation subsided at this thinly veiled threat. I clasped her arm and looked the guard in the eye. “Please, my mother is tired. She means no offence. Is that not right, Mama?” I shook my mother’s hand, silently pleading with her not to pursue her grievance. A Gestapo officer was watching from a distance. Mama must have espied his attention, for she nodded her head, and clutched Nicolae to her side.
“You are wise, child,” the guard said. “Try to sleep, now, that the night will pass by quickly. You will receive further instructions at dawn.” The door slammed behind him, leaving us alone in the carriage.
Resigned to our fate we tried to make ourselves comfortable as best we could, now doubly grateful for the repast we had been allowed to share with the Jewish family during the course of our travel.
Fortunately, the journey had tired us all immensely and Nicolae, though at first inquisitive of the station’s activity and then mindful of the absence of his new friend, quickly found comfort in slumber, his head resting upon my mother’s lap.
I volunteered my coat as a blanket for him, resigned to spending the night quietly shivering in the cold carriage while assuring Mama I was quite comfortable, for fear she would insist I take her coat in turn.
Despite the discomfort of the narrow wooden benches I too finally succumbed to sleep and, for a welcome change, found pleasant memories to occupy my dreams.