The German forces advanced rapidly. Holland fell quickly as the Dutch tried to defend their country with outdated First World War weapons. Belgium held out against the Nazi invasion for eighteen days against overwhelming odds.
Suddenly, a distant hum caught on the breeze; a persistent drone that grew louder and closer, like the vicious onslaught of a swarm of bees.
Pandemonium ensued. Children wailed. People shouted, ‘Get down! Get down!’
I looked up and no longer saw the clouds and spring leaves, but something much darker that seemed to shroud the entire city. Outstretched wings soared high above my head, and what looked like the belly of a dragon.
I broke away from the mob, pushing my way between men in clogs and woman carrying crying children and baskets of bread, forcing my way towards Hava’s house.
The plane swooped lower, lining itself up above the straight road leading to the square. Something ricocheted past my head and thudded into the ground at my feet. More projectiles hurtled through the air, missing me by a whisper, others not so fortunate. Bullets sprayed indiscriminately from guns attached beneath the wings of the aircraft. The gunner visible from below, unmoved, relentless . . . able to see the frantic expressions of those who ran for cover; the faces of those he targeted: women, children, infants . . . innocents.
I ran and managed to cower in a doorway, just as the plane turned round and came again. Once more bullets ripped through the air, through those unable to find protection.
Then the bullets stopped and the plane disappeared. All was silent for a brief moment, as if the world took a deep breath. And then there was a scream. It was almost as if the wheels of a train had locked and strained against the railway tracks, a high-pitched sound like the wail of metal against metal. Tragedy embodied that scream. Horror conveyed in a singled, anguished cry.
Before me, the cobblestones ran red with blood. The wounded moaned. Others keened their loss, clutching their lifeless loved ones to them. I thought again of the sergeant’s words: The Nazis won’t harm us if we listen to them.
When did we have the chance to listen? The enemy had spoken, not in words but actions. No one was safe.
Run! I thought. Run! Run! They must not get me.
I knew Hava would be in her house. I knew that was where she would be.
I ran down a familiar side street. I could see the windows of Hava’s home. They were dark.