“Wake up!” John’s mother called from the kitchen. “It’s late, and we have to leave.”
John rolled over, stretched, and sat up in bed. His eyes moved around the room, finally coming to rest on the suitcase by his bedroom door. It was Tuesday, April 14, 1942 – the day he and his family, along with all the other Jewish families of Budejovice, were being forced to leave their homes and go to Theresienstadt.
No one spoke much at breakfast. John’s father looked sad and withdrawn, as if he had no more answers. John’s mother moved around the kitchen, packing up rolls and cheese and whatever bits of food were left in the house. As long as she kept busy, she would not have to think too much about what lay ahead. They all finished breakfast, and then John went back to his bedroom to complete his packing. His soccer ball rested in a corner of the room, along with his table tennis paddle. How he longed to take these toys with him! But these and other prized possessions would have to be left behind.
Where will I sleep, he wondered, as he made his bed for the last time. What will I do all day long? Will I be with my parents? Will I be near my friends? What will I eat? What if I get sick? Will my mother be there to look after me? So many questions swirled inside his head. He worried about what would happen to all the things left behind in his room. He wondered when he would come home. He worried about what new rules and regulations would face him in Theresienstadt. And for every worry, there was simply no answer.
He finished dressing, and placed one last sweater into his suitcase. He took a deep breath and glanced around his room one last time. Then, along with his parents and his brother, he walked out of his home.
As they walked through the quiet streets of Budejovice, John glanced up at the homes in his neighborhood. Most of the blinds were drawn, as if the Christian families did not want to see what was happening to their Jewish neighbors. John wondered how many of these families were happy to see the Jews leaving, and how many were distressed and fearful themselves, not knowing what they could do to help.
The first stop for the Jewish families was a small house in town, where everyone had to register, identifying themselves by the transport numbers that had already been given to them. The lines were long, but they all waited patiently for their turn to sign their names and list their numbers. From there they were taken to a large warehouse, a two-story wooden building that had been a factory once owned by a Jewish family. The wooden floor was dirty, but that did not stop families from staking out their spaces and dropping wearily to the floor. A few old mattresses were scattered about, but for the most part they slept on luggage and on each other.
The warehouse filled up quickly, until it was crowded and noisy. John was reassured to see many of his friends. There was Beda, along with Frances and Reina. Ruda Stadler was there, along with Irena. Rabbi Ferda walked around talking quietly to people, comforting those who were frightened. Even John’s teacher, Joseph Frisch, sat on his suitcase, reading. Things couldn’t be so bad if everyone was still together, thought John, comforting himself.
John and the others moved around the factory, talking to friends and relatives. And then, the children did what they always did when they were together. They played tag, and ran noisily in and around the people who were sleeping on the floor. They even got to go outside, into the yard behind the factory, where they wrestled and shoved each other good-naturedly.
After playing with his friends for a while, John joined his family, huddled on the floor. “Here,” said his mother, handing him a roll. “Eat this. We don’t know when we are leaving and we must keep up our strength.” They ate what little food they had managed to bring with them. Then the Nazi guards brought some soup into the warehouse, and shouted for them all to line up to be fed. The soup was thin, and not very appetizing.
“What do you think will happen when we get to Theresienstadt?” John asked Beda, as the two of them sat together in a corner.
Beda shrugged. “I don’t know. What do your parents say?”
“Not much. They keep saying the war will be over soon. But they’ve been saying that forever.”
“Do you think we’re going to come home again?” asked Beda.
“Of course we will!” John declared, pretending confidence.
At one point, all the families were ordered to assemble downstairs in the yard in order to be counted. They left their belongings in piles on the floor and moved slowly outside. There they assembled in groups, according to their transport numbers, and waited anxiously as the guards moved about, counting people and checking their numbers against the transport sheets they held in their hands. It took forever to count a thousand people. Finally, they were permitted to go back to the warehouse and find their spots once more.
As they returned to their luggage, John saw Tulina sitting alone in one corner of the warehouse. She looked scared, and John longed to comfort her. When he walked toward her, she looked up and brightened.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said.
John nodded. “Me too.” There was an awkward pause.
“Do you know how long we’ll be here?” she asked. Her dark eyes were sad. Gone was her bright, lovely smile.
“A few days, I think. And then we’ll get on the trains. Don’t worry,” he added. “We’ll be fine.” Once again, he sounded braver than he felt.
Tulina smiled at him, grateful for his encouragement.
“I’ll just sit here with you,” he said. “We can talk, or play a game.”
Tulina nodded again, and they sat together in the warehouse, saying little, thankful for each other’s company.
On the fourth day – Saturday, April 18 – everyone went outside to be counted again. But this time they did not return to the warehouse. “Move along the railroad tracks,” the guards barked. “Take your belongings and board the train.” Everyone scrambled to get seats on the train, anxious to stay together as families.
The crowded railroad cars became hot and noisy. The doors closed with a bang and at last the train pulled out of the station, leaving Budejovice behind. John kept his eyes glued to the window as his town became smaller and smaller, and finally disappeared. When will I see Budejovice again? he wondered.