65

“So, you’ve started killing children now?” Daniel came over as I crouched on the floor of the bunker cleaning a gun we had captured.

“It was the Germans’ fault,” I said without looking up at him.

“They didn’t kill that boy,” Daniel answered.

“Oh yes they did. They sent him to us.” I stood.

“You killed him, no matter how you look at it.”

Daniel’s talk made me furious. Amos, Ben, and I were suffering enough because of what had happened. I didn’t want to listen to any more reproaches. I felt like hitting him. Instead, I said, “There was nothing else we could do.”

“There’s always a choice. In any situation. You made the wrong choice.”

I knew that, too.

“I didn’t want…” I tried to convince him and myself.

But he interrupted me, “You let it happen, didn’t you?”

Now I did hit him as hard as I could.

I was only sorry that I hadn’t hit him with my fist instead of just the flat of my hand.

Daniel stared at me so angrily that I thought he was going to hit me back.

“I thought you wanted to survive,” I hissed. “Every second you stay alive is because of us!”

“Thanks a lot,” Daniel said bitterly.

“The boy would have betrayed us. We would all be dead by now, or at the Umschlagplatz.”

Daniel didn’t say anything. He knew I was right.

“Him or Rebecca? Who would you choose?”

Daniel still didn’t say anything.

But I wanted him to. So that I could hit him again. And so that I wouldn’t start crying. Above all, so as not to cry. But he still didn’t speak.

“I … I tried to prevent it…” I battled with my tears.

Daniel’s anger disappeared.

“You have to believe me. But I couldn’t…”

“I … I’m sorry,” Daniel said.

“Why? Because I didn’t stop it?”

“Yes … and because you are hurting so much.”

He wanted to take me in his arms and comfort me.

And I wanted him to.

But then Amos suddenly stepped between us and said, “There’s going to be a miracle tonight.”

“What?” Daniel and I both asked.

Amos ignored Daniel, like he always did, and pulled me away to another part of the bunker. To a man with a curly beard.

“This is Leon Katz,” he introduced us. “Leon, this is Mira. She’s just volunteered to help us.”

I wondered what I’d just volunteered for. A surprise attack on the Germans?

“Tell her what we’re going to do,” Amos said to him.

“We’re going to bake bread.”

“You’re crazy!” I laughed.

“Leon is a baker,” Amos explained.

“This is some kind of joke, isn’t it?”

“No, really!” Amos insisted.

“I’ve found a bakery in the yard next door,” Leon told me excitedly. “With sacks of flour. And there’s enough water. All that is missing is sourdough.”

“Sourdough?” I couldn’t quite understand what he was telling me.

“So we’ll use onions instead.”

“Onions?”

“There are still plenty of those in all the flats,” the baker laughed.

I grinned. His enthusiasm was catching.

“Tomorrow the whole ghetto will have bread to eat!” Leon promised us. And that really did sound like a miracle.