Authors: John Anthony Miller
The children were inside the ambulance, overseen by Millie and Inga, sheltered from the cold. Amanda and Erika sat on the front bumper, anxiously waiting for York’s return. Sounds of the forest kept them alert: an owl hooting, unseen creatures scrambling through fallen leaves, branches swaying in the breeze. They felt vulnerable without York, and the slightest sound produced an uneasy fear of the unknown.
“Erika, you’re the strongest, most compassionate person I’ve ever known,” Amanda said. “I can’t even fathom the hardships you’ve faced, devoting your life to these children.”
Erika sighed, her face grim, hiding exhaustion. “Thank you so much, but anyone would have done it, if faced with the same dilemma. But it hasn’t been easy.”
“How long have you been caring for them?”
“I started with two children, Rudolph and Gertrude, about three years ago. The rest came over the next year or two. Inga arrived last, the same time that Friedrich, the last of the children did. She’s an orphan, and so are all the children.” Her eyes clouded, misted by memories. “Inga came just after Wilhelm was killed.”
Amanda rubbed her arm, knowing how devastated she was by her husband’s death. “I would have helped you, if I had only known. Even financially, so you wouldn’t have had to work so hard.”
“I was afraid to tell anyone,” Erika said. “Even you. I had Wilhelm in the beginning, and my mother helped before she got sick. She was working then, too, so we had more money. But it’s been so difficult the last year or so. Even those times that you helped with my mother, I was afraid the children would make noise when you were in the apartment, and you would suspect something.”
“I don’t know how you did it. I know I never could.”
“I took any work I could find: scrubbing floors, sewing clothes, waitressing. At times I was so tired, I could have slept for a week straight.”
Amanda hugged her. “It’ll be over soon.”
Erika took a deep breath. “I just want the children to be safe and free. You see how excited they are to be outside. Imagine living in one room for years.”
Amanda was overwhelmed by all Erika did, all she had accomplished. It seemed so incredible. “Do you know what I want to be?” she asked.
“No, tell me,” Erika said.
“I want to be more like you.”
Erika blushed. “Amanda, you’re too kind.”
“I mean it. And I want to help you.”
“Thank you, but I haven’t even thought about what I‘ll do when we get to Switzerland. I hope people there will help the children. My mother and I don’t have a lot of money.”
“Wherever we finally end up, whether it’s Switzerland or London, I want to help you and your mother, Inga and the children, and any other children in need.”
Erika showed surprise, her eyes wide. “It’s very much appreciated. But I can’t ask you to do that. Not that you even could.”
“You don’t have to ask me. Just tell me what you want or need, and I will provide it. For as many children as you have the strength to care for. And you can even hire people to help you.”
“Are you serious?” Erika asked with disbelief.
Amanda smiled. “Yes, I am. I never really talked about it, but I have the family fortune tucked away in London. It’s time I started to use it, especially for a good cause. It’s more money than I could ever spend. So I am going to help you. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
Erika was stunned. “Amanda, I don’t know what to say. You would really do all that for me?”
“Absolutely, and with no hesitation.”
Erica was overwhelmed, her mind traveling in a dozen different directions. “There are so many children that need care. I would love nothing more than to devote my life to helping them.”
Amanda smiled, touching her friends arm. “Then that’s what you should do.”
Erika hugged her, clinging to her tightly, her eyes tearing. They sat for a moment, each stealing a few seconds to envision a future that lived only in their dreams. After a moment had passed, Erika thought of something she had wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure she should. But it seemed like the right time.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked Amanda.
“Not that I can think of,” Amanda replied, pensive. “What about?”
“Michael.”
Amanda smiled, and leaned closer to her friend. “Is it that noticeable?”
Erika laughed. “Yes, it is. I didn’t realize at first. I thought you were just grateful he was rescuing you from Manfred. But I started to notice that you always sit next to him, you’re always close, and your eyes twinkle when you’re near him.”
“Oh, Erika, I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am. We have so much in common I feel like I met the male version of me. He’s a classical music lover, and can discuss the masters as easily as we can. He loves architecture, buildings and bridges, and he spends hours looking at my photographs. And I think he actually likes them!”
Erika laughed. “And you’re both from the United Kingdom with similar backgrounds and beliefs. It’s no wonder.”
“I feel like I have a second chance at life,” Amanda said. “Each day we’ve been together has been a gift from heaven. We have our whole life ahead of us.”
Erika hugged her again. “If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”
Amanda was sheepish. “There’s more.”
Erika cast a quizzical look, seconds passing in silence, the suspense building. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”
Amanda smiled, her face lighting the darkened night. “I’m carrying Michael’s child.”
York watched the legs move towards the lean-to, unable to see the upper body. They belonged to a man, his thighs thick, pants smudged with dirt, boots sturdy. His stride was long and measured, without hesitation, even in the darkness. The man had walked the same path many times.
York pushed the petrol can as far underneath the tractor as he could. He crouched behind the rear tire, peeking around the edge.
The legs came closer, the bottom of the jacket and then the torso were visible, but the face was not. York knew the man would never suspect someone was in his shed, stealing his petrol. But he also knew if the man saw him, he wouldn’t hesitate to protect his property. And if he perceived the threat to be dangerous, he would protect his life.
The man walked into the lean-to, moving through the narrow space between tractor and truck, just a few meters away. He paused for a moment, his hand rummaging through his pocket, and then continued towards the back of the building. If he moved much father, he was certain to see York.
The tire was large, over a meter high, and York squeezed closer behind it, hoping to stay hidden in the darkness, knowing the man was near. But he realized he was trapped, with no place left to go. And he didn’t want to resort to force. Not with an innocent farmer, probably elderly, who was as far removed from the battlefield as any German could be.
The truck door opened. There was a slight rustling sound, faint unknown noises, and then a moment later the engine started.
York breathed a sigh of relief but stayed where he was, crouched low against the ground, and waited. The truck remained where it was, idling.
A few seconds passed painfully, neither man nor machine moving. If the farmer started both vehicles, letting them run a few minutes to warm the engines, York would never get out. But he had his cane, and he had his pistol, and he would use them if he had to.
A moment later, the truck door closed. The vehicle was put in gear and driven out of the shed, traveling down the dirt lane. It turned at the road, moving in the opposite direction from where the ambulance was parked.
York didn’t know how long the man would be gone, but he didn’t want to linger. He picked up the fuel can and left, crossing the field but staying in the shadows by the forest where the moonlight couldn’t cut the darkness. Twenty minutes later, after hobbling through the furrowed field, he was back at the ambulance, Amanda and Erika waiting for him.
“What took so long?” Amanda asked, alarmed. “We saw that truck cross the field and were worried sick. We were afraid something happened to you.”
“Only a slight delay,” he said. “I had finished filling the petrol can when the farmer came out. I hid, not knowing what to expect, but he got into his truck and drove away. I don’t know where he’s going this late at night, unless he’s visiting a neighbor.”
York’s own words caused him concern. What if the farmer saw him and went to get the authorities? That didn’t seem likely. But what if he returned and the ambulance was visible from the road, especially with the headlamps trained on it. He needed to check.
“I’m going to make sure we’re well hidden,” he told Erika and Amanda. “I’ll only be gone a minute.”
He went out to the road and then into the field, but the ambulance couldn’t be seen, at least not in the darkness. He wasn’t sure when morning came.
When he returned, Amanda and Erika were inside the vehicle putting the children to bed. York watched as they shared the available space, doubling up, evenly placed along the four two-meter cots. Blankets were placed along the aisle, and Samuel and Sarah and Inga slept there. Erika and her mother took the space against the partition.
York and Amanda returned to the cab. They talked for a few minutes but, as time passed, York noticed that Amanda’s responses took longer and longer, until he heard the contented rhythm of her slumber.
He stayed awake a while longer, thinking of the future, and fingered the photograph in his pocket. What a fabulous family he would have, Amanda and the baby, with Elizabeth in his life again. It seemed almost too good to be true.
The farmer returned around 11 p.m., pulled into the lean-to, and parked the vehicle. He walked towards the house, hidden from view after the first few steps. York was confident they were safe, and soon after he drifted off to sleep.
Amanda awoke just after dawn, nudging York. He was surprised he had slept that long. But it felt good. They needed the rest for the last day of their journey.
She awakened the children and they all had some cheese and bread and juice, walked through the woods a bit, and washed at a small stream. It was a pleasant morning, even if a bit crisp, and an hour later they nudged the ambulance from its hiding place and were soon back on the country road.
As the morning passed, York realized they had seen few vehicles; the roads traveled were quiet and deserted except for an occasional truck, or sedan, or wagon. The scenery switched from forest to farm, rolling hills to gentle streams, and the bucolic views gave little evidence of a world at war. York knew that someone, either Manfred Richter or one of his staff, had planned the route well. It would provide a perfect escape for the Nazis when their imminent defeat arrived.
They stopped for lunch, pulling off the road into the trees as they had before. Amanda got her camera and took photographs of the children, and then the adults, before capturing images of owls and deer.
There was little distance left to travel, maybe a hundred and fifty kilometers, but they still had almost eighteen hours before Max said it was safe to cross the border. The fuel gauge registered a hair above the empty mark. York added the last ten liters of petrol, knowing it would be close. He might have to steal more fuel.
They drove the entire afternoon, making several stops since they had the time, and let the children play outside. They stopped again for dinner, a little later than they had the day before, and took a long break to let everyone rest. Their food was almost exhausted, but there was enough for breakfast. And York had plenty of money. They could buy whatever they needed. But he knew they needed it in Switzerland, especially to care for the children.
They returned to the road, the tension easing the closer they got to the Switzerland. York decided to drive to the border, or at least within sight of it, before retiring for the evening.
It was after dark when the roads no longer matched the route they had planned. York pulled the ambulance to the side of the road and studied the map with a flashlight.
“What’s wrong?’ Amanda asked.
“We should have reached Gottmadingen by now,” he said. “It’s a small village, right on the border. We must have missed a turn.”
“Can’t you tell where we are by the map?”
He looked a moment more, and then studied the fuel gauge. “No,” he said. “Everything looks the same.”
“But we should be able to find the village.”
“All I know is that we’re lost, we have to be at the border before dawn, and we’re almost out of petrol.”
“Let me see the map,” Amanda said. “It’s late. And you’re tired.”
York stretched and yawned, glanced at his watch, and gazed out the window. There were pockets of light, the distance to them hard to judge, but he assumed they were tiny villages. One of them must be Gottmadingen. They just had to determine which one.
Amanda studied the map, trying to assess where they were. There were few landmarks she could use to gauge their location. The landscape was farmland, fallow for the winter, intersected by groves of trees. The terrain was hilly, with occasional rocky outcrops, narrow ravines sometimes beside the road, all bathed in blackness. None were remarkable enough to be noted on the map.
“Let’s get out and look around,” she said.
She left the vehicle, York right behind her. They turned in a full circle, unable to identify anything more than what they saw from the window. They were lost.
“It’s easy to get disorientated,” York said. “Especially when everything looks the same.”
“Let’s look from a higher elevation.”
There was a small knoll on the far edge of the road. They climbed to the top and, even though it wasn’t very high, they could see the lights from a hamlet a few kilometers away, what they thought was the east, which could be their destination. But there were also lights in the opposite direction, what they assumed was southwest.
“Maybe that’s Gottmadingen,” Amanda said, pointing east.
“But how do we know?” York asked. “I can’t waste petrol driving the wrong way.”
She pointed to the map with the flashlight. “I think we missed this turn, which would have taken us through town. If we go to the next crossroad and make a left, it will take us around the village and to the road across the border. A little farther, but it gets us there.”
York shrugged. “Let’s give it a try.”
They got back in the ambulance and started the engine. York eased out the clutch and they went to the next crossroad. He turned left and followed the road about a kilometer when the engine started to cough, the vehicle jerking forward and then stopping.
They looked at each other, sharing an anxious glance, as York turned the starter. The engine came to life, sputtered, moved the vehicle a few feet, and stopped again.
A series of large haystacks sat evenly spaced by the side of the road, with acres of farmland beyond them. York started the engine again, coaxed the ambulance off the road, and forced it forward before it came to rest behind a haystack. Then the engine died.
“We’re out of petrol,” he said. “Keep everyone in the ambulance and I’ll have a look around.”
“Should I come with you?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s better if you stay here. Let me see where we are.”
He got out of the vehicle and opened the rear door. Everyone was sleeping. He grabbed the empty petrol can and walked to the road.
The vehicle was hidden by the haystack. He walked to the west. The rear door was visible from the road, but only if you knew where to look. He went east. It was the same; the front end could be seen from the road. Since they hadn’t seen a vehicle for the last two or three hours, and they were now in a very rural area of dirt lanes, he thought they would be all right for the night.
The road ran to the east and, assuming Amanda had correctly identified their location, he started walking in that direction. The lights on his left should be the town of Gottmadingen. If she was right, the border crossing was very close. They could walk to it. If she was wrong, he would have to steal more petrol.
He had gone just over a kilometer when Gottmadingen spread a bit to the south, a narrow dirt lane twisting from the tip of civilization. He walked to the road, which was unmarked, and went due south. Just ahead a fence intersected the farm fields, and a grove of trees sat on either side of the lane. Two rectangular stones protruded a half meter from the ground.
York walked up to the first stone and saw
Steiner
Weg
etched in it. He had the right road. He went to the fence, where the larger stone was located. One side read,
Deutschland
, while the other side, facing Gottmadingen, was marked
Schweiz
.
York was standing in Switzerland.
York considered Max’s instructions, which were very explicit: only cross the border at dawn, or everyone would be killed or captured. Yet he just saw a deserted crossing. They could all walk to safety, if they left immediately. Or could they? York knew what he saw, but what didn’t he see? There had to be more, there had to be a hidden danger, or Max wouldn’t have been so insistent.
He returned to the ambulance and found Amanda waiting anxiously.
“Did anyone come by?” he asked.
“No, I saw nothing but darkness. And I checked the back. Everyone’s asleep.”
He looked at his watch. It was after 11 p.m.
“What did you find out?” she asked.
“You were right,” he said. “We’re just southwest of Gottmadingen, a kilometer or so from the border crossing. Do you think everyone can make it if we walk? We can cut across the fields to make it shorter.”
Amanda pictured those in the back of the bus. “I’m not sure about Millie. She’s very sick. And there’s one little girl, the one with the thick glasses, that seems to have a breathing disorder, maybe asthma.”
“We can stop and rest as often as we need to,” he said. “And I can carry Millie.”
“Should we leave now?” Amanda asked.
York hesitated. “My contact said we had to cross the border at dawn. He was adamant, and said we were all at risk if we crossed at any other time.”
“You were just there and no one stopped you.”
He shrugged. “I know. But maybe I arrived at the right time. The guard may have been taking a break or getting a cup of coffee.”
“Then I suppose we should get some sleep,” Amanda said. “We seem safe here.”
“We should still leave before dawn, while it’s dark. We’ll be walking through open fields most of the way. We would be easy to see. There are fourteen of us.”
“It’s almost midnight now. What time should we leave?”