September 1, 1939

Huddled together, sheep among wolves, the stench of vinegar and damp earth saturated the air. During the panic shelves were toppled expelling jars of russet potatoes, crisp radishes and pickled beets that shattered across the floor. I held tight to David's hand, the cloak of darkness separating us as thick as wool.

***
November 15th, 1932

Mother was expecting Christmas twins but on that cold November evening Mother's babies had a plan of their own. Adalina Gwen Petroski and David Allen Petroski, though petite, were perfect in every way. It was love at first sight.

After baths and nursing, Mother bequeathed Adalina's care to me. Baby Addie cooed, softly, and blew tiny iridescent bubbles; her miniature fingers wrapped around mine. I wrapped her body in a blanket warmed by the fire.

Midnight: Mother thanked Mrs. Karwoski, the midwife, who prepared for us chamomile tea before shutting the door behind her. With Papa gone for the night, it was up to me to care for Mother and the babies; a job I embraced with a fierce determination, love, and pride. I was seven years old.

1:00am: With the exception of Mother's breath rising and falling the house was quiet. I rocked baby Addie, humming softly, the tenderness and warmth of her body resting against me, the crackling of the fire harmonious with the sentiment of my heart. Occasionally I kissed her delicate mouth as she suckled droplets of tea from my lips.

***

3:00am. Hypnotized by the glowing embers Mother stirred me when she whispered, "Hey sweet girl. How is Adalina?" Proudly, gently, I unwrapped the blanket for Mother to admire my baby sister. Until that moment I did not know little Addie was with Jesus. She was peaceful, perfect. I was speechless, horrified. Why would God do this? Why would such a perfect baby die without cause? But she did, right there in my arms, and I hadn't even noticed.

Adalina Petroski was laid to rest beneath a Bedford Willow. All I could do was stand there, dumbfounded, guilty. Cradled in one arm was a blue eyed baby doll, a consolation of sorts from Mrs. Karwoski; she wore Adalina's lavender gown. I had never owned a doll before now, and every time I looked at her it felt as though someone punched me right in the gut, and continued to do so every day of my life.

After that we never spoke of Adalina and some days I could scarcely breathe because of it.

***

Understandably it took some time before I embraced David but once I did I was forever smitten. Mother and Papa christened David in the Catholic church. While they rejoiced I wept bitterly, grieving inconsolably of an unexplainable loss that went beyond that of Adalina. I plead with God but relief did not come, peace evaded me. If anything my acuity grew. I knew – as surely as I lived – that a day was coming, suddenly and unexpectedly, that would bring our family to its knees and I lived in expectation and dread of it every day of my life.

***

'Juliana' being too difficult to pronounce, David called me Ju-Ju. He was my best friend, the gentlest natured little boy I had ever met with far-away eyes and alluring in a way one cannot define.

Each year David celebrated his birthday my soul flooded with relief. Then one day, on his sixth birthday, David said to me, "Ju-Ju, don't cry. Adalina said it wasn't your fault."
"David, how do you know about Adalina?" I asked, troubled.

"I visit her sometimes in the secret garden" he said, shrugging, matter of fact "and she told me you are sad Ju-Ju. Don't be sad, she just couldn't stay here, that's all." David cupped my cheek in his chubby hand: eyes of chocolate soft and endearing, dimples cavernous and charming.

My heart pounded wildly. I knew, right then I knew, these kindred spirits who shared the same womb were communing between two worlds. A blessing or a curse I did not know, but after that day I had little reservation that if not for me David would go there, to this secret garden, and stay.

***

September 1st, 1939

Family and friends far and wide attended our annual reunion before another arctic winter would befall Poland. I wore a handsewn dress by Grandma Petroski who grossly miscalculated my proportions. As the night air chilled mother placed her favorite cardigan around my shoulders, the pocket slightly swollen with a delicate handkerchief scented reminiscently of femininity.

Placid skies and a full moon watched over us. We feasted on potato cakes, goulash and steamed dumplings fattened with cherry jam or curd cheese, followed by stewed apples in thick cinnamon bisque.

I heard Papa snort with laughter. I saw Mother smooth his beard and tenderly kiss his lips. Then a distant rumble drew my attention followed by a peculiar smell. Uneasiness stirred within me. I located David with my eyes. Just then another rumbling came and suddenly the horizon was ablaze. Papa barked at Mother to guide us into the basement as He disappeared up the stairs.

The third missile shot right past us leveling an entire neighborhood. We scrambled hastily towards the cellar but I briefly detoured, dragging David behind me, to grab my baby doll. I stuffed her inside the front of my dress so I could hold onto David unencumbered.

The fourth missile sheared the top story right off of our house. By this time most of us were packed in the cellar; shelves containing years of labor and pickled produce spilled to the floor. David hugged me tight. In a small voice I called across the sea of pitch-black faces for Mother and Papa but neither responded.

Morning light pierced the dark in pin-prick beams as the rumblings continued. Whispers, whimpers, and whiffs of urine rebounded throughout the room. Night came a second time, then morning, when suddenly everyone grew deathly quiet as if everyone collectively held their breath. Voices boomed above us. Caterpillar treads creaked and groaned as German tanks approached. We heard a woman scream, followed by 'pop-pop', the thud of death, then silence.

After that the voices faded and more time passed. I cannot explain my actions next but groping in the darkness I gathered a few potatoes, a couple of radishes and a handful of beets. Tearing my baby from sternum to pelvis I stuffed her cavity with the produce then returned her beneath my dress.

Just then someone bit into a radish. Next thing I knew soldiers were yelling with guns in our faces. I'm not sure how but, in the mass chaos, David and I were separated from our family.

***

The men were gathered and ordered to march; where we did not know. Women and children were collected into cattle trailers, packed as tight as sardines, but pregnant women, along with their children were loaded into railroad cars. Why they differentiated I did not know but I realized I had a choice as I had been mistaken as an expectant mother. The rail road cars had far fewer passengers: rationally this is the path I chose. David and I boarded railroad car PROV1633.

There were 146 of us.

We arrived in camp the following afternoon. Scouring faces I saw only unfamiliar women and children being marched towards the chimneys. The smell was indescribable. The occupants of our car were taken to the barracks on the far side of the compound. For David's sake I did not openly grieve though my heart was overwrought with anguish.

Conditions were deplorable. With one bathroom to accommodate us all defecation piled up in every corner. Mattresses of rotten straw were our beds. Our usual meals were measly portions of potato soup and molded bread, which we devoured enthusiastically. Much to my amazement we were never searched so at night David and I enjoyed a supplemental snack out of the few spoils left inside my doll.

I knew my facade of being with child would soon run its course. Guards visited our barracks weekly running their hands over the most extended bellies as if selecting a pumpkin from a patch. Those nearest term were taken. They never returned. Soon rumors circulate that experiments were being conducted on the unborn fetuses, their mother's bellies gutted while wide awake. Either way I was doomed, certain they would not tolerate deceit. As surely as I lived I knew I stood in the executioner's shadow.

***

Each morning I scratched a mark on a wooden post; that's where I found the nail. This particular day was October 3rd and unseasonably warm. I prayed for a cold front. A jacket, should they give us jackets, would conceal my tummy, buy some time. That was my plan. I simply prayed the guards would overlook me, but then a gang formed: a group of Judases in cahoots with the Germans in trade for chocolate and sweets. These women eyed me suspiciously so I prayed for another plan.

Soon thereafter David came to me. "Ju-Ju, Addie said 'find the key'.

"Key? What key David?" That is all he knew. I now focused my prayers on finding this key.

Before long the guards took some of us to a dignitary's home to perform menial housekeeping tasks: we were ordered not to speak. I was selected for ironing and as I slid my hands along the leg of the trousers that's when I found it, tucked inside a pocket, what I would later learn was an Iron Cross awarded to those in the Nazi army for bravery or leadership. I laced my fingers around it, closed my eyes, whispered a prayer, and then slipped it inside my mouth.

That night I attempted to slide the Iron Cross into the locks of the prison gate, feeling with my fingers, gauging what needed to be filed away that it may be manipulated to fit, and release us. Around 2:00am guards burst through the gates: yelling, pushing, and searching. Despite the language barrier I knew what they were looking for but to find it they would have to dig through heaps of defecation. They never found it.

***

I labored on the Iron Cross during the night. With the aid of the nail I filed away at the metal, trying the lock tirelessly, until finally one night it snapped open. I didn't expect it. I was not prepared for it. David was asleep so I locked the gate and went to bed but I did not sleep that entire night as I considered my next move.

I watched every little movement of the guards: routines, personalities, those habitually late, and those carrying on night time affairs. I had no doubt I could easily dig deep enough to birth us into freedom when the moon was covered by clouds. I knew exactly where I would dig and on whose watch. A few nights later I dug until my fingers bled, returning only for a few hours sleep before reveille. No one noticed my nighttime activities. During the day it was hidden by the red foliage of an October Glory Maple; perfectly it concealed the fence line.

The cold front for which I had prayed did not come. I thanked God. I did not want to be lost in a forest during an unsurvivable hard winter's freeze. I watched, waited and prayed for direction, but finally fearing I could wait no longer I randomly selected a night. Within minutes of freedom a blistering wind whipped through our flesh: rains fell, temperatures dropped, the absence of the moon blinded us. But no one tracked us either.

David and I ran as long as we could, then huddled in a crevice and held one another, frozen to our bones scarcely covered by flesh. During the day we ate snails and worms, berries and mushrooms, and licked morning dew from leaves, tree bark and rocks until our tongues bled. We tired easily. Slept too much, made little headway. For fifteen days we did this until we could do it no longer.

David burned with fever, and as he slept he labored for breath. By all appearances he was no more than a raggedy heap of dirty laundry crumpled on the ground. My brother was dying. I had lead us to our deaths. Overcome with grief I held his body, rocking him, praying that God would spare his life but I felt David slipping away like sand through my fingers.

I cried, wailed, cursed the ground and cursed God until I was completely spent. Then David once again cupped my cheek with his hand and whispered, "Ju-Ju, don't be afraid. It's safe in the light."

Defeated, grieving goodbye, I knew the time had come. "I am so sorry my sweet boy," I began, "I am sorry I could not save you. I love you David, will all of my heart, I love you. Goodbye my beautiful brother, goodbye. It's ok, I know you are going to the secret garden now and this time you will stay. It's ok. Oh God I will miss you, but it's ok. Tell Adalina I love her." With that he left with me sitting in that crevice rocking his frail body, the sun beaming through the clouds, a soft breeze rearranging his hair. I was all alone.

The next morning I woke to a rustling; a piece of charred newspaper caught in a bush. Against all odds my strength was renewed. I buried David, covering him with Mother's cardigan, his arms wrapped around my doll still wearing Adalina's lavender gown.

***

The light was faint at first. I blinked and refocused. Surely it was a mirage, I thought, but it wasn't. Flames danced deep within the woods. Too afraid to approach, reluctant to leave David, I watched from afar but then David's words awakened within my heart: "Ju-Ju, don't be afraid of the light. It's safe."

Quietly, cautiously, I crept toward the light but before I knew it I had a gun to my back, someone yelling in Yiddish! Yiddish? That's my native tongue! I understood everything he was saying, and he, me. I had happened upon a secret society of refugees where over one thousand men, women and children lived. I told of the horrors of labor camps, the stench of the chimneys, the loss of all of my family and my best friend and brother, David.

In the end, when the war was over, we walked right out of that forest free people. Free to pursue dreams, free to choose our own paths that would eventually lead to some larger way. Looking back, I see the fingerprint of God during this entire journey, beginning with the births of Adalina and David. That which remains is my faith in God, and love. I do not fear death for I know we will all meet again and what a reunion that will be!
Goodbye my loves. Shalom, for now, my beloved ones, shalom.