voice, commending every one of us, and all our friends, to God,
and showing utmost confidence in that hour of terror. Many of our
acquaintances had found refuge with us, and in our cellar. How
they were comforted and quieted through our faith! Your Daddy
was to all of us an example of calm and self-control. Whenever a
storm had passed by, he always wanted to get outside with pick
and shovel to save others and to help where help was needed.
Our pleadings could not keep him back, and he simply said, “Just
think, maybe a debris-covered tot is crying for his mama; I must
help, God will doubtless bring me back.”
THE STORM BREAKS
It was to be a very sad week. Eventually, we had to stay in the
shelter altogether for it got worse all the time. Our Petru, the
faithful Mission janitor of long standing, ran home, filled with fear,
far outside the town; and he never returned. Daddy had committed
to his trust a large sum of money in the event that anything should
happen to him, our Papa, we would not remain without financial
means. We never saw the money, nor our Petru again; I found out
later that he had used everything for himself. Our dear father also
had malaria in that first, bitter week of war. He remained almost
entirely upstairs in his study and only descended once in a while
to look after us. But the night from Saturday to Sunday, June 29th,
1941, he was yet downstairs, beside me on a mattress on the floor.
It was the most fearful night of all.
Soon after 10 pm, a dreadful shooting commenced. Fortunately,
you children had fallen asleep previous to that and even the
continuous cracking and thundering in the closest surroundings
did not awaken you. Did the little angels keep your ears closed?
You were resting quiet and peaceful in spite of this hell disaster.
We others lay for hours with all our senses stirred, in the
darkness, and asked ourselves once and again, “What could that
be? It has never before sounded like this. It must be the city
itself. Perhaps parachutists.”
26 | Never Again: A Holocast Remembered