The preparations had not been cheap, nor were they easy.  I had sold the pearls of my late wife, with which I was loathe to part.  It was her only possession that I had left.  What a Christmas this was turning out to be. Many tears were shed upon the loss of these pearls, and with the hefty sum of zlotys I obtained, I sought out the hidden Romany within the city. My contacts in Lublin had said the time to leave had come upon us, as many in this time were being rounded up and put on great trains.

These trains would lead to the camps, from which there was no return.  This is something, that, for my beloved son, I could not bear.  I stood with him in the street, wrapped in our old coats.  I had given him mine, and worn my older, as the former was in much better repair.  Many tears had we cried together, and many goodbyes had we said. As we waited, I spoke.

"Son, remember always.  You are my beloved.  My only Hope.  The light, shining in the Darkness.  You will make it through this time, and God will protect you.  Even if I do not make it, from Heaven I will smile.  You are my only child, and I am doing this because  you must live.  Next Christmas, it will be better, I promise. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

A small band of four people walked down the street towards us, the snow whipping across the buildings and howling through its empty space.  This was already dangerous, as we were not allowed of groups in more than three.  As they approached, I recognized them.  They were the Romany to whom i had paid many zlotys, that would save my son, by taking him far from this god-forsaken country.

They smiled, and I smiled in kind.  I squeezed my son's shoulder, and rubbed his back for a final time.  "You must be brave, yes? For me.  For your Mother.  She would be so happy for you, you know.  She always wanted to travel..."

He nodded again, tears welling up in his eyes.  I bent down to hug him.  His body was uncomfortably thin, and this put much weight on my heart.  There was not enough food for either of us.  I, too, was thin, but this he did not see, as I wore many layers of clothing.  What food I bought, I gladly gave to him. 

THe light in his eyes was really something.  It was like God had pulled down two stars, and fitted them into my son's eyes, telling me that he would be okay, that things would turn out alright.  It was so hard to believe in God nowadays.

I looked back to the group. "It is time then?"

"Yes. We have planned the trip, and we as soon as we exit the city, we will be seen no more.  There are many backroads and forests for us to travel." The leader, a young man, looked down at my son. "I hope you don't mind a long walk."

My son looked away.  

I squeezed his hand, and bid him to go to them.  As he did, the middle of my stomach turned cold, as if a piece of me were dying. It was so cold, but I thought nothing of this.  I had already accepted my death here, it was my son that would carry on.  I wished them well, and smiled at my son a final time.  I made my way past them, and turned into a small corner of an alley.  I had to catch my breath.  This was too hard.

What I am telling you next, is beyond the burden of a man to bear.  Even now, when I think, I see this sight as if I am outside myself, watching from another's eyes.

The footsteps of the romanys started to fade up the street, wind whipping their scarves and coats, when a cry rang out.

"Halt! Komm her!"

My heart stopped beating.  The voice spoke with authority.  Gestapo.

"What are you doing out here?" The voice asked.

I heard the young man from the group of Romany speak.  As I peaked around the corner, I saw a group of soldiers, garbed in trenchoats.  There were six of them.  Too many to flee from.

The Gestapo demanded papers.  The Romany, of course, had none.  One of the trenchoats eyed my son.

"Look, herr, he is different.  He does not appear to be one of them."

The one I assume was in charge marched up to my son and looked down.  His face was like stone. "Papers?"

My son said nothing.

"No papers? Being here is verbotten. You must know this." He looked back towards the group of Romany. "Take them to the train yard." He barked.

The trencoats began to bear their guns, and shouted orders for the group to began moving.  "What about the boy?"  The one who had noticed my son asked.

I hid back around the corner.

"With no papers? Take him to the train yard." The leader said.  Another trencoat stepped up to grab his arm violently, and my son jerked.  He tried to twist away.  He began to scream for me, yet I was silent.

The more he screamed, the more agitated the trenchcoats became, until finally I heard what must have been the sound of them hitting him with the butt of their rifles, and he screamed no more.  I looked around again, and he lay in the snow, unconscious.

"Don't just leave him there, drag  him to the yard!" The leader said.

With a soldier seizing each of my son's arms, they and the rest of the captured Romany marched down the street, wind howling across the city.

I sank to my knees.  I was silent.