Among the Reeds Page 11

  As he walked he concocted a plausible story. He would tell his parents that she was a foundling, an infant abandoned on the steps of his church, presumably the illegitimate daughter of an unmarried girl who could not keep her. This had happened before. He would tell them that he had found the abandoned baby and was now searching for a good home for her. The more he thought about this plan the quicker his steps became. This was a good story. This could work.

  Fernand and Marie-Antoinette were surprised at first. But as they considered the idea they warmed to it. Come to think of it, they would be happy to have a baby again. In this dreadful time of war and ugliness, it would be wonderful to have a child brighten up their lives. And they would feel good giving this poor abandoned little girl a good home. After all, the child was innocent of her parents’ sins. Yes, they would take her, by all means. Bouchat urged them to think carefully about the responsibility of starting over with a newborn before they committed, but his parents had seized onto the idea and were not dissuaded.

  And so in early June 1943 the intrepid Andree Geulen once again visited the Bottners’ apartment and this time came away with a newborn girl named Irene. Melly and Genek (although Andree was not allowed to know their names any more than they could know hers) implored her to tell them where the child was going. But, following strict orders, Andree replied sadly that it was safer that they didn’t know. Carrying the sleeping baby in her arms she hurried out of the building and walked toward the streetcar.

  But she was not the only one engaging in a covert operation that day. As Andree walked to the streetcar, fifteen-year-old Nathan silently slipped out from a nearby building and, keeping a safe distance, trailed the young woman carrying his little niece. His sister Melly had begged him for his help. Please Nathan, please, follow Irene; you have to see where they take her. We have to know where our little daughter is going.

  Nathan was a fair-haired blue-eyed German-speaking Jew, who might attract less scrutiny than some, but he was a Jewish boy nonetheless, and it was tremendously dangerous for him to be out in the street and traveling the streetcar. To avoid detection he traveled without the yellow star, but his papers were not in order. If he was stopped and questioned by the Germans he would be arrested. Jews were prohibited from riding the streetcar, but that was the least of his worries. If the Germans realized he was Jewish he would be sent to Malines and then deported, that was certain.

  Nevertheless, Nathan followed Andree. He was sick to death of hiding. It felt good to finally be doing something useful for his family. He trailed the young woman and followed her onto the streetcar, keeping her in sight and then nonchalantly stepping off when she did. He followed her and the baby as they entered the Brussels train station. The young woman walked up to the teller. Nathan strolled by, positioning himself close enough to Andree to hear her ask for a ticket to Namur. Quickly he slipped into the neighboring ticket line and purchased his own ticket for the same train.

  As the Namur-bound train pulled into the station Nathan followed Andree aboard. He sat at the opposite end of the compartment from her, pretending to study the scenery. He stole glances at the young woman, watching her coo into Irene’s face, seeing her cuddle the infant when she fussed. The baby seemed content. Once, Andree gave him a hard glance, but he quickly buried his head in a newspaper and avoided eye contact for the remainder of the ride. The trip took about an hour. When they arrived in Namur he allowed Andree to exit first, and then he hopped off and continued trailing her. He was careful to keep in the shadows, far enough behind that she wouldn’t notice his presence.

  He trailed her through the streets of Namur. Andree approached a large church and went inside. As Nathan was about to enter after her he saw the young woman come back out of the church, this time without the baby. Was the child to be hidden in a church? Nathan was surprised. He had assumed a baby this young would be placed with a family. Before he had a chance to follow the infant, Nathan saw a priest hurrying down the steps. The priest was carrying little Irene in his arms. The priest headed down the street with the baby and after a few moments Nathan followed him.

  The priest walked for a while, but finally turned into the gate of a small cottage and rang the bell. A middle-aged couple opened the door. They seemed excited to see him. The woman reached out for the infant and took her into her arms. The door closed behind them. After a while the priest came back out of the cottage without little Irene. He had left the baby with the couple. It looked like this was the hiding place.

  Nathan made a mental note of the address and prepared to return to Brussels with the information that Irene was being hidden by a family in Namur. It would please his sister that these strangers were eager to receive the child. For better or worse, his sister Melly and brother-in-law Genek would now know the address of the family who had taken in their baby. God help them all.

  Marie-Antoinette and Fernand were thrilled to be adopting a beautiful baby girl. She was sweet and mild-tempered, and as she got older she grew a mass of unruly light brown curls. With her hazel eyes and pudgy limbs she was the cutest child. They doted on her. Their daughter Rochelle, almost an adult, loved her too, and of course Rene came by to visit the child as often as he could get away from his duties. In 1944 Rene was ordained as a Catholic priest. Thereafter Rene, now Father Bouchat, led the Sunday Mass at church as his proud parents and sister and little Irene sat in the pews.

  They all adored watching the child toddle around, prattling in her sweet voice as she learned how to speak childish French. Marie-Antoinette dug out Rochelle’s old doll carriage for the child, and little Irene happily pushed the toy around the yard as Marie-Antoinette tended her vegetable garden. The little one’s favorite place was on Fernand’s lap, pulling playfully at his mustache as he read her books and sang her songs. Just as they had hoped, having a child to raise brightened the bleakness of the war for the Bouchats. Irene completed their family.

  Father Bouchat saw the bond forming between Irene and his parents. He was grateful that the child brought them so much joy, and relieved that she, in turn, was safe and loved. Sometimes he worried about what might happen in the future, but there were so many more pressing matters, so much work with the Church and with his clandestine Resistance activity, that he didn’t have time to devote to what-ifs. Anyway, the chances of poor Irene’s real parents surviving this terrible war were slim. Almost certainly the child would remain with the Bouchats forever. And that was good. No sense in worrying about things that were out of his control and unlikely to happen anyway.

  Irene was loved and well cared-for by the only parents she knew as a baby and toddler. Her world, unlike that of her brother’s, was a secure and happy place. Having been separated from Melly and Genek at only three months of age she had no memory of them, no knowledge of their existence. She was completely content growing up as the little Bouchat girl, the adored adopted baby of a loving Catholic family. These first two years of her life, ironically, would be the happiest of the next two decades.

  Pictures

  Gertrude and her siblings; Uncle Herman is at the far left. Gertrude is standing on the right side of the picture

  Last known photo of Beila and Yehudah Bottner, 1938

  Genek's brothers - Joseph, Ephraim, and Moses (Mundek), 1938

  Leopold Offner

  Gertrude Offner

  Melly as a young child, Chemnitz

  Inge, Nathan, and Melly; Chemnitz, Germany, c. 1930.

  Inge and Nathan, c. 1939

  Melly as a young adult

  Melly and Genek on their wedding day, June 1939

  Andree Geulen during the war

  Page from Andree Geulen's books showing Irene and Alfred Bottner at the top; Irene is two months old, Alfred (Bobby) three years old

  Registration form with the AJB for Genek and Melly

  Melly and Bobby, 1943

  Only known photo of Bobby in hiding in convent at Banneux; 3rd row from the bottom, 2nd child from the left

  Irene, c. 1945<
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  Genek, Melly, Irene, and Bobby, after the war, c. 1946

  Irene and Bobby circa 1953, Montreal

  Irene, 1962

  Shoshana in the IDF

  Nathan in the IDF

  Genek in his fur store in Ottawa

  Irene and Shoshana, 1965

  Me and Inge, c. 1967

  My mother with me and my great-grandmother Gertrude holding my sister Sharon, c. 1967

  Melly and Genek, 1984, 45th wedding anniversary

  Me, my mom and dad, and my sister Sharon, 2013

  Nathan and Soshana, 2016

  Irene and Shlomo, 2016

  My sister Sharon and her husband Rich, daughter Alena, and son Jake

  Me with my husband Danny, son Ari, and daughter Sophia

  Andree Geulen and Bobby, reunited after sixty years

  In Hiding

  Banneux, 1943

  In January 1933, the very month that Hitler assumed power in nearby Germany, an eleven-year-old girl, Mariette Beco, living near the village of Sprimont in eastern Belgium, had a vision. Gazing out of her family’s modest cottage window one winter evening she saw an ethereal lady bathed in a halo of light. The lady wore a white robe with a blue belt, her hands held to her breast encircling a golden heart. She beckoned to Mariette. The girl called to her mother to come outside to see, but her mother admonished the child for her overactive imagination, and locked the door.

  The lady revealed herself again, however, in a total of seven visits in the ensuing weeks. No-one else was able to see the visions that Mariette described in vivid detail. The lady identified herself to the girl. I am the Virgin of the poor, she told her. Leading her to a nearby spring, she indicated to Mariette that a small chapel should be built there. She told the girl that the waters of the spring were holy, that these waters would cure the sick if the faithful believed and prayed very hard. Mariette was very clear about the message.

  Mariette’s family, though ostensibly Catholic, was not observant, and at first they scoffed at her visions. But the girl was adamant, and began attending church and discussing her visions with the local priest, Father Jamin. Her descriptions of the lady’s appearance and the messages she received were quite convincing. Soon miracles began to occur in the village; the sick were indeed getting well. Mariette’s family became devout believers. The villagers were amazed. Perhaps this young girl had really seen the Virgin Mary. Could their little village have had a holy visitation? A small chapel was soon erected by the community at the site.

  As news of this holy visitation spread, the Catholic Church formed an investigative committee, sending its findings up the chain of command to the archbishop and eventually to the Vatican, and by 1937 a larger church was built near the Banneux Spring, as it was called, and pilgrims began visiting Our Lady of Banneux and praying for cures. In 1942 the Pope would authorize Our Lady of Banneux as a valid holy site.

  The Holy Virgin’s final appearance to Mariette Beco occurred in March of 1933, the very same month that the Offner family was fleeing from Fascist Germany. While Hitler was trumpeting the supremacy of the Aryan Nation, a little Belgian girl, Mariette Beco, was spreading the word of the Virgin Mary, saying that the Banneux Spring was “reserved for all nations, to bring comfort to the sick … and alleviate suffering.”

  A decade later, during World War Two, more than one member of the Jewish family who had fled Germany would find refuge at Our Lady of Banneux, hiding out in the church in an attempt to survive the Gestapo’s ruthless annihilation of the Jewish race.

  By 1943, with the only Jews still living in Belgium in hiding, the Nazis were no longer able to fill their quotas for deportation. They issued a declaration urging all Jews in the country to return to their homes, to resume their normal lives, stating that the anti-Jewish actions were over. Of course, this was a ruse; any Jews foolish enough to believe the mandate were summarily picked up by the Gestapo and deported.

  It was at this time that the Resistance, particularly the CDJ, escalated its attempt to hide as many remaining Jewish children as possible. The effort was aided by a number of brave and committed non-Jews who risked their lives to do what they knew was right.

  One vital participant was Albert Van den Berg, a non-Jewish lawyer active in the Belgian Resistance. He was instrumental in helping to hide children in the Banneux area, where Bobby and Nathan were both eventually placed. Sadly Mr. Van den Berg was arrested by the Nazis in 1943 and sent to a series of prisons and concentration camps. Brave and uncowed to the very end, he is said to have declared as he was being led away by the Gestapo, “la vie est belle!” Tragically he died just before liberation in Neuengamme camp. Forty years after his death his efforts in saving 300 Jewish children were honored by the State of Israel: Albert Van den Berg was awarded the honor of Righteous Amongst the Nations. It is thanks in part to Mr. Van den Berg that the infrastructure and funds existed to hide the children in the area.

  So, it was to the convent at Banneux that two-and-a-half-year-old Bobby was sent by the CDJ, where he was sequestered away for the second time, in the basement. He was one of scores of little boys living in that subterranean world of damp earth and loneliness, watched over by overworked Catholic nuns whose job was to keep the children alive, not to mother them. Bobby never found out how many of these children were hidden Jews and how many were Catholic orphans.

  Nathan’s stay in Brussels had been brief. He had managed to follow his niece Irene as she was sent away, but soon after that, in the summer of 1943, his family insisted that he go into hiding again too. By now Nathan spoke good French. This was important as he was able to blend in as a Belgian Christian much more easily once he spoke the language.

  For a few months Nathan lived, along with a half-dozen other boys, in the home of a priest in Namur. This was a temporary hiding place. When it became too dangerous to stay there, Nathan was relocated by a Benedictine monk called Pere (Father) Bruno. Father Bruno, born Henri Reynders, was actively working with the CDJ and Albert Van den Berg to hide Jewish children from the Nazis. He ran a virtual underground railroad, finding hiding places, communicating with the Resistance, and frequently transporting the children into hiding himself. A tall thin prematurely bald man with a kindly smile, sporting round eyeglasses with dark frames, Father Bruno risked his own life throughout the war. Luckily he survived. He too received the honorific title Righteous Amongst the Nations from the Israeli government decades later for his heroic efforts in saving 400 Jewish children.

  And so Father Bruno brought Nathan to a new hiding place, this one a monastery in Banneux. Nathan came to live in hiding at the Banneux Spring, the site where Mariette Beco had famously seen the Virgin Mary, and had directed that the place be “reserved for all nations … to alleviate suffering.” By this time he was fifteen years old.

  So Bobby’s beloved Uncle Nathan had come to live at the same institution as the lonely child. How different Bobby’s experience might have been had he had Nathan to visit him and give him some much-needed affection. But the two were unaware of each other’s proximity.

  Nathan was assigned a new name. From now on he would be known as Nestor van Haverbeke. As was often the case, he was allowed to keep his first initial, but the rest of his name was changed to a typically Belgian one. Father Bruno made sure the boy had the necessary documents and forged ID cards before bringing him to his new hiding place.

  Nathan joined a group of orphaned teenage boys living at the monastery. He did not know if any of the other boys were Jews in hiding like himself. He knew better than to ask. His job was to blend in and avoid calling attention to himself. His survival depended on it.

  These older boys’ lives were very different from those of the little ones like Bobby. These teenagers had a “legitimate” reason for being there: they were orphans, cared for by the Church. They were not confined to the basement. They spoke French and went to Mass. They lived openly as wards of the Church – attending classes, doing their chores, and eating their communal meals, allowe
d to walk the grounds, speak normally, and socialize with each other. In addition, they were old enough to understand why they were there; they knew that they were much better off in the safety of the convent than any of the alternatives. Many young men were off fighting in the war; these boys were not quite old enough to fight, but they were certainly old enough to realize that they were lucky to have a place to keep them safe. And they were old enough to get along without their families, able to deal with institutional life without it decimating their psyches.

  And so Nathan immersed himself in the rhythms of monastic life. Certainly it was easier than the farm that had been his first hiding place. Nathan went along with the others as they genuflected and crossed themselves, and hoped none of the boys or priests would realize he was not as well versed as the rest in the rituals of the Mass.