Chapter 10

A few weeks after my mother's eviction, my younger daughter had pains in her abdomen. I delayed taking her to a doctor for fear that he might harm her. Already stories of mistreatment of the sick in the hospitals and in camps circulated in town.

But when she appeared to be in serious danger, I finally decided to see professional help. Slowly we made our way on foot to the physician. He directed us to the hospital for an immediate appendectomy. There was no choice. She was in pain, so we went.

The surgery took place that same day and, somehow, thanks to the Almighty, she recovered. In a few days she was to be released.

I arrived early in the afternoon to take her home. I could find no transportation available for her until after 7:00 p.m. I stayed with her.

While waiting, I noticed much excitement and movement in the hospital. I thought it was just a change of nurses from one shift to another. It wasn't.

I overheard one nurse say to another, "They took Dr. X and now they're in Dr. Y's office. Some nurses are gone, too."

I didn't know or could I comprehend what was happening.

At 7:00 p.m. an old skinny horse pulling a shabby cab pulled up. With the driver's help, we seated my daughter carefully. We soon reached home. Again the kind driver helped. This time he lifted her off the ground and carried her to the apartment.

"Thank you, sir." I paid him and closed the door, hoping to keep all dangers away.

I hoped in vain. When my 13-year-old daughter, Irene, saw us, she exclaimed excitedly, " Mother, the Gestapo was here!" My stomach knotted.

"What did they want?"

"They wanted Dad, but I told them ... there were two of them ... that he was in an Oflag [officers' prison camp]."

"Did they believe you?" My heart ached.

"I showed them the letters Dad wrote from the camp and that seemed to satisfy them. Their next question was, 'Where is your mother, Mrs. Niewiarowska?' I told them you were in the hospital with my younger sister. Their next question was, 'What is the matter with her?' 'She had an attack of appendicitis and surgery followed.' The two left abruptly." She was frightened. She did the right thing ... saying as little as possible. If she had added that I went to the hospital to bring her sister home, they might have waited for my return.

I turned to my mother. "Mother, please take care of Dana. I'll leave immediately for town to stay with Uncle Tad. I won't be safe here. The Gestapo might return tonight for me."

I packed a few things and a toothbrush, and hastened to reach my uncle's house before the 9:00 p.m. curfew.

The next rumors traveled fast. Many persons were hauled away. This time it was the doctors, nurses, dentists, lawyers, city and county officials, teachers and wives of officers. I was saved by being in the hospital waiting for Dana's release. To this day I believe my daughters's sudden illness was a blessing in disguise.