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When The
Candles Go Out
and back into our beds. Tonight, the whole process took less than
an hour.
As the rain continues to pour down day after day, our luck begins
to run out as the Allies take advantage of their superior navigational
technology and bomb us relentlessly with very minimal resistance
from our own air force. The raids begin to stretch out to upwards of
three hours and the lack of a proper air-ventilation system begins to
be problematic.
We have been in the bunker for over four hours when I see
something that freezes my blood: the candles are flickering even
though there is no air movement. The Sicherheitsund Hilfsdienst,
security and help service orders an evacuation of what is supposed to
be our safe haven. Women and children are rapidly woken from
their slumbers on their tiny bunk beds by an alarm, a different alarm,
one we’re not used to. But we all know what it means:
GET OUT
NOW!
Everyone is thinking the same thing: stay in here, safe from
the bombs, and die of asphyxiation, or get out and die from an Allied
bomb. Either way we are as good as dead. Although I desperately
want to stay with him, I am quickly separated from my brother by
the anxious crowd and the desperate pleas for help that I am hearing
frommy mother. But I cannot find her. There are people everywhere,
pressing against me on all sides. I am getting worried; I know my
mother needs me. She has three young children and only two hands.
My eyes swivel from side to side, as I desperately search for her face
in the crowd.
Suddenly, I see her on the other side of the room, about to be
pressed into the airlock and out the exit. Relief floods my chest for
only an instant until my stomach churns with worry and anxiety as
darkness begins to envelop the windowless room. The candles are
starting to go out completely. I desperately push my way through the
crowd, uttering ‘excuse me and thanks as I go, my head throbbing
and vision darkening from oxygen deficiency. Soon, I reach her and
sweep Anton up into my arms. I balance him on my hip and grab
hold of Sofie’s small hand. Mama holds baby Elli close to her chest,
bundled in blankets, as she tries to soothe her cries of hunger. As
quickly as we can, we battle the dizziness and make our way up the
crowded staircase into the underground train station. The bombs
continue to drop and my anxiety rises as we are shepherded up out
of the station onto the street and into the pouring rain, where we
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