War-Filled Streets

Julia skipped through the streets of Warsaw, Poland, in the summer of 1939. She didn't know that this would be her last summer there, or at least her last summer free there. Julia was Polish, and she was a Jew. She was eleven years old, but had been listening to her parents talking. "Musimy jakoś uciec." They would whisper when she was supposed to be sleeping. "We've got to escape."

She didn't know what they needed to escape. She was plenty happy with all of her friends in class, and her Friday afternoon sandwiches at Piotr's Bufet. There was no need for war.

"Julia, come home! Dinner time!" Her mother exclaimed as Jude neared home. "Coming, Mama," Julia replied. She hopped up the steps in her pretty red shoes, which she had gotten for her birthday. She wiped the shoes, slightly grassy, on their front step, and then walked inside. The smell of her mama's pea soup lingered in the air. She wrinkled her nose. "Mama, what are we having for dinner?" She reluctantly asked. "Ah, my famous pea soup! Tata is feeling sick, and you know my pea soup always helps, Julia."

"I do know that, Mama, but..." Julia said, looking for the right words. She didn't want to offend Mama, but if she even dared to eat a bite of the soup, she would vomit right into the kitchen sink.

"I know what you are thinking, Julia. You don't have to eat my soup if you don't want it. But don't expect anything else. I still have to buy our cheese and milk," Mama said. Julia rolled her eyes and smiled. Mama was always like this, but Julia didn't mind anymore. It was her mama, and that's what she liked about her.

Tata came downstairs, blowing his nose in a red handkerchief, to Julia's surprise. "Tata!" she exclaimed, "You nearly blew the roof off! Be careful with your hat now, Babcia."

Babcia was Julia's grandmother, who was staying with the Nowaks for a little bit, because her home was being rebuilt. But Julia heard talks about Babcia staying until the fighting was over, but what fighting was it? Julia wondered this often. There were no bombs, or other scary things like before Julia was even born, so why should they be scared now? She didn't know.

"Little Julia, you always hated my pea soup. Why is Mama's any worse?" Babcia asked. Julia sighed. Apparently, it was a family recipe.

"Babcia, you know that I just don't like peas. I'll eat carrots, or broccoli, but just not peas. You know that!" Julia shot back at her grandmother.

Babcia smiled, looking back down at her knitting. She was creating a scarf for Mama, a new handkerchief for Tata, and a blanket for Julia. She could get done with it all rather quickly, her fingers moving precisely and speedily. It was August, and it was nearing Julia's birthday, and Mama and Tata's anniversary, so Babcia decided to make them gifts. It was very loving of her, Julia decided. Babcia showed her love in all sorts of ways, but usually knitting was the top choice.

"Ah, Julia, did you get the paper like I asked you to?" Tata asked. Julia froze, trying to remember if she did indeed receive the paper. She couldn't remember, so she said no. Tata looked around the house until he found a copy that he had brought up earlier, apologizing to Julia, who pushed it aside. Tata was always doing stuff like this.

Julia watched Tata, eating half a sandwich that she had saved from Piotr's Bufet earlier that day. He looked intently at the paper, glancing at Mama and Babcia every so often. It made an unsettling feeling simmer around Julia's chest. Julia knew she was lucky. They were upper middle class, with enough money to get by and be comfortable. It wasn't always like that, though. Tata couldn't find a job for the longest time, and there were a lot of sleepless nights and nearly freezing to death because of the cold two winters ago. But now Julia had to be cooler, because it was quite a hot summer season.

Julia looked out of the window, thinking about the more and more people she had seen filing into her country. Most of them had yellow stars plastered onto their thick and thin coats, most of them sweating and crying, and most of them just looking for a place to sleep silently. It had been bugging Julia for the longest time.

"Mama, why are there so many people coming to Poland? And what are the yellow stars?" Julia asked Mama.

Mama sat in silence for a little bit, and then looked at Tata, who nodded silently. It was the grown up way of talking.

"Julia, those are Jews. They came from Germany and other places, where they weren't wanted. The star is for the Nazis to recognize them. They are planning the attack really soon, and we have to be prepared. We are even thinking of contacting Wujek Israel and Ciocia Sara in New York. They absolutely love it there. We might really have to flee, if it isn't going to be safe for us here." Mama said. Julia gulped, letting the new information sink in. This really was happening. All the whispers in her school, all the gossiping around town and in Piotr's shop- it was all true. Hitler was taking over, Nazis were going to kill all of them, and frying pans are a lethal weapon. Well, maybe not the last one. Julia didn't know where she'd heard that. But everything else was true. This was it. This was the end.

"So, we're not safe?" Julia asked carefully. Babcia pursed her lips, focusing on her knitting. Tata sighed, looking up from his paper, which had angry words splattered all over it. WAR, HITLER, INVASION, BOMBING, NAZIS, JEWISH, PERSECUTION. Julia had only seen a few of those words before, and she knew the words that she didn't know were bad. She didn't know who Hitler was, or who the Nazis were. A boy in her class named Antoni had said that Hitler was a KOMMUNIST and that he was doing really bad things, and that he was against Jews. Anti-Semitic was the proper word. Whoever he was, he was a bad person, Julia decided.

"We are safe for now," Tata said, "but we might not be safe later. We are Jews, Julia, and they will soon put that yellow star on us. Later, we might not ever be safe if we don't escape."

Julia felt the walls closing in, and she went to bed early that night. As she laid, still, silent, she thought about her classmates. All except for one were Jews, and she knew that Jews weren't safe anymore.

She cried herself to sleep that night, hot tears spilling out of her eyes. This was the place she had loved since she could remember. And soon it would all burn.

A few days passed, and everybody was on edge. There were more talks about escaping to the US, or just anywhere else. Then, on September first, at around five am, the first bombs came in. Julia heard them, and she woke immediately. She ran to Mama and Tata's room.

"Mama, Tata! Babcia! Wake up! There are bombs!" She whispered. They sat up, and Julia wished she could un-see the look on Tata's face. Mama quickly got out of bed, running to Babcia's room. Julia could hear Tata mumbling. "If only we had gotten out quicker..."

The sound of blood-curdling screams echoed in Warsaw's air like a lullaby, and Julia wasn't even bothering keeping her tears locked up. Babcia's face was painted with fear, and Mama was darting across the house, grabbing important things. Julia heard Tata again.

"We can't go now. It is war out there. All of the rumors are true. We are next. They will find us," He said, putting on his jacket. All they had left now was the hope that they were spared, that Yahweh was on their side.

Somehow, Yahweh heard their prayers and the Nowaks were spared. But the Nazis took almost everyone who was spared. She saw Antoni, the boy who had stirred up her fears, holding his mama's hand, whimpering, as they plastered the yellow stars on their coats. After September first, life was a living hell in Warsaw.

Soon, the Germans came to the ground, and the fight officially began. Julia had never been so scared in her life.

The day was September twenty-fifth. It was Julia's birthday. She awoke, as no child should ever wake, wondering if this one would be her last. She was starting to hear the screams again. The screams wrapped around her waist, squeezing her until she couldn't breathe. There were more bombs, and more dying. Julia had survived the first time, but there was a slim chance now that she would survive a second time. Tata came into her room, telling her the plan. "We're running now," he said. Julia, along with countless other children, had awoken to their birthdays with 'we're running now'.

Julia silently got up, and they somehow got away. Somehow. Julia prayed that night, thanking God endlessly. They had gone to Otwock, but they soon realized that Otwock was going to be just like Warsaw.

Julia never got any sleep. They couldn't get sleep. They decided to hide with a Christian family they knew in a different town. The Kowalskis, close friends with Tata and Mama, helped hide the Nowaks. Jan and Maria Kowalski invited Julia into their home, where they would hide in the cellar.

"Not up in the air for airstrikes, but not too close to level ground for ground attacks," Jan Kowalski said.

Tata, Mama, and Babcia all thanked them often, for their support. But Julia knew that they were still in Poland. They were still Jews, and they were still going to die. Just maybe not now.

They stayed with the Kowalskis until 1940. Almost half a year, and then they started taking Jews into the trains. Julia had heard of these concentration camps, run by the Nazis. But now, they have a new name: extermination camps. Exterminating is something you did to cockroaches, or bugs. Not real, living people.

Julia had been hearing about a few camps around the war. Treblinka was used for pure murder, unlike Auschwitz, which was used for painful labor. Treblinka was to kill. There were other prisons, too, like Pawiak, but if you even heard a mutter of Treblinka or Auschwitz from a Nazi, you had to leave immediately.

Julia worked hard to stay silent in the times where all she could hear from outside of the cellar were screams.

Around Julia's thirteenth birthday, Babcia died. She had wandered outside, her mind not her own, and been shot down. Julia didn't even know until five days later, when Maria Kowalska found her while she was going to get the milk and bread for Julia and Mama and Tata. Julia had burrowed her head inside of Mama's coat, tears slowly spewing, learning their familiar path. Julia had been preparing herself for this day. When Babcia would die. She just never thought it would be without her, or in this sort of way. But now all Julia could do was pray to Yahweh that Babcia was doing better, knitting Julia a blanket for when her time came.

Julia, Mama, and Tata hid very well. They hid very, very well.

Out of the 3.3 million Jews living in the Poland area, the ones undercover, or hiding with somebody else lived. About 50-60,000 of them. That's not enough, though. But Julia lived. So did Mama and Tata.

After the war, Julia couldn't go back to her normal life. She was nineteen years old when they finally could go outside and breathe fresh air. Julia stood outside, for the first time in nearly seven years, and started to cry. All this time, all of her classmates and teachers had died. She saw their graves.

She couldn't forget what happened in Warsaw, or in the cellar. Or to others' lives, or in the camps.

But she could go on.

She could keep living, despite all of her past.

And she will keep living.

As of right now, Julia could be 98. She could have gone 98 years of her life living freely and happily. But she chose to act, to remember.

Julia still lives in all of the Holocaust survivors across the globe, many residing in Israel, and they will live on forever, because they chose to remember.