His father opened his eyes, concerned. “Oh, I must have dozed off. How’s Rosa? I would have gone to the hospital but for the curfew. Where’s your mother?”
“Rosa’s fine. She has something intestinal, and Mamma decided to stay at the hospital.”
“Good.” His father’s frown eased. “I expected you sooner. Have you been at the hospital all this time?”
“No.” Sandro didn’t hesitate. “I went to see Elisabetta, and before you say anything, I love her and she loves me. As soon as the Race Laws are repealed, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
His father lifted a graying eyebrow. “Mazel tov.”
Sandro blinked. “You don’t disapprove?”
“After all we’ve been through? This war has left me tired of fighting. If you love her, then marry her. You’re a wonderful son. You should be happy.” His father opened his arms, and Sandro hugged him, moved.
“Thanks, Papa.”
“Now, let’s get to bed.”
They did, and Sandro fell asleep to the sound of rain, his slumber deep and peaceful. But it was only a few hours before he and his father were awakened by a pounding on their door.
CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
Sandro
16 October 1943
Sandro woke up. It took him a moment to realize that someone was banging on their door. His slumber had been so deep that his head ached. Only hours ago, he had been with Elisabetta in her rooftop garden.
He jumped out of bed, turned on the light, and hurried to the door. His father scurried behind, hooking his glasses behind his ears. It began to dawn on Sandro that something was terribly wrong. The Pontecorvo boys were crying downstairs. There was shouting in German outside. Boots thundered on the cobblestones. The heavy engines of trucks rumbled in the distance.
Sandro twisted the knob just as the door flew open. Two helmeted Nazis burst into the apartment, one short and one tall, armed with submachine guns.
“Mani in alto!” the short Nazi shouted, pointing his gun at Sandro and his father.
Sandro gulped with fear. He and his father raised their hands, the two of them terrified, standing in their undershorts. Sandro struggled through his fright to think clearly. He didn’t know what the Nazis wanted. He wondered if it had to with their defiance of Captain Mayer. But the noise outside told him they weren’t alone.
The short Nazi kept the gun trained on them. Rain dotted his helmet and wool greatcoat. The tall Nazi crossed to the telephone and cut the wires, then began searching the apartment.
Sandro’s heart hammered. He didn’t dare look at his father. At least his mother and Rosa were safe.
The short Nazi dug in the pocket of his greatcoat, pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper, and thrust it at them wordlessly.
Their hands still in the air, Sandro and his father looked at the paper. It was a list of everyone who lived in their apartment house, with their ages and dates of birth. It must have come from the Community records, taken from the synagogue. His name and his father’s were next to his mother and Rosa’s.
“Wo?” The short Nazi pointed to his mother’s and Rosa’s names. “Wo? Wo?”
Sandro knew the word meant “where” in German. The Nazi was asking where his mother and Rosa were. “Todt,” he answered quickly, which meant “dead.”
“Was ist?” The tall Nazi pointed at Rosa’s bed, which they had squeezed in next to Sandro’s.
Sandro thought fast. “Todt, the two of them, last week.”
“Hier!” The short Nazi handed Sandro another paper.
Sandro and his father read it together, horrified:
You and your family and all other Jews belonging to your household are to be transferred.
You are to bring with you:
Food for at least eight days;
Ration books;
Identity card;
Drinking glasses.
You may also bring:
A small suitcase with personal effects, clothing, blankets etc.;
Money and jewelry.
Close and lock the apartment/house. Take the key with you.
Invalids, even the severest cases, may not for any reason remain behind. There are infirmaries at the camp.
Twenty minutes after presentation of this card, the family must be ready to depart.
Sandro’s hand trembled as he held the paper. They were being taken to a labor camp.
“Zwanzig minuten!” the short Nazi shouted, then the Nazis left, slamming the door behind them.
Sandro reached for his father, and they clung together. His father had never felt so thin and frail. Sandro wanted to weep, but he couldn’t surrender to emotion. “Thank God Mamma and Rosa are at the hospital. They’re safe.”