“This isn’t over,” the man said, walking away from the synagogue. “You know we work under the Führer’s own say, dontcha?” He spat on the ground.
Belgardt didn’t budge, the barrel of his gun following the man down the stairs. “I must’ve missed the part about destroying national monuments.”
The man snarled at him one last time and disappeared into the crowd.
Jacob rushed forward to check on the injured people, especially Hans, as the crowd dispersed now that the fight was over. He scanned the faces of the people on the ground; some of them no longer moving as he made his way up the steps. Fire trucks screeched to a stop in the street, the firemen quickly extinguishing the torches the men had left behind.
He found Hans propped up against the side of the synagogue. He was relieved to see his old teacher looking a little better than before.
“You see? We can stop them—we just need to have faith”—he burst into a violent cough, and a fireman handed him some water.
“Take it easy,” Jacob said. Hans looked horrible, his face swollen and his left eye completely shut. Hans’ clothes were stained with dark crimson patches of blood, but his good eye shone brightly.
The fireman gave them a thumbs-up. “You’re going to be fine, but you need to get yourself checked by a doctor soon.” He moved on to a young man next to Hans; hands gripped tightly to his side—it looked like they’d cracked a few of his ribs.
Jacob gently patted Hans on the shoulder. “That was both the bravest and most foolish thing I’ve ever seen you do.”
Hans smiled. “Somebody had to stay here until the police finally showed up, no? You boys gave me practice in standing up to ruffians.”
“I think Belgardt is one of the good ones—I haven’t seen any other police out on the streets tonight.”
“He IS a good one,” answered Hans with a nod toward the policeman, who hadn’t moved from his post, his eyes scanning the street. “He’s checked on us a few times a day while we were out here the past two weeks. Even sent the Hitler Youth away on a few occasions. I’m sure he’s not very popular with the brass.”
Jacob looked around. “The streets have been taken over by gangs of thugs.”
“It’s the Brownshirts, no doubt. They might be wearing regular clothes, but I recognized a few of them.”
“You saved the synagogue tonight, Hans. Don’t you think you should see a doctor? There have to be plenty of them still willing to help you.” Jacob looked around. “You’re going to be okay here?”
Hans nodded. “Of course. It’ll take more than a few cowards to get me down. Is the pharmacy okay?”
“It was when I was there a little earlier, but who knows?” Jacob shrugged. “Anything could happen tonight. I’m going to check on my parents.”
Jacob walked wearily down the stairs. The Oranienburger Straße was a little less crowded, the shattered windows the remnants of the destructive wave that had passed through earlier. In the distance, the first rays of the rising sun struggled to make their way through the smoke.
3
Jacob and Hermann were up early to check on the pharmacy. In the pale morning light, Berlin resembled a battlefield. The streets were littered with glass; broken windows a testimony to the night’s destruction. They stopped in front of the smoldering remains of the butchery. A large pile of debris blocked their passage through the narrow street.
Hermann shook his head, stepping over a large wooden beam. “This must’ve come down when the building collapsed.”
“Look at the others,” Jacob added. He pointed at the adjacent buildings, which had only minor smoke damage on the walls. “You can see where the fire brigade focused its efforts.”
They continued past a small jewelry store, which had an extra barrier in front of its shop window. The looters had been unable to smash the window but did vandalize the building with paint—Jude Raus. Jews out.
As they silently walked on, they saw the same words in red paint on buildings across the city.
They headed next to the offices of Hermann’s boyhood friend Lars Brixen. Hermann peeked his head around the corner. “Lars, you must be the luckiest man in Berlin today!”
Lars looked up, a sad smile on his face. The door was open, and they stepped inside. “I suppose I am!” He hugged his friend and shook Jacob’s hand. “I’m mostly relieved, though. Did you see what they did across the street?”
Hermann nodded, looking out the window, creases of worry across his forehead. “There’s nothing left.” They’d celebrated their bar mitzvahs a week apart, but Lars had never practiced his religion openly. In fact, most people didn’t know he was Jewish.
“Are you on your way to the pharmacy?” Lars asked with concern.
“We are. But we’re not hopeful,” Hermann said. “Jacob was on the streets last night. The pharmacy was untouched when he left, but—”
“—only because the thugs were distracted by a family across the street,” Jacob finished, then told Lars about his night.
Lars shook his head. “They left my office alone because I don’t have a big sign out front. I’m sure if they’d known this was my place, I’d be picking up the pieces as well. Or worse. I’m not sure I could’ve stood by watching them destroy my life’s work.”
He picked up his keys from the desk. “Let’s walk to your place.”
Jacob saw the looks of determination on the faces of the local community as they walked. These were bakers, butchers, and shopkeepers, whose only ‘crime’ was being Jewish.
As they turned onto the street of their pharmacy, it looked like all others they’d passed through that day—covered in shards of glass and wood splinters. In front of the pharmacy, their neighbor, Herr Wagner, was busy with a hammer. The Kagan pharmacy was housed in a beautiful, large building with an impressive entrance. The windows were covered with bright red paint—miraculously, only one had been smashed. Jacob suspected the iron safety curtain had deterred the looters from trying to get in through the windows.
As they got closer, they saw why Wagner was there.
“How did they destroy a door like this?”
Hermann entered through the opening where the door had been. Jacob followed him, and as he had expected, it was a mess inside. The shelves were empty but for a few packages. The floor was covered in empty wrappers and broken containers – the looters had stuffed as much medicine into their pockets as they could carry.
Behind the counter, the cabinets had been broken open, the shelves hanging out haphazardly.
Hermann said hopelessly, “Well, they’ve taken everything.” He walked into the storeroom and picked up one of the boxes Jacob had brought in the day before. As he turned it upside down, only a few small packs of aspirin fell onto the floor.
Jacob walked through the store, inspecting the rest of the damage. “They just went for the drugs—nothing has been destroyed. In a way, I think we’re lucky.”
Lars was outside inspecting the windows, and he came in to report: “It’s a miracle they didn’t smash all the windows. The paint will come off easily. It’s going to take a lot of cleaning, but you could be back in business in a week or two.”