As they neared the station, the street traffic increased.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones trying to leave,” Hermann said, pointing at the streams of people congregating at the entrance. They looked very similar to the Kagans, carrying only bare essentials in their small suitcases and backpacks.
Inside, a cacophony greeted them. The spacious main hall was packed, and hundreds of voices bounced off the high ceilings. The queue for the ticket booths snaked through the building.
“We’ll have to get in line with all those people. There’s still plenty of time before the evening train,” Hermann said.
Elsa frowned. “Do you think we’ll be able to get a ticket? There are hundreds of people in the queues.”
“Maybe they’re going somewhere else,” Jacob said, with hope.
The three of them joined one of the queues. The man in front of them turned.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his face friendly.
Hermann answered, “Away from here, but it doesn’t look too good.”
The man shook his head. “No, I’ve been standing in this spot for over half an hour. They say all trains are full.”
“But everybody stays in the queue?” Jacob asked, peering down the line. Indeed, there was little movement in front of him despite all the ticket booths being manned.
“We’re hoping there might be extra trains or book tickets for later in the week. So far, we’ve heard nothing about it yet,” the man said, wrinkling his forehead. “But we’ve nowhere else to go, so we might as well see if anything changes here.”
Jacob looked at his father. Hermann looked worried, although he was doing his best to hide it.
“What do you think, Papa?”
“Let’s wait and see if anything happens. This man’s right—there’s nowhere else to go. This is the only station with trains to Amsterdam.”
The man in front of them overheard. “Did you say Amsterdam? Forget about that. The Dutch have closed the borders.”
Hermann looked up. “Are you sure? Where did you hear that?”
“They’ll only allow people with valid visas to enter. If you don’t have one of those, it’s a big gamble. I’ve heard some people managed to get in based on special skills,” the man said, frowning. “Some also got in by walking across the border, but let’s say they’re not waiting for us with open arms. Can’t blame them, after the situation with Poland.”
Jacob turned to his father. “We don’t want to be left stranded on the border. Look at what happened to the Polish and German Jews stuck in no man’s land. Nobody cares about them.”
Before Hermann could respond, an announcement boomed through the station hall: “Please be advised there are no more seats on any of today’s trains. Ticket sales for tomorrow’s trains will go on sale tomorrow morning. There will be no advance sales.”
With that, the hopes of hundreds of people were dashed. The Kagans looked at each other.
“Have you ever heard that before? No advance sales?” Hermann looked bewildered.
Jacob shook his head. The crowd in front of the ticket booth wasn’t moving. People were happy to settle in for the night to be the first in the morning. The man ahead of them stepped out of the queue.
“It’s still early,” Elsa said, looking toward the ornate clock in the middle of the station. Its hands showed it was just past noon. “I don’t think we can stay here for the entire day and night.”
Hermann agreed. “No, and even then we’re not sure of a ticket, I’m afraid.”
“What about the border situation? What if we can’t get in, even if we get a ticket?” Jacob asked.
“We’ll need to take our chances,” Hermann said, his face determined. “It can’t be as bad as that man said. There are plenty of Jewish people in the Netherlands that will vouch for us. Besides, we’re bringing a lot of valuables to the country. We can support ourselves and find new work.”
An argument erupted at the front as Jacob watched a young man jump the queue just as the attendant was about to close his window. Jacob craned his neck to see what was going on. More people in the front moved closer.
“Look!” the man shouted, “I saw you sell tickets to those people over there earlier!” Jacob could see the veins in the back of his neck pop out. “They weren’t in the queue, and I was! So what happened?”
The attendant remained calm. “Those people were picking up tickets they’d bought earlier.”
“So you are selling tickets in advance? Why can’t we buy tickets for tomorrow?”
“I don’t know—I only follow the rules.” The attendant tried to close the little window, but the young man blocked it with his head and shoulders, and the attendant now had an angry young man in his face.
The crowd inched closer to the window booth.
The attendant got some support from his colleagues, who managed to push the young man away and slammed the window shut.
This only angered the man further, and the people behind him, too. They pounded on the glass, the sound reverberating through the station hall. More people joined in, frustration in their eyes.
Suddenly a dozen men wearing black uniforms strode toward the commotion. Swastika armbands prominent on their left arms, two silver S’s in the shape of lightning bolts on their collars. They were part of the SS and walked with the confidence of men who had nothing to fear. A number of them grinned as they passed the Kagans.
How did they get here so fast? Jacob thought. This is not going to end well.
They took out their steel batons without prelude and swung at the first people in the group, who hadn’t seen them coming and were hit from behind. The SS men didn’t discriminate as men and women went down, some of them not even screaming but merely slumping to the floor.
Panic quickly spread as the unarmed people in the front realized what was happening. Some of the younger men tried to fight back and got a few punches in until the well-trained SS men took them down.
The man who had started it all was still at the window. He watched in horror as the group of SS soldiers approached. He made a run for it and pushed a couple of older people out of the way as he knocked over some queue barriers.
Two of the SS men in the front saw him running away and quickly followed.
“Halt! Stop that man!” one of them shouted through the crowded hall. But most of the people in the station were Jewish and not about to help the SS. The young man was now close to the exit, and though the SS men were gaining on him, it became clear they wouldn’t catch him before he reached the doorway.
One of them stopped and drew his pistol. His compatriot turned and quickly moved out of the way.
A shot rang out.
People screamed and dropped to the floor; everyone’s eyes turning to the sound of the shot. Jacob was on the floor, too, his hands covering his ears.
The first shot missed its target but not its purpose—the young man paused, his face a mix of surprise and fear.
The SS soldier adjusted his aim and issued another shot.
The young man’s knee exploded with a sickening crunch. He fell to the floor, his body twitching. Blood and bones sprayed on the floor around him, and he screamed in agony, clutching the wound with both hands.