Marching Boots and Heavy Hearts.

By the time I went to sleep, there was still no trace of the German army marching its way into Amsterdam. The streets were quiet. No one knew the Nazis' strategy and how soon they would enter the city.

I had never even met a German. I was in bed, thinking hard. Oh, but of course I had. Some new kids at school that year came from Germany. They were normal kids, though. They had to learn to speak Dutch, but we knew some German so we could communicate a few things between us, and we all got along. We were nice to them, and vice-versa. They had no reason to dislike us and tell people back in Germany that their army should attack us. That was a silly idea, so I dropped it and fell asleep.

The next morning, my father decided it was safe for me to go to my weekly gymnastics class as I usually did, but walking on my normal path to the school, I sensed something different in the air. On a typical Sunday morning the streets were filled with people walking to their respective churches. Jewish people were often out and about, attending to certain errands they had no time for during their busy working week or on the Sabbath.

On this Sunday, just one day after the Germans had crossed our border, hardly anyone was out. The few people I saw were huddled together, talking quietly, as if they were concerned that someone might overhear them. I wondered what they could have been talking about so secretively but I had to hurry to avoid being late.

As I neared the gymnasium, the sound of a police siren made me jump. I saw nothing wrong and kept walking toward the school. There must have been some normal crime going on, like someone stealing something from a store, or perhaps someone had a car accident and the police were rushing by to help, doing their job as usual.

What would it be like if the German army just suddenly rounded the comer and marched down the street, with hundreds and hundreds of soldiers in a line with their rifles and tanks rolling behind them, firing their guns in any direction they wanted? The image of it sent chills up my spine, and I had to laugh at myself for picturing something so outrageous. It was not going to happen like that. They never would actually come all the way here to Amsterdam. No way. Enough of the fantasy already. I guess I had been reading too many cheap adventure books. I reminded myself to get to gymnastics, and not to be late.

Thankfully, the next few hours gave me a chance to forget about all the terrible things I feared might happen. Exercising and participating in...