The bombings continued for almost two weeks. Whenever a bomb landed close by there was a deafening roar, and the smell of smoke was ever present in the air. Another doctor would have closed his practice and stayed at home with his family but not Dr. Levi. He knew that people needed his services, and even more so now that there were so many being injured in the streets. And so Dr. Levi packed his black medicine bag each morning and went off to work in the midst of an Armageddon in the streets.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ukraine under Nazi occupation

  The end of September 1941

  Maria Ivanov knew what it meant to live a hard life. She’d been the daughter of a farmer then the wife of one, Stas Ivanov. She and Stas had gotten out of bed before sunrise every morning to tend the land. There were no days off, no holidays, and no time to be sick. When she was pregnant she worked on the farm all the way up until she went into labor. Then she stopped to give birth to the two boys but the following day she was up and working again. The boys were twins but not identical in either looks or personality.

  Maria never expected more out of life than she got as the wife of a farmer. She knew that her life with Stas would not be glamorous and that they would always struggle to make ends meet. It was a well-known fact that, being people of the land, farmers walked a tightrope dependent upon the whims of the weather for their daily bread.

  Her husband had never been tender. He’d always been a difficult man. Most times he was cold and distant towards her but she knew that was just his way. Maria believed that Stas loved her but he just didn’t realize it. However, most of all, she knew that she loved him. So she catered to him and accepted him as he was.

  When the government confiscated the Ivanov’s land in order to create kolkhozes—collective farms where all of their land and animals would be owned by the government—Stas resisted. They would no longer be allowed to sell any excess grain. Instead, the government would take all of their produce and pay them back with a small amount of goods. She’d begged him not to try and fight against Stalin’s iron fist. But he was not willing to give up the land that had been in his family for generations. Stas fought back and was arrested. He was sent to a gulag in Siberia.

  A year later she received a letter informing her that her husband was dead. That was all the information that the letter gave her concerning his demise but she’d heard enough about the gulags to know that he’d been worked hard and starved. Very few people ever left the prisons alive. And so the government had its way. It took the land and all Stas accomplished by fighting was his own death.

  Now two years after she received the letter telling her Stas was dead, Maria and her two sons lived on just an acre that was part of a collective farm. She and her boys were required to work until they reached their productivity quota, which was high. In order to meet it, they worked from sun up to sun down. All of the farmers in the collective knew that if they were unable to satisfy the government’s demands the threat of prison hung over their heads.

  An acre of land was hardly enough to grow everything that was required, and most of the grain they produced was confiscated by the government, leaving little for the family to live on. The twin boys, thirteen years old and growing, were always hungry. Some of their neighbors tried to hide grain by burying it but after losing her husband Maria Ivanov was not willing to risk losing her sons. A single cow was all that was left to them; the government took the rest of their animals. From that cow they produced milk and cheese, most of which also had to be turned over to the government. But at least they had some milk, some cheese, and a little grain. Even though they received no money for their work and they only got a very small part of all they produced, Maria had learned early in life to be grateful for whatever crumbs were thrown to her. Many nights she sacrificed her evening meal, giving it to her sons so that they would not go to bed hungry.

  Ivan grew up to be a friendly and outgrowing boy but Oskar was more introverted. He was cold and distant, especially to strangers. Maria could see Stas’ personality in Oskar but she saw herself in Ivan. Oskar didn’t make friends easily. In fact, the only people he ever spoke to were his brother and his mother. The boys never went to school; there was too much work on a farm to spare them for any length of time. Ivan would have liked to have gone, but Oskar was glad to not have to interact with others.

  It was a September morning, past sunrise, when Maria noticed that Oskar was not outside working. She told Ivan she would be right back and went quickly up to the house. Oskar had never gotten out of bed that morning. He was still curled up on the floor in his bed of straw.

  He has to be very ill, Maria thought, her brow knitted with worry. Oskar was not lazy and he was not one to sleep late, either. He and Ivan always awakened at the crack of dawn and were out working the land. Most days they were both out earlier than their mother. Even when the boys were little they had done their part. The previous night both boys had complained of stomachaches. This was not the first time any of the Ivanovs had felt under the weather but normally they went to work anyway. Maria was worried. Everyone in the family knew how important it was for them to carry their own load.

  Ivan was fully recovered from his stomachache by the morning and was up and out working. Oskar, however, seemed to have gotten worse. Several times during the night he had to run out of the mud hut where they lived due to bloody diarrhea, and he was vomiting profusely.

  “Stay in bed, Oskar. We’ll manage. Don’t worry. You’ll feel better by tonight,” Maria whispered to her son.

  “I’m so sorry, Mama. I can’t move. I feel terrible.”

  “I know. It’s all right. Rest.”

  “But the work. There is so much work,” Oskar said.

  “Shh. Rest. We will take care of everything, Ivan and I.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek and then went out to farm the land.

  Three days passed and still Oskar did not get any better. In fact, when Maria and Ivan came into the house to have their afternoon meal they found him listless to the point of unresponsive.

  Maria couldn’t eat her bread and soup even though her stomach was growling with hunger. She picked up her bowl and went over to Oskar. Her hand was trembling as she tried to feed him.

  “Oskar. It’s me, Mama. Oskar, wake up please.” But he did not open his eyes. He lay on his bed of straw in the corner. The smell surrounding him was so strong that it made Maria gag. Then she broke down in tears. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”

  “Check his pulse,” Ivan said.

  “I can’t.” She was weeping.

  Ivan walked over and put his hand on his twin brother’s neck. It was like looking at himself in death. But then he felt a pulse. “He’s alive, Mama.”

  “Oh praise God!” Maria said. “I have to help him somehow. I am so worried.”

  “I know, so am I, ” Ivan said.

  “I refuse to take him to the people’s hospital,” Maria said shaking her head.

  “We’ll figure this out. For now, you must eat Mama; please, you must eat. You have been working very hard.”

  She could not eat. Her soup was sitting in front of her getting cold. “If I take him to that hospital he will die there for sure.”

  “Yes, I agree with you. I would rather keep him at home than take him there. I visited a friend there once who was sick. It was a terrible place. Frightening. As I walked through the hallways I heard screaming coming from the rooms. And everyone knows that the nurses and orderlies never come into the patients’ rooms to see what is wrong. They don’t care. Unless the patient’s family can give them bribes, they just let the poor soul die.”

  Maria nodded her head. This was common knowledge. She would never take her precious son to that place. Never. If he were going to die, then he’d die at home with people who loved him. Maria bit her lip. Just the thought of her son Oskar dying brought more tears. She had to think of something. And then ….

  Maria knew of only one doctor in Kiev who would see her son without payment. She’d never met him but she’d heard others say how kind he was to the poor. It was Levi, the Jew. He gave them credit and told them to pay when they were able. Levi never turned anyone away who needed help. Never! Not even people whom he knew would never return to settle their debt.

  “I am going to take Oskar into town to see Levi, the Jew,” Mrs. Ivanov said to Ivan. “He needs a doctor badly. I believe that the Jew will see him without money. At least that’s what everyone says. And we have no money to pay…”

  Ivan nodded. “Would you like me to go with you? There are Nazis in Kiev. It’s not safe for a woman and a sick boy without anyone to defend them.”

  “No, Ivan, you must stay here. I am a grown woman. I will be fine. You watch the farm.”

  Ivan went next door and begged the neighbor to borrow his horse. “My brother is very sick,” he told the neighbor. “If my mother doesn’t get him to a doctor quickly he will die.”

  The neighbor screwed up his face. “I don’t like to send my horse out for no reason.”

  “I’m begging you. Please. We need your help. When I was seven and you were sick, my Papa came and helped you with your farming. Do you remember? He is dead now. We are two boys and a woman alone, badly in need of your horse. You can’t refuse us. Please.”

  The neighbor dropped his shoulders and looked at Ivan. “You’re right. Your father was a big help to me. I can still remember how much he did for my family.” The neighbor took a deep breath and sighed. “The horse is in the barn. Take him. Your mother will need to use my cart. It’s in the barn as well.”

  “I will never be able to thank you enough.”

  “Go now.”

  Ivan led the horse out of his stall and saddled him to the cart. Then he rode the cart back to his house. Maria helped Ivan carry Oskar out to the cart and gently placed him into his seat. Maria took the reins as the old horse whinnied. Ivan kissed his mother’s cheek goodbye as Maria began the drive into Kiev.

  Maria Ivanov lived a secluded life on her farm located several miles outside of town. The only people she ever had contact with were her neighbors, other families in the farming collective, and the Russian soldiers who came to collect the produce they were required to give to the government.

  When she arrived in Kiev Maria was shocked. She was immediately confronted with pools of dried blood, dead bodies on the streets, and buildings that were completely reduced to nothing but rubble from the onslaught of bombs. Her son had warned her that there were Nazis in Kiev but she wasn’t expecting this! She swallowed hard and straightened the kerchief she wore around her head.

  There is no turning back now. I must do what I can to help my son, she thought.

  With a quick whip to the horse, Maria made her way to the Jewish sector of town. There she found the gray stone building that she’d heard so many people describe. There was a sign above the storefront in black letters. If Maria had been taught to read she would have known that the sign said:

  “ Levi, Physician.”

  She looked in the window to be sure she was in the right place. But all she saw was a staircase leading to a second floor.

  I am fairly sure that this is it. At least I hope I am right, she thought. Then a man came walking quickly by. “Do you know if this is the office of Dr. Levi?”

  “It says so right there on the sign,” the man said, pulling his coat tighter around his neck against the chill of the night wind.

  Oskar was weak and unable to stand on his own, but that didn’t deter her. Maria lifted her son in her arms. Years of tilling the soil had made her strong. She carried Oskar into the building and then, although she was strained and out of breath, she continued up the narrow staircase to the doctor’s office. The waiting room was filled with people but when the doctor peeked his head out the door to call the next patient, he took one look at Oskar and told Maria to bring him into the office immediately.

  Dovid Levi, the doctor’s only child, took Ivan’s arm and helped Maria to place him on the examining table.

  “What is your name?” the doctor asked, looking directly into Oskar’s eyes.

  At first, the boy didn’t answer. He looked at the doctor. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot and he seemed confused. Again the doctor asked Oskar in a clear voice, “Your name son, what is your name?” Dr. Levi shook the boy. Then he held Oskar’s head until Oskar’s eyes focused on him.

  “Oskar Ivanov.”

  “How old are you, Oskar?”

  “I am about to turn 14 next month,” Oskar croaked.

  “You’re almost the same age as my son, my Dovid. Dovid is 13 but he won’t be 14 for several months,” the doctor said, smiling.

  Oskar tried to smile back but as his dry and crusty lips turned upward his eyes fluttered closed and he lost consciousness.

  Dr. Levi examined the boy thoroughly. Then he took Maria by the arm and led her out of the room to speak to her.

  “Your son is very ill. Did he drink milk fresh from a cow or goat recently?”

  She nodded. “We have an acre of land as part of a collective farm. Do you know where the farms are? They are outside the city?”

  “I have passed them. I am sure I have seen yours. But you must have come a long way into the city?” he asked, trying to make casual conversation in order to help her calm down a little while he asked her some important questions.

  Maria went on to explain where the Ivanov farm was located. “We have one cow. I believe that Oskar milked her the day he got sick. He could have drunk some of the milk.”

  “Do you pasteurize your milk?”

  “ I don’t know what you mean by pasteurize.”

  “Never mind then. I am going to assume that he drank milk that was straight from the cow,” the doctor said. Dr. Levi was pretty sure that the boy was dying.

  How can I find a way to tell a mother that her son is dying?

  “Will he be all right? Can you help him?”

  “I can’t promise you anything, ” Dr. Levi murmured, his voice soft with sympathy. “But I’ll do everything I can for him. Leave him here with me. I will stay at the office with him and take care of him through the night.”

  “I can’t afford to pay you, Doctor. I don’t have any money and since the Nazis invaded the country has taken even more of what we produce on the farm for the war effort. There is hardly enough left for us to eat. You see, Doctor, I am a widow. My parents are dead and my siblings live far away. All I have left in the world are my twin boys…”

  Dr. Levi sighed. He’d heard that story more often than he could remember. But he couldn’t turn this boy away; his conscience wouldn’t let him.

  “Don’t worry about payment right now. You can pay me when you are able. The best thing for you to do right now is to leave the boy here. He is very sick and, as I said, I can’t make promises. But you have my word that I will try my best. After all, I understand how you feel Mrs. Ivanov. I, too, have a son,” Dr. Levi said and glanced over at Dovid.

  “May God bless you, Doctor. Please do your best for him.” Maria had tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how I can go on without him.”

  “Well, let’s not think about that right now. Let’s do what we can for him,” Dr. Levi said, touching Oskar’s forehead gently. The boy was burning up. Menachem Levi felt a shiver run down his spine. He said a silent prayer in Hebrew then he turned to the mother again and said, “Be careful on your way home. The streets are dangerous.”

  “I will,” she said and left.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Despite all of the good doctor’s efforts of bathing the boy in alcohol to bring down his fever and staying with him constantly, Oskar Ivanov did not make it through the night. It was as Dr. Levi feared. The boy had contracted a rare disease from the raw milk that shut his kidneys down.

  Levi felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had done everything in his power to try and save the boy, but in the end, it was God’s will that the child go home to him. Even when he was just a student of medicine, Levi always took it hard when he lost a patient, but to lose such a young boy was the most heartbreaking of all. A young man, with so much ahead of him, gone in an instant.

  And there is nothing I can do, Dr. Levi thought.

  “Dovid, you are exhausted. I’ll walk you home so you’ll be safe.”

  “I can go alone,” Dovid said.

  “Yes, I am sure you can, son. But I’ll go with you,” his father said.

  They walked silently. When they got home, Dr. Levi said,” You get some rest now, Dovid, and stay inside.”

  The doctor walked slowly back to his office. His shoulders were hunched in defeat. How could he lay his head down on his pillow and rest? The boy was dead. He’d failed the poor widow Ivanov. The least Levi could do was not leave the body alone inside the dark, cold, empty office. He would stay with him through the night. He turned the key in the lock and opened the door to his office building. An eerie silence greeted him; the only sound was the click of his heels as he walked up to the table where the body of Oskar Ivanov lay still and peaceful in death. Menachem wept as he looked into the face of the young man, not just because Oskar was dead but because Oskar Ivanov bore an uncanny resemblance to his own Dovid. A chill ran up Menachem Levi’s spine. What if this was Dovid laying there lifeless? Dr. Levi spit three times to ward off the evil spirits. Then he covered the body with a blanket. Intellectually, he knew that a dead child wouldn’t feel the cold, but somehow it made the doctor feel better to see Oskar’s body covered with a blanket instead of just a sheet.

 

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