Test of wills, p.1
Test of Wills, page 1
Test Of Wills © 2022 Deborah Goldie.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Printed in Australia
First Printing: May 2022
Shawline Publishing Group Pty Ltd
www.shawlinepublishing.com.au
Paperback ISBN- 9781922701794
Ebook ISBN- 9781922701848
To my dad for his courage, strength and honesty when reliving his years as a youth during World War Two, especially his time spent in the youth camps.
To people all over the world who have suffered some form of injury due to persecution or war. May we learn from your stories that the world is a better place when there is inclusion and harmony.
Acknowledgements
Writing this book has been such a rewarding experience. None of this would have been possible without my dad, Bill Borchert. He spent many hours sharing his experiences with me (and many bottles of red wine).
I am so grateful to my Auntie Hanna, Uncle Peter, Auntie Renate, Uncle Werner and all my family. When I visited Germany, you all helped me on this journey of discovery.
Thank you so much to Mark, Rachel, Jack and Annie. Your support, guidance and endless patience made me believe that I had a story to tell.
CHAPTER 1
‘There’s no way you can kick the footy that far,’ said Jack, standing at the bottom of Will’s backyard.
‘Wanna bet? Just watch me. I’m the new Darcy Moore, key defender for Collingwood,’ said Will as he booted the football. Unfortunately, it didn’t make the distance.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Jack, laughing. ‘That’s why Collingwood’s near the bottom of the ladder. They can’t kick far enough to kick goals.’
‘Ha, ha, smarty pants. Bet you can’t kick it back to me,’ teased Will.
‘Bet you I can,’ Jack ran to pick up the ball.
Will and Jack had lived next door to each other ever since they were born, which was eleven years ago. That’s how they’d become best friends. They walked to school every day and even though it was only 10 minutes away, it took them a good half an hour. Their favourite pastime was skimming stones across the pond at Apex Park. This could keep them entertained for ages, especially if they were trying to out-score each other with the highest number of ‘jumps’ the stones made. Time frequently got away from them and they were often running through the school gates just as the bell was ringing for the start of classes. They were both AFL fanatics and played every chance they could, although they were constantly arguing about who was the better team. Jack barracked for Essendon while Will was black and white through and through; Collingwood colours.
‘Come on then, kick it. Show me what you’ve got.’
Jack kicked the ball high into the air and as it started to return to earth, Will bolted towards it. He jumped up and marked it mid-flight.
‘Spectacular mark, if I say so myself.’ Will was marching around, holding the ball above his head like a prized trophy.
‘If it wasn’t for my great kick, you wouldn’t have been able to mark it,’ retorted Jack, standing with his hands on his hips.
‘Yeah, yeah; you keep believing that,’ laughed Will.
Both boys were very competitive, even if the game was a simple kick to kick. This argument stopped when Will’s mum called to let him know his pop had arrived. Will’s mum and dad were going to a local restaurant for dinner to celebrate their wedding anniversary and his pop had come to keep him company.
Will turned to Jack. ‘Race you to the back door.’ With that, Will took off.
‘That’s not fair, Will. You’ve got a head start.’
Despite the head start, there was not much distance between the two of them when they rounded the corner to the back door, where they were met by Will’s pop.
‘Whoa, slow down boys. Anyone would think you were having a race.’
‘Hi Pop,’ puffed Will.
‘Hi Mr Borchert,’ Jack grinned.
Will’s mum also met them as they walked in the back door.
‘Right boys, there’s beef stir-fry in the fridge already made. You just need to heat it up and there’s a packet of rice on the sink to be micro-waved. Dad, Jack’s allowed to stay for tea but needs to be home by 8.00pm.’
‘But Mum…’ Will wanted Jack to stay a bit later.
‘Don’t, ‘but mum’ me Will. Tomorrow’s a school day. It’s hard enough to get you up as it is. Come on Paul, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.’ She started walking to the front door.
‘Yeah, yeah, don’t get your knickers in a tizz. I’m ready, so let’s go,’ Will’s dad walked in with the car keys in his hand. He winked at both Will and Jack as they left.
Pop looked at both boys. ‘All this talk about food has made me hungry. You boys must be starving after all the kicking you were doing outside.’
‘Yep,’ they nodded.
‘Well, let’s work together as a team. Will, you get the stir-fry out and heat it up. Jack, you set the table and I’ll cook the rice.’
In no time at all, dinner was served and being devoured by three hungry mouths.
‘That was delicious,’ said Pop, as he soaked up the last remains of sauce on his plate with a slice of bread.
‘Mmm’, replied Will, doing exactly the same as his pop.
‘Jack, you haven’t eaten your broccoli.’ Pop had a look of concern on his face. ‘You need to eat your greens. They’re good for you.’
‘They might be good for me, but I don’t like them,’ said Jack, pushing his plate away.
‘You don’t realise how lucky you are,’ Pop was shaking his head. ‘When I was your age, sometimes I had to fight with dogs for food.’
‘Huh?’ Jack looked puzzled.
‘When Pop was young, he lived in youth camps with lots of other boys. Germany was at war and Pop was being trained to fight in the war to help Germany win, weren’t you, Pop?’
‘Huh?’ Jack had an extra puzzled look on his face.
‘Yes, that’s true,’ said Pop. ‘When I was eleven years old, Germany was at war with America, Britain and other countries in Europe. Adolf Hitler was the leader of Germany and he wanted to make it bigger by taking over other countries.’
‘Did this Hitler fella take you away from your mum and dad?’ Jack would love a couple of days where his mum wouldn’t nag him about his untidy room. He’d love not to have to put out the bins every Tuesday night for his dad. But he would miss them. Who would take him to the Essendon footy games?
‘We were excited to go. At the time, it was an adventure; a whole lot of boys living together in wooden cabins. But life wasn’t always fun.’
‘It sounds fun to me. No chores to be done, yah!’ That sounded like Jack’s type of life.
‘You had to do lots of chores and if you didn’t do them, you were punished, weren’t you, Pop?’ Will had heard these stories many times.
‘That’s right Will. My first camp was like a summer school camp to Rugen, which is a German island in the Baltic Sea. I was 10 years old. Many boys went and we stayed in different places. I shared a room at the hotel with another boy. We went on lots of excursions. That was fun. But my next camp was to a place called Tirschenreuth and that was tough. Every morning started with a room inspection before the sun rose. Everything was checked. My bed had to be made perfectly and all my uniforms had to be hung up and clean. Even my shoes had to be spotless.’
‘You had to make sure the three stripes of the blanket on your bed were vertically straight, didn’t you, Pop?’ Will was very proud of his pop.
Pop nodded. ‘And if they weren’t, you’d cop an extra chore, like cleaning the bathroom. In winter, this was hard because all the water in the enamel bowls would be frozen. Your hands ached from the cold.’ He absently shook his hands as if remembering that moment.
‘No way,’ said Jack. ‘Most mornings I don’t even bother making my bed.’
‘Pop, tell Jack about how you had to mend the holes in your own clothes.’
‘Yes, we had to darn our own socks or any other piece of clothing that needed mending. We had no mums to look after us. We did it ourselves.’
Jack couldn’t stop shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You didn’t have to cook your own meals, did you? I’d starve if I had to do that.’
‘No, the nuns at the convent did that. Twice a day, morning and night, we marched to the convent, which was about two kilometres away, for our meals. That doesn’t seem far, but in the middle of winter, when the snow was up to our knees or there was a blizzard blowing; it wasn’t much fun.’
‘On cold and wet days mum drives us to school doesn’t she,’ said Will, looking at Jack. ‘And when I get home from school, she makes me a hot chocolate with a marshmallow on top.’ Even though Will had some chores to do, compared to what his pop endured, he knew how lucky he was.
‘It was in my last youth camp when I was six teen that we joined the German Army. All of us boys were so excited. This is what we’d been training for all our lives.’
‘How cool,’ said Jack. ‘Did you get to use guns and shoot people?’ Jack couldn’t contain his excitement.
‘We were in the hills. I was carrying the ammunition box for a machine–gunner. Suddenly trace bullets began flying left, right and centre.’
Jack was listening so intently, he nearly fell off his chair.
‘Then exploding grenades began landing far too close and we ran as fast as we could into the woodlands.’
‘What happened next?’ Jack was looking at both Will and his pop in anticipation.
Pop chuckled. ‘Would you believe the war came to an end the very next morning? I then had to try and get home to my family.’
‘And?’ Jack desperately wanted more, but was about to be disappointed.
‘And that will have to wait for another time,’ said Pop, looking at his watch. ‘It’s 8 o’clock and you need to go home, Jack.’
‘Damn,’ Jack said as both he and Will started walking to the front door. ‘Your pop is very cool. Why do we have to do history at school when we could just talk to him? My pop died when I was five years old, so I really didn’t get to know him very well. You are so lucky, Will.’
‘I am so lucky. He has told me so many stories, some of them very scary. He’s lucky he survived.’
Jack nodded. ‘See you tomorrow morning. Meet you at the lake. I’ve been practising my stone-throwing and I’m feeling lucky.’ He flicked his wrist.
‘Yeah, I’ll meet you there, but you’re dreaming if you think you can beat me,’ said Will, closing the front door.
Will walked back into the kitchen where his pop was fixing himself a cup of tea.
‘Would you like a hot chocolate, Will? Might not be as good as your mum’s, but I’ll give it a go.’
‘No thanks Pop. I think I might just go to bed. I’m feeling tired all of a sudden.’
‘You sure you’re okay? You are looking a bit pale. I don’t want you to get sick on my watch.’ Will’s pop looked very concerned.
‘I’m fine Pop. Thanks for telling Jack some of your stories. He loved them.’
‘I love telling them, especially if you’re around to hear them. Now off to bed you go.’
And with that, Will walked into his bedroom, put on his pyjamas and hopped into bed. In no time at all, he was fast asleep.
CHAPTER 2
Will woke up the next morning and had trouble lifting his head off the pillow. His eyes hurt and he was having trouble focusing. Everything seemed hazy. The sun shining through his bedroom curtains was a foggy blur of dull colours. His brain felt heavy and he couldn’t concentrate. He’d tossed and turned all night and it felt like he’d been sick for ages, but in reality, it had only been overnight. Time seemed to drag on. Simple tasks, normally mundane, were now unachievable. He should have felt frustrated, but his brain had forgotten how to process that emotion.
Walking was such a simple process. Will had done it thousands of times, every day of his life. Yet, trying to send that message to his brain; pick up one leg, move it forward, place it down on the ground in front, now repeat with the other leg …was unbelievably difficult. I know I can do this. I know I can.
Suddenly Will stumbled, landing crumpled on the cold, rough ground. With his senses swirling, Will struggled to regain his footing. Almost immediately, two hands quickly grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him back up.
‘Fall nicht. Geh weiter. Don’t fall. Keep walking.’
Where had that come from? What was happening? It sounded like a foreign language; he’d never learnt any languages. His last memory was of his mum bringing him a hot chocolate and tucking the blankets in around him. His mum made the best hot chocolate; creamy with a marshmallow and a sprinkling of chocolate dusted on top.
‘Will, just drink this, close your eyes and have a sleep. Dr Jo said you’d be feeling much better in about three days. It’s just a virus.’
And with that, she’d given him a quick peck on the cheek and closed his bedroom door. He wasn’t sure whether he’d closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, but he knew this wasn’t a dream.
‘Schnell, schnell, Pimf Borchert. No time for slow coaches.’
How does he know my surname is Borchert? Those same hands that had helped Will up before now guided him into what appeared to be a single line of boys, all marching in silence. Where am I? How did I get here? Dazed and disoriented, he looked around. Will had no idea where he was.
A loud chugging sound filled the eerie silence. It was a train. It gave one long, loud whistle as it slowly pulled into the station. With strict instructions from men in uniform, lots of boys quickly and quietly disembarked onto the platform. The train pulled away from the platform with one great puff of smoke and noisily rattled off into the ebbing darkness. On the sign at the station was written the word Tirschenreuth. This confused Will even more. His pop had mentioned this place.
It was only then Will realised how cold he was and he rubbed his arms for warmth. What he felt was unfamiliar and prickly. Looking down, he was horrified to discover his warm pyjamas had been replaced by some sort of army uniform! He was now wearing a brown shirt with a black scarf tied around his neck with a toggle. It reminded him of his cousin’s scout uniform. All the boys from the train were wearing this same uniform. But what or whose uniform was it?
‘Geh einfach weiter. Just keep moving,’ whispered a voice from behind him. Turning around, he saw a boy about his age, smiling. He was wearing the same uniform. ‘They’ll get angry if the line stops. Then we’ll all pay for it. You don’t want the Gruppen Fuhrer upset.’ The boy nodded in the direction of a red-faced ogre, whose whole body shook, while his arms waved madly about as he shouted
All around, things were happening in an organised manner. The boys from the train were quietly moving; one step at a time, all with their heads lowered. Not one word was spoken. The soldiers were spread out evenly along the line of boys. Their harshly spoken orders intimidated those who foolishly stepped out of line. Not far in front of Will and coming closer with every regimented step was a row of tables manned by more soldiers. The same command was being asked over and over again by the red-faced ogre.
‘Zeig mir deine Papiere. Show me your papers.’
One by one, each of the boys retrieved from their pockets a small black-bound book, which was handed over to the Gruppen Fuhrer. Still, their eyes never wavered from the ground beneath them. Each book was opened, scrutinised, stamped and then thrust back with the command,
‘Bewegen Sie sich schnell weiter, Keep moving quickly.’
Will’s legs trembled and a wave of nausea started to build up in his stomach. Papers? What papers were they talking about and why did he need papers? The row of tables was looming closer and closer with each step. He was doomed. There nobody he could ask for help. Will didn’t even know what sort of help he needed.
Out of the corner of Will’s eye, an insignia on the shirt of one of the soldier’s upper left arm triggered a memory. He’d seen it on a television show. His mum had quickly changed the station, saying it really wasn’t appropriate for kids his age. When he asked her why, she replied it was about Hitler and his German army during World War Two. Will remembered learning about the Second World War at school. Hitler and his army had shown no mercy and killed six million Jews and gypsies. Miss Breiner, his teacher, said Hitler killed anybody who was different or who didn’t believe in him. Her grandma had been a little girl living with her family in Hungary at the time of the war. They were Jewish and after being captured by the Nazis, they were sent to Mauthausen, one of the Hungarian concentration camps. All the children were separated from their parents and her grandma still remembers being snatched from her mother’s arms. She was screaming and her mother, while sobbing, told her how much she loved her and how she would always love her. Her grandma was four years old. She never saw her mum, dad or any of her brothers or sisters again.
Will recognised that symbol on the soldier’s arm; it was Hitler’s swastika. He gulped. That wave of nausea in his stomach was now building momentum. You couldn’t go back in time, could you? No, don’t be so ridiculous. But what other explanation could there be? The boy in front of the table was fumbling; his hand was still in his pocket searching for that elusive book they were demanding. Even though Will couldn’t see this boy’s face, he imagined it would be covered in sweat, with the same sense of panic beginning to suffocate him.
