Many of the inhabitants could fondly remember his generosity and kindness to all in the village, particularly those in need.
On the other hand Dieter’s father was more inclined to music and was an expert clarinet player. Unfortunately, during WWI, he was gassed by the British and never fully regained his health. He died at the early age of thirty-five in the year of 1933. Dieter never completely recovered, and always missed his gentle and talented father. The third boy who fought with them in France was Johann Krieger. Johann had been severely wounded, and was last seen in a French field hospital as a P.O.W. in late 1918. His fate was never known, as he was never seen again in the village. For over twenty years his destiny remained a mystery. Erik was puzzled and could not understand why the current Nazi regime mistreated all Jews. After all, being Jewish was just a religion and the Goldmann’s considered themselves Germans. It was very typical of most German Jews to be patriotic and pro-German.
Back on the field of play.
The crowd slowly left the playing field and within a few minutes, only Erik and Dieter were left. Erik turned to Dieter and said.
“How would you like it and to come over to my house and have some coffee and cake with me?” asked Erik to a startled Dieter. Without even pausing to reflect, Dieter gladly accepted.
Both boys quietly walked down the path to Erik’s house. By then dusk was gathering, and the walk down to Erik’s house had taken on the feeling of a funeral wake. It seemed that despite all good intentions a small rift had developed between them. Neither Erik nor Dieter ever suspected that this final soccer game for the league championship would also be the beginning of a nightmare for millions of European Jews.
After about fifteen minutes of walking they arrived at Erik’s home, Das Haus. Erik’s mother was there to greet them at the door. The Goldmann family had already heard of the good news about the winning game, and they were very excited for Erik, and the rest of the team.
However their excitement soon changed to worry when they saw Dieter standing there. Both parents looked at each other in a way that only parents can. They excused themselves and went to the kitchen.
“Can you believe that Erik brought that Nazi boy home?” shrieked an angry Mrs. Goldmann.
“Well, there is nothing we can do right now, and besides Dieter is not a Nazi! Don’t forget that his father served in my unit, and was a very brave, but gentle man.” Answered Mr. Goldmann, shrugging his shoulders.
“I, I hope you’re right, but I have a bad feeling.” Replied a now visibly upset Sarah Goldmann.
Sarah began preparing a large pot of steaming hot coffee, and brought out a tray of delicious German pastries for the boys. Both young men wolfed down the cakes and cookies as if they hadn’t eaten in a month. After thanking them for their hospitality, Dieter politely excused himself and left Erik’s house. Dieter realized that being there could jeopardize all of them. As he walked away from Erik’s home, he felt a thousand sets of eyes staring at him. Dieter lived less than eight hundred meters away, but it was the longest walk he ever took. He could not understand what was occurring, and yet he knew that something awful was about to happen. He quickened his steps, and arrived home in less than fifteen minutes. His door never looked so good in his life. The moment it shut behind him, he let out a sigh of relief. He went straight to his room and locked his door. He was both mentally and physically exhausted to the point of falling down. Dieter did not even bother to take off his dirty clothes; he just crumpled down on his soft feather bed and fell into a deep sleep. It was as if his mind was begging him for relief.
On the northern part of town, an equally tired Erik also resigned himself to an early nightfall. The weather was ideal for this type of scenario. November 8th, 1938 was a cold and dreary evening. Although winter was still more than a month away, the temperature had already sunk to five degrees Celsius below freezing. However there was moisture in the air. By eleven o’clock, the humidity was so heavy that a thin sheet of ice had already coated everything white. It made walking and driving particularly difficult. Nonetheless at this time of night there was very little vehicular traffic throughout the village. As it was customary in this part of Germany, everyone had already shuttered their windows for the evening, and were all preparing themselves for bed.
A shadow appeared on the street corner. It hugged the walls of the houses as it carefully made its way southward on the main street towards Das Haus. The only thing that gave his position away was the crunching of the ice beneath his feet on the sidewalk, and the phantom like footprints left behind on the ice.
This apparition was almost invisible. He wore dark clothing and stayed close to the doorways. It was obvious that he did not want to be seen by anyone. His furtive moves were in fact almost cartoon like. Those over-exaggerated movements almost resembled an early Disney cartoon. After a few moments of silence, he made a dash towards his target, Das Haus.
The last sprint towards the doorway had taken his breath away, and he was panting heavily. The cold night air was about to give his position away. He stood there frozen for a few seconds, pressing his black leather gloves against his mouth in an attempt to conceal his breath. After furtively looking around, the covert figure finally approached the door and knocked.
Franz Goldmann, Erik’s father, had just finished stoking the coal-fired stoves in the bedrooms. He knew from experience that this was a vain attempt at heating their rooms, but this was their only source of heat. The knock surprised Franz and his wife Sarah. They looked at each other and wondered who could be calling on them at this hour? No one in Niedergeyer would normally intrude on their privacy. Franz hoped that the sudden noise had not awakened the children.
Rabbi Goldmann told his wife to stay in bed, and he went to answer the door. He asked?
“Who is there, please?” When no one answered, he asked again.
“Hello, who is there?”
“Machen Sie auf! Geheime Staatspolizei (Open up, German Secret State Police, AKA GESTAPO).” Answered the rather subdued voice from the other side of the door.
Franz was horrified, but he could not figure out what they wanted with him at this hour of the night? Franz attempted to peek through the peephole, but the porch light was not working. Strange he thought. Why is the light not working? He eventually mustered up enough courage and opened the door.
Johann Krieger who was hidden in the shadows, immediately shoved his way past Franz, the porch light bulb still clutched in his hand. His actions were so swift that Franz was unable to react until Johann was well in to the hallway. Johann instructed Franz to quietly close the door and turn off the hallway light. When this was done, Johann turned and faced Franz, handing him the outside hallway bulb as he did so. Franz was totally taken aback by this strange action. Both men looked at each other for a few seconds, and Franz finally murmured.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Asked a now trembling Franz.
The mysterious figure stood in the frame of the doorway and glared at Franz. “How dare you speak to me that way?”
“Shut up you fool, you are going to wake up the dead!” Answered the Gestapo man.
Franz noticed that the stranger was wearing a black leather trench coat, a Nazi party officials pin and had a white and black swastika armband around his left arm. This Gestapo agent impressed Franz. He looked the part, thought Franz as he glanced up and down. It took Franz a few more seconds to completely gain his self-control. When he did, he observed a tall blond man in his early forties, with striking blue eyes. Good looking at one time, but he now carried a horrible seven-inch
