The Price of Faith

The story of a man and his wife harboring Jews in WW2.

Believe, or not to believe

Ottoman, his wife, and his two children, Gretta and Han were sitting at the dinner table, ready to discuss, for they knew deep within their hearts that what they did was the absolute right thing to do; however, it didn’t make it any less illegal.

“What is going to happen to us father?” Han said, his voice silent, barely a whisper in the dim room, lit in the dark by a lone candle, flickering. Flickering with their hopes, as he scratched the maplewood.

“Papa, there were soldiers outside. What should we do?” Gretta said, placing her hands down on her lap bowing her head.

“Children, I do not know. I can only hope the Good God above will listen to our plea and free us from this tyranny.” Ottoman looked down at his watch, and grabbed his coat, his heavy coat, heavy with tears he cried into each night.

“Where are you going dear?” his wife asked of him, concerned for the fate, that lay behind those German doors, into the dark unrelenting rain, and gloomy night.

“I am going to work. I am waiting today, for Hitler. Oh_” he stopped to listen for noise, only hearing the crickets chirping from outside, utter silence. “The accursed man, silencing God’s chosen people. He will die, and I will be glad of it, whether I see it or not, I will be sure to laugh when his death befalls him.”

“Don’t speak such harsh words. You know God doesn’t like that. Love thy enemies!” his wife said, her name was Faith, and rightfully named as her faith was always unwaivered, and stayed true to the laws in the Book.

“I...I am sorry. Forgive me God for I have sinned against you. Please bring rightful justice upon this Earth Father.” He prayed. “Indeed it is hard to love in a time like this.” The door creaked open, and he stepped outside, walking ever slowly in the pouring rain in the dark to his car, and rode off. “Keep my family safe God. Keep your people safe from harm.”

Nearly three dozen miles from the countryside, the brown hills covered in dung, smelling of great stenches that would even rival the skunk! The scent reeked into his nostrils, assaulting his sense of smell with a sledge hammer. “Oh dear God, I remember that hill. Many jews have died there, I am sure there lays their corpse. God please carry them safely into your arms.”

The hotel was in sight, with the dinner in which he would serve. Hotel Hell he called it, though the name was dutifully named the Reich. Such a beautiful name for a sadist as fit as Hitler or even is ever watching Gestapo.

He parked his car, ran through the rain, and put on his white serving coat, stainless, though not for long. He punched in, and walked into the diner, and there he was, already the party had started. Amazing to his fortune, and he saw the head of the Gestapo, the ones responsible for so much death.

Ottoman walked over with a rather large pitcher of water, listening intently on the conversation, but not too suspiciously to be caught by the Gestapo. Lord please shield me from their eyes. And he was shielded, and greatly so by some divine influence, for absolutely nothing gets passed the Gestapo. They know everything. Everything!

“My Fruher, we have a series of lists of people who have been seen harboring the jews.” Gestapo said.

“Still?” Hitler said, rather disappointed, sipping and slurping into the newly refilled water, his seemingly happy smile faded into rage as if this one act of defiance threatened him.

“The list is as follows:” Gestapo replied, pulling out an impressive amount of paper, all filled with names listed in columns. Ottoman left, going into the kitchen, where the chef was undoubtedly swearing at one of the new waiters of messing up an order, to add to Ottoman’s already pounding chest.

They know! They know! What do I do?

He pulled a plate of deliciously smelling food from the window to run it to a guest, keeping a close eye on the Gestapo, who was still reading from the list to Adolf. He let out a sigh, so far his name had not come up, in the mere minutes it took for him to wait inside the kitchen, which was crystalline almost, with the steel shining ever brightly as it was always, relentlessly cleaned, to the point of obsession.

He dropped the food off to the guest, in both hands, and politely bowed as he left the table. He noticed something to the corner of his eye, a shrouded man, who appeared to be watching.

“That man over there! Ottoman!” cried the Gestapo, and the waiter was instantly seized by the arm, and then pulled aside, forcefully sitting next to the Fuhrer.

“Speak now!” Hitler said in his harsh voice. “Where do you hide them?”

Ottoman was silent, silent as the chisel and hammer pounded against his sternum.

“Answer the Fuhrer!” the Gestapo said, pressing his pistol into the waiter’s side.

He pushed the pistol away, shaking his head. “No. I will not speak. Not speak. I...I refuse. Even if it means my life.”

“Even if it means the lives of the rest of your pitiful family?” Hitler said to him. “I have the nation at my will, I can make that happen.”

“N...never. Not while the Lord is good!” he stammered. Thoughts flooded his mind as he heard the deafening click of the pistol, and he saw the Fuhrer raise his hand.

“I admire your courage man. I will let you think on it, and never let it be said that I have no mercy. Go home to your family. You have seven days to decide if your life, and the life of your wife, and your two little children are worth it, to maintain hiding the Jews, the wretched filths. Go home. Gestapo, put that down.”

Ottoman felt the pistole leave his side, and he shakingly got up. He never bothered to get his coat, simply just walked out in the pouring rain, with tears as the Heavens wept over the great tragedy. This is the time of great trials, the end of all good things.

He opened the car door, crying over the steering wheel. “Why God! Why? I have done nothing, and certainly the Devil is at work here. Please guide me to make the right decision. I don’t want to let you down, but...if it was my own life, this decision would be easy, but not easy when my family’s life is also in the balance, Please guide my hand, in doing what must be done! He always finds a way. He always does.”

He drove home, looking at the dismay along the road, the people seemed happy, but it was merely a veil to hide the suffering and fear behind those eyes, the eyes of the people he drove by, he saw their tears behind those lying eyes. He saw the way they carried themselves, believing a lie he also wanted to believe, that everything would be okay, but like the relentless storm, it is not going to get better. The rocks beneath his feet will crumble.

He parked in his dirt yard,, the mud spurting everywhere like rain. Stepping outside his car, he looked at his house, dark, it was like all hope abandoned, the candle still flickering in the kitchen. He watched the cracks of lightning vein the sky before stepping inside his house, rain water dripping relentlessly onto the red carpet.

“Dear! What happened?” Faith replied.

His son, his young son came out of his room, “Papa, the j_”

Ottoman tackled his son to the floor, and covered his mouth. “Do not say that here.” Ottoman whispered. “Not here.”

“What is happening, Father?” his little girl, Gretta said, stepping out from beyond the pantry, the empty pantry, devoid of food, and flooding with no small amounts of spider webs.

He walked slowly to his wife, and brought his mouth to her ear, “We need to talk. We are being watched.” He turned to his children, “Into the dining hall.”

He ushered his family into the dining hall, hastily closing all doors, and shutting the one window in the room, and closing the curtain. He sat down in his creaking chair. “They know.” he said, so quietly they could hardly hear the words uttered from his mouth.

“Know what father?” Han said, his voice louder than his father’s.

“Hush!” Ottoman said softly. “Hitler knows, all of the families holding the Jews. Our names came up. We have to choose tonight, Faith. Do we tell them where they are? Or do we willingly face execution.”

“You cannot ask this of us!” Faith replied. “I am willing to die, even with you, but our children! What of our house? If we die, what of our children! What of Han! What of Gretta! You cannot ask this of us!”

“Keep your voice low. We don’t need them knowing more than they already do.” he turned to his boy, with such weakness, he could not longer care for them the way he wanted to. He knew he couldn’t protect everyone. “Han, Gretta, go to your room. Go to sleep.”

Without question, with great discipline, his children obeyed, with Gretta looking back only once, before quietly shutting the door.

“We can send them with the Jews, I am sure there is someone among them that wouldn’t mind caring for them, after all that we have done. We can hope, we can pray.” Ottoman said.

“Send them where?”

“Underground. I have a pick ax, they can dig, and leave this dreaded place.”

“Why can’t we go with them Ottoman?”

“We need someone to cover up the tracks, we need two people for that. Board up the basement after, and then collapse the house, so they won’t find the tunnel.” he replied.

“This is crazy. How do you know this will work?”

“I don’t.” he answered faithfully. “But it is the only plan worth considering. Take a leap of faith with me, Faith. God will provide a way, and a sacrifice needs to be made. I and you shall be that sacrifice.” He approached her and took her hands in his. “Please, Faith. Please come with me.”

“Y...yes. I will. Until death does us part.”

“In which, we shall part together!” he replied, taking her by the hand, blowing out the candle, and went to sleep, only to wake up by dawn’s first light.

Ottoman left the house, walking into the shed, it was the only thing on his farm land that was sturdy.  He was more than happy to receive but a little light, from the sun, the sun which shone through a small crack in the stormy clouds.

He grabbed a shovel, he grabbed a hammer, several 4x4’s and pick axes. He knew this was the last time he would ever need his tools to be used. He walked into his house, and his children stared at him curiously. “Do not be afraid.” he said to them, as he opened the door to the basement, dropping the wood, and the hammer by it. He climbed down, with the pick axes and shovels, and he beheld beautifully dirty faces of the Jews he put upon himself to protect, and now was where their family, their unity was to split. He said to them, “I cannot hide you anymore.” with that, were loud gasps, many of the jews spoke to each other in Hebrew, wondering what calamity was going to befall them, but it was not bad news they would soon find out. “But I will not give you away, nor will I let them know of your location.” He dropped the tools at their feet. “I have but one request.”

One of the Jews came up, his name was Judah. “What request? What can we give you that you haven’t already given us?”

“I ask for your protection. But not of me.” Ottoman called up. “Han! Gretta! Down here!”

His children climbed down the rusty ladder. “What is it Papa?” Han asked.

“These are my children. Please look after them.” He wiped his eyes of tears. “Oh Han, I love you, and you as well Gretta, just remember, you have stolen your mother’s looks.” he turned to Judah, and pointed to the wall behind him, and they looked, it was the only part of the basement that wasn’t cemented or ironed, it was still ground. “Dig there, dig deep, and dig yourselves out of here. Don’t stop, not until God sees you through the tunnel.”

“Does Hitler know of our existence? Is it the end of the line? Did you really choose to die for us? To face the illegality of your actions, as righteous as they are?” Judah asked.

“Yes.” Ottoman replied. “My wife and I will die, so that you may live, and truly I say to you, that it is only through the love of Jesus, I am doing this for you. My wife and I decided to do this on your behalf, and I have loved you for the time you have been here. I will cover up your tracks, just go. Good bye.”

Faith climbed down the basement in her dress, she was still tired, exhausted beyond comprehension, and hugged her children, who were still shocked, as their parents hugged them tighter than they ever remembered, their tears raining hope on them.

“W...what are you doing Papa?” Han wept, his tears were not wiped, for he wore them proudly. “Where are we going?”

“Mama! Mama! Don’t leave us!” Gretta cried, not wanting to let go.

The embrace continued as Judah directed the jews to start digging, digging with fire in their hearts, picking up the tools they carried while in Egypt.

“When you look on the past, remember us. Remember...remember what we lived for.” Ottoman cried uncontrollably as Judah began to pull the children away. “MAMA! MAMA!”

“Good bye.” Faith wept, biting on her hand as Ottoman lead her up the ladder.

“PAPA! PAPA!” Han cried. “Don’t leave us here!”

Han and Gretta struggled to get out of Judah’s grasp who let them go, as Ottoman finally reached the top of the floor. The two children, raced up the ladder, but to their dismay, the door was shut. Han tried to push open the door, but to no avail. He heard a clack, the clack was wood on the floor, and soon after, he and his sister could hear the hammer of nails.

He watched intently, as he could see the sharp end of a nail protruding from the other side. He was being boarded in, with his sister, with these strangers. His sister fought to get on his level, and they started pounding against the door, and screamed, “PAPA! MAMA!” repeatedly, until their voices gave in, and the hammering stopped.

“It...it is finished.” Ottoman filled two glasses of water, half empty, the other half, was filled with his tears, and pain. He gave one glass to his wife, who accepted, her eyes red with extreme anguish, as if her heart was cloven in two.

“Will we ever...see them again?” Faith wept, into her glass, with partial water spilling on her dress.

Ottoman wiped his brow with sweat. “If they believe that their sins will be forgiven, like we do, we will see them again. On that day...there will be no more pain, nor crying. There will be an abundance of hope on that day.” He wept, dropping his glass, the shards splintering his shins, but it did not bother him, not especially since the pain of saying good bye, as if burying his children, was far more pain, than any physical pain could bring him. “Are you ready my dear? To face the great enemy of our King? Our savior?”

She gazed at him, “I...I am. Let us go. Ignore the seven days.”

“We have to take the house down first.” Ottoman said, grabbing a match. He lit it, and lit all of the curtains. “It will take some time, and the time needed for them to get to safety. I love you Faith. Let’s go.”

Ottoman took his wife to the car, and they watched as various parts of their house began to catch on fire. Ottoman sighed as he watched, before driving away he prayed the Lord’s prayer. His wife joined him the second time through as they drove into the city, where they noticed increasing military activity, as Jews were being escorted from homes. Ottoman saw Hitler, and the Gestapo, watching and observing their work, to send them into the dreaded gas chambers, and firing squads, the concentration camps where they will get sick and die. The possibilities of tortures were certainly endless.

They drove carefully to a parking space, on the side of the gray brick road. “Was this really the right decision?” Ottoman said to his wife.

“Right or not, we cannot turn back now.” Faith sighed, remembering her children, and her memories flashed as she taught Gretta how to do laundry, a great memory, and one she was glad to take with her, so that she would make a proper lady some day. “If we are wrong my dear, then we have sadly wasted our entire lives.” Ottoman looked at her, taking doubt into his mind. “But if we are right, Hitler has wasted his entire eternity, as well as all of those who follow him, have erased their names from the Book of life.” She opened the door. “Come, let us be done with it.”

He followed his wife, leaving the car keys on the car, so that the next person who stumbled across it could use it. He certainly wouldn’t be needing it anymore. They walked, holding their hands. The grip was firm, firm with the true love of true lovers. They took deep breaths with every step they took, ignoring the gazes of Nazi soldiers, the SS and other Gestapo officers as they approached Hitler, who noticed.

“So Ottoman, here is you wife I presume, such a pretty lady.” he complimented.

“Thank you. It is appreciated.” Ottoman said, looking at his wife, weeping no more.

“It would be a shame to scar one of such flawlessness. So I take it you have taken some thought about which is more important to you, your family, or Jews who don’t matter. With time, I am sure you will agree that I am right, as always.” Adolf replied. “Which is more important to you? Make your choice.”

“I would choose both.” Ottoman said,  bringing his wife closer to him, hugging closely together, starring Hitler down in no small amount of defiance! “I will not reveal the location of them. I will die, taking the secret with me, and my wife.”

“It is pointless.” Hitler said, baffled. “How dare you? I can have my men rip apart your house and find clues.”

“And clues, you will find none.” He answered. “I hid any trace of their existence, so execute me.”

“Execute us!” Faith cried, “Murder us!

“That is the punishment,” Hitler said, raising his hand, and all rifles were eagerly pointed at the married couple. “I gladly give. I will give you one final chance. Tell me their location! NOW!”

“We will gladly die!” they cried. “Than betray the God we serve!”

“So be it.” he dropped his arm.

Bang! Boom! Crash! Boom Bang Crash! Chechecheche!