White Daisies

Chapter 11

Warning: This chapter contains violence and antisemitism. Reader discretion is advised.

November 24, 1940

It's a beautiful Saturday morning the first time I see red mix with white. The first signs of winter had come early to Denmark. Last night, clouds formed over Copenhagen and they dropped three inches of snow across the entire city. But the clouds went away as quickly as they came, and the sun was left to shine in their place. Now, light radiates beyond the horizon, reflecting off the newly fallen snow. Ice crystals glitter in the air as I exhale, my breath visible due to the chilly temperature.

My gloved hands grip the handles of my bicycle as I ride down Store Kannikestræde with Eva and Frances. This was the first Sunday that we all had free in a while due to our school responsibilities becoming more rigorous in our last year of gymnasium. We had already planned to do something this weekend, but the snow made our adventures even more delightful. Our laughs resonate down the line of residence halls and the newer buildings for the University of Copenhagen. The colors of the buildings blur in my peripheral vision as we peddle faster down the sidewalk of the narrow street, each of us trying to get ahead of the others. My cheeks become numb, and my ears form a dull ache from the cold wind that assaults my face. The vermilion scarf wrapped around my neck flies behind me.

We ride past the main building of the university. The two-story building stands tall, and I crane my neck up to look at it. The windows are tall and outlined in green. Flat Corinthian columns lead to seven peaks in the roof that are coated in snow. Several limestone busts stare down at me while I ride past them.

Coming around the other side of the university campus, we end up on Krystalgade street. Ancient churches with arching windows and green staples stand next to yellow brick restaurants. Few cars move up and down the icy road. We move around the few people that are walking on the sidewalk, some of which are German soldiers. A pang shoots through my heart at the sight of a swastika painted on the side of an old theater.

Eventually, we run out of energy from peddling for so far. My legs burn, and I pant to get enough air into my lungs. Eva is the first one to hop off her bicycle and start walking beside it. Frances and I follow her pursuit, our boots leaving footprints in the snow.

"So, how are things with you and Jacob?" Frances asks.

I feel a smile tug at my lips at the mention of Jacob. I suddenly feel warm in the cold air, and my hand reaches up to play with the pendant that rests on my sternum. "He told me he loves me."

Two voices ring out in unison. "What!?"

They begin to attack me with questions: What did he do? Why didn't you tell us? What did you say back? I give them the full story of how Jacob took me to the park and gave me the necklace for my birthday.

"And then he just told me that he loved me! I wasn't expecting it at all."

"Well did you say it back!?" Eva interrogates.

A grin breaks even further on my face. "Yes, I did. And then we made out in the park," I finish cheekily.

They both squeal. To anybody passing by, we would have just looked like the giggling teenage girls that we were. Eva chats excitedly about the poems that she's writing for a school competition. Frances complains that she needs a boy to keep her warm in this cold weather.

"I'm just saying, I've noticed that you and Ben have been getting pretty cozy," I tease.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she denies.

Eva rolls her eyes and throws her head back in laughter. "Oh please Frances, we all know that you two have been flirting non-stop since this summer."

Frances is about to defend herself when we stop about 200 feet away from the entrance of the synagogue that stands on Krystalgade street. It's the same synagogue that Jacob and his family attend. While not extremely pious in their religion, they still went to service about twice every month. My family only went to church about twice a month too, so it wasn't a topic I questioned very much. I don't care if Jacob is Jewish, and it would never both me that he goes to synagogue.

A pair of Nazi Gestapo walk towards us on the sidewalk, their charcoal black uniforms marking their superiority and labeling them as soldiers of death. Their focus narrows on a rabbi that had just come out of the iron side-gate. They seem to wobble as they walk, their legs unsteady almost as if they're drunk at ten o'clock in the morning. The rabbi seems to ignore their presence until they speak up.

"Just as I begin to think that this city is clean, I see one of you rats walking around," the one on the right sneers.

"You know, Hitler has high plans for you all. He's going to make our country great again," the other one slurs.

The rabbi hunches his shoulders forward, forcing himself to keep walking.

The Gestapo officers look unsatisfied with the lack of reaction that they receive. "Hey, rat! We were talking to you!"

The rabbi begins shuffling his feet faster, his hand coming up to grasp the Star of David that hangs from his neck, and his lips move in what I think is a prayer. I grip the handles of my bicycle even harder, but my feet stay glued to the ground. Eva looks on with wide eyes, Frances with her mouth agape.

After pulling a small bottle of alcohol from his belt and taking a swig of it, one of the men charges at the rabbi. Time seems to slow down in my world as I watch the body of the German officer collide with the body of the rabbi, knocking him on to the ground. The Gestapo officer quickly pins the rabbi down and whips his baton out from his belt.

Horror, as I've never felt before, enters my soul and swallows me whole. My brain seems unable to register the Gestapo officer beating the rabbi on the sidewalk in front of me. In front of the synagogue that my boyfriend goes to. It just doesn't seem real. Could this really be happening? Is this happening right in front of me?

The other Gestapo officer pulls out his baton and joins in on the beating. Red blood trickles out of the man's head and down the slope of the sidewalk. It coats the thin layer of ice that remains on the pavement and seeps into the snow that had been shoveled to the side of the walkway. The rabbi's screams pinch the nerves of my stomach, causing me to feel immediately nauseated. Bile makes its way up my throat. My fingernails cut into the skin of my palms, and I can feel the blood drip between my fingers.

Before I can even think about it, I attempt to swallow what is coming up my throat, drop my bicycle, and run towards the officers.

"Stop it!" I scream. "Get off of him!"

I get about halfway when one of the officers stands up straight and pulls his gun out of the holster that hangs on his waist, pointing it at me.

"Stop right there, little darling. I'd hate to shoot that pretty little face of yours, but we can't have no Jew lovers around here." He spits on the ground.

Turning his body, he points his gun towards the rabbi and fires. The bullet hits the man in his chest, and his body goes slack. I can still hear a scream through the ringing in my ears. I realize that it's my scream, and then suddenly I'm on my knees. The world blurs around me, I struggle to breathe. I vomit on the ground in front of me. When I look up, the Gestapo officers have walked away, and the rabbi still lies on the ground. I crawl towards the rabbi, my hands coming to feel his pulse. It's extremely weak, but it's still there.

"Somebody help!" I yell at the top of my lungs. People rush over from the cafe across the street, and a man wraps his hands under my arms to pull me away from the rabbi. I think I hear Eva wailing in the background. Somebody pushes a blanket around my shoulders, but I'm not sure who. The man who pulled me away kneels next to the rabbi. Flashing lights flood my vision, and what I think are angels end up being ambulances.

Something feels wet and sticky on my fingers. Looking down, I feel dizzy when I process what it is.

It's blood.

I've got blood on my hands.