Under the Floorboards

Words by R.A. Clarke

Art by Ann van der Giessen

1940 Poland

It was dark. My bottom felt cool against the damp soil. I wrapped the thick quilted blanket around my brother and me to keep the chill at bay. My parents’ footsteps paced above us. They whispered urgently, but I couldn't make it all out.

Jakub’s bark signaled the arrival of visitors. He was such a good dog, always herding the goats so skillfully, and following any command my Papa gave him. Jakub sat whenever I told him to, and always rolled over so I could scratch his belly, even when I preferred to rub his head. And I love how he faithfully waited for me to get home from school each day. Sadly, our school was closed down last month, so that wouldn't be happening again any time soon.

Jakub began barking a few minutes ago. Mama seemed very worried, looking out the window and quickly closing the coverings. She began clearing all of our toys and blankets from the main room, closing our bedroom door. Mama said they were coming. We were whisked away from our warm bowls of Borscht. They hugged us both very tight and said I love you, before settling us down into the carved-out crawl space hidden beneath the floorboards. We never had a crawl space before Hitler invaded Poland a year ago. Shortly after that, the Germans began advancing into different regions, annexing the land. Papa explained that annexing meant taking over. There were so many things I didn’t understand about this war, but I always tried to.

Papa decided a few months ago that he should dig the hole, just in case. Several of the wooden floorboards were loosened so they could be removed and replaced easily. He didn't want to build a hatch, because it would be too easy to find. Once it was complete, my parents made sure to keep the area clear of clutter, except for a bag filled with supplies in case of emergency.

So, I guess this must be an emergency.

Papa had gotten the idea while my best friend Ingrid and I played in the yard with our siblings one day. Our parents watched on, discussing the war most of the time. Apparently, Ingrid’s papa had already dug a hole beneath their house, saying it was only a matter of time before the Germans came.

“I overheard my mama say she would rather die before letting them take us,” Ingrid had told me in a whisper. We’d been taking turns swinging from a knotted rope tied to the largest branch growing from the tallest tree in the yard. “They wouldn’t actually take us, would they?” She’d asked, eyes wide. I jumped down from the rope.

“There’s way too many kids to take,” I scoffed, brushing the idea off. “They’re just trying to scare us, Ingrid. Nobody’s that mean, to take kids away from family.” I remember taking hold of her hand to ease her worry. She smiled back at me, nodding with relief.

I wondered whether Ingrid would be sitting inside her hole too …

Papa had urged us to remain quiet no matter what. Seeing the concern in his eyes, I couldn’t help but feel scared. But Mama asked for me to be brave and take care of my little brother, so I tried my hardest to push those fears aside. I planned to be the bravest eight-year-old ever, to make them proud.

One by one, the floorboards closed on top of us, sliding and clicking into place.

We were closed in.

I squinted as a slender beam of light crossed my vision. A narrow gap between the two floorboards offered the only light down into this cramped burrow. I shifted over ever so slightly, so that my eye lined up better. I wanted to see as much as I could. Through the crack, I could observe part of the kitchen and one side of the table looming overhead. The dining table rested in the open dining area set just off the kitchen. The living room extended further beyond that, which connected to a small hallway leading into our bedrooms. I had to share a room with my brother, Felip, but at least we each had our own beds.

I could hear my parents scurrying about the house.

My little brother was clinging to my arm, so I wrapped it around his shoulders, squeezing tight. He was only four years old, and I knew he was afraid of the dark. Sometimes during the night, he would sneak to my bedside and ask to crawl in with me. Those were the times I knew he'd had a bad dream. Even though my bed wasn't big enough for two to sleep comfortably, I always let him in. It's my job as his big sister, after all. My mama always said that family needed to look after each other.

Felip sneezed and I urged him to pinch his nose if he had to. “We must stay quiet now, brother,” I whispered. Our surroundings were damp and smelled of musty earth, and it was no wonder his sensitive nose reacted. I offered him my hanky.

A vehicle door slammed outside, the sound quite far away and muffled. Jakub was barking so much now, and I worried he might be in trouble. But Papa quickly called him inside the house. Within moments I heard a loud knock at the door.

"Good day, officers," Papa said.

"I am Lieutenant Schmidt. What are your names?" The pointed voice was deep, and very German.

"Daniel and Amelia Nowak."

"The German government requires Lebensraum … living space. Any Polish nationals in this region are to be displaced to make room for incoming German colonists."

"But this is our home. Our land. We have animals to care for."

"It is all property of Germany now. You have three hours to pack your belongings."

"But—” The Lieutenant didn’t let Papa finish. I wished I could see what was going on, but they were by the door, and out of my limited view.

"You may bring only one bag each, weighing no more than 50 kilograms, and enough food for a few days. You will be transported to a transit camp at Potulice, where your new living arrangements will be sorted. All native inhabitants are to be relocated."

Something about the way this officer spoke made me feel uneasy. Jakub growled, making it clear he didn’t like these German officers either. Papa says they are mean and I am never to trust them. Other countries were calling them Nazis. But when I asked him what that meant, he said we were never to utter that word, ever. He was very serious.

"When will we be able to come back?" Papa asked. He didn't sound happy.

There was a short pause before the Lieutenant continued, ignoring the question. "Where are your children?"

"We don't have any children," Mama answered.

No children? I remembered back to one night I woke up late not long ago. I decided to sneak into the kitchen for a snack, but found my parents there. They were still awake sitting at the table, holding hands and whispering. Mama was crying. I listened in for a while, catching segments of the conversation. Eavesdropping was how I learned the most, it seemed. I got away with it until they heard the floorboards creak beneath me as I shifted. I had to go back to my room after that.

"You are lying. Where are they?"

"Sir, we have no children."

I heard rustling noises, followed by a crisp double slap against the floor.

"Then who's shoes are these?" The Lieutenant sounded angry.

"Well, our nephew—"

"Search the residence,” the man interrupted. He was very rude, not even letting my Papa speak. At least two sets of footsteps went clomping around the house, their heavy boots passing overhead. Powdery dust dislodged from the floorboards, the tiny particles drifting and gleaming within our single beam of light.

"Officer, you can't just—"

"You dare object?" The Lieutenant shouted, footsteps exploding forward. A sharp thwack followed, and I heard my papa grunt. Something fell to the floor with a clattering thud, the sound pronounced and distinct to my rapt ears. Felip shuddered next to me.

Mama cried out to Papa, as Jakub took off barking and growling. I envisioned his dark lips curled back to bare teeth by the fierceness of his snarls. His thick paws darted toward the Lieutenant, nails skittering. There was a skirmish wrought with shuffling feet, and gnashing teeth. A deep shout rang out, followed by a sharp cracking bang. My ears rang from the thunderous sound. Felip startled. I put my finger to my lips, looking into his eyes. Jakub’s shrill whine pierced the air for just a moment, then another thud.

Everything went quiet, save for distant the banging and rummaging noise of officers searching our home. My heart hammered inside my chest.

Papa? Jakub?

Closing one eye, I strained to see exactly what was happening, but couldn't. They were beyond view. I wanted to cry out. I needed to know what happened to my Papa. A moment later I saw Mama shoved to the floor, her body collapsing at the edge of my vision. She reached over to wrap her arms around something, but I couldn't see what. Was Papa there? Her sobs were so upsetting to hear.

I didn't want to admit feeling afraid, though. I squeezed Felip a little tighter, our matching green eyes wide and alert in the dim lighting. Felip burrowed his face against my neck. He was shaking. I could feel his warm tears moistening my skin there. Kissing his forehead gently, I whispered, "Shhh …" into his ear. I feared the worst for our Papa, and for Jakub. What would I do without them? I didn’t want to think about the possibility. My own tears threatened to escape, but I furiously blinked them back. I had to stay brave.

"Now, where are the children?" The Lieutenant’s voice was hard and devoid of inflection.

My thoughts drifted back to that night in the kitchen. My parents had whispered they were afraid of what might happen. Something to do with screening, children being racially valuable, and Aryan-looking. I didn't know what it all meant, but from the looks on their faces, I could tell it wasn't good.

I looked down at little Felip in my arms and wondered what an Aryan looked like. Did we look Aryan? In that moment I felt relieved for our dark hiding place. Relieved that mama and papa were trying to shield us. What could possibly make one race more valuable than another? My mind couldn’t understand why any of this was happening.

I hoped that the Germans would leave soon.

"We don't have children," came my papa's voice, sounding haggard but insistent. I felt relieved that he was okay, but simultaneously worried that he’d get in trouble again. His voice sounded so close. He definitely had to be with Mama.

The heavy pairs of boots returned to the kitchen.

"Lieutenant Schmidt, we found no children," an unseen officer announced. "But there is a child's bedroom. Two beds. The closet is full of clothing and toys."

"Hmm. Now, what do we do about this situation?" The Lieutenant approached mama, hovering over her just within my sliver of view. As he removed his hat to scratch his head, I could finally see him. The man had a very severe expression. His eyes were light blue, piercing, shadowed by thick eyebrows set on a heavy brow. A mustache adorned his upper lip. His dark hair was cut very short at the sides, while the top was longer and combed slick to the side. I couldn't quite make out the patch insignia on his shoulder, but it definitely looked different from others I'd seen.

"Officer, please …" Mama breathed, raising a pleading hand to him.

"Officer, please," he mimicked cruelly. "I am a Lieutenant! You will address me as such. You Poles are worthless, like stray dogs. In fact, I feel worse about shooting your dog than I feel about shooting you." He slapped Mama's hand away.

Shooting your dog? No …

The Lieutenant pulled out a pistol and put it against Mama's head. I bit down on my cheek to keep from yelling. Feeling helpless, I covered Felip's eyes with my hand.

"No, Lieutenant. Point it at me," my Papa urged, shifting into view with hands up.

"Where are the children?"

Mama’s body shook with sobs. I saw Papa’s arm try to guide her behind him, but the officer kicked his hand away.

"Shoot me instead," Papa insisted.

Lieutenant Schmidt abruptly fired a round into the ceiling. "Silence!"

Felip and I jolted in reaction to the sharp pop. The movement kicked up some more dust.

The Lieutenant pointed his gun back at Mama. "The children." His words were flat, cold.

"No …" Mama whimpered.

"Please …" Papa pleaded.

My heart was beating so fast. This can’t be happening.

A sneeze rang out. I felt his shoulders lurch forward, and moisture spattered onto my arm. Frantically, I clamped my hand tight over Filip's mouth again, holding him still against me. Oh no. My gaze flicked upward. Mama’s eyes grew as round as buttons.

The Lieutenant’s head cocked to the side, a smile spreading across his lips, as his outstretched arm bent to 90 degrees at the elbow. "Aha!" He holstered his pistol and waved an arm at the floor. "We should never underestimate the sneakiness of Polish dogs. Search the floor."

His men went to work immediately. A flurry of banging and scraping enveloped us below, each sound echoing loudly into our little hole. Felip began to cry, so I held him tighter. I whispered, "It will be okay, brother. I am with you. Be brave like Mama said."

My words were halted by the lifting of floorboards overhead, brighter light casting down upon us as each plank was removed. We were exposed.

"Got them," a heavy-set officer growled as he reached down. Prying our arms from each other, the man pushed Felip to the side and hooked his large hands beneath my armpits. He pulled me up as a second officer reached for Felip. We were callously tossed to the floor. I grabbed for Felip’s hand immediately as we scrambled to reunite with Mama and Papa.

Mama and Papa latched onto us urgently, cradling us between them. The swollen and bleeding wound on Papa's forehead looked like it would be very sore, but he still managed to smile at me. Mama feverishly kissed our cheeks. I couldn’t imagine anything being able to break her grip on us in that moment.

Then, I saw Jakub. My poor friend was lying by the doorway, unmoving.

I felt my heart splinter.

"What are your names?" The Lieutenant smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Felip and Hanna," Papa answered stoically, his eyes dark and stormy.

Lieutenant Schmidt bent at the waist to look at us, his eyes narrowing in a thorough inspection. His gloved hand reached out to our faces, forcibly turning our heads each way. His fingers pressed roughly into my cheeks before he let go abruptly.

I could see the insignia on his shoulders quite clearly now. Each patch was decorated with two nearly vertical lightning bolts. Or perhaps they were stylized S’s.

Standing up, the Lieutenant glanced over his shoulder to an officer holding a notepad. "Lebensborn," he muttered, turning on his heel to join his fellows by the doorway. After scribbling some notes down, the underling slapped the cover shut, and tucked it into his jacket.

"Wha—"

"No more talking! Everything will be sorted once you reach Camp Potulice." He waved his men out of the house. "We will be back in exactly three hours."

Mama and Papa glanced at us, and then at each other, a look in their eyes that I’d never seen before. Sadness, fear, confusion, hopelessness … or a mixture of all, perhaps? I couldn’t quite tell.

Lieutenant Schmidt paused by the doorway, swiping a finger across the top of the cupboard. A disgusted sneer crossed his features as he rubbed the dust between his thumb and forefinger. "And, I expect you to clean this place. Ensure everything is tidy and orderly. The Germans moving into this house shouldn't have to clean your mess."

He slammed the door behind him.

* * *

The time passed far too quickly. My mother scrambled to wash the dishes and clean the house as best she could, diligent in her obedience for fear of further wrath from the Lieutenant.

We stole a precious few moments to lay Jakub to rest beneath the biggest tree in the farmyard, laying handfuls of whatever wildflowers we could find over him. There wasn't enough time to have a proper burial, but we did the best we could. Mama made sure to say a prayer for his peacefulness. It was brief, but very nice. I cried. Jakub was a good dog. I loved him.

Mama helped clean and bandage Papa's head. I dug through the belongings hidden in the closet, packing some clothes into my suitcase, along with my pictures, journal, and my favorite doll. While she cleaned, Mama asked if I could help Felip pack his bag, too. So, I did. He didn’t seem to care what was packed, so I chose items I felt he would need.

I peeked into the kitchen where Mama was busy scrubbing at the blood stains left on the floor. She whispered passionately to Papa, who was nearby packing food into a bag. "Cousin Adam told me that Lebensborn is what they're calling it. The SS are enforcing the Germanization of non-German children.” She dunked the soiled cloth into the bucket of water. “Children are screened for suitability, whatever that means. Pass or fail, it doesn't matter, because, either way, they never come back." She slammed a frustrated hand against the floor. "They're taken away, Daniel."

Cousin Adam … that’s Ingrid’s papa. Was it true after all—might they take us away?

"I know Amelia, but what can we do? The SS are everywhere, rounding people up. We can't just run away. It’s not that simple. If we did run, and then got caught? They would kill us for sure."

"We can slip out through the fields. Travel by night."

"To where? It is too far to travel with children. Without resources. With nobody to trust. No allies.” Papa threw his hands up. “This whole region is being overtaken. There are Wehrmacht stationed all over the country. We wouldn't get very far, Amelia. They would catch us, or we would starve."

"But Daniel, think of the evil things they are doing to Polish people … and Jewish, too. We’ve all heard the stories, each new one worse than the last."

I listened quietly, more concerns assaulting my mind with each passing minute.

"We will die for sure if we run, without a doubt. We have a small chance to live if we cooperate." Papa knelt down beside her. "We need to trust in God to protect us now."

"I trust my God. I don't trust the Germans." She scrubbed vigorously.

"I don't either. But if we do what they say, we stand a chance. Our children stand a chance. We don't have much choice." Papa stilled her hand and wrapped her up in a hug. "We won't let them take our children. Not while we live and breathe."

"We must stay together. Promise me."

"Yes, we must. And we will."

I watched them kiss, full of emotion. I hoped I would find a love as strong one day. I dreamed of being married and living a life like my mama and papa did, with kids and a dog, and land to work on. A good and happy life. I wanted to go back to school and learn to write stories as vivid as babcia did. My grandmother’s tales around the fireplace were wondrous, filled with excitement and humor. Mama always said I had a creative mind, smiling and encouraging me to share my own tall tales. Someday I wanted to write those stories for others.

I wondered if my grandparents were okay. They didn’t live very far away, and were getting quite old. Were they being removed from their house as well? I hoped not, but based on what I was seeing and hearing, they likely were. I suppose I’d be seeing them at this camp Potulice soon enough. The place would have to be pretty big to hold all these people they were forcing from their homes. I couldn’t imagine how it would work. It seemed impossible.

Silently, I said a simple prayer asking that this turmoil would all be over soon, that the war would end, and that life could return to normal. I prayed for God to watch over my dog in Heaven too. Jakub would need some company up there.

Felip tugged on my skirt. He was holding his small suitcase. Those big innocent eyes looked up at me, reflecting his fears. It was a very ominous atmosphere surrounding our family today, and he was just as perceptive to it as the rest of us. I led him by the hand into the living room, where my parents immediately swept us both up in a big hug, raining kisses over our cheeks and foreheads. They reiterated how much they loved us, and we responded in kind. Even though it felt nice to be wrapped in their protective arms, I still felt a weight settle upon my shoulders. My parents tried to be strong for me and Felip, not wanting for us to feel scared, but I knew they worried. I could hear it in their voices, see it behind their smiles. A deep sense of uncertainty latched on to me, refusing to let go.

What was to come? Would these Germans take us away?

Heavy knocks sounded at the door a scant second before it opened abruptly. Lieutenant Schmidt stalked inside, standing stern and tall, thrusting a hand out. "Come on," he ordered as he waved us forward. His expression was severe and unwavering.

We collected our bags, food and coats. I made sure Felip had his special teddy. Mama was crying again, and so was I. Papa held Felip, asking him to be a big brave boy. He said this was all just a new adventure. We were going to see new places and meet new people.

I wanted so desperately to believe that.

* * *

A short while later, a military lorry drove up and we were loaded into it one by one. An officer checked our names off a list, barking orders for people to make room. The truck was already half full. Officers shoved us in, shouting, and even striking whoever got in their way.

Everything was happening so fast. A few short hours ago we were happy, and now our lives were torn apart. I struggled to manage the conflicting emotions churning inside—fear and anger, and confusion, all surging and crashing like waves.

Squeezing in as tight as we could, my parents set me between them, and Papa held Felip on his lap. We waited. A while later, several more groups arrived and were loaded in. My best friend, Ingrid, and her family arrived last and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was very happy to see her, but she looked so sad. As they were crammed inside, I noticed Ingrid’s mother wasn’t there. Where was she? I wished we could talk, but we weren’t allowed. Nobody was allowed.

It was going to be a long quiet ride to Camp Potulice.

They shut the metal gate, securing us all inside. The air was stuffy already, and we hadn’t even departed yet. Thankfully the rear end of the truck was wide open to the air.

When the truck turned to depart, I could finally see our house again. I stared at it as the heavy canvas-covered vehicle started to drive away. I saw German officers going in and out of our door, throwing many of our belongings onto a heaped pile on the lawn. I saw the rocking horse Papa made special for us get tossed onto the heap with indifference, and tears slipped down my cheeks. How could they do these horrible things?

We watched quietly as our family home shrank and disappeared from view.

I’d sure miss running through the rolling fields and milking the goats.

Glancing around all I saw were countless grim faces, mirror images of my own. Bodies were squished against and atop of one another. There was no room for comfort in this war.

That unfamiliar look was back on Mama and Papa’s faces again. I couldn’t begin to fathom what they must be thinking and feeling right now. It was terrible not knowing what came next. Were they worrying about losing everything we’d ever known and loved, like I was? Were they as afraid? I wished I could crawl into their minds.

Oh, how I longed to return home and stay there. I was angry about this situation, and for the cruelty of the military. I feared for what awaited us beyond this transport. I bit back my tears in order to stay strong, but it didn’t work. They continued to flow. I clung to the simple love and support of my family, focusing on my parents’ gentle hands as they held me. I wished none of this was happening, that somehow, I might wake up and find it was all a dream.

I prayed to God for that to be the case.

"Listen, my children," Mama whispered through tight lips, squeezing our hands. "We must always remember who we are, and where we come from. Right?" She waited until the officer up front was looking away. The truck itself was quite loud as it lumbered along the rough roads, so actual words being overheard was not the concern. It was that officer my mama was wary of. He turned to survey his human cargo every few minutes, shouting cruelly at anybody he caught speaking. He’d already hit an elderly man near the front with an elbow for talking, and butted another lady with his rifle for talking back.

Felip and I nodded carefully.

"And no matter what happens, you must remember—we need to look after one another as family.” She leaned her forehead against mine, closing her eyes briefly. Her expression seemed pained. Papa put his arm around her, pulling Felip in close for a family embrace. She continued in a shaky voice, “Even if your father and I are separated from you, beyond our will, it’s important that you and Felip band together. Stronger than glue. Do you understand?"

We nodded, holding each other’s hands.

Tears welled behind my eyes again, clouding my vision. I whispered back quickly, before the officer could see, "But that won't happen, will it?"

Mama leaned her cheek down against the top of my head, sighing. I could sense the emotional weight she carried. Her arm rubbed our backs in comfort as she shared a glance with my papa. "My brave robaczku—my lil’ bug, we’ll be with you until our very last breath."

"We promise," Papa added in a gruff voice, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

I’d never seen Papa cry before.

And I never saw it again.

About the author

R.A. Clarke is a former police officer turned stay-at-home mom who lives in Portage la Prairie, MB, with her sport-aholic husband, two mischievous children, and quirky dogs. She survives on sloppy toddler kisses, copious amounts of coffee, and immersing her mind in fantastical worlds of her own creation. R.A. enjoys writing/illustrating children's literature, multi-genre short fiction, and novels. Her work has been published by Cloaked Press, Jolly Horror Press, The Writer's Workout (Writer's Games 1^st place overall winner, 2020), and Writers Weekly (1st & 2nd place contest winner), among others. Check out her website at www.rachaelclarkewrites.com.

About the illustrator

Ann van der Giessen is an author and artist living in Wales. Her work has appeared in several publications both online and in print. She is the author of four poetry books under the pseudonym Juliette van der Molen. You can connect with her via Twitter @ann_vdGiessen, Instagram @ann.vandergiessen or through her website at www.JulietteWrites.com.