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From custom plans to color
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SOUTHFIELD
Tel-Twelve Mall • 12 Mile & Telegraph
Daily 10-9 • Sun 12-5 • 354-9060
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WEST BLOOMFIELD
6644 Orchard Lake at Maple Rd • 855-1600
Mon-Thur-Fri 10Tue
Wed-Sat 10-6 • Sun 12-5
-9 •
• 1
COO G
Your Home,
My Cooking is a home cooking
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LEARNING DISABILITIES CLINIC
• Private Tutoring
• Evaluation
• Therapy
LYNNE MASTER, M.Ed
Director
545-6677
433-3323
25201 Coolidge, Oak Park • 4036 Telegraph, Bloomfield fills
40
FRIDAY, APRIL 12, 1991
WEST BLOOMFIELD • MICHIGAN
Orchard Lake Road • North Of Maple
851-7727
Young Girl
Continued from preceding page
sat on the floor at the feet of
the two children, watching
them devour the meats,
fruits and sweets, with
pleasure and joy. It was un-
doubtedly the best they had
eaten in years. On that
night was born my attach-
ment to my special child,
Helena. I was to be her
father, counselor, nurse and
protector for the next two
months.
From then on, buddies
from our unit helped me
"liberate" shoes, clothing,
bicycles, and small luxury
items that would please the
girls. Their teeth were fixed,
courtesy of a sympathetic
military dentist who pro-
claimed himself to be the
"U.S. Army Clandestine
Dental Division." Heidi was
released from the hospital
and joined her friends.
In the evening, those who
were off duty would drop by
to "cheer up our kids"
Although they were often
moody and depressed, the
girls' physical well-being
improved dramatically.
Their malnutrition sores
began to heal, as their bony
cheeks filled out, and their
eyes lost their hollow shells
and looked rested and,
sometimes, even mischievous.
I had heard that the
woman in charge was a
sympathetic person. I barged
in on her, steered her toward
a corner where we could talk
without being overheard,
and blurted out the story of
my three little girls and
their problem.
"They'll kill them for sure,
if we pull out and just leave
them," I said.
The woman's eyes showed
her sympathy and concern.
She leaned forward.
"There may be a way," she
whispered. "The Jewish
Haganah has been able to
smuggle a few youngsters
from the nearby camp, run
by the United Nations Relief
and Rehabilitation Ad-
ministration (UNRRA),
through the British lines at
Salzburg, Austria, and from
there to Palestine and safe-
ty. Do you want to initiate
arrangements?"
No father took greater
delight it his child than I
did. I watched Helena primp
in new dresses we had
"persuaded" a tailor to
make for the girls from
"liberated" cloth. Her
cheeks turned youthfully
rosy, and her smile became
more frequent and brighter.
But I knew it could not last.
I heard that our unit would
be disbanded and we would
be sent to other outfits or to
the Pacific war area. Then
our kids would be at the
mercy of the Sudeten Ger-
mans, many of whom were
still Nazis and would willful-
ly harm them. I estimated
we had two weeks to do
something.
I called my buddies
together to plan. Marriage
was out — we were still at
war with Japan and, besides,
Army regulations prohibited
marriages in a forward zone.
We requested adoption pa-
pers but were immediately
turned down. We wrote our
parents to contact high au-
thorities in New York and
Washington to begin adop-
tion procedures. They too
were turned down. We were
stymied and frantic, and had
lost ten days.
The First Sergeant then
had an idea: "Katzman, why
don't you ask for help from
the Red Cross in Pilsen?" I
hopped into my jeep and left.
"What if they are Caught?"
I asked.
She explained that they
would be returned to the
dreary existence at the
UNRRA camp. But at least
there would be no danger to
their lives. I pressed her
hands, expressed my deep
gratitude, and eagerly ac-
cepted her offer.
The next morning, I told
my buddies the news. They
started to prepare packages
of food and clothing, while I
went to the house and in-
vited Helena for a stroll, as
we had done so often before.
"Helena," I began, "I just
returned from Pilsen where I
made some arrangements
for you and the girls."
She stopped in her tracks
and her face turned pale.
She started to weep softly. "I
knew it wouldn't last," she
sobbed. "The happiness was
too much. What will become
of us now?" She wrung her
hands like an old lady.
"What will become of us?"
Gently, I explained the
events of the past two weeks.
When I told her of our un-
successful attempts to adopt
the three of them, she broke
down and cried somberly.
We were the only family she
had left. My heart was
breaking.
Finally, I told her about
the plan to bring them to the
UNRRA camp and eventual-
The pathetic
children stood
barefoot with ugly
malnutrition sores
visible through
their tattered little
dresses.