M ay 1942
At the hotel for Shabbos, Annie tells her father about the telegram announcing Bella’s death and the need to find a Jewish home for her children. Papa immediately orders Moe to arrange for the children to come to the hotel. Moe refuses, saying he’s a soldier and he won’t be able to take care of it. Harry suggests that they ask his father, who’s just been promoted, to intercede.,
M ay 1942
Second Lieutenant Moe Freed had never experienced anything quite like this. The crowding. The chaos. The roar of a hundred engines those revving up for the grim and dangerous crossing and those sighing in relief at having reached journey’s end. The cacophony of ship’s horns — some shrill others deep and mysterious as the sea still others sounding eerily to Moe like a shofar’s heartrending blast.
They arrived at 0500 hours at the New York Port of Embarkation after a short train ride and a march through slumbering New York streets. Now Moe stared at the huge hulk that appeared and disappeared in the early morning fog.
This former palace of pleasure had been a luxury cruise ship before it was taken over by the United States government. Uncle Sam had fitted it out with anti-aircraft guns painted it a steely gray to hide it from the packs of submarines intent on its destruction and somehow made this vessel built to house 1 200 passengers and crew ready for 4 500 troops. The Hopeful: this was the ship that would take him to shores he’d never seen to battles he was eager to join far far away from home.
At the thought of home he felt a sting of pain as sharp as that of the many inoculations the army doctors had given him yesterday the day before embarkation. Suddenly the noise of men and machines disappeared and he was back in the Freed Hotel.
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.
