It was a quiet breakfast that morning. Just the sound of forks scraping plates, tea being slurped and chairs being dragged across the floor. No one spoke even as I left to go to Mr. Jansen’s farm. I walked my bike out to the road and made off. The ride seemed longer than usual. Probably because I was anxious to get to the farm.

At last I made it there. I leaned my bike against the side of their house and knocked on the door. Mrs Jansen answered it.

“Hello dear, “ she said, lines of worry creased her face, “come on in” She led me to the kitchen where Mr. Jansen was sitting with the other two boys that he employed.

“...that should do it gentlemen.” he said, and handed them both sheets of paper. “Ah Ben. I assume you’re ready to come back to work?”

“Yes sir. You wouldn’t happen to need anymore hands would you? The triplets…” my voice trailed off.

“I’m so sorry Benjamin,” he said standing. “But we just can’t afford to take on anymore workers.” panic started to overwhelm me.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind working for nothing. They would be happy just to gain the experience in…” Mr. Jansen placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Ben you know I can’t do that, it’s against the law.”

“Do you know of any other farms that need help?”

“I’ve already telephoned Garry Hargarty and Fred Willus. As soon as the radio announcement ended their workers called in looking for papers. Speaking of which…” he turned and grabbed another sheet off of the kitchen table.

“Just needs your signature.” I took the document, folded it and tucked it away into my breast pocket. I wanted to distract my mind from thoughts of the triplets being dragged away, so I took my list of tasks and set out to work.

The hot sun and the tiring work were unfortunately not enough to get my mind off of the conscription. By the time I was finished, I was simply exhausted on top of the nagging worry. I collected my pay and road home. As I rolled up to the house, dad stepped out side. Without saying anything I just shook my head, and he knew there was nothing we could do for the triplets.

Later that evening around the table, I broke the news to the rest of the family.

“Thanks for trying at least Benjamin” Darmin said.

“Couldn’t we just hide or something? I mean, the war probably won’t last that long right?” Hector looked around the table.

“It’s a small town, where would you go? And on top of that city hall keeps an annual record of everyone born in town. The military would know that we have four sons, and we’d be in big trouble for hiding you, or refusing to give up your location. There’s no avoiding this.” My father poked miserably at his food.

“Last time I was at the bakery Mr. Koch mentioned there was another one hiring somewhere else in town. I can go inquire about it tomorrow.” I suggested.

“Take your brothers with you. Better to have more sets of eyes looking for opportunities” mother chimed in.

“That’s right boys,” father said turning to the triplets, “I want you out everyday looking for work until the army drops by. Don’t leave any stone unturned. While the town isn’t big, it will still take some time for them to get to all the houses. We’re lucky to be closer to the outskirts.”

We finished dinner, talking while we ate. Hector, Jonathan and Darmin discussed how they wanted to search the city, while mom and dad mulled over work. After washing the dishes I went outside to get firewood. Dammit. I hope at least one of the triplets finds something. What are the chances none of them find anything?

I slammed my fist against the side of the house in frustration, which lead to immediate regret. I walked back into the house with an armful of lumber, my hand throbbed from the outburst. As I sat stoking the fire, the telephone in the study rang. I heard mother answer it, and then a moment later she was in the room.

“It’s for you Ben. it’s a Cheryl Damoi.”

“Oh thanks, I’ll be just a moment.” I exposed some fresh coals, then left the fire to its own devices. Mom followed me to the study but I shooed her away before answering the phone.

“Cheryl?”

“Hi Ben. I was just checking in to see how you were.”

“Oh I’m fine I guess. Just worried about my family, same as you.”

“Were your brothers able to find work at Mr. Jansen’s farm?”

“Unfortunately no, he can’t afford to take on any more workers at the moment. I’m going with the guys to the Koch bakery to discuss another lead. Hopefully something comes of that.”

“Hopefully. Would you mind if I tagged along?”

“I uh...I think I’ll just go with my brothers. Some other time perhaps.”

“Of course, of course. Well I’ll let you go. I have some last minute chores to take care of anyways.”

“Alright you take care.”

“I will, thank you. Bye”

“Bye.” I placed the earpiece back on the receiver. And stepped out of the room. I turned to go to my bedroom to see that mother had been standing outside the doorway for probably the entire call. I groaned and slipped past her to my room. I sat down at my small desk, where the employment form waited for me. I stared at it for a moment before signing the dotted line. I feel guilty, but I just can’t go to battle. I’m too scared. I flopped into bed and drifted to sleep.

-----------

The following morning me and my brothers skipped breakfast and headed straight into town. As we walked down the streets we looked at the shop windows and doors, hoping to see a ‘hiring’ sign.

After that radio announcement, I’m sure everyone called into work as soon as possible. I doubt there will be a place for the triplets to find work.

I tried to push the negative thoughts out of my mind, but they persisted. There used to always be places looking for help. But there weren’t even temporary positions advertised.

I pray that Mr. Koch can help. By the looks of it, he’s our last hope. As we approached the Koch bakery, we could see that plywood had been nailed over the windows. I went to open the door only to find it locked. I peered through the door’s window and saw Mrs. Koch sweeping. I gave a gentle knock and she came to the door.

“Come on in boys. Otto is on the telephone at the moment so just find yourself a seat.” I could see that her eyes were puffy and red, obvious side effects of crying. I didn’t want to upset her further by asking about whatever it was, so I just took as seat with Darman and the others.

Mr. Koch waddled out from the back room and gave us a friendly, but sad looking smile. He turned to his wife and shook his head.

“It doesn’t seem like the police will be of any help.” That took me by surprise.

“Police? Were you robbed?”

“If only,” he replied “it had been that. Would have been a lesser loss. Someone hatte unsere Fenster kaputt” he said as he put his face into his hands.

“Ka-poot sir?” Jonathan asked meekly. Mr. Koch pointed to the nailed up plywood.

“Smashed with a brick.” I looked over and just noticed that Mrs. Koch had been sweeping the shattered glass. “Attached was a very hurtful letter. It would seem some people are not happy with our homeland”

“I...I’m sorry to hear that sir.”

Hector made a shrugging gesture. “Ah who needs windows anyways. Not like you’re missing out on a nice view.” Darman slapped Hector upside the head. Mr. Koch smiled slightly and gave a small chuckle. We all sat silently for a moment before Jonathan spoke up.

“So...sir, you said on the telephone you might have an opportunity for us?”

“Yes yes.” Mr. Koch replied and walked over to the counter. He came back holding a small piece of paper. “Here is the address to a relative of mine. He has a paint business on the other side of the park. The last time I talked to him he was hiring, but I haven’t been able to reach him again and confirm.”

“Thank you very much sir. We cannot express our level of gratitude.” We all stood up and shook hands with Mr. Koch and left. Time couldn’t be wasted. One brisk walk later we were at Herr Kaufmann’s Enamel Paint. The door was open so we walked inside. Something was off though. The shelves were bare. No cans of paint, colour cards, nothing.

Darman let out a meek “hello?” as we walked deeper into the store. Nearing the back of the store where the administration office was, the four of us heard some muffled voices and shuffling. I was just about to knock on the office door when it swung open. The man and I both gave a yelp of surprise.

“Pardon the intrusion sir but uh… Mr. Koch sent us. He said you may have some work?”

The man, presumably Mr. Kaufmann, pushed pass us and a lady followed after him. I looked to the triplets and we pursued the two.

“I’m sorry mister…?”

“Holler”

“I’m sorry mister Holler but this shop is no longer in business,” he said without stopping or even looking in our general direction, “this place isn’t safe for us anymore.”

“What do you mean sir? If you’re talking about the war it’s far away from here. There’s nothing to worry ab-” Kaufman stopped in his tracks and violently spun around.

“Nothing to worry about you say? NOTHING?!” I stepped back when he advanced a couple steps toward me. “Day after day, my wife and I find letters pinned to our shop door, wishing us misfortune and death. Threats to burn us in our home. Calling US monsters for the acts of our homeland. This morning I found a note pinned to the door of my home, saying they hope our doors and windows are shut tight. Saying that they will cut out throats in our sleep.” His words were filled with rage.

“I can’t live in a place where I don’t feel safe even in my own Gott verdammt Haus.”

“I… I’m sorry you had to go through that sir.” deja vu

“I’m sure you are” and with that he took the lady’s hand and they marched outside. The four of us stood stunned in the shop as they started up the engine of their automobile and drove away. A thin voice weezed out,

“we’re not going to find a job are we?” I turned and saw tears streaming from Jonathan’s eyes. Without knowing what to say, I embraced my crying brother.