A New Red Dress

The photo above is of my husband and his buddies when he was in the army.  He was a sweet and handsome man.  We were married when I was just 18 years old.  Our first child, Beth, was born a year later.

Trips to Portland were something special when I was a young mother.  But today was different. Our oldest daughter, Beth, had reached the golden age of six and Bud and I had decided she should have a brand new dress on that special first day.

It wasn't that she needed clothes, she had plenty what with all her cousins and their generous supply of hand me downs.  But she needed a store bought dress. In my mind I saw it as bright red with ruffles at the neck and on the sleeves. Would I find one at the Meier and Frank store which towered 12 stories high over our heads?

We needed to get a good deal and that's why we chose to come to town for their special Friday Surprise sale in the basement. The sidewalk was already crowded with eager shoppers milling around waiting for the doors to open. Some were even elbowing their way into the line. An over eager woman pushed her shopping bag into my face and then whopped her purse against my back side. Others pounded on the locked doors hoping to be the first to enter.

I turned back towards my husband but he was no longer there. As I searched the sea of faces I spotted him on the other side of the street. I waved frantically then headed towards him through the crowd.

“Why did you leave me?” I cried when I reached his side. 

“I—I couldn't stay,” he said.  “I had to get away. The lines, the crowds. For a little while . . .

And then I knew. I saw the crowds and a ruffled red dress, but he stood beside me and saw the lines the prisoners were forced to form in the prison camp at Bad Orb. 

I pictured them outside the barracks. So many youthful boys and yet they had to act like men in a world turned upside down. 
 

I reached for Bud's hand and he took it. We stood close together but the blank horror in his eyes told me he was in another world. A world of hate and terror. A world where boys were forced into situations they had never before seen or even imagined. 

 I lifted my head as he started to speak. “Standing in line we were at the mercy of the Germans. When they told us to repeat our names some were snatched from the line-up and taken away.

“When they came to me they said I had to go with them. But then one of them said the prisoner standing next to me was the one who should be taken instead. He pushed me back into line then grabbed the man, the two of us, shoulder to shoulder. 'You come with us,” the German ordered.  'He has Jewish name. This other one, he just American. Maybe next time.'

“And I was pushed back into line.  Waiting, waiting, for what I did not know.” He bowed his head and pressed his fingers into his forehead. His voice fell to a whisper, “I never saw him again. But several days later I smelled something awful in the air. It smelled like flesh burning.  It was horrible and deep inside I knew. The Jewish prisoner with whom I had stood side by side was no longer with us. He who had been taken instead of me had been cooked to death in the ovens.”

“Is that why . . .” I couldn't finish my thought, it was too sad. “I'm sorry,” I whispered.  “Please, let's, let's just go home. The children, they just might need us by now.”

“But there will be no red dress for our Beth.” 

And then we saw it—a candy shop displaying a tray of red and white candy in the window.  Bud reached for the door and we were inside. The pungent smell of peppermint and yummy chocolate permeated the air. We smiled at each other. 

“I don't think we need to worry,” he said as he reached for a white paper bag. “Let's fill 'er up. We're going to have a party!”

And we did. 

Eventually we found and bought that pretty red dress with ruffles at the neck for dear little Beth.