FRIDAY, JANUARY 28, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
In recent weeks I’ve developed a great liking for family trees and the
genealogical tables of royal families. I’ve come to the conclusion that once
you begin your search, you have to keep digging deeper and deeper into the
past, which leads you to even more interesting discoveries.
Although I’m extremely diligent when it comes to my schoolwork and can
pretty much follow the BBC Home Service on the radio, I still spend many of
my Sundays sorting out and looking over my movie-star collection, which
has grown to a very respectable size. Mr. Kugler makes me happy every
Monday by bringing me a copy of Cinema & Theater magazine. The less
worldly members of our household often refer to this small indulgence as a
waste of money, yet they never fail to be surprised at how accurately I can list
the actors in any given movie, even after a year. Bep, who often goes to the
movies with her boyfriend on her day off, tells me on Saturday the name of
the show they’re going to see, and I then proceed to rattle off the names of the
leading actors and actresses and the reviews. Moms recently remarked ; that I
wouldn’t need to go to the movies later on, because !
I know all the plots, the names of the stars and the reviews by heart.
Whenever I come sailing in with a new hairstyle, I I can read the disapproval
on their faces, and I can be sure someone will ask which movie star I’m trying
to imitate. My reply, that it’s my own invention, is greeted with ~
skepticism. As for the hairdo, it doesn’t hold its set for ~
more than half an hour. By that time I’m so sick and tired i of their remarks
that I race to the bathroom and restore my hair to its normal mass of curls.
Yours, Anne
FRIDAY, JANUARY 28, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
This morning I was wondering whether you ever felt like a cow, having to
chew my stale news over and over again until you’re so fed up with the
monotonous fare that you yawn and secretly wish Anne would dig up
something new.
Sorry, I know you find it dull as ditchwater, but imagine how sick and tired I
am of hearing the same old stuff. If the talk at mealtime isn’t about politics or
good food, then Mother or Mrs. van D. trot out stories about their childhood
that we’ve heard a thousand times before, or Dussel goes on and on about
beautiful racehorses, his Charlotte’s extensive wardrobe, leaky rowboats,
boys who can swim at the age of four, aching muscles and frightened
patients. It all boils down to this: whenever one of the eight of us opens his
mouth, the other seven can finish the story for him. We know the punch line
of every joke before it gets told, so that whoever’s telling it is left to laugh
alone. The various milkmen, grocers and butchers of the two former
housewives have been praised to the skies or run into the ground so many
times that in our imaginations they’ve grown as old as Methuselah; there’s
absolutely no chance of anything new or fresh being brought up for
discussion in the Annex.
Still, all this might be bearable if only the grown-ups weren’t in the habit of
repeating the stories we hear from Mr. Kleiman, jan or Miep, each time
embellishing them with a few details of their own, so that I often have to
pinch my arm under the table to keep myself from setting the enthusiastic
storyteller on the right track. Little children, such as Anne, must never, ever
correct their elders, no matter how many blunders they make or how often
they let their imaginations run away with them.
Jan and Mr. Kleiman love talking about people who have gone underground
or into hiding; they know we’re eager to hear about others in our situation and
that we truly sympathize with the sorrow of those who’ve been arrested as
well as the joy of prisoners who’ve been freed.
Going underground or into hiding has become as routine as the proverbial
pipe and slippers that used to await the man of the house after a long day at
work. There are many resistance groups, such as Free Netherlands, that forge
identity cards, provide financial support to those in hiding, organize hiding
places and find work for young Christians who go underground. It’s amazing
how much these generous and unselfish people do, risking their own lives to
help and save others.
The best example of this is our own helpers, who have managed to pull us
through so far and will hopefully bring us safely to shore, because otherwise
they’ll find themselves sharing the fate of those they’re trying to protect.
Never have they uttered a single word about the burden we must be, never
have they complained that we’re too much trouble. They come upstairs every
day and talk to the men about business and politics, to the women about food
and wartime difficulties and to the children about books and newspapers.
They put on their most cheerful expressions, bring flowers and gifts for
birthdays and holidays and are always ready to do what they can. That’s
something we should never forget; while others display their heroism in
battle or against the Germans, our helpers prove theirs every day by their
good spirits and affection.
The most bizarre stories are making the rounds, yet most of them are really
true. For instance, Mr. Kleiman reported this week that a soccer match was
held in the province of Gelderland; one team consisted entirely of men who
had gone underground, and the other of eleven Military Policemen. In
Hilversum, new registration cards were issued. In order for the many people
in hiding to get their rations (you have to show this card to obtain your ration
book or else pay 60
guilders a book), the registrar asked all those hiding in that district to pick up
their cards at a specified hour, when the documents could be collected at a
separate table.
All the same, you have to be careful that stunts like these don’t reach the ears
of the Germans.
Yours, Anne
SUNDAY, JANUARY 30, 1944
My dearest Kit,
Another Sunday has rolled around; I don’t mind them as much as I did in the
beginning, but they’re boring enough.
I still haven’t gone to the warehouse yet, but maybe sometime soon. Last
night I went downstairs in the dark, all by myself, after having been there
with Father a few nights before. I stood at the top of the stairs while German
planes flew back and forth, and I knew I was on my own, that I couldn’t count
on others for support. My fear vanished. I looked up at the sky and trusted in
God.
I have an intense need to be alone. Father has noticed I’m not my usual self,
but I can’t tell him what’s bothering me.
All I want to do is scream “Let me be, leave me alone!”
Who knows, perhaps the day will come when I’m left alone more than I’d
like!
Anne Frank
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1944
Dearest Kitty,
Invasion fever is mounting daily throughout the country.
If you were here, I’m sure you’d be as impressed as I am at the many
preparations, though you’d no doubt laugh at all the fuss we’re making. Who
knows, it may all be for nothing!
The papers are full of invasion news and are driving everyone insane with
such statements as: “In the event of a British landing in Holland, the Germans
will do what they can to defend the country, even flooding it, if necessary.”
They’ve published maps of Holland with the potential flood areas marked.
Since large portions of Amsterdam were shaded in, our first question was
what we should do if the water in the streets rose to above our waists. This
tricky question elicited a variety of responses:
“It’ll be impossible to walk or ride a bike, so we’ll have to wade through the
water.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll have to try and swim. We’ll all put on our bathing suits
and caps and swim underwater as much as we can, so nobody can see we’re
Jews.”
“Oh, baloney! I can just imagine the ladies swimming with the rats biting
their legs!” (That was a man, of course; we’ll see who screams loudest!)
“We won’t even be able to leave the house. The warehouse is so unstable it’ll
collapse if there’s a flood.”
“Listen, everyone, all joking aside, we really ought to try and get a boat.”
“Why bother? I have a better idea. We can each take a packing crate from the
attic and row with a wooden spoon.”
“I’m going to walk on stilts. I used to be a whiz at it when I was young.”
“Jan Gies won’t need to. He’ll let his wife ride piggyback, and then Miep will
be on stilts.”
So now you have a rough idea of what’s going on, don’t you, Kit? This
lighthearted banter is all very amusing, but reality will prove otherwise. The
second question about the invasion was bound to arise: what should we do if
the Germans evacuate Amsterdam?
“Leave the city along with the others. Disguise ourselves as well as we can.”
“Whatever happens, don’t go outside! The best thing to do is to stay put! The
Germans are capable of herding the entire population of Holland into
Germany, where they’ll all die.”
“Of course we’ll stay here. This is the safest place.
We’ll try to talk Kleiman and his family into coming here to live with us.
We’ll somehow get hold of a bag of wood shavings, so we can sleep on the
floor. Let’s ask Miep and Kleiman to bring some blankets, just in case. And
we’ll order some extra cereal grains to supplement the sixty-five pounds we
already have. Jan can try to find some more beans. At the moment we’ve got
about sixty-five pounds of beans and ten pounds of split peas. And don’t
forget the fifty cans of vegetables.”
“What about the rest, Mother? Give us the latest figures.’
,
“Ten cans of fish, forty cans of milk, twenty pounds of powdered milk, three
bottles of oil, four crocks of butter, four jars of meat, two big jars of
strawberries, two jars of raspberries, twenty jars of tomatoes, ten pounds of
oatmeal, nine pounds of rice. That’s it.”
Our provisions are holding out fairly well. All the same, we have to feed the
office staff, which means dipping into our stock every week, so it’s not as
much as it seems. We have enough coal and firewood, candles too.
“Let’s all make little moneybags to hide in our clothes so we can take our
money with us if we need to leave here.”
“We can make lists of what to take first in case we have to run for it, and
pack our knapsacks in advance.”
“When the time comes, we’ll put two people on the lookout, one in the loft at
the front of the house and one in the back.”
“Hey, what’s the use of so much food if there isn’t any water, gas or
electricity?”
“We’ll have to cook on the wood stove. Filter the water and boil it. We should
clean some big jugs and fill them with water. We can also store water in the
three kettles we use for canning, and in the washtub.”
“Besides, we still have about two hundred and thirty pounds of winter
potatoes in the spice storeroom.”
All day long that’s all I hear. Invasion, invasion, nothing but invasion.
Arguments about going hungry, dying, bombs, fire extinguishers, sleeping
bags, identity cards, poison gas, etc., etc. Not exactly cheerful.
A good example of the explicit warnings of the male contingent is the
following conversation with Jan: Annex: “We’re afraid that when the
Germans retreat, they’ll take the entire population with them.”
Jan: “That’s impossible. They haven’t got enough trains.”
Annex: “Trains? Do you really think they’d put civilians on trains?
Absolutely not. Everyone would have to hoof it.”
(Or, as Dussel always says, per pedes apostolorum.) Jan: “I can’t believe that.
You’re always looking on the dark side. What reason would they have to
round up all the civilians and take them along?”
Annex: “Don’t you remember Goebbels saying that if the Germans have to
go, they’ll slam the doors to all the occupied territories behind them?”
Jan: “They’ve said a lot of things.”
Annex: “Do you think the Germans are too noble or humane to do it? Their
reasoning is: if we go under, we’ll drag everyone else down with us.”
Jan: “You can say what you like, I just don’t believe Annex: “It’s always the
same old story. No one wants to see the danger until it’s staring them in the
face.”
Jan: “But you don’t know anything for sure. You’re just making an
assumption.”
Annex: “Because we’ve already been through it all ourselves, First in
Germany and then here. What do you think’s happening in Russia?”
Jan: “You shouldn’t include the Jews. I don’t think anyone knows what’s
going on in Russia. The British and the Russians are probably exaggerating
for propaganda purposes, just like the Germans.”
Annex: “Absolutely not. The BBC has always told the truth.
And even if the news is slightly exaggerated, the facts are bad enough as they
are. You can’t deny that millions of peace-loving citizens in Poland and
Russia have been murdered or gassed.”
I’ll spare you the rest of our conversations. I’m very calm and take no notice
of all the fuss. I’ve reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die.
The world will keep on turning without me, and I can’t do anything to change
events anyway. I’ll just let matters take their course and concentrate on
studying and hope that everything will be all right in the end.
Yours, Anne