Written by Kerry E.B. Black
Nobody suspected Inga, with her sunrise hair neat beneath a nursing hat and her crisp clothing. She marched with authority in her starched uniform and pointed to two beds. “Take these two to the ambulance out the back.” The orderlies did as instructed. Inga referred to her papers. “One more, in the end room.”
After strapping the gurneys, Inga slipped an envelope to the driver. He nodded and muttered, “Same address?” She nodded and climbed in with the patients. On the journey to the convent, she removed their Stars of David. When the children’s absence was discovered, nobody suspected Inga.