Prints in the Sand: My Journey with Nanea

Once Gene lets us out near the high school, I spot a long trench carved into the grass, twisting like a bolt of lightning. I ask what it’s for, and Nanea says that it’s where the kids hide during an air raid, but the flicker across her face gives her away. Talking about raids clearly unsettles her just as much as it does me.

Everywhere I turn here, the war leaves its mark: blackout curtains, bomber cards, gas masks, trenches in the dirt.

Once we’re inside the cafeteria, Nanea introduces me to her mother, Mrs. Mitchell, and to Mrs. Lin, who will also be teaching first aid with Mrs. Mitchell. Mrs. Mitchell expresses her gratitude for our help and lays out the plan. We’ll mind the children down here while she leads their mothers upstairs to learn first aid.

The cafeteria fills with chattering mothers and restless little ones, and Nanea flashes me a giddy look. As I’m laying out crayons and paper across the tables, one mother approaches with her daughter in tow. She introduces the girl as Annie, a small girl with pale blond hair, and asks me where Annie’s gas mask should go.

What she hands me resembles a pillowcase stitched with floppy rabbit ears and a tiny clear window, cuter than Lily’s, but still bulky. Nanea nods toward a heap of masks piled on the floor, some fitted with bug eyes and an elephant trunk like Lily’s, others shaped into bunny faces like Annie’s. Frankly, I’ve had my fill of these masks, let alone the thought of wearing one. When, I wonder, do these kids get to simply play and forget this awful war exists?

For today, at least, I resolve to give these kids my full attention. Once the mothers head upstairs for their lesson, Nanea and I get the group started on Simon Says, alternating who calls out the commands. Most of them spin and shriek with laughter, crashing into each other, but Annie just watches me silently, thumb in her mouth.

When I call for everyone to jump, one boy leaps up immediately, and Lily calls out that I didn’t say the magic words. He drops down beside her to color instead, grinning, and for a second I think we’ve got this handled. That’s when a siren tears through the cafeteria.

Lily’s hands fly to her ears, and a few of the smallest kids start wailing. I clamp my own hands over my ears and ask what’s happening, and Nanea’s eyes stretch wide. She yells out that’s the air raid siren. We need to move these kids to the shelter now.

Seeing fear cross Nanea’s face somehow rattles me even more, and suddenly I’d give anything to have my own mother nearby. But despite her fear, Nanea snaps into action, clapping and shouting for the kids to follow her, Simon says style. The line forms behind her instantly, little arms swinging and knees pumping as though it’s all still a game. Over her shoulder, she orders Lily and me to grab the gas masks.

Lily and I scoop up as many masks as our arms can hold while Nanea herds the kids toward the trench in the ground. I keep glancing skyward for planes as we rush to catch up. It’s probably nothing but a drill, Lily says hopefully, though her face doesn’t look convinced. I ask whether we should put the masks on now, suddenly wishing I had borrowed Gene’s. Lily shakes her head and explains we’d only need them if the gong of the gas alarm sounds, meaning poison gas is in the air. Just hearing the words poison gas makes me shiver.

Down in the trench, Nanea lowers each child in one at a time while Lily and I pass the masks down to the children. Once I finally settle into that dark, humid pit myself, my pulse is hammering in my ears, and all I want is to be anywhere but here. I hear Nanea instructing the kids to shield their heads with their hands, demonstrating alongside Lily.

That’s when I hear the crying. Annie is huddled alone in a corner, tears sliding down her cheeks. Part of me wants to reach her, but I doubt my legs could even hold me up right now, they feel like limp noodles, and I understand exactly what she’s going through. Nanea and Lily have this under control, I tell myself, and I shut my eyes tight. Still, Annie’s sobs only get louder.