Behind the (Writing) Scenes with…
Donna DeLeo Bruno, Fort Lauderdale Branch
‘What No Child Should See’
From The Pen Woman, Spring 2019
I met Rosa Cotton when I moved to Florida 18 years ago. Fellow members of the Pompano Beach Woman’s Club, we were often placed side by side exhibiting our creations at the annual arts and crafts fairs. My specialty was personally designed and knitted children’s sweaters; hers was exquisitely hand-made quilts.
Despite a wide difference in age, over the years, we developed a close friendship. During our lunches at Sea Watch (her favorite) or on the outdoor porch at Pelican Beach Resort (my favorite), we would talk and talk and enjoy each other’s company while sipping prosecco. Rosa also loved her lobster bisque and crème brulee and I must admit I indulged as well.
One conversation long ago focused on the existence of God. Rosa was not a believer, and when I inquired as to the reason, she replied, “No merciful, loving God would have allowed what happened during the war.”
Rosa had been born in Belgium and was a teenager during World War II. I intuited that she was referring to youthful experiences; and I would respond with, “Rosa, I think you have a story to tell.”
Her only reply: “My story is too sad to tell; I saw what no child should see.”
Little could I have predicted that over the many years of our relationship, she would share those experiences in tiny bits and pieces, and that it would culminate in my book titled “What No Child Should See.” During the last couple of years, as Rosa aged, she developed many health issues — coronary, gastrointestinal, kidney, and carpal tunnel syndrome, for which she underwent repeated painful surgeries and difficult treatments.
As a result, we were very limited in our outings, so I would bring lunch and visit for the afternoon. It was in this last year (2018) that she decided to speak of those impressionable teenage years.
When the Nazis invaded her hometown, her first memory was that the French textbooks in school were replaced with German ones, which she hastily threw beneath her desk. When the teacher inquired why she did not use them to follow the lessons, she retorted that the instructor should be asking “why they had to be used.”
Her bedroom at home was requisitioned for a German officer, and Rosa saw her very capable mother cower and begin to stutter. Her rage increased as a pall descended not only at home but over the entire village as well.
People rarely went out; and when they did, they kept their heads down and no longer stopped to chat amiably. Suspicion and danger were everywhere. One day as she stood on the sidewalk watching a parade of soldiers march by, their high, glossy, black boots echoing on the cobblestones like gunshots, a stranger beside her asked what she thought of them. Always a feisty youngster made bolder by the German intrusion in her school, town, and home, Rosa answered that she wished every single one dead — a dangerous remark to a stranger.
However, soon after, on her walks to and from school, someone approached her, matching her stride, and inquired if she would be willing to deliver a message.
“Why would I want to do that? Deliver it yourself!” she spit back.
“But I am being watched” was the reply.
And thus began Rosa’s clandestine work as a messenger for the underground known as the White Brigade, who did all in their power to thwart and defeat the enemy. She was only 24. What “No Child Should See” is a telling of her close calls and risky errands in her capacity as a resister. It is a fascinating story of courage, daring, ingenuity, and patriotism.
Rosa died in October 2018. Her parting words following each of our many phone conversations were, “I love you,” and I would respond in kind. I truly miss her.