We Shall Remember

by Emma Fraser

  When Jacob nodded, his mother bent to kiss him.

  ‘They know. They are used to keeping very quiet. Sometimes we wonder if little Leah here knows how to speak.’

  ‘She does!’ her brother protested. ‘She just doesn’t like to.’

  The boy’s mother slid behind her son so that she could hold his upper body in his arms. ‘If you need to, my treasure,’ she said, ‘turn your face into me.’

  Gently, Irena removed the remaining bandages, soaking each layer with water before peeling it away. The boy whimpered when she came to the last bit. Even with the water, it remained stuck to his skin. Finally, the old bandage was off. She sucked in a breath when she saw the damage to his lower leg. The wound was red and inflamed around the edges with a line of infection snaking up his leg. He had to be in a great deal of pain. She would do the best she could with what she had, but he really needed to have it treated in hospital.

  ‘I don’t have any sulphonamide with me,’ she said, when she’d cleaned the wound. ‘But I will come back tomorrow and bring some.’ She wrapped a clean dressing around his leg. ‘In the meantime, keep him cool.’ She nodded to the little girl. ‘I’ll try to find some food too.’

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Hinda said.

  ‘We must help one another. The Allied forces are closer now. If we can hold out for another few months, perhaps we will all make it.’

  Chapter 46

  ‘Why don’t they do something?’ Antoni asked, picking lice from the seams of his coat and squashing them between his fingers. ‘What more proof do they need?’

  Irena had come to the safe house to collect that day’s messages. ‘You know the British, Irena. What the fuck are they waiting for? All we’re asking them to do is bomb the railway lines leading into those Godforsaken camps.’

  Occasionally, in the night, she accompanied Antoni and his fellow insurgents to the RAF drops. When the planes flew over, releasing their cargo of rigid metal containers shaped like large green bombs, she found herself wondering if she could be staring up at the underbelly of a plane piloted by Richard or Aleksy.

  As soon as the planes left they’d run to retrieve the containers. Apart from weapons they often held cigarettes and tobacco, jars of butter, tins of jam, bicycle tyres and, most importantly as far as Irena was concerned, some basic medicines.

  But more often than not, the containers ripped apart when they hit the ground and a large proportion of the weapons were smashed and unusable. She sent messages of her own back to Britain telling them to be more careful, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.

  Nevertheless, with what they salvaged, the Home Army managed to blow up the odd railway line and factory. It wasn’t enough and much too late to save the Jewish resistance in the ghetto that had been flattened by the Germans months earlier, the survivors – what there was of them – either executed or taken away to camps. There was no doubt now that the remaining Jews were being exterminated in ever increasing numbers. Still the British didn’t bomb the camps or the railway lines leading to them.

  ‘Perhaps they’re scared they’ll kill civilians,’ Irena responded.

  ‘Fuck them and their caution. These people are going to die anyway,’ said a young woman who was greasing her weapon, squinting up the barrel to see that it was clean.

  Irena wasn’t so sure. It was one thing to kill Nazi soldiers, quite another to bomb trains carrying innocent civilians. There was only one way to save the Jews. The Allies had to liberate the German-occupied countries.

  Having memorised her latest message – another one asking the British government for help – Irena left the safe house and cycled towards the hidden family. She continued to visit them every second day, bringing them what food she could and redressing Jacob’s wound, but despite her best efforts, the boy’s condition had deteriorated, the infection continuing to spread up his leg and Irena knew there was a good chance he would lose it. The little sulphonamide she managed to acquire for him wasn’t enough. He really needed to have the wound cleaned and debrided under anaesthetic.

  Away from the city centre and without the trams to impede her progress, Irena picked up speed. Two soldiers, their guns slung over their shoulders, were on the pavement a little further up on the right and they turned to stare at a girl cycling towards them, her bare legs flashing as she pedalled.

  One of the soldiers dug his companion in the side and said something that made him laugh. Irena hoped they wouldn’t stop the girl.

  She was a only a short distance away when the girl reached into her pocket and pulled something from it. Suddenly there were two bangs and one of the soldiers doubled over and crumpled to the ground. The other one reached for his weapon, but before he could lift it to fire, there was another loud retort. His rifle fell to the ground, as he dropped to one knee, clutching his arm. The girl on the cycle stopped in front of him, kicked his weapon away with her foot and raised her pistol.

  ‘No!’ Irena shouted. At the sound of her voice, the girl looked in her direction. Irena recognised her: she was one of the resistance fighters she’d met in a safe house.

  Irena brought her bicycle to a halt, leaped off and stood between the girl and the soldier. He was staring up at the girl, his eyes wide with shock and fear. He was really just a boy – not much more than eighteen.

  The street had emptied. Irena and the girl stared at each other for one, long moment.

  ‘Go!’ Irena urged. It wouldn’t be long before other soldiers arrived on the scene. They would kill them both if they found them. Or perhaps worse, arrest and interrogate them.

  The girl shook her head tightly and with a quick glance behind her, cycled off. The soldier, his teeth clenched, his forehead and upper lip glistening with sweat, looked at Irena with imploring eyes. She crouched by his side.

  ‘You’ve been hit in the arm,’ she said in German. ‘I know it hurts but it’s not going to kill you.’

  Then she heard it, the sound of a truck coming in their direction. It couldn’t be far away.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said.

  The soldier grabbed her skirt. ‘Hans. How is he?’ Irena glanced to her left. The other soldier was lying on his side, his legs pulled up towards his chest. He was facing her and she could see his pupils were fixed and dilated.

  Irena shook her head. ‘There’s nothing I can do for him.’ The truck was coming closer. If she were going to get away she had to leave now.

  And the injured soldier knew it too. They stared at each other. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Hurry.’

  As the nose of the truck appeared at the end of the street, Irena picked up her bike and pushed it into an alleyway. The ringing of boots on the cobbles as soldiers spilled from the truck filled her with terror. They would be on her in moments.

  ‘Over here,’ a voice hissed from an open doorway. A middle-aged woman, her hair tied up in a scarf, gestured to her. ‘Quick. Bring your bicycle.’

  Irena pushed it into the narrow hall and the woman locked the door behind her. She took the bike from Irena. ‘Leave it here, but bring your bag. Come inside.’

  ‘But if they find it!’ The blood was hammering in her ears.

  ‘You’re a nurse, aren’t you? So you’re here to see me. Be quick. We don’t have much time.’

  Irena had no choice but to trust her. She left her precious bicycle in the hall and followed her inside. The woman kicked off her shoes and pulled her dress over her head. Wearing only her slip, she took Irena by the arm. ‘I’ve been sick for days. It is women’s trouble. This is the second time you have been to see me. You don’t know what’s wrong, but I won’t go into hospital.’

  When Irena nodded, the woman lay on the bed and pulled the thin blanket up to her chin. ‘Open your bag. Take something out – I don’t care what – and put it on the table. Now for both our sakes, try to look normal – you look frightened to death.’

  A moment later, there was a loud banging, followed by the sound of splintering wood.

  ‘R
aus, Raus!’ the soldiers shouted. Irena sucked in a breath and went to the door. Before she could open it, a German soldier flung it open and shoved her aside.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she demanded in German. ‘I have a sick woman in here. She mustn’t be disturbed.’

  ‘Is that your bicycle in the hall?’

  ‘Yes. I am a nurse. I always use it when I need to visit patients who can’t come to the hospital. Now would you mind telling me what’s going on?’

  ‘Let me see your papers,’ the soldier demanded.

  Hoping he wouldn’t notice that her hands were shaking, she reached into her pocket and passed them to him. As she did, she saw with horror she had a dark stain on her sleeve.

  He noticed it too. His eyes narrowed. ‘How is it you have blood on you, Fräulein?’

  ‘Nurse!’ a querulous voice came from the bedroom. ‘When are you going to give me something to stop the bleeding?’

  The soldier grabbed Irena by the elbow and dragged her into the bedroom. She wondered how many minutes she had left to live.

  ‘Where are you bleeding? Let me see.’

  ‘Oh, sir. It’s down below – women’s troubles. I haven’t stopped bleeding this last three weeks. The nurse doesn’t know what’s wrong either, but she was about to give me something that might help.’

  She made to push the blankets away but the soldier stepped back, repelled. ‘Wait here,’ he said.

  As soon as he left the room, the woman held out her hand. ‘Do you have a scalpel? Anything sharp?’

  All Irena had was a pair of scissors. Guessing what the woman intended, she took them from her bag. ‘It’s better I do it,’ Irena said. The woman lifted her nightdress and searching for a vein near her groin, Irena used the tip of the scissors to puncture a hole.

  ‘Bigger,’ the woman said through gritted teeth. ‘There has to be more blood.’

  Taking another deep breath, Irena widened the hole until blood spilled onto the sheets. Judging by the noise of running boots, the soldier was coming back with reinforcements. Irena wrapped the scissors with a piece of lint and replaced them in her bag.

  And not a second too soon. The soldier had brought his captain back with him. He threw back the sheets, but when he saw the blood on the woman’s thighs, he covered her up again. ‘Search this place,’ he told his men. ‘The nurse’s bag, too.’ He turned and gestured to a soldier to come forward. Irena felt sick when she recognised him. He was holding his arm across his chest, stemming the blood with a handkerchief. The captain pointed at Irena.

  ‘Is this the woman?’

  The world seemed to stop turning. Images of Tata, Aleksy and Richard flashed into her head. She would never see any of them again.

  But the soldier shook his head. ‘No. It wasn’t her.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I have never seen either of these women before.’

  Chapter 47

  By July the German army was in retreat all over Europe and the Russians almost at Poland’s doorstep. The Red Army dropped leaflets and broadcast on the radio that they were coming, exhorting the Poles to be ready to help them. Knowing they were close, the Home Army came out into the open to fight.

  To her joy, Irena had met Anna again. She’d appeared at one of the safe houses, wearing an olive skirt and jacket with the Polish Home Army armband on her upper arm.

  The two women hugged.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Irena asked.

  ‘The time for sending messages is over. Poland is about to be liberated and I want to be standing shoulder to shoulder with my countrymen and women when it is.’ Anna glanced over to Antoni, before smiling slyly at Irena. ‘With him.’

  So that’s the way it was.

  ‘We’re not waiting for the Russians to liberate us,’ Antoni said from across the room. ‘We will liberate ourselves – even if it means dying in the attempt. If we don’t they will just be another occupying force. Poland must be free again.’

  On the first of August the first shots were fired, killing hundreds of Germans. They were quick to retaliate, pulling people from their homes or from the street and summarily executing them. They set fire to houses and buildings, systematically moving from street to street.

  Within weeks the city of Warsaw was reduced to rubble. Although they must have known they were defeated, the Germans seemed intent on destroying every building and killing every man, woman and child. The resistance fought wherever and with whatever they could. Even children joined in.

  With all pretence of acceptance of German rule gone, and with the Home Army fighting openly on the streets, Irena persuaded Hinda to take her children to the hospital. They would be as safe there, if not safer, than they would be in hiding.

  The doctors at the hospital cleaned Jacob’s wound under anaesthetic and almost immediately the little boy began to improve. His mother and sister stayed close beside him, sleeping on the floor. Whenever Irena found a few moments to spare, she visited them there and as soon as Irena sat down Leah would climb into her lap and sit there, sucking her thumb, her small body pressed into Irena and her head tucked under Irena’s chin. She said the odd word, but on the whole was happy to watch what was going on around her.

  In return, Irena couldn’t help but love the little girl back. There was something about Leah that reminded her of herself at that age. Despite the trauma of years spent in hiding, or perhaps because of it, Leah rarely cried. Equally, she seldom smiled. Irena hoped that when the war was over, when normal life resumed once more, and with the love of her mother and brother, Leah would learn to behave like a child should.

  Irena was at the hospital, caring for the injured and dying as best she could, as best as any of them could without medicine or anaesthetic for those screaming in pain or burning up with fever, when German soldiers stormed in, brandishing their weapons.

  ‘Everyone outside,’ they shouted, ‘Now!’

  One of the doctors raised his head from the patient he was examining. ‘We can’t leave our patients. They will die if we do,’ he said calmly.

  ‘They must go too. Everyone. Out.’

  The doctor looked incredulous. ‘It is impossible,’ he said, turning back to his patient.

  An officer walked over to him, pulled the pistol from his belt and calmly shot him in the back of the head.

  ‘Anyone else?’ the officer sneered. ‘Anyone else who feels they would like to stay?’The remainder of the staff shared terrified glances before turning to the injured and sick and helping them out of their beds. What new horror did the Nazis have in store for them? Irena heard tramping feet in the corridor and glanced over her shoulder to see doctors and nurses, even a nun, carrying stretchers.

  ‘Leave the sickest,’ the German officer said, ‘they will be seen to. But no doctors or nurses are to stay. You must go with your patients. They will need you to take care of them.’

  A worm of fear crawled along Irena’s spine. She wanted to believe them. The Russians were almost here, so what use was it for the Germans to waste precious resources, precious ammunition on them?

  She picked up a child she had been treating who had crush injuries to both his feet and carried him outside, joining the snaking line of patients and staff. Behind her she heard shots and cries, and she held the child closer, covering his ears with her hands.

  ‘It is all right,’ she murmured. ‘It’s going to be all right. We are moving to another hospital, that’s all.’

  The procession tore at Irena’s heart. Most of the doctors were in front, the assistants next, carrying on stretchers those too weak or injured to walk, and then Irena and the nurses with the remainder of the patients, some still in their underwear, some on crutches, supported by relatives or fellow patients. They shuffled forward, their eyes downcast, each step requiring superhuman effort.

  Someone grabbed hold of Irena’s elbow. It was the mother of the boy Irena was carrying. ‘Let me take him,’ his mother said, although she could barely walk herself. Irena p
assed the boy to her, suspecting that this could be the last time the woman held her son.

  They were poked and prodded along Gorczewska Street, where the line turned off into a tunnel and halted. A few moments later the line moved forward again until finally they were herded together in a shed.

  After examining their documents, they were divided into groups and the first group of twelve was led out of the back entrance and into what Irena assumed would be a courtyard. A few minutes later the sound of machine-gunfire ripped through the room followed by two or three single shots. There were a few cries from the people waiting, but mostly they just gripped each other tightly, whispering their goodbyes.