The Children's War

by Stroyar, J. N.

  Adam shook his head.“He hates children!”

  “He’d still help,” Zosia soothed.

  “You wouldn’t let him adopt her, would you?”

  Zosia cocked her head in confusion. “Why would I do that?”

  “What if you married him?”

  “I’d never marry anyone else.”

  “You’re still young, I wouldn’t mind, you might change your mind. There’s no reason you should be alone for the rest of your life.”

  “Adam! You’re the only man in my life. Forever!”

  “But if you did—just promise me this. Promise me that Joanna will remain my daughter! Promise!”

  Zosia felt confused by the intensity of his concerns. “She’ll always be your daughter. No matter what happens, no one can take that away. I won’t let anyone take that away, Adam. She’ll always know you’re her father, her only father.”

  “You promise?”

  “Solemnly.”

  Adam hugged Zosia and then, kissing her cheek, whispered, “I’ve got to go now.” He slipped out of the chapel, leaving Zosia to contemplate the flickering candle he had lit for his sister.

  The soft moss provided a nice mat for their cards. Adam sat cross-legged on the ground in front of the small pile, scanning his hand, as Tadek leaned back against the trunk of a tree and surveyed in the distance to see how the setting up of the railroad barriers was progressing.

  “Why didn’t Zosia come?” Tadek asked.

  “You know Katerina objects to us being top-heavy when we do these things,” Adam answered without looking up.

  “She’s objected for years. You’ve suddenly become obedient?”

  “No. It’s Joanna. We’ve decided, since we’re parents now, not to double-team anymore. Pity, I miss the celebration afterwards.”

  “So do I,” Tadek said.

  Adam threw such a sharp look in his direction that Tadek burst out laughing. “I knew that’d get you!” he snorted.

  Adam turned back to his cards, struggling to look disinterested. He laid a card down and casually asked, “Did you visit my wife during my last absence?”

  “Her name is Zosia,” Tadek said playfully.

  “Well?” Adam pressed.

  “They’re almost done,” Tadek informed him.

  “That wasn’t my question,” Adam persisted.

  Tadek smiled at his friend. “What did Zosia tell you?”

  “She said you were very helpful.”

  “That’s me all right, always ready to offer a hand.”

  “You hate children,” Adam pointed out.

  “Not hate, just find them irksome,” Tadek corrected.

  “Any long walks?”

  “Don’t remember.”

  “Zosia said you went for one of your walks.”

  “Then I guess we did,” Tadek said agreeably.

  Adam folded his cards into his hand and gave his full attention to his friend. “I know you and—”

  “Dearest comrade, is this why you insisted I come along?”

  “Yes,” Adam said with a forced grin, “so I can keep an eye on you!”

  “Hey!” a young voice interrupted them. “The train’s coming!”

  Tadek and Adam stood, donned their equipment, and joined the other members of the team. The job went smoothly, the engineer and conductor and the maintenance crew were all too willing to obey the team’s commands. Only four soldiers were guarding the train, and they were quickly disarmed and held at gunpoint a few yards away.

  The partisans began unloading the train, organizing the food into discrete units for easy pickup by the locals. Someone called to Adam that he had found some files as well, and Adam and Tadek went over to the boxcar to inspect the crates.

  Adam looked at the outside of the crate, reading the delivery label. “It doesn’t seem like they were hiding these. It’s clearly labeled for an office.”

  “Hmm. But they are encrypted,” Tadek commented as he paged through a notebook.

  “They encrypt everything,” Adam said.

  “Do you think they’re of any value?” Tadek asked as he surveyed the three crates of paper files.

  “Doubt it.” Adam picked up another notebook and scanned the documents. “I wish I had a clue how to look at these things.”

  “Should we leave them?” Tadek asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s a lot to carry back, but there could be something here. Trouble is, with my dad gone, there’s no one left to sort through this junk.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Pff. Who knows. Once he got his new identity, he cut us off completely. Not a word. I tried to talk to him before he left, but he just stared at me like I was the devil incarnate.”

  “You used to get on well with him,” Tadek remarked.

  “Used to. Now he can’t stand the sight of me.” Adam stared off into the distance, trying not to show Tadek how much his father’s rejection had hurt him. Under his breath he explained,“He blames me for Julia’s death.”

  “What? How?”

  “Oh, I think in his mind, he’s angry I didn’t follow in his footsteps and become a cryptographer. Then I would have stayed in camp and played it safe, then Olek wouldn’t have been inspired to go out and do dangerous things, and so Julia wouldn’t have felt driven to find an escape, so she wouldn’t have gone off to Paris to get money. . . . Something like that.”

  Tadek whistled. “Quite a convoluted argument for blaming you.”

  “He’s not—” Adam was interrupted by the sound of gunfire. He threw himself-to the ground even as he searched for the source and aimed his pistol. Tadekfired off a shot, hitting the German guard who was firing wildly at them. The guard collapsed to the ground, and a local girl scurried over to him and kicked his gun away. She turned him over and searched him as others hurriedly frisked the other three terrified prisoners.

  “What the hell happened!” Adam demanded.

  A young boy looked up from the body of the lad who had been guarding the four. “He’s killed my brother!”

  “Edek’s badly wounded,” someone else reported.

  “Fuck,” Adam swore. He directed several of the group to frisk the train crew and another couple to carry the bodies a safe distance away and to try to tend to Edek.

  “The bastard’s not dead, sir,” the girl reported, looking up from the German guard who had caused the mayhem.

  “Let me see.” Adam approached the man. He was lying on the ground, staring up with eyes full of hate. Adam dropped on one knee next to him, aimed his pistol, and shot him through the head.

  Adam looked up into the stunned face of the girl who stood over them.“How old are you?”

  “Fourteen, sir,” she answered, her eyes glued to the executed soldier’s head.

  “Fourteen,” Adam repeated, wiping his hand and his pistol on the grass to clean them. He stood. “Those three, up against the train. Now!”

  The other three guards were herded toward the train. They were made to face the train with their hands held high. Adam approached the first of them, his pistol drawn. He pointed the gun at the back of the man’s head.

  “It wasn’t me,” the man whispered. Adam could see his entire body trembling.

  “Adam,” Tadek spoke into his ear. “They’re not a security risk.”

  “Neither was the one who had the hidden gun.”

  “The one who shot our boys is dead. It wasn’t these three.”

  “They shouldn’t even be here!” Adam hissed. “Stealing food from starving people! It is them!”

  “Don’t be what you hate.” Tadek stepped away to let his friend make his own decisions.

  Adam hesitated, stepped back, and waving his pistol to indicate a gully, said, “Take them over there and tie each up to a tree. Get them out of my sight!”

  Though the three prisoners could not understand his orders, they heaved a sigh of relief as they were led away.

  Adam called over two young partisans. “You two, walk the train cre
w a few miles into the woods. Hold them an hour, then release them.”

  “What are you going to do about the guards?” Tadek asked.

  “After the food is distributed, we can inform someone of their location.”

  “Shall we get the distribution under way?”

  Adam nodded.

  “What about the files?” Tadek asked.

  “Burn them!” Adam ordered.

  “Okay.”

  “Can you handle it from here? I want to check on Edek; we’ll have to carry him into the village.”

  “Send someone else—you shouldn’t take that sort of risk,” Tadek advised.

  “No, I’ll go. It’s my fault, I fucked up. After I get Edek tended to, I’ll talk to the dead boy’s parents.”

  “Okay. Good luck. Meet you back at the encampment.”

  Adam nodded. He kept seeing the chaotic seconds in his mind. The way the boy twisted in pain and fell clutching his throat. His brother’s look of anguish as he realized what had happened. Adam closed his eyes to try to blot out the images, but then he opened them again, swore quietly, and went to see how the injured boy was faring.

  33

  “YARDLEY!”A VOICE YELLED. “Alan! Slow down! Hey, wait up!”

  He stopped and turned to see Graham forcing his way through the crowd gathered at the entrance of the new government superstore. “What are you doing here?” Graham gasped as he finally caught up with his friend.

  “I’m meeting some friends, at Göbbel’s Ball.”

  “Where?”

  He tossed his head in the direction of a pub. “I forgot, you’re not a native Londoner. It’s the Goose and Bull, over there. What’s up?”

  “I have some news!” Graham answered excitedly. “I’ve been promoted!”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I’m your boss now!” Graham grinned at him.

  “What?”

  “Well, you didn’t want the job.”

  “What job? Sherwood’s?”

  “Yes, didn’t you know? Sherwood’s off to America and I’m taking over as the liaison. I assumed they asked you first, didn’t they?”

  He shook his head, disconcerted by the slight. “No, no. I guess they figured I wouldn’t want it.”

  “Guess so. We know you like being here on the ground, in the thick of it.”

  Yes, on the ground, in the thick of it, near Allison. He had turned down other promotions, it was no big deal that this time they hadn’t even asked. He opened his mouth to say something, but he felt a sudden sharp stabbing pain in his ribs. “Ow!” he yelped, and rolled away.

  Elspeth kicked him again. “Get up, you lazy swine! You’re late, our breakfast will be late!”

  He rolled to his knees and climbed to his feet, apologizing as he did so. Elspeth stomped out of the attic, and Peter took a moment to gather himself. What did he need to do today? he wondered as he rubbed the sleep from his face. What day was it? Oh, yes, Sunday. A week since Frau von dem Bach had left. A week since he had gone down on his knees, begging to be allowed to stay, to be allowed to serve them. A week of feeling sick to his stomach that he had pleaded to stay.

  He paced to the window and glanced out. Sunshine! At long last, after endless days of rain. He closed his eyes to enjoy the thought: sunshine on a Sunday, blessed Sunday. Not only would the family leave the house today to go to their silly political rally, but there was sunshine! They would follow the rally with a long, Gemütlich, and nearly obligatory walk in the woods, and the sunshine would keep them out for hours. Hours of rallies, hours of strolling, hours of drinking coffee and eating cake in a woodland cafó. Hours of being away from him!

  It was with an irrepressibly cheerful respect that he served up their morning breakfast and helped them prepare for their day. He held the door open for them as they filed out and closed it gently behind Gisela as she was the last in the long line to tromp across the threshold. He paused in the sudden stillness and listened to the beautiful silence that reigned in the house, then, unable to suppress his joy any longer, he squeezed his eyes shut, raised both fists into the air, and whispered, “Yes!”

  “Hey, lads, look who’s showed up,” Josef called out.

  “Long time no see,” Martin chimed in, moving over to make a place for him.

  “Been busy,” Peter explained as he seated himself on the packed dirt. He leaned his back against the wall of the warehouse, scanned the surroundings to make sure he had not brought any trouble with him, and added, “Deal me in.”

  “Did you bring an ante?” Roman asked, scratching determinedly at his ankle.

  “And some.” Peter pulled the bottle of wine out from the sack he carried.

  “Hey, ho! How’d you manage that?” Josef asked.

  “With the mother-in-law around, it was easy. They were so busy sniping at each other.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right. Is the old crone gone then?” Vasil wondered.

  “Ach, she wasn’t so bad. She got her daughter to promise to buy me a mattress, though I doubt Elspeth will do it.”

  “You shouldn’t call her that,” Martin warned. “Sounds disrespectful.”

  “She calls me Peter. Don’t see why I shouldn’t use her first name.”

  “There you go again with your egalitarian bullshit. Where’d you get that stuff?”

  “My grandmother,” Peter answered, smiling fondly at her memory. “She’d quote the American Declaration of Independence to me, read me ‘Common Sense,’ taught me about England’s proud, democratic history.”

  “And that’s exactly why you’re always in trouble,” Martin said. “You should forget all that nonsense and learn your place.” Like Roman, Martin had not lost his Aryan status. He pointed a finger at the yellow inset of Peter’s red stripe and added, “Learn to show respect for your betters!”

  “Or at least fake it,” Roman amended. He cursed quietly and began scratching farther up his leg.

  “I do a reasonable act,” Peter said as he studied his cards. “I’ve gotten pretty good at handling them.”

  “Acts are hard to keep up,” Martin warned.

  “Not for me,” Peter countered. “I’ve had lots of practice. That’s at least one positive thing that I can say for my youth.”

  “You can’t keep it up forever. If you don’t drop your highfalutin attitude, you’re gonna end up in trouble, mark my words.”

  “I’ll be gone before then. I’m just biding my time until the right opportunity arises.”

  His friends laughed good-naturedly. “You’ll be saying that twenty years from now,” Josef guessed.

  “Yeah, and he’ll be explaining how his dear Frau Vogel couldn’t manage without him,” Vasil added.

  Peter didn’t respond. A sudden, dizzying darkness had settled over him, turning-their jovial teasing into a cacophony of unpleasant sounds and terrifying sights. Shuddering with fear, he blinked away the images. Just the thought of escape . . . What in God’s name had they done to him?

  “Are you going to play?” Martin pressed.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, I’ll take two.” Peter laid down two cards.

  Roman had begun scratching his back, struggling to reach between his shoulders.

  “What’s up with you?” Vasil asked. “Fleas?”

  “Must be ants here,” Roman muttered, scratching maniacally. He stood and inspected the ground. “Oh, shit! Just look at this, there’s grease here! It’s all over my uniform. I’ll never get it out!”

  “So?” Vasil asked.

  “So, you numskull, I work in a bakery! How the hell am I going to explain grease on my clothes?”

  “Wear them inside out and tell your boss it’s a fashion statement,” Peter suggested.

  “Use some vinegar,” Josef offered somewhat more helpfully. “My wife swears by it.”

  “Now where the hell would I get vinegar?”

  “Your wife?” Peter asked Josef in surprise. “You’re married?”

  “Yep. Don’t get to see her much, though. Not since s
he has to stay in all the time.”

  “That’s the best way to have a marriage,” Vasil opined. “Long distance.”

  “Like you would know,” Roman commented, scrubbing uselessly at his uniform with the palm of his hand. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  “I hope I get to see her before the baby comes,” Josef added, ignoring Roman’s antics.

  “Baby? Is your marriage legal?” Peter asked.

  “Of course not,” Josef scoffed. “Naw, she’s having it for the lady of the house. They’ve reached an agreement.”

  “How did they decide to work it?” Roman asked, now using his fingernail to scrape away as much of the grease as possible.

  “My wife is staying out of sight while her lady is faking a pregnancy. They have an agreeable doctor, so it should all go smoothly.”

  “Then your wife gets to care for the kid?”

  “Sure. She’s going to be the nanny. Her people even agreed to try and get hold of my contract, though we don’t know if they’ll manage it.”

  “Or will even try to.” Roman sighed his exasperation and, shifting to a clean patch of dirt, sat back down.

  “Do they know you’re the father?” Peter asked.

  “Heavens no!” Josef breathed. “It’s his! It really is his.”

  Peter noticed the way Josef had nervously glanced at Martin as he said that, so he decided to change the subject and, turning to Roman, offered, “There’s grease remover at the house. I’ll stop by the bakery on the way back. Put the trousers in a bag near the waste bins, and I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can. Unless, of course, that’s your only pair!”

  The others laughed.“Maybe that’s what he always does—after all, we only see his upper half through the window!” Vasil joked.

  “Is anyone here playing cards?” Martin asked.

  They hadn’t played long, but Peter was already up by two packets of tea and a half tin of ersatz coffee when he saw Elda approaching. She stopped at the edge of their circle and smiled nervously at him.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen,” he apologized as he gathered his prizes into his sack and stood up, “but you’ll have to make up your losses some other time. The lady awaits me.”