The Children's War

by Stroyar, J. N.

  Zosia made a face but did not comment.

  “My sister thinks I’m a fool. Or brainwashed by being out here too long. But I don’t believe a few rabid partisans lurking in the mountains makes for a convincing foreign enemy. Whatever happens is going to happen from within. We are past the point of winning a war, we must look toward either evolution or revolution. And since I see no indication that revolution is imminent, I look toward evolution. I think it’s our only hope: collaboration.” He emphasized the word, looking pointedly at Zosia. “There are others who think that any acknowledgment of their power is a betrayal of our cause, that we must maintain our longstanding ‘stiff attitude toward the occupant,’ but I’m a realist and won’t argue for their point of view.”

  “Whatever our personal differences on that score,” Kasia interposed as if to preempt an argument, “it doesn’t matter as long as they are unwilling to treat with us. Whether we would accept second- or third-class status or demand equal rights is irrelevant to the government. They have not forgiven our previous rejections of their overtures, and as long as that is the case, our varying strategies are irrelevant.”

  “Yes, and because of the survival issue,” Zosia added, “whatever our differences on strategy and goals, we present a completely united front to the world. We keep our differences to ourselves, all the more so since they are, at this point, only theoretical.”

  “Not always,” Pawel interjected.

  “What do you mean?” Peter asked.

  “Oh, because of the varying strategies and the leadership’s unwillingness to ever criticize any action, there are independent actions that don’t exactly coincide with our stated goals or strategies. Dad takes advantage of that.” Pawel indicated his father with a nod, and then plunging on as if doing something extremely brave, he added, “We all know that he’s pursuing his own agenda for recognition of basic human rights for our people. The Warszawa Council is aware that they can hardly control his actions, that he only takes orders when he feels like it, and yet they don’t do anything to sanction him.” As if to soften whatever punishment he was going to suffer for his exposó, Pawel looked at his father and added, “Isn’t that right, Dad?”

  Ryszard brought his cigarette to his lips and sucked on it pensively as he contemplatedhis son. A brave, bright boy growing into manhood. Perceptive, wellspoken, and from all accounts quite convincing in the roles he played. He could be proud of his son. “You’re right, I haven’t been sanctioned yet, son. Not yet.”

  51

  “PETER!” KASIAAPPEARED in the doorway of the sitting room, panting. “I’m in labor!”

  Peter jumped up from the floor where he had been trying to build a tower with Magdalena. Zosia stood as well. “Shall we call Ryszard?”

  “He won’t be home in time; these things happen fast for me. You’re going to have to drive me to the hospital,” Kasia answered as she groaned and reeled into Peter’s waiting arms.

  “You can’t go!” Zosia fretted at Peter. “I’ll have to drive. Is Pawel nearby?”

  “No, he’s out with Liesel, of course,” Kasia hissed through her pain. Berlin and the lack of Ryszard’s parents had led her to plan to rely on Pawel to take her to the hospital, and she wondered momentarily at their group absentmindedness in that none of them had accounted for his being away once he started seeing Liesel.

  “I won’t be recognized,” Peter assured Zosia as he steadied Kasia. “It’s better if I go, the laws at least allow me to chauffeur—you might get stopped. You watch the kids and call Ryszard; we’ll take Andrzej along as the figure of authority.”

  Both Kasia and Zosia laughed at Peter’s choice of wording. As he gathered all the appropriate papers together, Zosia went to the back door to call Andrzej in from the yard. “Well, Master Andreas, it seems you’re in charge,” she advised her thirteen-year-old nephew, then smacked him on the shoulder to send him in the direction of the front door where Peter and Kasia were waiting. Andrzej drew himself up to his full height, took his mother’s arm from Peter, and with Peter grabbing her overnight bag, they made their way out the door and to Ryszard’s car.

  The hospital was in an older section of the suburb, and there was no parking nearby. “I should have taken a taxi!” Kasia fretted through gritted teeth, then suggested that Peter just drop them off and drive home, but he pointed out that he did not have any papers allowing him to do that and it was worth his life not to lose sight of them at this point. He should have changed identities, he admitted, but it was too late now and they were stuck with him for the duration—he needed their protection. Kasia agreed as he pulled the car up and over a curb and left it parked illegally, in the style of anyone with any authority. The vehicle would not be towed—it would be worth the patrolman’s life if he did that.

  At the reception desk, the attendant stated that their servant would not beallowed to accompany them any further, but Andrzej replied with surprising force and authority, “He’s coming with us.” And since the attendant had already scanned their documents and noted Ryszard’s job title, that was the end of any argument.

  Together they made it as far as the maternity floor, but at that point Kasia was whisked away to be handled by the medical professionals in an antiseptic and impersonal assembly-line procedure. She had a look of near panic as she gave herself up to their tender mercies and left the only people she trusted behind in the waiting room.

  With each previous child except Genia, she had managed to return to Szaflary, where she could give birth in safety, free to express herself in her native language, able to depend on those she knew and trusted. With Genia, the Council had arranged for a midwife, and though it was unusual for Germans of her class, she had given birth in the comfort and safety of home. With their move to Berlin, however, they had been unable to arrange anything, and Ryszard had decided that another home birth would raise suspicions; so, Kasia had arranged everything with the hospital and with a local doctor, and now she had to face the entire process among strangers, remembering throughout not to say one word in the wrong language. It was her sixth birth and yet it was the first time that she was genuinely terrified.

  She thought of Ryszard and the grim look on his face every morning as he went into the office and decided if he could do it every day of his life, she could maintain her composure through the birth of her child. The nurses were amazed by her behavior: that such a highly placed woman did not scream and bark orders and tear at her sheets. Party wives usually used the opportunity of giving birth to one of their multitudinous children to vent their years of frustration, and to some extent the exclusion of their husbands from the wing was a fulfillment of those same husbands’ desires. They shrugged and blamed the hospital rules and let paid professionals put up with the tantrums that such wives felt free to throw at this time of their life.

  Andrzej and Peter felt no such desire to be away from Kasia. Andrzej paced nervously in the waiting room, while Peter stood discreetly in a corner near a window, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Every now and then he scanned the crowd to make sure there was no one he knew among them, but otherwise he stared at the floor so as not to offend any of the waiting men by accidentally catching his eye.

  Hours later they were still waiting. Andrzej had grown weary of pacing and had seated himself in one of the lounge chairs, glancing repeatedly at the entrance to look for his father. Peter had grown weary of standing, but he remained by the window, glancing now more often at the forbidden seats than at the faces of the men sitting in them. Now and then a name was called and a worried husband jumped to his feet to be escorted away.

  “Traugutt!” an orderly barked into the room of expectant men.

  Andrzej jumped to his feet and approached. “That’s my mother.”

  “Sorry, son, only husbands allowed back here,” the orderly informed him gleefully, obviously relishing his position of power.

  “My father has not arrived yet,” Andrzej stated, motioning to Peter to join him. “I am going to see m
y mother now.”

  The orderly smirked, but then his eyes strayed to the boy’s servant and he paused to reconsider. “All right,” he finally agreed, “you can see your mother, but he stays here.”

  “Out of my way,” Andrzej ordered, and as the orderly instinctively stepped aside, Andrzej brushed past him, motioning for Peter to follow. The orderly’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. He then hurried after the pair so that he could show them the way to the physician.

  The physician greeted Andrzej politely and asked, “Your father is not here yet?”

  “No, unfortunately. How is my mother?”

  “She’s fine. You have a little brother. Both mother and son are doing well. Would you like to see her?” the physician asked even as he pushed open the door to Kasia’s room.

  The physician took his leave of them as Peter and Andrzej stepped into the large room. A number of women were on beds in the corridor, but despite such obvious overcrowding, Kasia was alone in the room, having been given the privacy that her good papers called for. In her arms she held a tiny bundle.

  She acknowledged them wearily and asked her son, “Where’s your father?”

  Andrzej shrugged. “I guess he had trouble getting away.”

  Peter smiled a discreet welcome at the baby, not daring to say anything even in the privacy of Kasia’s room. Kasia understood his caution and smiled in return, saying, “They wanted to take the baby to the nursery, but I insisted he stay with me.” She grinned. “And for some reason, they listened to me.”

  “Do you have a name for him?” Andrzej asked, touching his brother’s tiny little-nose.

  “Piotr,” Kasia said so quietly they had to read her lips. She winked at Peter and said aloud, “We’ll call him Peter.”

  Peter blushed and wondered if Ryszard had agreed to the name, or if Kasia had chosen it then and there as retribution for her husband’s absence.

  As if reading his thoughts, Ryszard burst into the room at that moment.“Oh, I’m sorry, love!” he groaned. “I was in a meeting! Contrary to my orders, someone had left instructions that there should be no interruptions, so I only just got the message.”

  “What an unfortunate mistake!” Kasia replied sarcastically. “But, just as well. You would only have wasted your time waiting in the lobby. And I had no need for you, after all; our son and our loyal servant were here for me.” She looked down at the baby and stroked his face. “And now you have another son. I’ve named him Peter.”

  Ryszard took the baby into his arms. Not reacting to the name, he asked instead,“How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “They want to keep you here for two weeks, to recover.”

  Kasia shook her head.“No, get me out of here. Today.”

  Ryszard nodded, recognizing that he had no option but to obey. He handed the baby to his son and said, “Stay with your mother, I’ve got to go and yell at some people.”

  Andrzej sat on the edge of the bed and chatted to his mother until Ryszard returned and informed his wife, “I’ve got them to agree to tomorrow morning. Will that do?”

  Kasia shook her head. “I said today,” she reiterated in a cold voice. “I will not spend a night here alone!”

  Ryszard leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. He glared at his wife while he smoked, but when he finished, said, “All right, today it is.” He pushed himself away from the wall and left again.

  He returned twenty minutes later looking rather frazzled. “We’re stuck at tomorrow—they’ve got some laws on their side.” He looked at Andrzej and asked, “Apparently you signed something when you came in?”

  Kasia answered for him. “Of course he signed whatever he had to. After all, you weren’t here.”

  “Well, I can’t get them to budge. But you don’t have to spend the night alone. They don’t want me here—afraid I’ll want sex or something—but your female servant can spend the night with you. Will that do?”

  Kasia scowled, then agreed, “All right.”

  “I’ll take him home now.” Ryszard indicated Peter. “Then I’ll come back with your girl and spend the evening here. She can stay the night, and I’ll pick you both up in the morning. Andreas can stay with you until I get back. Will that satisfy you?”

  “Yes. But make sure the baby gets to stay the night with me. I don’t want him to ever leave my sight.”

  “I understand,” Ryszard assured her.

  “And make sure we get a cot in here for my girl.” Kasia could imagine her sister-in-law’s fury if she was forced to spend the night on the floor!

  “I’ll do that,” Ryszard agreed, “but I doubt she’ll spend much time sleeping.”

  Indeed, Zosia spent most of the night pacing. Time and again nurses bullied their way into the room and she had to deferentially remind them they could not abscond with the infant just because the mother was sleeping. Each time Kasia awoke and reiterated what Zosia had said, and only then did the nurses withdraw from the room.

  “But the babe needs to be in the nursery! The mother will roll on him and smother him,” one nurse argued.

  “They are both sleeping just fine,” Zosia replied. “My lady wants her son to remain here with her.”

  “How dare you be so insolent!” the nurse huffed, and tried to push past her.

  Zosia did not move. It was a delicate balance—not giving in, but not appearingto resist. Luckily before the disagreement went any further, Kasia awoke and said wearily, “Please leave the room.”

  “But you’ll smother the baby!”

  “I’m here to prevent that,” Zosia replied smoothly to the idiotic assertion. “Now do as meine gnädige Frau requests.”

  The nurse scowled and left. Zosia sighed heavily and turned to Kasia to give her an apologetic smile. “I had hoped meine gnädige Frau would get to sleep undisturbed.”

  “So had I.” Kasia tried not to laugh at poor Zosia. Cold-blooded assassin, government minister! The self-confident colonel was struggling hard to maintain her composure and to play her lowly role.

  Zosia glanced around, then bent down to kiss her sister-in-law’s forehead. “You’ll be home soon,” she whispered, then moving away from the bed, she began her vigilant pacing again. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth throughout the long night.

  Both men had equally disturbed nights as they worried about their wives. Ryszard dreamt that the SS Lebensborn inspected Kasia’s documents and decided that although she had been declared Volksdeutsch, her blood was sufficiently tainted that she did not deserve to keep her child. He saw them tearing the babe away from her as she screamed and fought them. Groaning, he rose from his bed and made his way down the stairs to the liquor cabinet.

  “Ah, so you’re up as well,” Peter greeted him.

  “Dreams. You, too?”

  “Yeah. Keep dreaming Zosia kills the nurses to stop them from stealing Piotr, and then she gets dragged off and executed. Decided I’d rather remain awake than see that one more time.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Nearly three. Want to play some poker?”

  “Sure. That’ll kill a few hours. Besides, I could use the cash.”

  “In your dreams.” Peter laughed. “But two’s no fun, let’s see if Pawel and Andrzej want to play.”

  “Good idea.” Ryszard laughed as well. “If we get them when they’re sleepy, maybe we’ll manage to win for once.”

  52

  DESPITE THE FEARS and nervous agitation suffered all round, the night passed without incident. Ryszard managed to rescue Kasia, Piotr, and Zosia from the hospital the following morning, and over the next few days life in the householdreturned to normal. Piotr was adored by all, Pawel continued seeing Liesel, and Peter and Zosia continued to see Magdalena nearly every day. Several times, perhaps out of sheer boredom, Teresa accompanied Liesel to the Traugutt household and stayed there with her sister while the nanny went off on her husband-catching venture. On those days, Peter was trapped upstairs, out of sight while Zosi
a and Teresa tended to Madzia and Piotr. Pawel made a point of having an appointment and returning earlier than usual on those days, so Peter’s exile was not interminable. More than once though, when Liesel and Pawel returned to the house, the two girls from the Vogel household stayed on and visited. Teresa seemed to enjoy talking to Pawel, and he seemed in no great hurry to leave when she was around. Liesel sat with her arms possessively around her man but was usually unable to interrupt the conversation as it strayed into topics with which she was totally unfamiliar. Eventually Pawel would have mercy on both Liesel and Peter and would disappear to go to his appointment; then the two girls stayed only long enough to appear polite before taking their leave.

  “She’s a bright girl,” Zosia opined as Peter emerged into the sitting room soon after the girls and the baby had left one evening.

  He nodded sadly.

  “Tomorrow’s the last day,” she reminded him needlessly.

  “I know.”

  “While we watched Madzia together, I’ve managed to talk to Teresa a bit. I guess she likes slumming.”

  “No, she’s just a sweet kid, and I would guess, a bit lonely.” He stared down the path that Magdalena had taken.

  “She told me about you, about when you tried to teach Ulrike, and what happened to you then. She said that you taught her about courage.”

  “Courage,” he repeated, somewhat disconcerted. He had only just come to terms with his cowardice during those years of abject submissiveness. Courage?

  “I had her promise to take care of Magdalena, to make sure she wasn’t ignored. I told her that Madzia deserves love, that she’s a special little girl. She seemed to know what I meant.” Zosia winked at him.

  He nodded, embarrassed. “How did you manage to convey such privileged information?”

  “Oh, I used my mysterious Gypsy-style voice. It’s very useful when one wants to convey information while maintaining a faÁade of ignorance and inferiority.”