by Mary Wood
‘No, he isn’t! He is foolhardy and sees everything as a joke. He won’t take as much care as he should . . . I – I’m sorry. Oh, it’s this war, it’s fraying my nerves.’
‘I understand. But, you know, those with Henry’s disposition were the ones who had more wits about them than the serious ones in our war, weren’t they, Douglas?’
‘Yes, that’s true. They seemed tuned in, when it was necessary to be.’
‘I’m going soon, Aunt Edith – I can’t wait.’
As Thomas finished saying this, Janine got up and ran out of the room. Douglas wiped his mouth with his napkin and, excusing himself, went after her.
‘Thomas, that was inconsiderate at this moment.’
‘Sorry, Aunt Edith, but it is a daily battle with Mother, and she just has to jolly well get used to it, like every other mother in the world is having to. She should be brave and encourage her sons, and she should be more welcoming to the Land Girls, who are away from their loved ones and doing a spiffing job. I’m very annoyed with her.’
Yesteryear came rushing at Edith. Hadn’t she said much the same about her own mother, not knowing her pain and feeling frustrated by the obstacles that her mother tried to put in her way, to stop her doing her bit? Now she knew that pain, and at this moment she felt the only affinity she’d ever felt towards Janine. But it wouldn’t be right to make Thomas see it that way. He needed to keep thinking as he was. He needed to be single-minded, for he was being forced to put his life on the line for his country. It was better that he did so without the burden of knowing his mother’s feelings. In a lot of ways, he was right.
‘Mothers have a part to play, as do fathers, but it isn’t an easy one. Your mother will be all right; she has your father. Just make sure, when you do go, that despite being cross with her, you write to her often and speak of your love for her – and how it is her love for you that is sustaining you. Will you do that much for her?’
‘Of course, Aunt Edith, I’m sorry. I . . . I’ll go and apologize to Mother now.’
‘Yes, do that. But keep your strength and your resolve. That is something you will need. Just channel it in a way that minimizes the hurt your mother feels.’
As she walked in the garden with Eloise later that day, Edith heard that Rose and Andria were coming home for a couple of days later in the week. ‘I don’t know how they’ve managed that, but they say their harvesting isn’t beginning until next week and the farmer has given them time off before it starts. I thought we might arrange a picnic. Have some fun, for a change.’
‘Really, Eloise, do you think we should? I mean, with what’s happening in London and everything?’
‘Even more reason to. Several of the boys in and around the village are approaching the age of conscription, including Thomas. We should give them a happy memory of the life they are fighting to get back to. Fun isn’t banned, you know.’
Edith laughed. Good old Eloise, she always lifted the moment. Looking back to see where the men were, she spotted Laurent and Jay deep in conversation.
‘Whether we can persuade the men to relax for a while, though, is another matter.’
‘We will. Come on, let’s organize a game of croquet. I know it’s out of fashion now, but I still love it. I’ll go and ask Janine to come and join in.’
The afternoon passed pleasantly. Plans were discussed and everyone agreed that a barn dance would be a much better option than a picnic, which necessitated providing a lot of food. Though food was still plentiful in the countryside, no one felt it appropriate to organize a fun occasion at which eating was the main focus, when their fellow city-dwellers had to sacrifice so much.
‘There’s a lot of evacuee children in the surrounding area,’ Eloise said as they finished their game of croquet as the victors over Janine and Jay. ‘I’ll make sure they all have a special treat that day, as we can’t invite them to the dance.’
‘What about lighting? I mean, we can’t dance without light.’
‘We’ll make sure the barn is well blacked out. And we’ll only use candles to light it. It’s no good, Edith – you can’t throw a spanner in this works, so stop trying. My girls only have a day and a night at home, and I aim to make sure they enjoy it.’
The jingly tune coming from the fiddles had them all up and dancing. Laughter reached to and above the rafters, as they all do-si-doed around the cleared barn. As Rose and Andria danced, their lovely faces glowed with fun and happiness. How was that possible, at such a time? But the sight made Edith realize that Eloise had been right. This is what was needed. For a brief moment in these terrible times everyone needed to forget. To let their hair down and enjoy life. To feel normal.
The moment didn’t last long. An overriding noise drowned out the music, as an earth-shaking drone stopped everyone in their tracks.
‘Blow out the candles, quick!’ This was shouted by a dozen voices.
In darkness now, they opened the heavy doors. Outside afforded some light, as the dusk hadn’t yet taken full hold. The pitch of the noise was unbearable, as was the sight of hundreds of planes heading in the direction of Coventry and Birmingham.
From nowhere, RAF fighter planes appeared. Stunned, they watched as a battle raged above them, until a German plane burst into flames, its debris spiralling down towards the ground. This alerted them all to the danger they were in. Murmurs of panic began to rise.
Douglas took charge. ‘Right, everyone, we should head for safety. Hurry now. There’s an underground shelter in the garden. And we have a cellar.’ Walking among the crowd, Douglas stopped in the middle of them, his voice roaring out instructions. ‘Those to my right, follow Thomas into the shelter; those to my left, follow me into the cellar.’
‘Will we all get in?’ Edith asked.
‘Yes. It will be a squash, but by using the cellar as well, everyone will be accommodated. Come on.’ Douglas beckoned her with his arms.
As Edith brought up the rear with Laurent and Jay, not wanting to leave her husband as he struggled to put on his false leg, another plane spiralled down towards them. This time it was a British plane. ‘Oh God!’
‘He’s safe,’ Laurent shouted. ‘Look – the pilot is parachuting down.’
Jay, Douglas and Thomas, along with three or four other men, ran in the direction in which the airman was coming down.
‘Come in, Edith – come on, they will get him and bring him here.’
‘But he may be hurt. I have to go too, Eloise. If they move him, they could endanger his life.’
Edith ran after the men. Skirting the barn, she kicked off her shoes, knowing that the heels would dig into the grassed meadow she had to cross. The darkness hampered her. The only light she could see was the faint glimmer of the men’s torches, swishing backwards and forwards as they ran ahead.
Once across the first field, she stumbled in the ruts of the second field. Sharp stubble from the recently harvested wheat cut and scratched her legs, but didn’t slow her. As she drew near enough to the men for them to hear her, over the horrendous noise above them, she took charge. ‘Douglas, stop at once and go back. Fetch a door or something to carry him on. And bring something to use as a splint, in case he’s broken something. Oh, and a blanket. You go with him, Thomas. And hurry!’
As they neared the pilot, Edith shouted to the others, ‘Don’t touch him. Let me assess him first. Everyone with torches, shine them onto him.’ Kneeling beside him, she softened her tone. ‘It’s all right. I’m a doctor. You’re safe now. What’s your name?’
‘Jack . . . Jack Lenton.’ The answer came between gasps for air.
‘I’m Edith.’
In the dim light afforded by the tiny torches that most country folk carried around with them these days, Edith looked into the face of a handsome young man. Taking his helmet off released a shock of curly fair hair. She ran her fingers over it in the way a mother would. She wanted to soothe him. ‘Everything will be all right. I can’t see you very well, but I will immobilize your body, so
as not to cause you any further damage, and then get you to the house so that I can examine you.’
‘Than . . . Th—’
‘Don’t try to talk.’
As Douglas and Thomas came back, Edith again took the lead. ‘Help me to attach the splint. Be very careful.’ They followed her every word. ‘Try to lift him without bending his body in any way. Hold his head steady. That’s right, let’s get him to the house.’
Another explosion split the air. A fireball descended in the distance, but no pilot ejected this time. Feeling the sadness caused by the destruction of life above her, Edith concentrated on her patient, making sure the men who carried him took care not to jolt him too much.
Above her, the noise changed. Planes turned, and now the whine of ducking and diving transformed itself into a constant roar, as what was left of the German attackers headed for home. Hot on their heels, the RAF planes continued to shoot at them and to chase them away. The Germans were no longer engaging; they were headed east, towards the coast and home. Their journey wasn’t going to be an easy one, as the RAF remained on their tail. But soon the firing stopped and the drone disappeared into the distance. It was well known that the Luftwaffe planes had the edge on British ones, when it came to speed, although the British planes were much more manoeuvrable, and that gave them an advantage in a head-to-head fight.
‘Ed . . . ith – it’s too late . . . Tell my mo – mother—’
‘No, Jack. Hold on. Please hold on!’
They were in the kitchen. The doors were closed and the blackout was in place, enabling them to have all the lights on. Edith could see that it was too late. A piece of metal protruded from Jack’s chest. His breathing had stopped. There wasn’t even the hint of a beat from his pulse.
‘He’s gone. Poor, brave chap. He’s gone.’
The room fell silent. She looked at the men as they stood around a body of someone they’d never known, and saw tears running down more than one face. A loud blowing of noses broke the silence.
Edith couldn’t cry. If she did, she would never stop. The ticking of the clock on the wall came into focus. She checked the time: nine o’clock. Jack was probably one of a thousand others in the world who had died at nine o’clock tonight, but he shouldn’t have. He looked no more than twenty years of age and had been a healthy young man. Why, oh why?
‘Aunt Edith?’
‘It’s all right, Thomas.’ Taking the sobbing young man into her arms, she patted his back. ‘It’s all right.’
But it wasn’t bloody all right! So many years of her life had been given to war. Now this young man in her arms had to give many of his years. And the young man lying on the table had given all of his. It wasn’t all right, and she wondered if it ever would be.
29
Jhona & Elka
Poland, October 1940 – Achieving the Impossible
The window screeched as Jhona broke it away from one of the metal hinges securing it. Fear made him freeze. He waited, watching the searchlight swing round. Soon it would light this corner of the camp. He had to work fast. In one cat-like movement, he was through into the stores. He grabbed the swinging window and wedged it with the pieces of wood he had to hand, then ducked, just as the room lit up for a few seconds, as if night had been turned into day. Prayers tumbled from him. Please, please, God, let the window hold.
The floorboards creaked as he crawled across to the shelves that he knew housed the SS uniforms. Ephraim had gathered intelligence on this. Jhona hadn’t asked how, but had memorized the drawing Ephraim had produced for him of the inside of the stores.
Now that his eyes were used to the dark once more, it was surprisingly easy to locate the clothes. His next task was to throw them through the window. Ephraim and Rafal would be waiting. Sweat dampened his body, but his fear had lessened and he felt a strength entering him.
Soon he was with the others behind the hut and changing into the uniforms. His uniform hung on him, but he managed to smarten it up with the belt.
‘Now, Rafal. Go and fetch the car. And remember, walk like the SS do!’
Rafal had practised the walk until he was exhausted, marching up and down their hut into the small hours, and had now perfected a very good likeness to the SS movement – a purposeful, arrogant stride.
Nerves trembled inside Jhona, and he wondered how Ephraim felt. Ephraim hadn’t had the benefit of his own training, so this mission placed a tremendous strain on him. All knew that if there was just one mistake, they would face certain death.
The sound of the car approaching made Jhona’s anxiety deepen. This was it – they were really going to attempt to break out. Rehearsing a few German phrases, he knew he would need to keep from panicking, although he nearly passed out when he realized Rafal had stolen Commandant Hoss’s own vehicle. ‘We’ll never get away with this, Rafal. Why didn’t you bring one of the other cars?’
‘This is the fastest vehicle they have. None of them could possibly catch us in any of the other cars. Jump in – and hurry.’
The gates loomed ahead. A light came on and shone at them, and a soldier took up a stance as if to stop them. Putting his head out of the window, Jhona shouted in German, ‘Open the gates and let us pass!’
The soldier hesitated.
Jhona took a deep breath and screamed in the way he’d heard SS officers do so often: ‘Open the gate at once, or I will have you shot.’
The soldier stood aside and opened the gate.
Rafal drove through. Once clear, he slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator. They were free!
Ephraim knew the area well. He guided them along forest roads towards the mountains. Somewhere along the route they would be met. But they would need to undertake several detours to make sure they weren’t being followed.
Elka waited. Soon she would leave with Baruch and a party of Resistance workers. Karol was one of them, as was Gabriel. She now trusted them both. She hoped she was right in this, and she hoped and prayed that Stefan had been the only traitor amongst them. If she was wrong, then Jhona could be in even greater danger, if word of his intended escape was leaked to the Germans.
News had come to them a few days ago that an escape plan was in place. And then more details arrived, by means of a local from Auschwitz – the name they all used now for the village of Oświęcim, where the camp was. The network of people willing to help the Resistance was both heart-warming and a little frightening, as it was impossible to vet them all. Trust – until someone was proven untrustworthy – was the only yardstick they could apply.
‘Elka, we go tonight. They are out of Auschwitz.’
Her heart flipped over. ‘I need to contact London. I’m hoping they will put into place a plan to lift us out.’
‘It’s too dangerous. If the escape has been achieved, all German officers will be on high alert and they will be ordering intense searches and radio-frequency checks. We have to keep our heads down. Nothing must jeopardize this escape, and neither must the escape compromise the safety of the people in the Resistance movement.’
Yes, she could see the sense of this. Her desire to get Jhona out of the country had clouded her judgement. She must wait. Even though each day would be agonizing, she must wait.
With stealth, the party of five crossed the overgrown mountain pass, along a route that Elka had skied many times when she was on holiday in the uncomplicated past. How she wished for snow now, as the driving rain made their journey much more difficult than the snow would.
On reaching the first safe house, her disappointment threatened to weaken her, as no word had been received. Oh, Jhona, my darling, where are you?
‘They should have got here. The road is passable. What could have happened?’
‘They may have abandoned the car. It may be a giveaway to them. In which case they will take a lot longer, as they will be keeping off the main roads.’
Elka knew that Baruch was right, but nothing would stop her heart hurting until she was in Jhona’s arms.
&nb
sp; ‘We shall wait here for a couple of days.’
‘No, I won’t wait. I’ll go down into Zakopane to see if I can pick up any word. Plus, I need to shop for dry clothing.’
‘Elka, you are forgetting your training. Think! The actions you propose are driven by your love for Jhona, but you must channel your plans into protecting their safety, and ours. You are becoming a liability.’
Angry at this, she stormed out of the log cabin. It was still dark outside and the rain soaked through her jumper, but she didn’t care. She needed some time to herself. To be herself. Not this machine that the Secret Service had created.
The tears flowed without warning. Hugging herself, she swallowed hard. It wasn’t the time to give in completely. She still had to remain strong and wait, until she was in Jhona’s loving arms. Then she could unleash her grief and her fears. I have to go home. I have to tell mother about Ania. Shame washed over her as she thought of her deceit. But in her heart she knew her mother would understand why.
‘Come inside, Elka. There is news.’
As she re-entered the cabin, the hill farmer whose home it was closed a partition at the back of a cupboard and blocked out the sight of a wireless transmitter and receiver. Elka couldn’t tell that the panel he drew across could even be moved, but she was annoyed and didn’t dwell on this hiding place. ‘I thought you said we shouldn’t make radio contact?’
‘I did, but here we are so remote that I allowed it. But don’t get any ideas. That was a message coming in, and it was risky enough.’
‘What was it?’ Elka hardly dared ask.
‘Not good. I’m sorry, Elka, but two of the escapees have been recaptured. One is still at large, but we don’t know which one.’
‘No! No . . . How did it happen?’
‘We don’t know. The message was very short. It was from a remote safe house. We didn’t risk sending one back for more information.’
Elka found a chair and slumped into it. The room fell silent. Her thoughts raced. ‘If Jhona is the one who has escaped, will he know his way here?’
‘We can only assume they would have discussed the route. One of them was the member of our group that I told you about, who made sure he was caught in a round-up, in order to set up a Resistance movement within Auschwitz. We have received messages in the recent past that said he had to get out, as there had been rumblings that the Germans knew someone was organizing disruption. It would only have been a matter of time until they found out who. Their methods are cruel, according to the reports we have. Previous messages have informed us that the day after the escape they hanged fourteen men and stopped all rations for a day. I have asked the Freedom Army to help us storm the place, but they are not willing to. There’s nothing we can do. Nobody seems to take our reports seriously.’