by Roxi Harms
"Thanks for looking after your ol' man, Adam. You showed ‘em. You're a good boy," his voice trailed off as his eyes closed.
Adam and his mom left him there and went into the kitchen where Theresa and little George were sitting quietly with Kave.
"It's okay, kids. Your father just had too much schnapps. Some men do that all the time. We're lucky your dad isn't one of those. Time for
bed now."
The next morning, his dad had already left for the vineyards when Adam got up. Adam noticed that he wasn't as short tempered as usual the next evening when he spoke to Adam, and that he went to bed earlier than normal. Other than that, life went on as usual, for the time being.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As Hitler's war progressed through its first full year and into a second, Adam's parents and their friends continued to gather around the radio, listening to the Führer's impassioned speeches that detailed his heroic successes at defending Germany from the injustices being dealt from all sides. Hungary was joining what was being called the Axis, bringing the war close to home. Elek and the other German towns in the area had always felt isolated from the rest of the world, but with Germany sending regular envoys to make speeches in the town square every month or two, their emotional ties with the motherland felt stronger than ever. Passion and enthusiasm for the cause continued to grow. A local chapter of the Hitler Youth had even started up in Elek, and Adam had his very own brown shirt, almost like a soldier's uniform, to wear to the meetings.
When the war had been raging for almost two years, longer than anyone had expected, Hitler announced that the alliance with the Soviet Union was dead, and that German troops were poised for attack from East Prussia to the Carpathians, up and down the banks of the Pruth River, and from the lower Danube to the Black Sea. The kitchens of Elek were filled with animated discussions about the strategy and tactics. Then Hitler ordered Hungary to participate in the invasion. The numbers of Elek boys leaving to fight swelled. Adam and his friends watched in fascination when soldiers arrived home on furlough, fantasizing what it would be like going away, seeing the Russians up close, wearing a smart uniform and owning a gun and a pair of shiny boots.
With several teachers among those who had gone away to war, the school was feeling the impact too. The teachers who hadn't gone circulated between classes, teaching several grades at once. Adam had a good relationship with the new teacher, Mr. Post. In their interactions, he felt a mutual respect he hadn't experienced with other adults, and certainly not at school. His grades had been improving steadily, until he was at or near the top of the class in every subject. After a time, Mr. Post assigned Adam, together with the top girl in the class, to be his monitors, watching over their classmates while he juggled the heavy workload. Adam's new-found authority suited him well.
Grade six would be finished in a couple of weeks. Adam had taken up his usual post at the top of the school steps, where he could look down into the schoolyard and keep an eye on things over the recess break. He was watching some boys play tag in the warm sunshine, thinking about how much he wasn't looking forward to being out in the fields with his dad all summer, when a small group in the corner of the yard caught his eye. Two of the bigger boys in the class were following Otto Metzla around, poking him and mimicking his limp. Adam's eyes narrowed in anger. Metzla had been born with one leg shorter than the other. He already had it harder than the rest of them. They should all be looking out for him, not bullying him.
"Hey, Joe!" Adam called out.
His friend, Joe, was still shorter than him, and still stocky like when they were in kindergarten, but now he was strong. When Mr. Post had put Adam in charge, he had explained to Joe that he might need some help now and then, keeping the kids in line.
Joe turned from where he'd been talking to another kid and trotted over to Adam.
"There's two guys by the fence over there, following Metzla around. I want you to go and give them each a smack and tell them to mind their own business, okay?"
Without a moment's hesitation Joe agreed, turning in the direction Adam had pointed.
Adam watched as Joe approached the trio, and dutifully smacked each of the bullies across the side of the head. As Joe returned to what he'd been doing, the two bullies threw a scowl in Adam's direction and then turned and walked away from Otto. Otto headed over to Adam.
"Thanks, Adam," Otto said with a big smile.
Adam returned the boy's smile. "No problem, Metzla. Don't mention it."
CHAPTER TWENTY
Summer 1941
Kneeling between the rows of grapevines beside his father, Adam slapped at a mosquito, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Summer was almost over, and as usual, it had been wasted. Too much time in the vineyards, missing out on whatever fun Franz and Stumpf were getting up to.
"I don't know why you need another two goddam years of schooling," his dad cussed for the hundredth time, as he carefully snipped a small green shoot off of the vine he was holding.
Each kid had to choose between the academic school or the trade school for grade seven and eight. His dad had decided Adam would go to the trade school. If his kids had to spend another two years in school, they might as well learn some practical stuff. Even so, Adam was relieved to have two more years at school.
As they sweated in the afternoon sun, his dad was explaining how to prune the grapes again. They'd been out here since the cool of the early morning, snipping off dead bits and suckers, and cutting back the vines where they needed to be cut back to get the most growth next season. He'd heard all this so many times. This was one of the bigger vineyards in Elek. They'd already covered a lot of ground this morning, and he'd be expected to stay out here until supper, that day and every day until school restarted. Adam looked up at the sun, directly overhead. Stumpf and Franz were probably cooling off in the pond.
"Now watch," his dad said as he pulled the carefully sharpened cutter from its slot in his tool box. Every once in a while, he told Adam to try it, and then criticized him. Mostly Adam moved the basket and tools along and picked up the bits that his dad cut off and dropped as he went.
"You see this? This is a sucker. You need to cut it off or it's going to take too much of the vine's energy and there won't be as many grapes next year," his dad droned on while he demonstrated for the millionth time.
Adam's mind drifted to the fort. They'd built it on the same spot again this year. No one knew about it other than him, Franz, and Stumpf, since Johann had moved away. A lot of the lickings he'd had over the summer were for getting home late. It was easy to lose track of time at the fort once he finally escaped his dad for the day, discussing the latest they'd heard on the radio about the war, or from their parents.
"Adam, are you even watching? Concentrate!" his dad bellowed, jerking Adam's thoughts back to the neat rows of vines.
"Yes, Dad. You look for a small shoot coming out of where the branch splits, and trim it off carefully and make sure you don't nick the main vine, and . . . ," Adam parroted, unable to suppress the boredom in his tone, though he knew full well it would anger his dad even more.
"Okay, smart ass, you do this row then, and show me what you've learned. And move fast ‘cause you got another ten rows to do before we quit!" his father demanded, thrusting the cutter at his son.
Adam moved sullenly to the next vine and began examining it. Who cares how to cut back the stupid grapes? he thought again.
"You gotta learn how to do this work properly. There's a lot of vineyards left to do between now and when the snow flies. How the hell are you going to be any help to me if you can't do it right? You think it's okay to do a half-assed job? You're already 12, 13 after Christmas. You'll be the man of this family someday. How are you going to take over these vineyards? You have to show the owners that you can do good work. You have to prove that they can trust you to do it better than the other guys, like they trust me! How do you think I got all of these jobs?"
His dad stopped ranting and came
over to peer over Adam's shoulder as he prepared to snip. Maybe he'd get it right and his dad would be pleased with him for a change. He should have watched more closely when his dad showed him.
"NOT THAT ONE! That's the best new shoot for next year, you idiot! You weren't watching! You're never going to learn to do it right because you think you're too good! Damn it all, get the hell outta here! I'll do it myself. Go home and finish digging the potatoes. It better be done by the time I get there and if I find one potato left in that garden, so help me!"
Throwing the cutter angrily to the ground, Adam turned to go and stumbled as his father's boot connected with his backside. Regaining his balance, he held his head up and strode away as his father turned his attention back to the vine, muttering angrily.
Reaching the end of the row, Adam burst into an angry run towards home, thoughts racing through his mind like a broken record as he ran down the dusty street, getting as far away from his dad as he could. He was never going to take over the stupid vineyard work. And he was never going to please his father even if he did, because he'd never do it just right. And who cared anyway?! He wasn't planning on spending his life in this boring little place working for the rich farmers, even if his father thought it was such a great achievement!
Adam turned into their front yard and stopped, panting as he bent over to catch his breath, hands resting on his knees.
What's the point? I'll dig the potatoes and that won't be done right either. And when he gets home, everybody will have to listen to the tirade about everything Adam does wrong. I'll get a lickin', and if Mom speaks up, she'll get a cuff.
Adam sat on the front step stewing, stabbing at the ground with a stick. A few minutes later he snapped the stick in half and stood up.
I'm going. I'm getting out of here. I don't need him and I don't need the stupid grape vines and I don't need a job working for the stupid rich farmers.
He would get as far away from Elek as he could. He could live on his own. He could make his own rules and do what he wanted. Suddenly, he was filled with elation like he'd never felt before. His thoughts swirled as he rummaged in the kitchen. It was laundry day at the Mahlers'. His mom would have Theresa and Anni with her there. He wondered fleetingly where George was. It didn't matter as long as he didn't show up in the next five minutes. Adam hastily arranged the food he'd gathered in the centre of a cloth and tied it up. He felt his pockets for his pocketknife and his harmonica, then turned and darted out the front door and down the steps. As he turned right into the street, he began to run, his bare feet pounding the dirt, his heart soaring. Right again at the corner and he was headed towards the train station in Kétegyháza, and freedom.
As he tired, Adam slowed to a walk, his lunch sack swinging from his hand. He spotted a good stick on the side of the road and picked it up. With his lunch sack tied to the end of it, he slung the stick over his shoulder and began whistling a tune as he walked. He'd be at the train station in less than an hour. He'd go west and see the mountains. Or maybe he'd live in Budapest. Adam started to whistle, thinking through all the possibilities.
As he approached the train station, he slowed down. He definitely wanted to go west. They'd read about the Alps in school, and Mr. Post had told them about when he'd travelled through the mountains. The land around Elek was so flat and boring. The Carpathians were to the east, but then he'd be in Romania. No, he should definitely go west. He scanned the station. A passenger train was just pulling out. It was going west, but it was already moving too fast to jump on. Turning, he strolled casually over to the area where the livestock trains came and went. There were a couple of trains sitting on the tracks. One of them was facing west. Adam scanned the length of it, his eyes stopping on a car near the back. Its door was part way open!
Looking over his shoulder, he picked his way across the tracks to the open car. Sticking his head into the gap, he glanced quickly from side to side and then tossed his stick inside onto the straw. Heaving himself up, he eased through the opening, then turned and looked back out, his heart pounding. The platform and rail yard were quiet. No one had seen him. Crawling through the straw, he sat against the back wall of the empty car and didn't move for a few minutes. The straw was clean and sweet smelling. A fly buzzed in through the door opening and back out again. It was warm in the box car. The late afternoon sun was shining directly into the partway open door, adding to the heat.
Opening his sack, Adam surveyed his supplies. He was hungry from the walk. A heel of bread, two sausages, a chunk of salami, a tomato, and an onion. He pulled out his pocketknife and made himself a sandwich. Just as he started to eat, he heard the train's engine let out a belch of steam and the car jolted forward. He was on his way! Getting to his feet, Adam walked over to the opening, staggering a bit with the movement of the train and sat down heavily where he could watch out the gap. The chuffing of the engine picked up speed as the wheels clattered against the tracks underneath him. His first train ride! As they rolled along, he munched his sandwich, watching as the houses turned to fields. A refreshing breeze blew in through the opening.
The train rolled along for the rest of the evening, slowing when they passed through populated areas, then resuming its steady pace. Adam's gaze stayed fixed on the scenery rolling by. He'd never been this far from Elek. As the light began to fade, the loud clackety-clack of the wheels slowed and the locomotive came to a stop. Adam peered out the door. They seemed to be on the edge of a small village. They'd definitely been heading west, towards the sunset, but he had no idea how far they'd come. After eating another sandwich, he curled up in a corner at the back of the boxcar and stared for a long while at the strip of pale moonlight coming in the boxcar door until finally, sleep came.
A jolt awakened him. The train had inched forward. A faint light was filtering into the opening of the box car door. As he sat up, the train began to move to the accompaniment of the now familiar engine sounds and the rhythm of the wheels against the tracks. He was thirsty. He looked around the car in vain. Out the doorway, he could see the yellow light of sunrise illuminating the fields and the farmhouses they were passing. As he untied his food bundle, he looked at what was left. Just enough for breakfast. While he chewed, the scenery changed. A lot of houses, and big buildings too. Lots of big buildings. This must be Budapest. He wondered if he should get off.
The station where they stopped was noisy. Peeking out, Adam could see people everywhere. Travellers sat on benches waiting, many with suitcases on the ground beside them. Others strode in both directions along the platform and up and down the stairs at the end. A man in a uniform stood gazing around watchfully, his hands clasped behind his back. The huge clock on the wall of the building said a few minutes after eight. Adam really wished he had something to drink. But if he got off here, he'd be seen for sure, and that guy in the uniform wouldn't let him get back on. As he wondered what he should do, the train began to move again.
Mid-morning, the locomotive stopped again, this time at a tiny station. He needed to find a drink and more food. After checking that the coast was clear, he jumped off and dashed over to the road that ran parallel to the tracks. Turning in the direction the train had been travelling, he started to walk.
The first farmhouse wasn't far. Crouching down behind a sprawling tree on the roadside, Adam surveyed the yard. There was no one around. Just as he was about to make a dash for the water barrel at the edge of the garden, the front door opened. Squatting back down, he watched as a woman came out of the house and strode purposefully into the rows of vegetables. Bending over, she held aside the green tops with her hand and studied the vegetables growing under them for a moment before pulling a handful of carrots. Next, she turned and picked a couple of onions from another row, then straightened and strode back into the house. Adam remained motionless for a few more minutes, waiting. There was no further sign of activity in the yard. Counting to three under his breath, he ran into the yard. Sticking his face into the water barrel, he took three big gulps, then g
rabbed a fistful of carrots and an onion before dashing back to the tree. Shaking, he looked back. No movement in the yard. Quickly he wrapped his cloth around the vegetables and tied it to the stick. Standing up, he stepped back into the road and casually strolled past the house. When the house was out of sight, he pulled a carrot out of the sack, rubbed the dirt off, and bit into it.
He'd finished all of the carrots and the onion when he heard a wagon approaching from behind. Keeping his eyes facing forward, he kept walking. Would they be looking for him this far from home? The man driving the wagon didn't show any interest in him. Nothing to worry about. The sun was hot. He was still thirsty. There was no water in the ditch this late in the summer. He needed to find another farmyard.
A little while later, Adam heard the rattle of another wagon behind him. Turning, he waved and the driver slowed down beside him.
"Hello," said the driver.
"Good afternoon, sir, do you think I could jump on and catch a ride?"
"Where you going?"
Adam hesitated, then said the first thing that came to mind. "To my aunt and uncle's farm west of here to help out with the wheat harvest."
"Sure, climb on," said the farmer with a friendly grin, motioning behind him at the mostly empty wagon. He slowed the horses to a stop while Adam climbed onto the wagon and settled down with his back against the side.
"Thanks," Adam called out to the farmer an hour later as he jumped off the back of the wagon and resumed his westward march.
As the sun headed for the horizon in front of him, he pulled out his harmonica and began to play. A few songs in, he was interrupted by a steady noise coming from around the bend up ahead. He stopped dead, then ducked off the road into the trees as a huge machine came around the corner. Behind it there was a second one. They had swastikas on the side. They must be army tanks! Wow, so that was what Hitler's tanks look like, he thought to himself as he started walking again. Amazing inventions those tanks. They'd heard all about them on the radio. No other armies had them, or not very good ones anyway. He wondered how many soldiers were inside each of them. And where were they headed? Maybe they were coming from Yugoslavia where the Germans and Hungarians had won that big battle. But that was months ago. No, they were most likely heading for Russia.