I peeked through a crack in the wall and saw that we had stopped in the middle of a field, the tracks leading toward a wooded area ahead. Not a house or farm was visible, just meadow, forest, and a small stream. Harsh German voices were heard outside, as the sound of planes approaching again added to the confusion and terror. A stern command was heard at the side of the open car.
“Everybody out of the train. Now! Heraus! Heraus!”
The soldier waved his rifle toward the door of the car, then ran toward the next car just as another plane screamed low over the train and a bullet slammed into him. As he fell, his rifle discharged, striking one of the people jumping from the car.
People began to jump from the train wildly, throwing themselves under the train for cover. I jumped from the train, ran to the ditch beside the rail bed, and lay there trying to burrow into the ground, shaking from fright.
I looked around to see people running to the field and falling like boards. I couldn’t tell if they fell to take cover or if they had been hit. I don’t know how long I lay there. Probably just seconds, although it seemed forever. When I looked up, I saw the Lieutenant running along the train and looking under it.
“I’m here,” I called. He looked toward the sound of my voice, saw me, and ran to jump into the ditch next to me, all out of breath.
“Thank God you’re all right. We have orders to set up our guns and try to stop the air attack. I think the Luftwaffe has planes on the way to help. We are very close to the border, but the train is on its last legs. If we can stop any further damage to the train, they think we can make it. Hungarians are friendly toward us.”
“Lots of people would be friendly if you hadn’t taken their country, food, and everything else.”
“It looks like the war is on its last legs, too,” he said, ignoring my outburst. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, as an officer, but common sense tells me it can’t last much longer.”
“You asked for it,” I said sharply, fighting tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you personally. But your maniac Hitler has caused so much bloodshed and destruction throughout all of Europe. So many people have already lost their lives.”
“As a friend, wandering stranger,” he said softly, “I would advise you not to say anything like that in front of other Germans. If you do, your life could be short.”
“I may not even live beyond the next ten minutes.”
“Well, God might have mercy on both of us. We may yet come out of this madness alive. Look, the Luftwaffe has sent at least one fighter to help.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God—that most of you gave up God for Hitler,” I said bitterly.
“I had a long battle within myself, trying to decide whether or not there was a God. I had my doubts. If there really was a God, I could not believe that he had permitted this terrible war, that he could have blinded so many German people, allowing them to deny Him and embrace Hitler. But God has given the world sunrise and mountains and so much beauty in nature, and He has given people the gifts of writing books and composing beautiful music to describe those things. And all those things will still be there when Hitler has gone. No, I’m certain God is watching. Perhaps he just turned his head away, toward nature instead of man, to see if man can teach himself the things He has been trying to teach us . . . if the horrors we are causing to each other will finally teach us.”
“Before the occupation,” I answered, “I was very sure that God was watching over everything. I used to see Him daily in so many things—in flowers, in stars, the birds, or the moon, even in some people. But then my thoughts began to work beyond blind belief, and I began to doubt, to ask questions without ever finding answers, and now, lying here in this ditch, I begin to doubt again. Did you see the baby with the crushed skull in the freight car I was riding in?”
“No, the car was empty when I went to look for you. What baby? What happened?”
“Oh, the men began to argue, some for the king, others for the Partisans, and a fight broke out. During the fight one of the men lost his balance and stomped on the baby’s head. It happened so fast that the mother didn’t have a chance to pick up the baby, or maybe she had been pushed out of the way during the fighting. At any rate, the baby is dead, the mother is half crazy with grief, and the men are all broken up. See, again, don’t you think that God could have protected this helpless little creature?”
“Maybe this was the best way out for the baby,” the Lieutenant answered softly, “considering what could lie ahead.”
A plane screamed overhead, and I heard bullets thudding into the ground all around us, smashing into the rail cars. The Lieutenant and I both lay burrowed as close to the ground as we could get. My face was pressed against the cold ground, and I didn’t dare to raise it. The screaming sound of the planes above us and the sound of German guns on the train now firing rapidly was terrifying. I heard a terrible whistle, followed by an explosion, then another, and then it grew silent.
“What now?” I asked as I raised my head.
“I think it’s all over. I think they shot two planes down. Come on, it’s safe to get up now. Wait here until I find out what is happening.”
I stood and looked around. It was eerily still now that the attack had ended. Black smoke was rising from the field beyond two trees only about a hundred meters from where I stood, and the burning tail of a plane could be seen. The Lieutenant returned to say the train had suffered only minor damage and that we would be moving again in about thirty minutes.
I looked toward the smoke rising from the trees. A couple of civilians were walking toward it, and I decided to go and look myself. I hurried across the field to stand close to the plane. The fuselage was completely burned off the frame, and there was no identifying insignia. I walked to the front of the plane and was horrified to see the burned skeleton of the pilot still sitting in the cockpit. Nothing was left of the plane except the frame and the skeleton. One arm rested on the edge of the cockpit frame. Inside the cockpit was only the arm bones attached to the rest of the skeleton, but on the outside of the frame, the forearm and hand were intact. The hand looking almost alive. Even the uniform cuff was unburned. As I looked, I could see a wedding ring on the hand, and I started to cry, wondering if his wife would now have children to raise alone. I turned quickly and ran back to the train, arriving just as soldiers were ordering everyone back on board.
I saw the Lieutenant waving at me. I ran toward him, and he helped me to jump into one of the passenger cars. I turned to look back along the tracks and saw many of the civilians trying to catch the train, many still running from the field. As the running figures became smaller and smaller, I covered my face and started to cry again.
“God, what are you doing? Those poor people might be hurt or wounded. Why don’t we wait?” I sobbed, starting to lean out the door.
“There is nothing we can do.” The Lieutenant grabbed my arm, leading me into the car, “This is a war. We almost missed the train ourselves. Didn’t you see the bodies of the German soldiers lying along the tracks? They wouldn’t even wait to pick them up. Here, please sit down and be quiet. Do you smoke?”
“No, thank you,” I said, drying my eyes as an officer appeared to demand, “What is this young woman doing here?”
The Lieutenant jumped to salute and to explain. “This is Miss Popova, sir. She was the translator in our Belgrade offices, and my Colonel promised her father that we would take her to Vienna. He has ordered me to see her safely through the trip, sir.”
“That’s fine, Lieutenant, but the passenger cars are reserved for military personnel. No civilians are permitted, so you will have to carry out your orders in other sections of the train,” the officer said curtly.
“Yes, sir,” the Lieutenant responded and took my arm to lead me back toward the door. When we reached the passage between cars, he turned to me and said, “I know what we can do. Follow me.” He led me through the next car to the flat car that held the Colonel’s staff car.
/> The Lieutenant smiled, bowing as he opened the door of the automobile.
“Here we are, Miss Popova, the first class compartment. We may even get Radio Lili Marlene if the battery isn’t dead.”
My face and eyes had dried, and it was already dark. The night had come out of nowhere. I stood leaning against the open door of the staff car, the Lieutenant seated in the driver’s seat, trying without success to tune the radio. The night was quiet, and the moon just beginning to rise outlined tall pines passing swiftly, looking like tall sentries standing guard over the train.
“We are in Hungary now. Did you see the sign next to the tracks a few kilometers back?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Have you ever been to Hungary?”
“No, have you?” I answered, beginning to be very chilly. I climbed into the back seat of the staff car and closed the door. The Lieutenant leaned back against the driver’s door and put his feet up on the passenger seat.
“When I was studying at the conservatory, I had an opportunity to go to Budapest several times. It is a beautiful city.”
“Belgrade was a beautiful city before you destroyed it,” I said, looking at the stars, wondering if they were aware of the terrible destruction going on below them.
“I’ve told you before, I did not do it,” the Lieutenant said softly. “Please don’t blame me. If I could, I would bring everyone back to life and restore all the cities.”
“Then why do you wear that uniform, a uniform that signifies death and destruction throughout all of Europe?”
“Because if I did not, I would be sitting in a prison right now with little hope of ever getting out. At least this way there is a chance I’ll survive, that I will have a chance to finish my studies and to compose music. I have never killed another human being, and I don’t intend to. Do you believe me?”
“I do, but you are wearing a uniform that represents death and destruction, and that’s hard for me to understand. Oh, I don’t know what I understand. Let’s not talk about it.”
“You know, I would like to see you when the war is over,” he said after a moment.
“Who knows where we’ll be when it’s over . . . if it’s ever over.”
“I don’t even know your name, Wandering Stranger Popova?”
“A name is so insignificant now.”
“Then you won’t tell me your name?”
“No.”
“Well, my name is—”
“I don’t want to know,” I interrupted. “In just a few hours we’ll never see each other again. This way when I hear a beautiful symphony I can imagine that you wrote it, not some other von Staate . . . just in case you turn out to be a failure and become a drunken bum instead,” I added, smiling.
“You’re so realistic. So young and yet so terribly sentimental and romantic. I could compose music right now describing you just as you are,” he said, also smiling.
“It would never sell.”
“I wouldn’t want to sell it. Just to play it for you.”
“Now who’s being silly and romantic? Besides, I’m tired and getting cold.”
I leaned back against the seat, thinking about the day that had just ended. I felt so alone, cold now, yet thankful for the solitude. I wondered again about Belgrade, whether it was under attack, and whether my parents were already in Vienna. I tried to remember the last time I had slept on crisp, clean sheets that Kristina had dried in the sun and how fresh they smelled. The clicking sound of the wheels on the rails was almost hypnotic, and my eyes began to feel so very heavy.
“What do you want to be? What do you want to do when this war is finally over?” The Lieutenant’s soft voice roused me.
“What I want . . . what I want is to know what is beyond every mountain. I want to see if there is both a beginning and an end to the rainbow, and to know what people in other lands, faraway lands, believe in, what they dream about. I want to cross every ocean, visit every foreign shore, see if the stars and moon look the same in other lands. I want to find a country that truly believes in peace, where people care only for beauty and nature and love itself and never ask, ‘What is your nationality?’ and where children know nothing but laughter and beauty. I want to find a place where trees bend in rhythm to the music in the wind, and where soft waves roll gently against the shore. I guess I want both the natural and the impossible at the same time. But right now I wish I had a soft, clean bed and a warm bath . . . and quiet. What do you want?” I asked, yawning.
“I want everything you do, only in triple doses.”
“See?” I said, suddenly sitting up straight. “That’s what I mean. You’re German at heart. It’s never enough. ‘Today Germany, tomorrow the whole world.’”
I looked at him sheepishly then, trying to see if I had offended him. “I’m truly sorry. I know you don’t think or feel that way. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean it. It’s this terrible situation we find ourselves in. I’m sorry, too, as sorry as you are. Well, since I can’t fulfill your immediate wish for a warm bath and clean sheets, allow me to fold my tunic for a pillow,” he said, leaning over his seat to place his tunic on the rear seat for me. I put my head on the tunic, moving the scratchy insignia away from my face. I heard the Lieutenant say, “And now my coat,” but I heard nothing else.
I opened my eyes because of a light shaking at my shoulder. The sun was shining brightly, and the October air was brisk and fresh. The Lieutenant was leaning over the front seat, shivering, obviously very cold as he said, “Could I have my tunic? I’d like to go back to the front of the train to get us some coffee and maybe something to eat. But we are supposed to always wear our tunics.”
“Oh,” I said, sitting up. “You must have been freezing. You’ve given me both your tunic and your coat. I’m so sorry.” I tossed my braids behind my shoulders and quickly handed him the tunic and coat.
“No, I don’t think I’ll need the coat. You may still need it.” he said, smiling.
“Where are we? Do you know?”
“We are in Hungary, close to Peĉs. That’s where this train is supposed to meet another command before proceeding through Budapest to Vienna. Let me go and get some coffee for us,” he said, buttoning his tunic—gratefully, I thought—as he started back toward the passenger cars.
I got out of the car and shook his heavy overcoat out in the fresh air. The sun was up and warming, but the October air was brisk, and I put the coat around my shoulders. We were passing slowly through a small village. I looked at the tiny houses, noticing that almost every house had colorful strings of red peppers hanging from the porch ceiling. I could see farmers moving about in the fields, chickens pecking, and a rooster crowing, dogs wagging their tails. How peaceful it looked. One of the farmers waved as the train slowly stopped.
How I wished I could just get off the train and feel human again, to know what the daily chores were to be, to have someone glad just to see me at the beginning of a new day. I felt at that moment as though I had nothing—no home, no definite destination. Nothing, not even the next hour, held any certainty for me. I wondered again if my parents and our friends had made it out of Belgrade, if there was fighting in the streets of the city. The Lieutenant’s voice sounded happily behind me.
“Here’s our coffee. And a farmer was selling fresh, warm bread. How’s that for a perfect breakfast?”
“Oh, it smells delicious. Is it really still warm?”
“Yes, the farmers were very friendly. They greeted the train with smiles.”
The Lieutenant broke the fresh loaf in two. It smelled so good that it made me feel weak. “Heavens, I had no idea I was so terribly hungry.”
“Oh,” he said, “I found out that we will arrive in Peĉs in only another hour or so. In Peĉs we’ll be able to have almost everything.”
“Yes, you will,” I answered. “You have a ‘passport,’ your uniform, but not me.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Didn’t t
he Colonel promise your father that he would be sure you got to Vienna all right?”
“Yes, he did. But I haven’t seen the Colonel for the past two or three days. Is he even still alive?”
“Oh, yes, I just spoke to him, and he asked about you. So you see no one is going to leave you behind.”
The train started to move slowly forward. Perhaps because the coffee and fresh bread tasted so good, it seemed only minutes before it again slowed to a full stop.
“I think this is Peĉs,” said the Lieutenant. “I need to go forward to check with the Colonel.”
We seemed to be in a lush valley surrounded by soft hills and meadows. From the flatcar I could see a delightful little village, or small town, and on top of a hill beyond the village, a large building that resembled a castle. The train stopped beside a wide walkway, and the familiar sound of German boots was heard once again as soldiers began to form up on the concrete. Shrill commands and the clicking of German heels filled the air, as everybody disembarked. Only the guns and equipment remained on the train.
The few civilians who had managed to stay throughout the trip now began to disburse, carrying the few meager possessions they had brought. They all looked exhausted, bewildered, like cattle with no idea which direction to head. The military cleared the platform quickly. I got off the train and saw the Colonel looking very important and issuing orders. He didn’t show any trace of the long, miserable, hazardous journey. He noticed me standing there and spoke to a sergeant. I looked at the Lieutenant, standing beside the Colonel, but he had assumed the stony expression of a dedicated German air force officer.
The Sergeant approached and spoke to me, and I turned to follow him carrying my dirty pillowcase toward a truck filled with leering soldiers, grinning from ear to ear.
“I wonder what gutter they found this one in?” one said loudly.
“Oh, she probably came in on the train. The Hungarian girls around here sure don’t look that dirty,” another answered.
The Sergeant I was following spoke up. “I have the Colonel’s orders to put this girl in the truck. She arrived with the Yugoslavian train.”
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