The Search

by Maureen Myant

  “Jan, where were you that night?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know, up at the farm.”

  “I thought you were dead.” A tear runs down her face. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “I’m sorry, I was angry because I thought you were taking Maria’s side. I just wanted to run away.”

  “Silly boy.” She hugs him, and they sit silently for a moment. She takes a deep breath and asks what he has been dreading. “Was it Horak’s farm? Someone said that’s where they took the men. Did you see what happened to them? Did you see your father?”

  Jan bows his head; she puts her finger under his chin and forces him to look at her. “Jan?”

  He has to tell her. There is no possibility of lying about this. Jan opens his mouth, but before he can speak, an officer enters the room. His uniform is different, smarter than the others, and he looks stern, like their teacher does when something goes missing from the classroom, or when one of the younger children piddles on the floor. The man stands in the centre of the room, waiting. The women and the older children fall silent, don’t move, but the little ones are too small to take heed, and they carry on with what they are doing: rolling up little bunches of straw and throwing them aside, chewing at the hems of their dresses and shorts, sucking their thumbs.

  “Women, stand.”

  Uneasy glances dart from woman to woman. No one moves, and the soldier raises his voice. “Now! Stand.” Slowly they get up from the floor.

  “Line up here.” The officer points to the door.

  One woman bends to lift her baby.

  “Leave it.”

  She ignores him and takes the child in her arms. The officer mutters in German, and two privates march over. One of them seizes the baby from her while the other one holds her. Both mother and child wail. The taller of the soldiers strikes the woman with the back of his hand, and she falls, her arms outstretched towards her disappearing child.

  The officer says in a firm voice, “You will leave the children here.” Chaos breaks out as he says this, and there are screams from some of the women. Jan clutches his mother’s leg.

  “Quiet, or we will shoot.”

  One of the women shouts that they can’t do this, and a few more raise their voices in agreement, but they are silenced a second later by the soldier firing his gun into the ceiling. Some plaster falls down and hits a small child on the head. She is only a toddler and starts to cry, but when her mother moves towards her, one of the soldiers steps in between them and points his rifle at the child, gesturing with his head for the woman to leave. The woman looks at him in horror and goes to stand at the door. There is no doubt the soldiers mean what they say.

  Mother hugs them to her, kissing them hard. Jan thinks it would be better to be shot than lose her too. He is torn now about what to tell her about papa; it seems so hard that his last words to her should be ones of sorrow and pain. But before he can decide what to do, she is gone, pulled from them by a soldier who is just a boy. Maria gathers him and Lena to her. Her body shakes with sobs, and awkwardly he pats her arm.

  They fall into an agitated sleep, which does nothing to revive them. Jan wakes several times and sees that Maria too lies with her eyes open. At dawn the soldiers shout to them to get up. One child, a little boy of maybe three, howls, and this starts off many of the others. Jan tenses. After what he has seen, nothing would surprise him, and he’s terrified of being shot. He grasps his sisters’ hands and wills them to do nothing to draw attention to themselves. They sense his urgency, and they stand motionless beside him. The officer tells the children to line up, and they do as they’re told, the older ones trying to comfort the babies and toddlers. Jan prays they won’t separate the boys from the girls. He cannot bear any more pain. He has to stay with his sisters. Once they are in lines, the officer orders the doors to be opened. Jan breathes in deeply. The metallic fumes catch in his throat, but they are perfume compared to the stink inside the school. For a moment he allows himself hope: they are going to be set free, their mother will be waiting outside for them, they will be sent home. It will be terrible to have to tell her about father, but he will find the strength somehow. When he reaches the door and sees the three trucks waiting for them, he almost breaks down. Maria grabs his hand, and he squeezes it wondering how he could ever have thought her a nuisance. She smiles at him. “We’ll be all right, you’ll see. As long as we’re together.” Jan nods, but wonders whether they will be together for long.

  They are bundled into the trucks, about thirty children in each. There are no seats, and they have to sit on the floor, which is filthy. Jan takes Lena on his knee so she doesn’t have to sit in the muck. As they travel along the road the truck sways and bumps, and some of the children are sick. Lena pukes all over her nightdress. She starts to cry. It is her favourite, mother made it for her only a few weeks ago. It’s white cotton with tiny sprigged roses on it, all of them pink. Maria tries to comfort her as she wipes the sick away with her hand.

  “Never mind. It’ll wash out.”

  Lena bites her lip. Maria hugs her tight and looks across at Jan. “I’m sorry about what happened the other day… that I teased you.”

  The scratches he made on her face are still livid. Jan cannot believe he lost his temper over something so stupid. He shrugs and says he’s sorry too. Maria holds out her hand to him, and he takes it, twining his fingers through hers.

  “I wonder where Josef and Frantisek are.”

  Jan doesn’t answer. He wants to forget he saw them in a row of ten, their faces bleached with fear as they waited for the shots that would kill them.

  He must have fallen asleep. The truck stops and, unprepared, he is thrown forwards, bumping his head on that of a boy two years or so older than him, Frantisek’s younger brother, Antonin. They’re all bullies in that family. He makes a threatening gesture, and Jan apologizes. There’s no point in making a stand when he has to save all his energy for what’s ahead. With a sneer the boy backs off. When he’s sure he can’t be seen, Jan sticks his tongue out. Maria giggles before she can help herself, but when she remembers what is happening she covers her mouth with her hand, her face sad once more.

  Now the trucks have stopped, they can hear the sounds of a town: traffic, a dog barking, a train hooting in the distance. The doors open, and the children are told to get out. The four children at the front are reluctant to move and have to be pulled out by a rough soldier, who whacks each of them on the head. No one needs a second telling; the rest of the truck empties within seconds onto a railway platform. Jan looks around him. “Where are we, do you think?” he asks Maria.

  “I don’t know, Prague maybe.”

  Jan nods his head. “Yes it might be. Can you see a sign anywhere?” They both look around, but there is nothing to see except the train in front of them and, a few yards away, a group of women, hard-faced and unsmiling. They walk over to greet the soldiers. One of the soldiers counts the children, and a few minutes later, after some signing of papers, he and the other men leave and the women take over. They line the children up in twos and march them to the other side of the station. Although he tries hard, Jan sees no signs, and he is too scared to shout out to the few civilians they do see. Five minutes later a train steams in, and the children are shoved into one of the carriages. The seats are hard wooden benches, and there aren’t enough for everyone. Jan and his sisters are squashed into a corner, against a window. It’s uncomfortable, but at least they are together.

  Jan drifts in and out of sleep on the journey. It goes on for hours; they pass through towns and countryside, none of it familiar. Day turns into night, and all that can be seen is an occasional light in the distance. The children are all weak with hunger for they have been given nothing to eat, not even a slice of bread. One of the little ones, a toddler, starts to cry, quickly becoming inconsolable. As she weeps, the women, who are guarding them, watch unmoved.

  “What happened to the men, Jan, to father?” Maria’s voice is
so quiet he is not sure he has heard right. He doesn’t answer, but leans against the window, feeling the smooth coolness of the glass on his face.

  “Did you hear me?” Insistent.

  He shrugs. “I don’t know.” He won’t meet her eyes. Jan is sure she knows he’s lying, but he doesn’t want to speak about it. He can’t, not yet.

  “I heard shots. We all did. Are they dead?”

  Jan sighs, but before he can say anything, one of the women comes over to him and slaps his face. In a strong German accent she tells him to be quiet. Although his face hurts badly from the slap, Jan is glad to have an excuse not to talk. He saw the glint of tears in Maria’s eyes.

  It is still dark when they reach their destination. The children are dragged out into the open air, which is sweet-smelling and fresh after the mustiness of the train. An owl hoots, making Lena jump. Jan cuddles her and whispers that everything will be fine. He can make out the dark shapes of trees against the blackness of the night. Something flies past, brushes his hair, and he gives a little cry of fear. A bat, he’d swear to it. The women order them into lines, and they are marched a short way to a large building. It’s like a factory, Jan thinks when he sees it. Inside it is sparsely furnished; they are taken to a huge room with beds lined up in rows against the walls.

  After a short wait, they are given some dry bread to eat. There is almost a riot as it is thrown at them in a random fashion. Jan manages to grab two loaves, enough for the three of them, and he thinks he will try to save some for later as there’s no way of knowing how long it will be before they eat again. With great care, he divides each loaf into three and hands the girls two pieces each. He eats his first piece very slowly, chewing each mouthful thirty times like he used to hear his grandmother say. The bread is poor quality and stale, and turns into a glutinous mass in his mouth. The other piece is in his pocket, and he touches it, making sure it is there, his safety net for later. Although it is not nearly enough to fill his belly, the small amount of nourishment makes him feel better.

  Some of the beds in the room are already occupied. Although the new arrivals make a lot of noise – the younger children are clamouring for more food, one of the babies is crying – the bodies in the beds don’t move. Jan has a terrible thought that there are corpses under the grey blankets, and he stares at the nearest shape hoping it will move. For several seconds nothing, then an almost imperceptible twitch at the foot of the bed. Not corpses after all, just more children like them.

  When the children have finished their poor supper, one of the women shouts at them to undress. Jan realizes he has to eat the bread or lose it, so he forces it down, though he would rather keep it for later. Once the children are naked, three of the women take them to a room with showers and tell them to wash. They have to stand in long queues for the showers can only take about ten people at a time. The water is cold, and some of the children dash in and out, taking only a couple of seconds, but Jan lingers as long as he can. The water is like needles piercing his skin, but he relishes it. It will make him clean. He grabs the small bar of soap and scrubs himself all over, digging his nails into his skin and scraping the dirt away. He’s last in the shower, and a woman comes and shouts at him in German. Jan blushes at being seen naked, runs back to the dormitory out of her sight.

  He waits with the others, teeth chattering uncontrollably, hoping for a towel. Like the other children, Jan stands with his hands over his genitals. None of them look at each other, thank God. It has been years since he has seen either of his sisters naked, and he doesn’t want to embarrass them. There’s no sign of their clothes, but Jan doesn’t care. His shorts were stinking, and he doesn’t want to put them on again, now he’s clean. The woman shouts again and points at the beds, indicating they should get into them. There is a scramble as children from the same family try to get beds close to each other. Jan doesn’t manage to stay beside Maria and Lena, but has to go over to the other side of the room. As he climbs into bed, he waves at them, tries to smile, but his mouth wobbles.

  The evening is warm, and in spite of being damp from the shower, Jan soon heats up. He lies in bed trying to make out what is around him. The ceiling is high, and there is little light; he has to give up. All will be revealed in the morning. Jan is frightened to close his eyes, scared of what he will see, but he is worn out, and his eyelids droop and close. Within seconds he is sleeping.

  ‌3

  Jan wakes early. He knows it’s light even though he keeps his eyes closed; the inside of his eyelids is transparently pink in a way only possible when sunshine is trying to get through. For a brief, delirious instant he is happy. The sun is warm on his cheek, and he snuggles into the cocoon of bedclothes, drowsily lazy, ignoring the need to pee; he’ll get up in a minute.

  A niggle of unease, something’s wrong. The smell. This isn’t home. At home there’s always something baking, filling the house with sweet aromas: vanilla, cinnamon, fruit. Here there’s a tang of chemicals, cleaning fluid, bleach. Where on earth is he? He opens his eyes, sees walls that are too far away and too dark to be those of his bedroom. At home, his bed is by the wall, and the white paint is scored with pencil marks where he and his sisters have played games or written messages to each other. Here the walls are made of brick, unpainted, like the outside of a building. He looks round and sees that there are many beds in this huge room, too many to count. Fear forces his breath out quicker. He cannot think where he is… but then all at once, with no warning, the memory of what has happened punches him in his guts, and he closes his eyes. His father’s body is in front of him, falling to the ground. Jan blinks rapidly to try to rid himself of the image, but each blink is like the shutter of a camera, so that every movement of his father is stilled. Jan presses his fist into his mouth and moans, bites his knuckles to stop himself from screaming out. It can’t be true, it must have been a bad dream, but if it was a dream why is he not at home in his own bed? Another groan, louder this time, escapes.

  Someone taps his shoulder with a touch as gentle as a feather. Jan opens his eyes, but the bright morning sunshine is dulled by his grief. By the side of his bed is a boy, probably a little older than he is. The boy holds out a sweet to him, a fruit boiling, dark red with a coating of dust and fluff, which makes it look mouldy. The unexpected kindness moves him, and he brushes his hand across his eyes, not wanting the other boy to see. The boy lays the sweet on top of the bed and gives a gap-toothed smile. He says something, but Jan doesn’t catch it. When the boy says it again, more slowly, Jan realizes he’s Polish. It takes him a few seconds to fully tune in to the sounds; the accent is different to his mother’s. The boy must think he doesn’t understand for he points to himself and says, “Janusz”, enunciating the syllables.

  Jan smiles. “Me too.”

  The boy raises an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”

  “Same as yours, but they call me Jan.”

  Janusz’s smile broadens. “Enjoy the sweet; we don’t get them often.” He turns to make his way back to his bed.

  “Where are we?” says Jan.

  “Poland.”

  Poland. He can’t believe it. His mother often promised to take the children there to see their grandparents and other relatives, but they never had enough money to visit. Before Jan can ask more, another boy sits up in bed, his hair sticking out at a crazy angle; he puts his fingers to his lips and shakes his head at them both. Janusz climbs into bed without another word.

  “Where in Poland?”

  “Lodz.”

  “Where’s that?”

  Janusz shrugs. “It’s west of Warsaw, near Germany.”

  Dear God, they must be hundreds of miles from home. Why have they been brought here? What is this place? He asks Janusz, but he shrugs, saying he’s not sure.

  In the bed next to him is Karl, a boy from his village. Jan doesn’t like him much; he’s a bit of a swot, but maybe he’ll have some idea of what’s happening. He gets up and crosses the short space between the beds.

 
He shakes Karl’s shoulder. “Karl, wake up, won’t you.”

  Karl opens one eye and glowers. “Go away Jan. I want to sleep.”

  “Do you know where we are?”

  Karl ignores him, pulling the sheet over his head. In spite of the warmth of the sun, Jan shivers. Why is everyone being so horrible? Surely they should stick together. Jan tries again. “Karl, where are we?”

  A sigh. “Jan, I don’t know, how could I? You think they told me specially?”

  The door to the room opens, and Jan runs across to his bed and jumps in. He thinks it’s probably best not to get caught.

  A woman’s voice resonates in the room, harsh sounds; she is speaking German. The bodies in the beds stir, begin to rise from their beds. Jan swings his legs out of bed, but of course he has no clothes. He stands there, beside the bed, unsure what to do. He can’t see anyone he knows. None of the other children from his village have stirred. They’re exhausted from their journey yesterday.

  An extremely large woman, who wasn’t with them yesterday – just as well, thinks Jan, there would have been no room for anyone else – comes into the room and shouts in a gruff, deep voice like a man’s. Jan wonders if her face will explode; it is flushed red and shiny.

  Another four women join them. They carry huge piles of clothes, so high that their faces are hidden, and dump them in the centre of the room. The fat woman points to them with a doughy finger, and Jan realizes they have to pick some clothes and get dressed. He runs across to the pile and searches for his own clothes. His shirt, a vivid red splash, is easy to find, but not his shorts. For a moment he hesitates, then chooses a pair that look to be about the right size as well as a pair of underpants and scampers back to his bedside before they can be taken from him. He dresses quickly, keeping an eye on what the others are doing. The women indicate that they should line up, and they visit the toilets before being taken into another large, austere room.