by Peter Haden
He left the room. The driver backed towards the door, still holding the automatic, then turned to follow. Günther remained in his chair, face in hands, knowing he had been utterly defeated. He was still there when he heard the sound of the Adler’s engine and the scrunch of its tyres on the gravel.
Jan crossed what had once been the border without incident. He could hear heavy vehicle traffic off to his left, on the main supply route, but there were no longer any troops on the churned-up farmland. Even so, he tried to walk alongside woods and hedgerows that would give him cover at a moment’s notice. He came across only one other person as he made his way home. An old man, scythe swinging from years of practice, was trying to salvage corn from round the edge of an otherwise flattened field.
‘Guten Morgen,’ Jan greeted him politely. The man took a step back away from the edge of the field and raised the blade waist high in a defensive gesture. Jan realised immediately the mistake he had just made from force of habit.
‘Przepraszam, dzień dobry – jestem Polakiem, nie Niemcem,’ he added hastily. ‘Sorry, good morning – and I’m Polish, not German.’ The farm worker lowered his blade but did not reply.
It was past midday when he reached the edge of the farm. A plume of smoke from just over the final rise made his stomach lurch with anxiety. As he approached he could see that the farmhouse was a burnt-out ruin, although the stone walls were still standing. Against all the odds, the barn was undamaged. He ran to the yard.
His father was lying face down in the mud. He, too, was horribly burned, as though someone had turned a flamethrower on him. Judging by the blackness on the outer walls, that was what had also happened to the main building. He called out, but there was no response. Pushing open the barn door, he found Aniela lying on the floor. She had been stripped naked and there was a mess of blood and semen on her inner thighs. Her stomach and lower chest were disfigured by several bayonet wounds – it would not have been an easy death. With tears in his eyes he gathered her garments and covered her as best he could… she and his father would have to be buried. He looked around for where someone might have left a shovel. From behind he heard the sound of a rifle bolt being flicked back and forth to chamber a round.
Slowly he raised his hands. ‘Odwróć sie,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Turn around.’ He did just that. ‘Jan,’ gasped Tadzio, lowering the Dragant, ‘co, u licha tutaj robisz? What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Have you seen?’ asked Jan.
‘Our father, yes,’ his brother replied. ‘Oh no,’ he whispered, moving to kneel alongside their sister and uncover her face. Tears welled in his eyes. ‘What have those animal bastards done to her?’
‘They can’t hurt her any more,’ said Jan softly, taking his older brother’s shoulders and lifting him to his feet. They hugged in a meltdown of greeting and utter misery. Feeling just a little more in control, despite his lack of years, Jan put his arm round Tadzio and led his brother out of the barn and away from the yard, so that they could no longer see the dreadful evidence of the Wehrmacht’s passing.
‘Byłem z drugiej strony gospodarstwa. I was right at the other end of the farm,’ Tadzio told him, struggling to control his sobbing. ‘Father said to take Kary and put in a bit of early ploughing. We knew about the Germans massing on the border, so I had the rifle with me in case they decided to search our house. When they came through, I took Kary into the woods. I knew it wouldn’t be good when I saw the smoke. After that I just waited – they are not all that long gone… I think they must have found Aniela and then killed Father when he tried to stop them. In the distance I saw someone walk up to the farm. Nie wiedziałem, że to ty. I didn’t know it was you…’ he tailed off, no longer crying but leaving a misery of silence hanging between them.
Together they entered the remains of the house through the charred front door, on the other side of the yard. There had been little inside to burn. Already the smoke was clearing. But the thatch had gone, the stone walls were still hot and everything was covered with ash. The building was no longer habitable. Tadzio went to a stone in the kitchen floor and lifted it with the aid of the Dragant’s bayonet. Underneath was a small cloth sack of coins and a couple of boxes of ammunition.
‘They didn’t find this,’ he said softly, lifting the bag. ‘We can share the money,’ he added quickly.
‘Tobie będą bardziej potrzebne,’ Jan replied. ‘You might need it more than me.’ Sensing that it was up to him to take charge, he went on, ‘We have to bury Father and Aniela. I’m going to find something to wrap them in – I seem to remember there was an old canvas cover in the barn. I’ll find a knife and make two shrouds, then we can dig a grave and put them to rest side by side. After that, we need to talk about what we are going to do. In the meantime, I want you to go and choose somewhere not too far away that we can think about and remember, as time passes.’
It was a bit feeble, but Jan knew that Tadzio was not in a good state of mind. At least it would give him something to do. Hours later, they settled to sleep in the barn. Their mother’s larder had been denuded by the invaders, so they consumed the last of Frau Brantis’ rations. In the morning, they would have to go hungry.
‘Thank God she was away,’ Tadzio had told him. ‘Mother went to visit her sister because our Aunt has not been very well lately. I can write to tell her what’s happened and to stay where she is.’
After some discussion, they decided to return to the Raschdorf estate the following morning. Tadzio was of the view that he would eventually remain in Poland. ‘We knew what was coming,’ he said sadly. ‘But we have a treaty with England and France. I think this means a European war, in which case I am going to stay here. We Poles have not been completely idle. There are partisan camps already prepared deep in the forests. We don’t have many weapons, but these we can capture. The locals will help us – I don’t think we will go short of food or information. For my part, I don’t really care what happens to me, but I intend to kill as many of those bastard Nazis as I can.’
Jan was not sure what he would do, but for now there was clearly nothing left either for him or Tadzio on the farm. At first light the following morning and leading Kary they crossed – in Jan’s case back – into Hitler’s Germany.
Jan managed to show Tadzio to his accommodation without anyone seeing them, after which he went to find Johann. The older man could see the grief etched onto Jan’s face. ‘It’s not good news, is it?’ he asked softly.
Despite his best efforts, Jan felt his eyes welling up. ‘They killed my father and sister and burned our house,’ he told him, leaving it at that. ‘I need to go and see the Boss,’ he added tearfully.
‘I think Herr Raschdorf’s in the house,’ Johann told him. ‘You go, and I’ll see you later. I’ll telephone to say you are on your way.’
Günther met him outside the front door. ‘I’ve spoken to Johann…’ he began, putting his arm round Jan’s shoulder to lead him into the house. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
‘They…’ he stammered, ‘my sister – she was…’ Günther knew what the lad was trying to say and could offer only a squeeze of sympathy. Again, Jan was forced to dry his eyes, but he had regained a measure of control by the time they entered the study. Only twenty-four hours ago, he realised, he had been in this same room, anxious, but looking forward to seeing his family. Now it seemed as if his life was in ruins. Jan told him about Tadzio.
‘I have some news, too,’ Günther replied. ‘I have been ordered to set up a vehicle repair facility for the Wehrmacht. It looks as though you will have to move out, although there are some empty cottages on the estate now that we have mechanised. But that depends upon what you decide to do, in the light of what’s happened.’
‘We had plenty of time to talk, last night and on the way here this morning,’ said Jan. ‘I want to join the Army and fight for Poland. I hope you won’t be offended, Herr Raschdorf,’ he added, ‘because I�
�ll be on the other side – which is a shame, because you have been very good to me.’
‘What about your brother?’ asked Günther, seemingly unconcerned by Jan’s announcement. ‘What will he do?’
‘Tadzio will go back to Poland,’ he said simply. Jan thought it politic not to mention that his brother would probably join the partisans and finish up killing Germans. ‘But if we could stay here, just for a couple of days, that would be appreciated.’
‘We’ll sort something out,’ Günther told him. ‘Helga’s not working here any more, and Gudrun and Frau Brantis can be trusted not to say anything.’
‘That’s not a risk you should take, Sir,’ Jan replied. ‘I’ll carry on as normal, and it would be better if Tadzio just stays in my room till he’s ready to go. I think it’ll be sooner rather than later. We brought our farm horse with us, so he’ll probably ride him home – or to what’s left of it,’ he concluded sadly.
‘You can put him in the stables,’ Günther offered, ‘but you’ll have to look after him yourself now that young Karl has gone off and joined the Army.’
Their discussion at an end, Günther undertook to listen to the news and from time to time update Jan and Tadzio on the progress of the war, so that he would know when it might be safe to return. Jan knew his brother would go as soon as possible, not least because they had left the Dragant concealed in the roof of the barn. He left the following morning, choosing Sunday the third of September. As Günther and Jan had found, there was a fair amount of vehicle traffic on the road, but riding cross-country, it was clear that an Army had passed through and the land to the south of the supply route was empty. Avoiding all farms and villages, Tadzio arrived to find the barn still in one piece and apparently untouched, the Dragant still where he had left it. He decided to make himself a temporary base inside it until he could make contact with some of his fellow countrymen.
Jan spent most of the morning watching military traffic as it drove past the bottom of the estate drive. But when he went to the house for his main meal that lunchtime, approaching the barn he was surprised to be met by Renate Raschdorf. ‘Guten Tag, Fraulein Raschdorf,’ he said politely.
To his surprise she walked up to him and placed her hand tentatively on his arm. ‘Good day to you, too, Jan,’ she replied, returning his greeting. ‘I have heard about your family. I just wanted to say how sorry we all are, and for what it’s worth to offer you my deepest sympathy. I shall understand if you can’t accept it. After all, my fellow countrymen are responsible. But what’s happened was certainly not done in my name, nor that of anyone on this estate.’
Jan found himself too upset to reply, so he just lowered his head in acknowledgement.
‘Father said can you come to the house later this afternoon and he’ll tell you what he’s heard on the wireless? Because things are not looking good for your poor country. If it’s all right with you, I’ll be there as well. So, I can make sure we have coffee and a piece of cake,’ she finished with a hesitant half-smile.
‘Danke,’ was all he could manage, before walking on to a meal for which he knew he had absolutely no appetite. Fortunately, Frau Brantis had already said how sorry she was, so he was spared further words of well-meant, but for him very difficult, consolation. Although he was surprised that Miss Renate had spoken to him, not least because they had barely exchanged more than a few words in almost three years he had spent on the estate.
Jan changed into his Sunday best before walking the half kilometre or so to the house, arriving at about twenty past four. Renate herself met him at the door.
‘We’ll use the dining room,’ she told him, ‘so that we can all gather round. Frau Brantis has finished for the day – we have a cold collation on Sunday evenings, and Gudrun’s gone home, so we won’t be overheard.’ Jan wasn’t sure what a “cold collation” was, but he followed Renate into the dining room anyway. Herr Raschdorf rose to greet him. His wife, whom Jan knew less well, remained seated but smiled sympathetically. A large map of Europe had been unfolded on to the dining room table. Jan could not help looking round at the beautiful wooden furniture, shining with a gloss patina from years of polishing. There was a faint hint of lavender on the air and a bowl of roses had been moved to one end of the table, making room for the map. Jan had never seen such a luxurious room. ‘Would you like some coffee and apple tart, Jan?’ asked Frau Raschdorf gently.
‘Just coffee please,’ he replied. He would have liked a slice of tart as well, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the strange little forks with two normal tines and one wide one.
Renate sensed his reluctance. No strapping young man of Jan’s age turned down a slice of Frau Brantis’ Sunday tart. She pulled out a chair alongside the foot of the map and asked Jan to sit down. Then she moved to the sideboard. ‘Milk?’ she asked. Jan shook his head, he preferred his coffee black. She poured him a cup then took a plate and cut a slice of tart. Making sure he could see what she was doing she used the edge of the cake fork to cut off the tip, then pushed the ends of the tines into the small piece. She then set the plate, cup and saucer in front of him. Then she set two arrangements in front of her parents, cut and served in precisely the same way so that Jan would not be embarrassed. Lastly, she served herself.
‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ Günther began. ‘I’ve been pretty much glued to the radio all weekend. I’m not sure whether I believe everything that’s being broadcast in Germany. I suspect there’s at least an element of propaganda with the Government’s hand all over it. So Johann came over this morning. He knows a fair bit about radios from his time in the marine. We beefed up the short-wave aerial and we have good reception of the British Broadcasting Corporation’s Empire Service. For some time now they have sent out news in German, but mostly it’s in English. My wife is an excellent linguist, Jan – she puts me to shame.’ Frau Raschdorf smiled and inclined her head, both to acknowledge the compliment and to confirm that indeed she did know the language.
‘It seems that in the early hours of Friday morning,’ Günther went on, ‘the battleship Schleswig-Holstein slipped her moorings and began bombarding Westerplatte Polish positions in the Free City of Danzig. Soon afterwards, Army Group North, part of which was almost certainly what we saw a few days ago, crossed the border and pushed into the Pomeranian corridor. The Polish garrison is now bottled up inside their Westerplatte base. The Luftwaffe have been in action, but we know that because we have seen their planes, particularly the Junkers JU-87 Stuka dive-bombers, although at first, they were hampered by early morning mist. There has also been heavy fighting further south. As far as we are concerned, just over the border, as of now we are being told that the 27th Division is moving into Bydgoszcz,’ he indicated the town on the map with his finger, ‘which means that our leading elements are at least eighty kilometres into Poland. At the same time, the German Third Army is pushing south from East Prussia, on the Baltic coast, towards Warsaw, although details on their progress are a bit sketchy.
‘And finally,’ he concluded, ‘I should tell you that today, because Hitler ignored an ultimatum for his forces to leave Poland forthwith, both Britain and France declared war on Germany.’
Chapter 11
Jan realised that all three members of the Raschdorf family were watching, to gauge his reaction. Clearly Frau Raschdorf and Renate had already been aware of the news he had just been given.
‘What do you think will happen, Herr Raschdorf?’ he asked eventually. ‘Presumably this means that Germany is now at war with Britain and France, as well as Poland?’ he added.
‘Sadly, this is indeed the case,’ sighed Günther. ‘I think Herr Hitler has miscalculated badly. Somehow he has managed to plunge us into a European war.’
‘I wonder who will win,’ Jan mused out loud. He felt bewildered.
‘As far as Germany and Poland are concerned,’ Günther replied, ‘I fear there can be little doubt as to the outcome. Your country
was only half mobilised, because of pressure from Britain and France not to upset what they hoped would be a peace process. Added to that, Germany’s army is much bigger, the Wehrmacht is more mechanised and the Polish army does not have enough tanks. Most of them are only tankettes, anyway, which are little more than mobile machine guns. In the air, your obsolescent P.11 fighters are no match for our modern Messerschmitt Bf 109s and I fear the Stukas will wreak havoc on your ground forces. I pray to God that Hitler will not use bombers such as the Heinkel He 111 on Polish cities, as happened in Spain, but I fear the worst.’
‘It doesn’t look good,’ Jan concluded sadly.
Günther shook his head. ‘Poland will almost certainly cease to exist in the not-too-distant future,’ he observed. ‘I have heard that Hitler is boasting of a victory parade in Warsaw some time in October.’
Jan sat for a minute or so, deep in thought. ‘I wonder what will happen to our soldiers,’ he said at length.
‘Some might escape south, into Hungary or Romania, then maybe join up with the Allies in the west,’ Günther replied. ‘But I can’t see how you can do that when every inch of ground between here and Poland’s southern border is occupied by German forces.’
‘Johann once told me,’ Jan said eventually, ‘that after the last war you travelled home from the front by riding cross-country. Do you know what’s happening in the west? Maybe I could join up with the Allies by going in that direction.’
Günther was surprised that Johann even knew of his journey. Presumably his father must have mentioned it. He thought for a moment.
‘It might just be possible,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘Although Britain and France have declared war, both have barely embarked upon mobilisation. The French have apparently reinforced the Maginot line, and we have done the same with our new Westwall. Most of our forces are fighting in Poland. But once your country is occupied, I would assume many of those divisions will be diverted to the western front – where I believe there is something of a stalemate now, with neither side taking any significant offensive action.’