The Grayling
Page 7
Joseph knew that they must go a long way into the woods before they would be safe. “Crawl on your bellies”, he cried out to Anna. She crawled. He cried out to the boys, “crawl on your bellies or you will be seen”. The boys crawled behind their mother and their father. Edith crawled beside her mother and every few minutes had to be coaxed to continue. Joseph gave the word to, “stop when they were at least a mile deep into the woods”. He said to Anna and the boys and to Edith, “rest for a few minutes, but we must continue”. And he paused, because he could not speak the words that he wanted to utter. Finally, he regained his composure. He said, “We must put distance between ourselves and the devil”. Anna’s stance of determination returned. She motioned to her sons and to her daughter, “let us go on”. They walked through the thick underbrush, virgin land that had never been traveled upon for many, many years. The land was untouched by fears and destruction. Everything was green. Wild flowers bloomed. Birds chirped as they flew from branch to branch. The smell of fresh, pristine water was up ahead. “We can stop here for the night”, Joseph said. Joseph motioned for Sam to follow him. They stood on a hill, which overlooked much of the forest. Joseph said, “Do you see even a small cave?”
Sam replied after looking for a while, with the sun beating on him even though the air high up in the forest was much colder for this time of the year. Sam spotted something that looked like a mountain structure and he pointed to it. Joseph said, “That is close by. Let us go and see what it is”. It was a small cave. The five of them could hardly fit into the small natural shelter, but they had shelter. They ate the little bit of bread that they brought with them, and they ate it with wild mushrooms that Anna had picked. She had taken a walk along a trail and had found the wild mushrooms and had made a pocket out of the lower half of her skirt. There was plenty to eat. They drank water by using the ladle that Anna had brought with her into the forest.
Joseph laughed and it was contagious. Anna laughed the loudest. Joseph said, “We just need a pot for coffee and we will be all set”. What I admired most was that he had within him his own spirited will for survival. It helped to have him by my side. I felt cheered up by him. Yes, Sam was determined to survive. My sister Edith needed his strength. She was always crying. No one would have imagined that she was older than Sam. She had a slight build and looked very frail. She was not able to be a leader. She copied everything that we did.
During the nearly one and one-half years in the woods near Micholovce, Sam and I hunted for foods, like small squirrels. He made traps out of pieces of branches and caught squirrels, sometimes rabbits. The squirrels tasted like paper; the rabbits tasted like paper, too, but with an aftertaste of chicken.
I would go with him many times to search for food. Bernard went with us too. A friendship beyond being brothers evolved between us that that I will always be grateful for. There were few words that could be used to express our friendship for each other. We cared for each other’s survival and were ready to give up our lives for each other. It was not discussed, but it was understood. The feeling manifested itself always. We knew that we could only justify ourselves to the angels above; this was like an awakening in the clear blue sky amongst the fringed cumulus cloud, which in my thoughts floated above us.
Sam would bring water to our hideout by carrying the water in a hollow log of wood that he had whittled out by himself; later my father’s foreman brought us an old, thick, wrought iron cooking pot and we took turns fetching water in it–the pot was so welcome, but heavy. My mother had tears flowing from her eyes when we gave the pot to her; that was the second time that I saw my mother smile during our time in the woods. You could wonder about the meaning of a worn pot. If you really thought about it, it meant using a comfort that had for the most part been taken away.
My mother gathered berries, or picked quince, or crab apples from the trees. My mother knew how to pick mushrooms which were not poisonous. This food that was delivered and especially in the winter time: this is what saved us. My father’s foreman brought us food whenever it was safe to bring the food. Sam and my father knew of a safe rendezvous place in the woods, a clearing, but well hidden at the same time. They would wait, pick up the food, and carry it back to our hideout. If there was too much food to carry, my father and Sam would bury the rest and mark the letter f for Freier on a tree nearby. I would go with them later to retrieve the rest of the food.
One time my father’s foreman brought us bags of onions. My mother cut the onions and fried them. She boiled them and then mashed them and then fried them as pancakes. My mother mixed mushrooms with the onions and we ate heartily, many times forgetting the torment and storm of war which wantonly killed people. Once, my father’s foreman delivered to us three large sacks of potatoes. He said that the potato crop was particularly good this year. We ate the potatoes with the onions and the mushrooms, and we thanked G-d for our bounty and safety. My father and my brother, Bernard planted the shavings from the potatoes and many times, the earth united with the tubules, and new plant roots evolved, and potatoes formed underneath the ground and a little bit of greenery above the plant.
It was a miracle in the middle of the woods. It was good to see new vegetation and new growth. My mother reminded me of the small garden that we always had in the back of our house. She had grown potatoes, and onions, and peas, and carrots, and beets. All of the plants flourished with her care, and we did not need to go to the market for these fresh foods.
When the food rations were given out by the Nazis, which were so scanty, we could always sneak into the back yard and pull out some of the vegetables and eat a plentiful supply—it was heart rendering. The thought of food that we had on hand was so reassuring.
In the woods, there was the monotony of boredom and the fear of being discovered that we had to contend with. Most of the time, we played chess with my father. We prayed together three times a day. We talked a lot. We talked over our problems. We did what we could do–when we got sick. We were pretty much isolated from people so we did not worry too much about catching colds.
One time I did catch a cold–a real bad one. It was before the winter of 1945. The fall weather had been particularly cold. There were many days when the wind howled like a hungry wolf–relentless howling. With the visibility usually very poor during a cold windy rain storm in Slovakia, it was difficult for us to hunt for food. Our food supply of cans was almost all used up.
We knew not to expect a visit from my father’s foreman with a new bag of cans. It would be dangerous for the foreman, and we did not want anything to happen to him. We had to begin rationing our food supply. From the lack of food, we started to weaken. We could see the starvation was robbing us of our strength. The colors of our eyes got darker, almost pitch black and the shape of our eyes grew rounder and more pronounced. We started to lick our lips, trying to moisten the inside dryness in our mouths. My father knew he had to keep us busy to keep our minds off of food. When he thought it was safe to look for food, he asked Sam and me to go with him.
It was snowing heavily, one early winter day; we did not go outside to gather wood. When we cooked we heated up the bunker. Joseph has designed an underground stove with a vent that came out away from the bunker. Unless, it was a very clear day, which was rare, one would think that the smoke was mist, which was rising from the air. Our bunker, being under the ground grew to be very cold. The dampness affected me more than the others. I started to cough. I had trouble breathing and my body became very warm.
CHAPTER 11
SAM’S ADVENTURE
My mother knew she had to do something to save me. She told Sam that he had to go to town to get me medicine. He asked, “Where do I go?” She said, “First you must sell my ring at Mr. Jable’s the jeweler. My mother tugged at Sam’s jacket, “He is the one who is secretly married to a Jew.” She breathed in heavily and said, “Do you remember where his shop was?” Sam paused and answered, “Yes, I do”.
Then Sam buttoned his jacket and looking at my mother with a serious expression on his face, he asked, “What do I do with the money after I sell the ring?”
“Take it to the doctor in town, Dr. Renna; he will know what to do.” And Anna looked at her son with expressions of assurance in her eyes. Sam took an apple and put it in his jacket pocket. He took two cookies and put them in his other pocket, and he climbed out of the bunker. No one followed him along the trail. It was as though Sam had emerged from the hidden parts of the earth or of the forest, and was one of the few men who had survived the war and was searching for other men and women who had survived the war.
The glare from the sunshine obstructed his vision; with his eyes squinting. Favoring his left eye, he continued on his trek through the woods. He tore off a blade of grass and put the end of the stalk in his mouth and chewed on the stalk a little bit. He felt like singing a song, but he knew that it was not safe. So he walked and moved his head to the sound of a beat in his head, back and forth and then again and again. He knew the way to the edge of the forest on that side of the woods for it was very close, nearby to where he would meet his father’s foreman who brought the food. But much in the woods is unseen for even a few feet away for one can easily blend in with the forest’s apparel and habitats and never be seen.
Sam knew he had to exit the woods away from this spot and he did. He checked his pocket in his pants to make certain he had not lost the ring. “The ring, the diamond ring”, he said over and over again. “I must sell it and take the money to the doctor for medicine”. He mumbled, “Poor fellow, my brother Martin, sick with a fever—it is not an easy thing to have”.
He stopped rocking his head to the rhythm of the beat and gripped his shoulders, looked around the terrain, and the trees a few times and then felt he was determined to succeed. He was going to help his younger brother. He spotted some smoke ahead. His instincts told him, “Look at what is happening, but proceed cautiously”. But then other scrambled thoughts clicked on and off in his mind, “Should I run?” He sat down and rocked himself. He rocked as though he was sitting in the synagogue. He prayed and held his hand on his warm forehead, and slowly, he recited the words, “God is one….” He breathed in a deep sigh and remained in the same spot. He looked over at the leaves in the trees. He looked at the fertile ground, alive with new and old, wondrous and plain vegetation. His mind took him to his classroom at the school that he had attended. He remembered the teacher. He remembered the telling of the story of the story of Rabbi Akiva. His mind wandered, and he could picture himself sitting in the classroom and listening to the lesson. The story began with the telling of the Rabbi as a young man. He was a shepherd who was tending to his flock of sheep. He would sheer off their wool when the spring time arrived; he made sure that the sheep grazed, made certain that they bedded for the night; and he helped the mother lambs deliver their babies. While the sheep grazed he closed his eyes, and he would pretend that he was a great learned Rabbi. When he was not daydreaming, he would look over the pastures, the miles and miles of green grass. Sometimes the grass was high. Other times the grass was sheered to the ground, because the sheep had been grazing.
From a distance away, he would see a wolf coming down from a mountain steep. He would signal the sheep with his staff to go back into their pen. The wolf would growl and sometimes other wolves would join in the howling chorus, but the sheep were kept safe.
He would look forward to seeing the lovely young lady who would sit by his side for hours. They would talk about the distant creatures and animals. They would talk about the sheering of the sheep. They would talk about the heavens and the skis. They would talk about the big desert up ahead. They would talk about his becoming one of the greatest of Rabbis.
A wind started to blow and Sam awoke with a start. He would open his eyes and rub them. He would think at first, “Why are their no sheep?” Then he would sigh, “There are no sheep, because this is the woods in Nazi Czechoslovakia”. He asked himself the question, “Are there any wolves lurking around?” He looked. With the sun shining brightly at the end of the day, he put his hand to his forehead to block the sun, and then he looked as far as he could for any movement any grey wolves or the real wolf, the Nazi wolves. He heard a bouncing sound, and he turned instantaneously, shuddering and feeling a sudden chill. His instincts told him to hide. He darted quickly behind the nearest bush and waited. It was not long before he saw a rabbit jump out of a nearby bush. “My”, he said to himself, “I am jumpy today”, and feeling his heart beat slowing down, he stood up and continued on his mission. He had walked for two hours and then sniffed smoke in the air. He walked slower and his eyes became the magnets for the discovery of the fire.
As the smell of the smoke got stronger, he spotted four logs where a fire was smoldering. He looked in amazement. As his eyes caught the glance of four cigarette buds that lay close by, he recognized a can that was burning in the smoldered fire. “Someone was here, maybe five hours ago”, he guessed–maybe two, three people”, as he looked carefully at the foot prints. He said, “It could have been anybody, but it might have been some German soldiers”. He knew now that the Germans had been in the woods. He gripped his fingers tight into a fist.
He backed up his footsteps and tore a branch from one of the trees and swept away his footprints. As he stood tall upon the nearest ridge, he searched through the trees for the quickest way out of the woods. He emerged from the thickness and thicket of the forest trees and their camouflage; it was just before nightfall. The streets seemed quiet–-no way near the teaming action, which was before the war; he sighed to himself as he visualized the people shopping at stores, children running home from school amongst the people who were walking; men making their way with pushcarts, which were loaded with wares, fruits and vegetables. No need for the symphony conductor to point out everyone’s part in the performance: the streets were deserted. As he hurried to the jeweler’s housed, he saw a lone man hurrying, darting like a sprinting rabbit, as he carried a long loaf of bread and a long, thick roll of salami.
“Well”, Sam said, “I see one other Jew, who has eluded the Germans”. It was only a few more houses and then he would be at the jewelry shop. As he looked through the glass squares, which were etched in the thick wooden door, he could see an SS officer, who was buying a golden necklace–a ruby dangling from its center. Sam knew he had to hide in the bushes behind the building. He had seen the officer’s motorcycle on the side of the house so he was certain that he could determine when it was safe to go into the jewelry shop. He munched on a piece of the bread his mother had packed for him.
The jeweler asked the officer, “Would you like me to wrap the necklace?” “No”, the officer said, as he smiled, and he boasted, “I will carry it in my pants pocket like this and he put the box in his pocket. The officer took some money from his other pocket and flicking the bills deftly through the fingers of his hand, he counted out loud, “One hundred and fifty dollars”. He slapped the money on the counter with a bang, and he said, “Good-bye, I will see you again”.
The jeweler put the money in the cash register and thought, “They act so arrogant. If he knew that my wife was a Jew, he would grab her and the children, and take me to a camp too!” Just as he looked up, he had finished putting away other lockets and making the display case presentable, he caught a glimpse of Sam. He squinted his eyes and looked through his thick, metal-framed glasses as though he were checking over a gem with his eyeglass, saying, “Don’t I know you? He moved his hands like he was conducting a symphony and acted as though his thinking power was in his hands. “Yes you are one of the Freier children”, he said with an air of assurance.
Sam said, “Yes”, in a quiet, watchful tone of voice and searchingly looked carefully at the kind, expressive eyes of the jeweler. He hesitated for a moment, cleared his throat so that he could speak clearly, and said, “My mother sent me to you. She said that I could trust you”.
He walked over to Sam and asked, “Why, what has happened?” The jeweler asked, “Are you all alone?” he asked with the sound of concern in his voice, and he waited patiently for Sam to explain.
“My brother, Martin, is very sick with a cold. My mother needs money for the medicine. She told me to sell the ring to you”, and Sam’s eyes looked puffy as he could not help but stare into the eyes of the jeweler, as if to say, “Please do not disappoint me”, and he breathed in a large gulp of air. The jeweler had known the Freier family for many years and with an expression of concern on his face, he went over to Sam and asked, “Could I give you 250.00 German marks?”
Sam sighed with a sound of relief and was ready to jump up and down and said, “Yes”, and he reached deep into his pocket for the ring his mother had given him. The diamond ring had receded and had burrowed itself into a corner of his jacket pocket, but was still there. Sam felt the ring and instinctively felt the diamond. Sam breathed puffed his breath quickly. Without even thinking, while blinking his eyes about ten times, he handed the ring over to the jeweler.