by Ann Arnold
She did not need this man telling her a thing about her daughter. “She’ll learn. Just as you all will.”
Ignash joined them once again, and Romek and Fish pulled up behind him with their arms folded over their chests. “Sala—”
“You cannot get me to change my mind.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m trying to tell you—”
“We have to go,” Sala stated. Striding over to Zosia, she picked her daughter up in her arms. Manek hurriedly joined her as she turned to the group. “I’m sorry, but it is not safe here.” All eyes were now on her, wide with disbelief and confusion. “I beg of you all, split up into smaller groups. And leave this place!” She ended almost on a whisper as she begged them to listen. Then she turned to walk away.
When she realized that Ignash, Romek and Fish were all following her, she came to a halt. “You can’t stop me.”
“I would never try such a thing,” Ignash held up his hands in surrender.
Romek smiled. “We’re going to come with you.”
Something is wrong. Sala came awake as fast as a thunderbolt. Not that she showed any sign of it outwardly. She stayed frozen as she tried to determine what had woken her from a sound sleep. It had been chilly last night, she made the children sleep on each side of her so she could gather them close to her body and impart to them a bit of warmth. The comforting beat of their hearts under her palms reassured her. Two heartbeats, moving almost in synch with each other. Her children were peacefully sleeping.
What was wrong?
The crack of a breaking branch pierced through her like a gunshot. The breath froze in her lungs. Slowly she moved her hands so they were positioned to cover her children’s mouths if she needed them to stay silent. Turning just her head, she looked across the clearing, only to see Ignash, Romek and Fish fast asleep.
Why wouldn’t they listen? She kept telling them they had to keep a watch.
Straining with every fiber of her being, Sala tried to pinpoint where the sound came from. The forest was misleading, though. Sound could bounce around the trees to mislead you.
It had to be coming from a few meters to the west.
Letting out her breath, she slowly slipped free of the comforting warmth of her sleeping children. She tucked her shawl, which they used as a blanket, more tightly around them to keep them warm. Her shawl and her coat, the only two things she managed to keep with her from home. Looking around the dark forest, she sighed in relief. The intruder must have passed without noticing them. At least the men had listened to her decree they couldn’t have a fire at night.
Moving to a stump conveniently situated next to a tree, she took a seat, leaned back, and prepared to keep watch.
Come morning, she stayed on her perch as she watched the others rise and start to go about their morning business.
“Mamusia.” Zosia soon came over to her with the skirt of her dress drawn up to make a bowl. “Are these all right?”
She glanced down to check what her daughter had picked. “You are getting very good at this, Zosia. All of those mushrooms are safe, and,” she snatched a fat berry from the mix, “these are delicious.”
The little girl went to a nearby log to sit down and apportion her bounty. She had gotten so thin. The dress she had put on that night they escaped the ghetto now hung loosely on her frail frame. It was a pleasant reprieve to have her occupied counting and sorting berries, as opposed to the constant crying and whining they were used to. They were all hungry, but the small child’s endless rants on the subject were constantly getting on the already fragile nerves of the men.
Her grandparents had taught her so many lessons all those years ago. She never imagined that she would put them to such good use. Learning how to live off the land was much different than she had imagined. The days were consumed with one desire, hunting and gathering food. Their lives revolved around these daily activities, and all the while, they had to keep an ear and eye out for anything remotely suspicious or out of the ordinary. It had seemed like a romantic fairy tale all those years ago. Now it had turned into a hopeless, never ending nightmare.
The first thing Sala had taught her children was how to pick edible berries and mushrooms. The next was to never leave her sight. She was constantly concerned they would have to suddenly flee any unexpected danger, so they needed to stay close at all times. Each had learned how to cope with their new way of living in their unique way. Zosia would collect the food, and carefully lay out portions on leaves for everyone as if she were having a tea party. Manek would straighten where they were, placing twigs in piles where they could use it for the fire or moving branches out of their sleeping area. “Manek.” Her son stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Don’t worry about straightening up, son. We won’t be staying here any longer. Go and eat with your sister.”
“What is this about, Sala?” Romek asked as he stretched and rose from his bed of leaves.
“We’re moving to a new spot.”
“Not again.” Fish took the leaf filled with berries Zosia had made.
“We just moved, I thought.” Ignash threw a berry up in the air and caught it in his mouth, making the children giggle. Sala could not help but smile. Her children’s laughter had become more precious to her than the jewelry and documents she had stashed in the depths of her coat.
“I know all of this, gentlemen. But last night I heard the sound of footsteps nearby. We have to move. I will not take any chances with the children.”
“Here we go again.” Romek headed off into the bushes, shaking his head.
“It could have been an animal.”
She shook her head at Ignash’s suggestion. “It was not. At this point, I know the difference between an animal and human footsteps. We must be going.”
“Let’s just do it to keep her happy.”
Sala ignored Fish’s muttered comment, along with the looks of bored resignation on the men’s faces. At least her son had the good sense to be happy at the prospect of the change.
Soon they were on their way, heading east. Sala was determined to put a day’s march between them and the noise she had heard the night before. While walking they collected food. The gathering was almost a subconscious reaction now. The fruits and mushrooms were good, but they never seemed to fill up anyone. Unless one of the men procured food from a farm, they were constantly on the hunt for something to eat. Fortunately, Manek did not ask what the difference was between procuring and stealing, since that was a question for which his Mamusia did not have the answer.
When they finally chose a new site for a camp, dusk was settling in among the trees. Manek immediately set to work. First, he led Zosia into the trees to collect the dry wood they would use to make a fire. They soon had assembled an untidy stack of angular limbs. He then sent Zosia out to look for food, and he began to pile up leaves for each of them to use that night to sleep.
“None for me, Manek.” They all turned with surprise in Romek’s direction. “What? I am going into the village tonight.”
The young Polish girl he had met in the nearby village was a distraction he was not willing to forgo. Men had their needs, after all.
“It would be better if we stayed together.”
Romek gave her a teasing wink at her protest. “And yet …”
“Being a man, you cannot resist a night with your sweetheart,” Sala muttered.
“When you are a man, Manek, try not to fall in love with a shrew like your mother.” Romek smiled at her too-serous boy.
“Actually, Manek, I suggest when you become a man, you not act like Romek.”
“Got it,” her son nodded. “When I’m a man, I won’t be an idiot, Mamusia.”
They all laughed.
“If you are going anyway, please try to find some potatoes. We could use the food.”
Sala turned away as Romek and Fish started to make their way through the trees, heading to the village. At least moving camp had brought them closer to their sweethearts. It meant they wo
uld be gone for less time.
“Catch me, Manek!”
Zosia hollered her command as she went running through the trees.
“Hush, Zosia, not so loud, please.”
“Yes, Mamusia.”
Sala returned to making the fire, and Zosia went back to calling taunts to her brother as she ran around. It was rare to see her child run these days. She had become so weak and frail. At least she had stopped crying for a few moments.
“Zosia, you must be quieter,” Manek said.
Once Sala had the fire blazing, she stood up and announced, “I will go and get us some water and make tea. You two stay by the fire and get warm. Manek, remember what to do if you hear anyone approaching.”
“I will, Mamusia.”
A brief nod was all it took for her to communicate what she had realized their first night in the forest she no longer had to say. Don’t be seen. Watch your sister. Be careful near the flames. Don’t make noise.
Manek had become her rock. She could depend on him always to understand that their lives depended on staying alert.
If only she could teach her daughter the value of heeding her warnings.
She found a stream not far from where they had stopped. In the distance Sala could still see the huddled forms of her children around the fire. Returning to the camp, she didn’t have to go far to find the leaves to make the tea. At least conditions for the natural bounty that grew all around them were good this year. If they hadn’t been, they would not have survived. The tea would help the children feel full before the men returned from town with more substantial fare than mushrooms.
When Ignash came to the fire, he watched her bed the children down as he silently drank the tea from their communal cup. The old tin cup had been a special treat that the men brought back from one of their first nights out looking for more substantial food. They took it everywhere they went now, a symbol of a more civilized time. Once she settled next to him, he motioned to Zosia with his head: “I could hear her distinctly.”
“She was just playing.”
“Loudly, Sala. She plays loudly. She cries loudly. She can barely walk anymore, she is so weak, and when she does, she walks through the forest loudly. Little Zosia does everything we do as loud as she can.”
“All eight-year-olds are loud, Ignash.”
“You are the one who taught us that being loud will get us all killed.”
“I know.” She took the cup from his hand and filled it for herself.
“The danger—”
“Hasn’t touched us yet, and until it does, I will not abandon my child.”
“I fear it will be too late for us when you are ready, Sala.”
She bridled at the suggestion that she would ever be ready. “Are you under the impression this decision is up to you?”
He smiled at the affront in her voice. “No, Sala. They are your children.”
“They are. And I will decide when and if other arrangements must be made for Zosia. I will take the first watch, get some rest.”
Sala settled down where she could rest and still keep an eye on the camp. The state of watchfulness they’d had to adopt when they took to the forest was a constant burden to her. At all times a checklist ran through her mind. Where are the children? Is there anything to eat? Do I see anyone coming? What are the children doing? Any noises jumping out at you?
And always … what are we going to do when it gets cold?
Romek and Fish returned far earlier than their usual time—dawn had not even arrived. Their shadowed expressions put her instantly on guard. She didn’t have to do more than kick Ignash’s foot to wake him up. He would want to hear this, too.
“Tell me.”
“There was a wedding in the village tonight. Almost everyone seemed to be in attendance,” Romek said.
“So why has this brought you back so early?” Sala asked.
“I didn’t think it was wise to stay.”
“Explain,” Ignash ordered.
Romek glanced at Fish, and he was the one who took up the story. “The men got very drunk, and there must have been some kind of feud between the bride’s and groom’s families, because they started to fight.”
“Why did this concern you?”
Fish shrugged at Sala’s question. “The whole village, all the men, were fighting, Sala. We decided there were too many eyes watching us. Then we heard some of the women calling for the police to break up the fight.”
Ignash was alarmed by that news. “It’s good you managed to escape.”
“Yes . . .” Fish and Romek again shared a look that made Sala uncomfortable, but they didn’t elaborate.
“I guess I am awake.” Ignash came and sat down on the log next to Sala. “So I will start my turn at watch now.”
Sala settled down next to Zosia. She put her arm over her daughter so her hand could rest on Manek’s shoulder. Matching her breathing to that of her children’s, she soon found herself coasting on a relaxing wave which sent her into a deep state of meditation. Sleep was a luxury they could no longer afford, like new clothes or a roof to sleep under. They didn’t need luxuries, though, just each other.
Boom.
Boom, boom, boom.
The retorts sounded like whiplashes across her senses. Sala sat straight up, fully awake. Gunfire. This time there was no question about what was disturbing her sleep. No matter how long it had been since she heard the terrifying explosion of gunfire in the ghetto, the noise was written into her soul.
One that would never be erased.
Fish came awake on his own, and reached over to jostle Romek. Ignash stood leaning against a tree, vainly searching the darkness for an explanation. The full moon would either work against them or for them, Sala wished she had some kind of magical talent to tell which it would be.
Romek sat up on his pallet. “It must be the police. I told you the villagers were going to call them to break up the fight.”
“Get up,” Fish ordered him.
“Those shots are nearby.” As Sala woke up Zosia, Manek was already rising and moving to her other side. “You know I can tell how far the noise is. I have not been wrong before—”
The rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire made a cold sweat break all over her body.
“We all know what that means,” Ignash told Romek.
“Not the police.” Police did not carry machine guns. The SS did.
The children huddled close to Sala while Romek started to grab things from around his pallet. “Let’s go. We must run.”
“Away from the gunfire.”
“No.” Sala’s commanding voice froze all three men. “We must go toward the gunfire.”
“Ah, you’ve lost it, woman,” Romek said.
Fish shook his head. “We cannot. Think of your children.”
“I am.” Sala squeezed the children tighter to her side. “If someone was walking around out here earlier, they know where we are. They will be expecting us to try to flee. We must out-think them. If we run toward them, but go around where the gunfire is, we will get away. They will never expect it.”
The men exchanged looks. The ploy was dangerous, but it did make sense.
“Fine,” all three said, nodding.
Sala took the lead, the three men following behind her. They’d adopted the habit of letting Sala go first, walking in her footsteps to avoid breaking any branches and calling attention to themselves. The children stayed behind their mother, their little fists clutching the hem of her coat.
Manek kept his breath slow and even, always using his nose and never his mouth. He could be quieter that way. Zosia’s eyes were as big as the moon in her face, and he wished he could hold her hand. Mamusia was very clear, though. They were to hold her coat at all times, they were to follow in her footsteps and they must not, under any circumstances, make any noise.
The gunfire seemed as distant as thunder at first. He had learned in the ghetto what this heralded, though: a storm of death. Even Zosia knew they needed t
o escape from the danger.
Alternating between walking and a fast jog, Sala kept them moving. He knew she was steering them around the area where they thought the Germans were. He hoped his Mamusia was right. He did not want to die. He wasn’t even ten years old yet.
When they got to a twisty path, like the one Manek often dreamed about taking Antony Pilat’s bicycle down, Mamusia froze. Crouching down behind two large trees, she peered around one edge. As she looked back at all of them, Manek could see the fear starkly twisting his Mamusia’s features. She almost seemed like a stranger. She made some hand gestures to the men which they nodded in understanding to. Zosia opened her mouth to ask Mamusia a question, but Manek clapped his hand over her lips in time. He shook his head frantically, and the tears in her eyes only made him feel a little bad.
Don’t be seen.
Know where the Germans are.
Manek knew without asking that the Germans were right up ahead. He closed his eyes, trying, for once, to not feel his heartbeat. It was beating so hard he feared the Germans would hear him.
Without saying a word, Mamusia suddenly picked him up. He opened his eyes in surprise, locking gazes with Zosia, who was tucked under Mamusia’s other arm, like they were each a bag of potatoes. As Mamusia dashed across the twisty path, her feet as nimble as a deer, Manek had enough time to see the gray coat on the back of a soldier, holding a long, dark gun over his shoulder. Behind Mamusia, he could see the other men— Ignash, Fish, and Romek—following.
Once they dashed inside the trees on the other side of the path, Mamusia put him down and firmly took his hand. Machine gun fire and the single retorts of a rifle suddenly broke out, sending an electric jolt through their entire party. Mamusia kept Zosia in her arms, and the two of them ran as fast as they could. Zosia’s hands were clenched so tightly around Mamusia’s neck, her little knuckles stood out like snow against the dark coat she wore.
His mother kept them moving as fast as the wind for what felt like hours. His breath began to come out in huge gasps from his mouth. He could hear the adults breathing hard as well, so he hoped the sounds of his labored breath was lost in the midst of the others.