A Kind of Woman

Home > Other > A Kind of Woman > Page 5
A Kind of Woman Page 5

by Helen Burko


  “And the root of man’s happiness.”

  “I’m familiar with Lvov. That’s where I left my wife, Doris, and my little daughter, Lillian. I was born in that city. So many memories of my childhood are connected to it.” His expression became sad as he remembered all the atrocities that had taken him away from his wife and daughter.

  “I would like to go back to the house where I was arrested,” he said sadly. “Maybe some of my relatives or friends are still alive.”

  On a side road were tanks and armored cars of the Soviet army. As they moved around, the sounds of their wheels and motors brought back the terror of the war, and it was hard to believe it was all over.

  They walked and rested. From time to time, they worried: Maybe someone had followed them; what would happen when they reached Lvov?

  On the way, they met an old farmer who took them to the city in his wagon. He kept his wooden pipe, fitted with a tin lid, in his mouth all the way there and asked them who they were, and they discussed the war and its aftermath. Finally, they neared the city. Some homes appeared locked and deserted. Small shops and restaurants were open for business.

  There, in the city, Jacob and Rachel were free from fear. They mixed with the passersby and felt safe. Neglect and disorder showed in every corner, but the feeling they might be arrested in the streets left them.

  They passed the marketplace. Farmers and their wives sold what little produce there was from wooden carts at high prices, but it wasn’t the market of old. From the marketplace they went to the home of Jacob’s relatives, where he had left his wife and child. An old Polish man opened the door. Jacob began to question him on how long he had lived there and where the owners were.

  “I don’t know,” the man said apprehensively. “After they took my home, they gave me these rooms. When I came here, the house was deserted and locked up. The owners were executed or fled, who knows?”

  “So you found the house locked up?” Jacob asked him.

  “Yes, as I told you, no one was living here. Even the windowpanes had been removed. It was difficult to make the place livable… Everything had been burned.”

  Jacob looked forlorn and asked no more questions. He entered the house, and Rachel followed him.

  “Here in this corner was the bed,” he said as if to himself. “It must mean they are no longer living.”

  Rachel and the old man were quiet. They watched as Jacob looked around the rooms as if seeing them for the first time, or as if he were searching for some valuable object belonging to the family he had lost.

  “Yes, the bed stood here, and there stood an old sofa where Lillian and I slept when Doris became ill… And this room was filled with refugees, and here they arrested me.”

  He wanted to run quickly away from the house that now looked to him like an open grave.

  When they found themselves in the street again, Jacob was quiet for a while and then said, “God in heaven, what destruction! How did all this happen in our century? How could men kill their fellow men in such a cruel fashion? It’s hard to believe! Who can begin to understand it? It’s unspeakable!”

  Rachel didn’t comment, and Jacob continued. “When I was in Russia, I couldn’t believe the stories of what the war had caused! I couldn’t believe men could be so cruel—worse than cannibals! That our time would be worse than all the years that preceded it. Such horror! How did it happen?”

  When she saw he was boiling with rage, she reminded him, “Liebling, war is war! Every war brings destruction and death. What can we do?”

  “Yes, what can we do?” Again, he became enraged. “But this war was beyond imagination…incredible!”

  “War knows no rules. It’s cruel and knows no pity!”

  “Yes, you’re so right! War follows no rules and knows no pity. You’re right!”

  “How angry you have become.” She stroked his cheek. “Now, tell me, is this an opportune time or the place, in the middle of the street, to become so agitated or make speeches? Have you forgotten that we are still far from our destination and we have to get to Warsaw and from there to America? I understand your feelings, Jacob, liebling.” She tucked her arms in his. “You have lost your wife and child. The war tossed you about, and to top it all, in America they are all pacifists because they live so well.”

  He didn’t react. He walked along with her, arm in arm, and couldn’t stop thinking of the tragedy that had rocked the world and his family along with it. His heart was full of grief and misery. He wasn’t surprised Rachel was so apathetic to the world’s tragedy. She had suffered so much that she had become insensitive to everything, and how right she was. What, after all, can we do?

  “People become wild during a war, in every war, but in this war, it was worse than could ever be imagined. In this war, men became insensitive to suffering and death, to evil and torture, as though those were natural phenomena, as though the war was the law and you couldn’t flee from it. Man is evil. I was in the camps, and I saw how the sadism infected the prisoners, too. They fought among themselves and mocked the suffering of their fellow prisoners. Some of them even justified their jailers. They said that if they had been in charge, they would have acted in the same manner! Also, they made trouble for all the weak ones, just for the enjoyment—or so they told me, anyway.”

  Rachel kept quiet and Jacob continued. “A world full of madness! A world full of lunatics and insane people! A world full of sadists! Maybe I’m not looking at it the right way. Maybe the situation, the conditions, are what created the sadists and the lunacy? Didn’t I once grab a piece of bread from a fellow prisoner? That same prisoner obtained some extra bread and wouldn’t share it with me. I was so tired and hungry. I couldn’t restrain myself.”

  “You were right,” she said. “Only the strong can survive and, as you said, only the courageous.”

  “And what is courage?” he retorted angrily. “The conditions create courage! All of us are cowards, and we all do what we do because of fear! When men fight, all the rules are thrown out, all accepted behavior forgotten. And that is when man is supposed to be strong and courageous. That is courage against our weakness.”

  She didn’t react, so he became quiet. At the same time, she suddenly seemed strange to him. The warmth of her arm seemed cold and unfeeling. He felt an emptiness inside of him.

  They walked along in silence. He kept his thoughts to himself, as did she, and neither of them knew what the other was thinking.

  “You’re thoughtful.” She suddenly turned to him. “And sad.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “It’s all nonsense, Jacob.” She pressed his arm. “Life flows on. You’re sad because this is where your tragedy occurred.”

  He listened but kept quiet, glad that she took the trouble to comfort him, that she tried to lighten his mood and lessen his sorrow. He needed a little comfort. He was grateful she talked to him so gently, and she continued to murmur soft words until he became less grim. He realized she was blessed with a great talent to influence and encourage. He felt that instinctively. He also felt the impact of her smile and her self-confidence, and he was pleased with her.

  They walked along, and he showed her all the places of his childhood and youth. There he used to stroll, there he went to school, there lived a friend, an acquaintance. Where were they all?

  They were all wiped out, everything destroyed.

  They were tired and didn’t know where to go. His rib hurt, and she complained of increased pain in her knee. She wanted to rest and eat something.

  “How can we get something to eat, at least a piece of bread?”

  The idea came to him to sell his coat in the market or exchange it for some food. Clothing was needed in the Ukraine and in Poland. Besides his coat, her coat, and the dresses in her suitcase, they had nothing.

  After they sold his coat and ate something, they went to the railroad station to find a way to continue their journey.

  They learned from a conductor that at midnight, there was a t
rain going directly to Warsaw, but to obtain a ticket, one had to have a special permit. Again, they were helpless and lost. What could they do now? Now it was more dangerous than before. They had almost forgotten they had escaped from the KGB men who would be inspecting the passengers. Maybe those men were even in the streets and Rachel and Jacob were endangering themselves every minute. The conductor advised them to travel in a Russian car, which could cross the border without inspection, but Rachel convinced Jacob that this was not the right way.

  “Any border is still a border, and they are sure to inspect the Russian cars that go and return from Poland. They could arrest us. It isn’t worthwhile to take the risk, although I like adventure.”

  “So what do you propose we do?” He was surprised she talked about “adventure” at a time like this.

  “I suggest we climb on the roof of the train to Warsaw.”

  “On the roof of the passenger train?”

  “Yes,” she said with confidence. “It’s not so cold now. The wind will probably blow in our ears, but we can make fun of the KGB men.” She laughed.

  He looked at her and also chuckled.

  “I’ve traveled that way before, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to make it. It isn’t easy to travel like that. The wind tears at you.”

  “It’s not so bad.” She laughed again. “It’s easier than jumping from a train window.”

  “All right,” he agreed. “And what’s with your knee?”

  “What do I care about my knee when all my body is in danger?” She laughed, pleased at her wit.

  “So, we’ll travel on the midnight train?”

  “Exactly!”

  After discussing it, they decided to travel on the roof of the last car. And so as not to arouse the suspicions of the KGB men and the workers in the station, they returned to the city and came back to the station only at night, a short time before the train would leave.

  When they returned, the station was full of soldiers and the Lvov-Warsaw train was already waiting in the station, ready to leave. They had twenty minutes left, which seemed to them like an eternity. They looked the train over and saw the last car was a cargo car and, therefore, had a flatter roof than the passenger cars. The Russians sent all kinds of goods to Poland to prove to the citizens that Russia was helping them to overcome the war; therefore, all the trains to Poland were a mix of passenger and supply cars.

  Thanks to the darkness, Rachel and Jacob could climb up unnoticed to the roof of the car. They held on with both hands to the small air vents that protruded as if they were put there especially for them to hang on to. They lay flat and held their breath. The minutes crept by, and again, each minute seemed like an eternity.

  The train was standing near the lighted station, but the last car, luckily for them, was in darkness. They saw the manager of the station running around giving last-minute instructions and documents to the mechanic and the man in charge of the train. The twelve cars of the train finally got ready to leave.

  They felt a shiver of impatience. The worst moment was the last one, when it seemed to them that one of the workers going through the cars noticed them. Then the manager of the station was looking at them, and they felt that, in another minute, they would be forcibly taken off. The manager had a flashlight that hung from the middle button of his coat. It seemed to them he was coming straight toward them…

  At last the engine grunted, and they began to move, slowly at first, and then the train raced into the night. They held on to each other so as not to fall off and breathed a sigh of relief.

  The wind tore at their clothes and their hair. It was a warm wind, and it enveloped them like a good mother hen covers her chicks.

  They were happy and kissed from sheer joy. The train roared into the night, going around curves and traveling straight on the endless tracks it gobbled up mile after mile. They pressed against each other to keep warm. He tried to cover her with his body to guard her against the wind, and that kept him warmer too.

  “Aren’t you cold, dear?” he murmured as he pressed his lips against her face and felt her hair being buffeted by the wind.

  “Don’t talk now!” she ordered him. “Just hold on tight!”

  “If only it would slow down for a little while,” he whispered in her ear. “How do you feel?”

  “Not too bad,” she said as she clung to him. “The important thing is that we’re moving!”

  They both held on tightly to each other and the train raced onward, ever onward.

  The journey seemed endless. They passed small, sleepy stations where the train stopped for a few minutes and then continued on its way. With every stop, their hearts almost stopped beating, too. In another moment, someone might notice them and pull them off. Only yesterday, they were enjoying the moon and the stars; now they wished they could shut that light off.

  The train raced on, and suddenly they saw bright lights in the distance. The train approached a bridge, slowed down, and whistled to announce its appearance.

  “That’s probably Warsaw,” she whispered. “I hope they’ll stop at a side track.”

  “Here, we have nothing to fear!” he comforted her.

  “Just so they don’t notice us when we climb down. They could arrest us then.”

  “With the Poles, we can get along,” he calmed her.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “We’ll say we’re Polish citizens, you hear? I’m your wife. My name is Rachel Barder nee Kimmelman. My birthplace is Warsaw. We didn’t come from Russia; we came from one of the towns in Poland. We hid in the woods during the war, and now we’re returning to a home that, in the meantime, has been destroyed. Understand?”

  He heard her instructions and was impressed again at how well she managed in every situation.

  “Fine!” he agreed.

  “We have no papers; we can say anything.”

  “You’re so clever.” He hugged and kissed her. In the meantime, the train neared the station. On the wide platform, they saw dots that were people, but as the dots came closer, they could discern soldiers and KGB men.

  “They’re here, too, the devils,” she whispered. “We have to take care.”

  Warsaw!

  The train stopped.

  Lights and people rushed about: soldiers, policemen, and wagons. It was morning, a morning full of happiness for the homeless travelers, and Jacob felt that deep in his soul, a hidden wish had finally come true.

  Finally!

  CHAPTER THREE

  Only one part of Warsaw, Praga, across the Wisla River, remained standing on the hill and displayed signs of life. Toward evening, the traffic on the Wisla’s half-ruined bridge increased. Heavily packed carts and carriages, which for a high price carried passengers, rumbled over it.

  Everywhere, Russian soldiers were strolling around. Some of them were stealing, and some of them sold watches, and some of them traded what they found in the rubble—or took from the fleeing German soldiers—for vodka.

  Jacob and Rachel walked through all this. The difficulties of the trip had intensified their friendship, and so arm in arm, they walked and observed. They were tired, but at the sight of all the destruction, they forgot the fatigue. The destruction made a deep impression, a terrible impression, especially on Jacob. He felt as though it all was a terrible insult to man and that he was, in some way, guilty and owed a debt that he had to avenge.

  Rachel was silent, and he thought her silence meant she felt as he did, otherwise how else could he explain her indifference to all this desolation, which was a hundred times worse than in any other city in despoiled Poland.

  “I can imagine how many people lie under all these ruins,” he couldn’t help commenting. “Everything that happened to me was like paradise compared to this hell.”

  She didn’t respond. She just walked on, thoughtful but impervious, as though imprisoned in another world. Suddenly, she asked him in a mocking tone, “Do you justify all that happened to you?”

  “Definitely not!” he objected. “
I told you before that I abhor prisons, even the best of them! I despise the taking away of freedom from man in any manner or deed.”

  He was silent for a moment and then continued. “Even in Lvov, I couldn’t imagine something like this.”

  She started to say something but restrained herself and kept quiet. He wanted to know what her silence meant, why she didn’t respond. He wanted her to object to his words, because at this moment, he had a great desire to argue with someone, to spill out his anger, but she kept a stubborn silence. Only a faint smile that he didn’t know the meaning of lingered on her lips.

  “Tell me, have you ever seen anything resembling this on your way to Russia?”

  “No, I haven’t,” she replied with her usual indifference. “I didn’t pass Warsaw on my way.”

  “That means that, like me, this is the first time you’ve seen it?”

  “Yes, the first time.”

  “Does it make the same impression on you as it does on me?” He tried to draw her out of her apathy.

  “Oh, my dear,” She made an effort to speak cheerfully. “Nothing touches me anymore.”

  He remained silent for a few moments as he walked through the ruins, and then he commented, “It will take years to clear away all this wreckage.”

  “Not even ten years, liebling.”

  “That’s what you think?”

  “Yes, that’s what I think. Human strength can accomplish marvels, if people know how to harness it.”

  “Yes, if they know how to exploit it.”

  “But please, don’t talk about it… I’m so tired of all this kind of talk. Right now, we can’t undo what is done, and the important thing is not to lose our strength. And now, liebling…” Suddenly she smiled a captivating smile. “…we have to do something. We can’t wander around among these ruins and continue these talks that aren’t much use now. I’m so tired, bone-tired.”

  “Yes, these talks aren’t of much use now.” He smiled bitterly. “But where will we go?”

  “I don’t care where. Any place we can rest a while. I’m so happy we’re out of Russia, but we’re not safe yet.”

 

‹ Prev