Anca's Story--a novel of the Holocaust

by Mark Williams

  41.

  “Please do not be offended,” I began hesitantly, “when I say we must leave soon.”

  My hosts exchanged glances but said nothing.

  “Your hospitality has been unsurpassable,” I continued, “and, I assure you, I could happily spend the remainder of the war here as your guests for I, and I know this to be true of the children too, have come to regard you as family.”

  I crossed and took the hands of Izabella and Wojciech, struggling to find words difficult enough in my own language, and almost impossible to express in what little Polish I had learned.

  “Izabella, you have been as a mother to me these past months. And you, Wojciech, like a father. To all three of us. But our real mother, mine and Nicolae’s, and the parents of Elone, may still yet be alive. As I have explained previously, they were bound for a resettlement camp somewhere beyond Krakow. That much I know. Please understand we cannot rest until we have ascertained their fate, for better or worse.”

  Izabella took my hand with both hers, offering reassurance. “We understand, Anca. Of course you must seek your family, though in all honesty we must warn you to expect the worse, for only then can you avoid bitter disappointment.”

  Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. “We will be sorry to see you leave, for your presence here has brought us much joy, Anca. But we will not stand in your way.”

  I was relieved to hear this, for I anticipated they would object.

  “We have not mentioned this before, Anca, but now perhaps the time is right. We had a son, once, Wojciech and I. Krzystof, his name.” She struggled to express her thoughts and I listened patiently.

  “He was killed in battle in the early months of occupation, some years ago now, even as his wife Mila lay enceinte with what would have been our grandchild.” My host struggled with the words. “She too was a Jew, Anca, like your friend Elone. She... That is...”

  Izabella was overcome with emotion and I sat at her side without hesitation, to offer comfort and succour. As I warmly hugged her, Wojciech took up her story.

  “After Krzystof death, Anca, his wife Mila, then living in Krakow, was moved into a ghetto, a Jewish ghetto, in the city. All the Jews were moved there, you understand, regardless of nationality or social standing. By their religion they were branded, judged and sentenced.” He paused, and I realised he was struggling to control his own emotions.

  One arm still around Izabella, I reached a hand to his, urging him to continue. “What happened to her, Wojciech?”

  “We do not know even if she is still alive, Anca. We heard that the ghetto had been liquidated, and that those who survived had been sent on to labour camps, just like your mother and Elone’s parents. Mila was sent to a place called Treblinka, in the north-east of our country. We know at least that she arrived there, for we received a message confirming her admission. That was more than a year ago, since when we have heard nothing. No news of her, or our grandchild.”

  “But Wojciech,” I said, “if she arrived at the labour camp then surely she must be safe and well? Surely you anticipate meeting her again once the war is over?”

  At this suggestion Izabella clutched me to her and began to cry again. Wojciech turned from my mystified gaze, unwilling to meet my eyes, and I knew there was more.

  I demanded, “Wojciech? What is it? Is there something you are not telling me?”

  It seemed an eternity before he answered. “Anca, you are so young. There are some things perhaps best left unsaid, unsuited to a child’s ears.”

  “I am twelve years old, Wojciech. Almost a teenager. Please, do not treat me as you would Nicolae or Elone.”

  Wojciech considered my request. “It is just rumour, Anca, not fact. In any war, my child, truth is the first casualty. I cannot tell you things I do not know to be true.”

  “Please, if there is something I ought to know, if it might have a bearing on my mother’s fate, then you must tell me.”

  Wojciech shook his head. “I will not fill your head with gossip, child.” He paused, deep in thought, then, “Anca, we understand that you must go. We will not stand in your way, for you are of independent mind and we know our protests would be futile. But please, leave the two children with us. Let us care for them for you while you go in search of your mother.”

  I was shaking my head before even he had completed the sentence, not willing even to consider the option.

  “No, Wojciech, I cannot do that. Your offer is greatly appreciated, but Nicolae is my brother and we will not be parted. I promised Mama, and Papa before that, I would care for him and so I must, no matter what. And Elone...”

  I implored with them with my eyes not to contest what I was about to say.

  “Elone is as a sister to me now, though I have known her only a few months. It is incumbent on me to care for her as my own. Please, Wojciech, please, Izabella, try to understand I cannot relinquish my duty to them. Please do not try to stop us leaving, all three of us.”

  Izabella, her voice wrought with emotion, said, “That we will not do, Anca. We understand your plight, for as Wojciech explained, we were faced with a similar dilemma. If our years were fewer and our bodies more able then no doubt we would have gone to Krakow to try bring Mila back with us. But we were ignorant then. How could we possibly know the tragic way events would unfold?”

  I nodded my understanding.

  “Now we do our bit, as you have witnessed, Anca. It is as much as we can do. I am sure you realise we risk our very lives to receive partisans and wounded soldiers here. That is our own small contribution to this fight against tyranny.”

  She squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Yours will take a different form, Anca, for I know you are as dedicated to that cause as we are. But that in the first instance the search for your respective families must be paramount.”

  She paused, selecting her next words carefully. “No, Anca, we will not try to stop you leaving, not you or the children, if that is your will. You are brave beyond your years, my child. Of course you must take Nicolae with you, and if you are to look after your brother properly then you will need the able assistance of Elone, for she is a blessed child, as you must realise. You are better off with her than without, of that I am convinced.”

  She turned to Wojciech and whispered in quiet and rapid Polish such that I could not understand, before turning back to me.

  “Anca, if you must leave, then please let us assist your journey in this way. Wojciech has a brother, Henryk, resident still in Krakow. He is a good man, Anca, and may be able to assist you, if only to point you in the right direction as you go about your mission. If you go to him he will help you, of that I am confident.”

  I nodded my appreciation. “Thank you. Both of you. Krakow is indeed our destination, for I know the train at Bucharest was bound that far. Is it distant, this town, Krakow?”

  Wojciech said quietly, “A long way, Anca, but we will see you get there safely. Henryk will make you welcome for a few days while you establish the true nature of your task. Then... Then, Anca, hopefully you will realise the futility of your endeavour and return to us here in the forest until the war is over, after which perhaps we will all be reunited with our surviving families.”

  42.

  Wojciech was true to his word in doing everything possible to prepare us for our journey. In particular he coached us in Polish phrases which we might find especially helpful.

  Izabella devoted much time to Elone, who was by now at least as competent in the language as I, and stressed repeatedly that she should never recite her Talmud incantations in public. She should be proud always of her Jewish heritage, Izabella told Elone, but for now she must pretend she was indifferent to religion, or at best of Catholic stock.

  Having seen how the Jews had been treated at Bucharest station I could only support Izabella in promoting this deception, although it went against everything Papa had taught me about standing up for one’s beliefs.

  It was agreed we would depart when Wojciech next
made his foray with his cartload of logs and forest wares. That way we could ride into town without drawing undue attention to ourselves. He would show us to the railway station and purchase us tickets for the journey to Krakow.

  I protested that we could not presume upon what little money he had, for we had already partaken for many months of their worldly goods, eating deep into their winter reserves. But Wojciech would have none of this.

  If we were intent on pursuing our course of action, he said, we would do so with every assistance he and his wife could muster. There was little point arguing, for his mind was set, and in truth we needed every advantage we could obtain, for we were strangers in a strange land and our task was onerous enough without the additional burden of having to make our own way to Krakow.

  I promised them we would return one day and repay them their kindness, though these were but empty words, for I knew it implausible we would ever meet again.

  When the day of our departure arrived we bathed early, relishing what might be our last hot bath for some while, and were fed a particularly splendid breakfast to fortify us for the long journey ahead.

  During our stay Izabella had made us new clothes and somehow had obtained shoes to fit us, for which we would be forever indebted. We were provided with a bag filled to the brim with cakes and oatmeal bread, which we were advised to consume sparingly, less the journey to Krakow be delayed in any way.

  At mid-morning, as I struggled to find the parting words to express our gratitude for their kindness, we each kissed Izabella goodbye and mounted the loaded cart. Tears flowed freely as we followed the track into the forest and out of sight of our friend.

  The children found the ride uncomfortable after so many months cushioned from life’s harsh realities, but it was soon over, for we arrived in town in little more than an hour and spent midday in the market place watching as Wojciech haggled for the best return on his wares. German soldiers were in evidence, but not in great numbers, and we did not see any hated SS men.

  As the village clock struck the second hour of noon Wojciech gathered us together and led us in silence through the market place to a ramshackle station, running to little more than a ticket office and guard’s quarters beside rusting rails.

  He beckoned for us to wait quietly and disappeared into the office, to return shortly with three tickets to Krakow. He handed these to me along with a sealed envelope which he cautioned me to entrust to no-one. It was addressed to his brother Henryk, his home details scrawled onto the face of the envelope. On the back he had drawn a rough map of how to find the address from Krakow station.

  “Obviously we have no way of warning him of your arrival, Anca, and he will be most surprised, and not a little suspicious, to find three children so young descending upon his home unannounced, so it is imperative you do not lose this letter of explanation.”

  I assured him it would be kept safe about my person.

  “Once he realises you are friends of ours Henryk will not hesitate to make you welcome,” he continued. “But I stress only for a few days at most. Please do not let yourself think he can extend his hospitality further than that, for the Nazis are in occupation of Krakow and you will place both him and yourselves at risk by exceeding your welcome. Do I make myself clear, Anca?”

  I nodded, sobered by this warning. Whilst in the secure comfort of Wojciech’s home it had been easy enough to envisage setting off again on our journey. But now, faced with the grim reality, the prospect was daunting.

  Wojciech saw my hesitation.

  “It is not too late to change your mind, Anca. You are welcome to return with me now. Perhaps just for the winter? Perhaps it would be better to wait until the spring to travel?”

  I took his hand, anxious to demonstrate my gratitude. “Thank you, Wojciech, but no thank you. We must do what we must do. We will remember you and Izabella always, that much I promise. Goodbye, Wojciech.”

  I leant up and kissed him on the cheek. He bent down and allowed Elone and Nicolae to do the same.

  “Goodbye, children, and good luck. I will go now, for to be seen with you when the train arrives might be unhelpful to us both.”

  He ushered us towards the gate. “Go now, and be brave, my friends. Henryk will see you right.”

  With those words he turned and left us, three children alone in a town we did not even know the name of, waiting, anxious, for the train to Krakow.

  43.

  If once the awesome sight of a steam locomotive heaving into view had brought a rush of intense excitement, now it awakened only bitter memories. Elone held my hand tight, while even Nicolae was subdued as the mechanical behemoth advanced upon us, and I knew we were all thinking the same thoughts. Our laden silence required no explanation.

  The engine ground to a shuddering halt and a blast of steam issued forth from between the filthy wheels, barely missing us, but we seemed hardly to notice.

  I looked around the station for confirmation that the train was bound for Warsaw, where Wojciech had told us we must change trains to complete our journey. A guard was dutifully chalking the relevant information onto a weathered board. No passengers alighted and I noted with disinterest that we were the only three people to embark.

  We selected our seats carefully, opting for an empty centre carriage. A hiss of steam could be heard as the engine generated power and suddenly the wheels screamed against unforgiving rails and we lurched backwards as the carriages groaned into motion.

  Painful memories fought for pre-eminence and I took solace from the knowledge that on this occasion we had tickets bearing the right to comfortable seats.

  As the journey continued we slowly relaxed, as rekindled memories faded. Elone and Nicolae began to play like children again and I watched them jealously, knowing it was incumbent on me to maintain a distance from such juvenile displays, for they were my personal responsibility now.

  It would not do for a guard or other passenger to come by and find three children playing alone. As Izabella had stressed to me, mine was the dutiful role of responsible elder sibling and, if anyone asked, I was to say I was sixteen. When I objected that I barely looked my twelve years, Izabella had shook her head and advised me this was not so, and that I could pass as someone older

  I had taken delight in this assurance for, if it is the way of young people to will their years away, my desire for mature years was all the more urgent for that it was driven by need. The need to be able to look after Nicolae and Elone properly, in a way no twelve year old could be expected to manage.

  But manage I must, for if previously our only option had been to return to our friends in the forest, even that was now closed as we rumbled cumbersome through the unknown Polish countryside.

  We stopped infrequently at stations along the way, few of which I would even venture to pronounce, and I found myself pondering the nature of language. If I had discovered there were words in common betwixt my native Romanian and my newly acquired Polish, still the differences were so many that it was hard to believe we were all but neighbouring countries.

  I was deep in contemplation of such imponderables when I felt a tiny hand slip into mine and looked down to see Elone snuggling to my side. A smile played on my lips as I saw Nicolae had fallen asleep on the seat opposite. I crossed over briefly to make him comfortable, wrapping his coat around his shoulders, then returned to where Elone waited patiently.

  “I have something for you, Anca,” she said as I retook my seat. She thrust a hand into her pocket and extracted a silk purse.

  I could not hide my astonishment as she loosened the cord and tipped the contents into the palm of my hand.

  “It is from Wojciech. He gave it to me to look after while you were saying goodbye to Izabella.”

  I took the coins cautiously, hardly daring to believe our good fortune.

  As if reading my thoughts, Elone explained, “He said he knew you would not accept any money from him, so he told me to look after it for you. He said that you were too stubborn. Lik
e a mule.” She laughed at the simile and I smiled along, knowing he was quite right. Money had been offered, but I had declined most vociferously, intent that we did not draw upon our hosts’ meagre resources more than was necessary.

  “Elone, you ought not have accepted this,” I said, grateful indeed that she had.

  “Wojciech said that is what you would say,” the child laughed. “That is why he told me not to give it to you until we had been on the train a while. I hope we have travelled far enough, Anca.”

  I passed my arm around her neck and hugged her tightly. “You did the right thing, Elone. Bless you.”

  “Are you not going to count the money?”

  I looked down at the assortment of coins and shrugged. It was a long time since I had handled money on my own, though I knew that the lei of my native Romania had become all but worthless. I looked at the zloty in my palm and decided for now simply to relish the fact that we had money at all. The amount, its nominal value or its true market worth, was for now unimportant.

  I slipped the coins back into the purse and secured it in my coat pocket, drawing Elone to me.

  “We can count it later, Elone. Let us rest for now, for we will need all our strength when we get to Krakow. I will need your eager eyes to help find Henryk’s home, and I will need your help to look after Nicolae. Will you do that for me?”

  She looked up and smiled at me. “Of course, Anca. I will do anything for my friends.”

  I bent down and kissed her forehead.

  “Then shut your eyes and rest, Elone, as I ask. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  True to her word Elone did as she was bid, snuggling down and closing her eyes. Very soon she was asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts to watch the Polish countryside go by.

  Dusk became dark but I could not sleep, lost in deep and forbidding thoughts, soothed only by the gentle roll of the carriage as the steaming locomotive drew us on through the still night.