Run, Boy, Run

by Uri Orlev

  Clara came closer to the hayrack.

  "What's hanging there?"

  "My pants," Jurek said.

  "Since when do you sleep without pants?"

  She climbed up to look, jumped down, and ran toward the house screaming, "Papa! Marina and Grzegorz are in the barn! Papa!"

  The yellow light of a candle appeared in a window. A barefoot Pan Boguta ran outside in his nightshirt, holding a lantern in one hand and an ax in the other. Grzegorz fled. Marina put on her nightdress and shoes and wrapped herself in her sheepskin coat. Her father grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into the house. She didn't cry. There were shouts. Jurek hoped Marina's father wouldn't beat her. He didn't care if Clara never married in her life. He hated her.

  In the morning, Pan Boguta threw Jurek out. It was as if he were to blame. Marina came to say goodbye. She kissed him and whispered, "Go to Grzegorz."

  Jurek went to the carpentry shop and received a friendly welcome. He was put to work with two young assistants. Although at first they made fun of him, they soon saw that he worked well and seriously. He learned to do things that didn't call for two hands, such as planing, sanding, priming wood, and sawing it in a vise. He was especially good at varnishing furniture. Grzegorz was pleased with him. When he played with the village children after work, he was treated with respect. For the first time in many months he slept in a warm, heated house.

  ***

  That spring, Grzegorz sold his horse and wagon and packed his things in two large trunks. The farmer who bought the wagon brought him and Jurek to the train station.

  "Have you ever ridden in a train?" Grzegorz asked him.

  "No," Jurek said, his eyes bright with excitement.

  When the train pulled in, Grzegorz was excited too. He kept looking at the windows of the cars, as if searching for someone.

  "There she is!" Jurek shouted, catching sight of Marina.

  They put the trunks in the baggage car and boarded the train. Marina gave Grzegorz an emotional hug. Tears were running down her cheeks. She kissed Jurek.

  "Where are you coming from?" he asked her.

  "I was hiding at my aunt's in town. My father came looking for me." She laughed. "You should have seen him, Grzegorz."

  "But how did you arrange to meet here?"

  "We wrote each other letters. Now you see why you should learn to read and write."

  At one of the stations, there was a sudden rush to the windows. German soldiers were standing on the platform. They didn't look about to board the train. A commotion broke out. The younger passengers jumped into the field on the train's other side and began to run. But soldiers were waiting for them there, too. Shots were fired.

  "They're rounding up work gangs," Grzegorz said in alarm. "Come on!"

  Grzegorz and Marina jumped from the car. Jurek ran to the window. He didn't see them among the passengers climbing over the embankment and running into the field. Nor were they in the ditch at the foot of the embankment or next to the two ruined buildings nearby. He looked back at the field. The frantically running people were further away. The soldiers were firing. Someone fell. Then someone else.

  Two soldiers with loaded guns came aboard and grabbed a few young men who had remained on the train. The locomotive whistled. Jurek took his knapsack and got off. No one paid him any attention. Over a dozen young men were standing under guard. The Germans marched them to an army truck waiting outside the station. The train whistled again. Jurek stood on the steps of the car. Marina and Grzegorz were nowhere in sight. The stationmaster and the conductor went from car to car, shutting the doors.

  "Are you boarding, son?"

  "I'm looking for my brother and sister," Jurek said.

  "Those bastards need workers for their fortifications," the conductor declared. "The Russians are coming." He shut the door with a bang.

  The train whistled one last time and began to move. Jurek trotted alongside it, hoping to spot Marina and Grzegorz at the last moment and hop aboard. The train picked up speed and he stopped at the end of the platform. And just then he saw them, in a little compartment at the back of the baggage car. They saw him at the same moment. The train went faster. Grzegorz opened the window and shouted. Jurek couldn't make out the words.

  15. Mines

  Jurek resumed his wandering life. Sometimes he found work with a farmer for a week or two. Sometimes he stole into a hayloft and spent the night there. In hot weather he looked for streams or lakes to bathe in.

  He missed the forest, with its berries and mushrooms. Sometimes he found blueberries and wild strawberries in the woods he passed, but the local women and children had usually beaten him to them. There were vegetables in the fields and in the gardens by the houses. Now and then he was caught, most often while trying to steal chickens. At such times, having only one arm protected him. He was a poor orphan who had to cross himself left-handed, and the farmers didn't beat him.

  When he met workers in the fields, he greeted them in the name of Jesus. If he received a friendly greeting in return, he pitched in to help. During breaks he was given food and asked questions. The farmers shook their heads at his sad fate. He didn't like being felt sorry for. They had seen that he could work as well as anyone. He could earn his keep with just one arm.

  "Where are you from, son?"

  "I don't remember."

  Sometimes these encounters ended with a job. One farmer, who ran into him one morning as he was walking sleepily out of a hayloft, offered him a job as a shepherd.

  One evening it rained cats and dogs. Jurek was soaked to the bone. The farmer felt bad for him and brought him into the house, where he gave him supper and made a bed for him by the stove. Jurek lay down and was covered with a sheepskin. In the morning the farmer's wife came to wake him. She lifted the sheepskin and let out a scream. "Heniek!" she cried to her husband. "Look! The boy's lice are all over the sheepskin."

  The farmer came in, looked at the sheepskin, gave Jurek a slap, and threw him out of the house. He hung the sheepskin on a fence, brought Jurek a comb, and told him to comb out the lice. Jurek put down the comb and took to the road, leaving his lice behind.

  Another farmer sent him to the river with his horse. "Take Kasztan and wash him," he said. "Can you do it with one hand?"

  "Of course," Jurek said.

  When he returned he asked, "Why is the Wisla so little here?"

  The farmer laughed and explained that the river wasn't the Wisla. It was another river, the Liwiec, which flowed into the Bug.

  Jurek pastured the man's cows for several days. He liked the farm and its family liked him, and he looked forward to remaining. Unexpectedly, however, some cousins soon arrived with two teenage boys and Jurek wasn't needed anymore. The cousins had come from the east, where the Russians were advancing. By now Jurek knew that the thunder and lightning that he had heard and seen at night were the sounds and flashes of the Russians' big guns.

  ***

  For the second straight day, he was following a broad road. It was strange that, although he could tell it had once been a paved highway, no one was traveling on it. For a while it followed the banks of a river. Jurek decided to bathe in it. He took off his clothes and waded into the water. Nearby was a bridge. He heard the motor of an approaching car and hid. A German truck with several soldiers pulled up on the bridge and stopped. Jurek was frightened. Were they going to swim in the river? He took his clothes and crouched in the reeds. No one entered the water. He peeked out. The men were still on the bridge. He crawled forward for a better look. They were unloading equipment from the truck and doing something on and underneath the bridge.

  He wanted to get away. Yet even though he had never heard the word "mines," something told him that the soldiers were planting them. He took some carrots from his knapsack and chewed on them while the Germans worked quickly. Now and then, one took out binoculars and scanned the horizon. They looked worried and left in a hurry.

  Jurek made up his mind to remain and warn anyone u
sing the bridge. He found a comfortable place by the riverbank and dozed off. No one came. The sun was setting. He had to look for something to eat. Stepping out of the reeds, he saw a slowly moving wagon.

  He flagged down the driver. The man reined in his horses.

  "Looking for a ride, boy?"

  "Some Germans were here and did something to the bridge. They worked on it a long time."

  "Mines!" the man exclaimed. "Son, you may have saved my life. Come, I'll take you home. Are you from that village?" He pointed to his rear.

  "Yes," Jurek said. He was about to climb onto the wagon when the farmer stopped him and said:

  "Listen, son. The Russians are coming. We heard their artillery all night. They have to be warned that the Germans have mined the bridge. Stay here and keep anyone from crossing. Don't cross yourself. Just yell 'Mines!' if anyone comes near. I'll round up some men in the village and return. And then I'll take you home."

  "But I'm hungry," Jurek said.

  "I'll give you something to eat."

  The farmer pulled a quarter of a loaf of bread and some pears from beneath the driver's seat. He rummaged through his pockets and gave Jurek some sugar cubes. Then he thought for a moment, reached into another pocket, and produced a piece of sausage.

  "You deserve it," he said.

  Evening arrived and no one came. Jurek sat in a field near the bridge. He tried to stay awake. What would happen when the Russians came? What language would they speak? Russian, he supposed.

  That night there were more thunderclaps and light flashes, stronger and closer than before.

  In the morning he awoke with a start. Something was making a lot of noise. In the dawn light he saw a row of tanks standing by some army trucks by the bridge, their motors running. Soldiers were standing nearby. He had to warn them about the bridge! He jumped to his feet and ran toward it as fast as he could. A soldier with sergeant's stripes grabbed him and swung him in the air. The soldier smiled and said in Russian, "We're Russian soldiers. Don't be afraid, boy."

  Jurek understood him. Russian was like Polish. He tried explaining about the bridge, talking excitedly. The Russian sergeant put him down and said something, but this time he didn't know what it meant. The sergeant was young and broad-shouldered and had a smile that inspired trust. When Jurek kept talking urgently, he took him to a vehicle painted with a red cross.

  "He speaks Polish," he said, pointing to a soldier in the vehicle with the same red cross on his sleeve and cap.

  "What is it?" the medic asked Jurek.

  "The Germans mined the bridge."

  "How do you know?"

  "I saw them. Yesterday. I was bathing in the river. A farmer told me to stay and warn people while he went to get men from the village. But he never came back."

  "We were warned," the medic said. "The villagers told us. That's why we've stopped on this side of the river. We're waiting for the mines to be cleared."

  "I fell asleep," Jurek said.

  "They told us a boy saw the Germans mine the bridge. Was that you?"

  "Yes," Jurek said.

  The medic translated the conversation for the sergeant. The sergeant spoke to Jurek warmly. Although Jurek failed to understand the words, he could feel the intention behind them.

  "You've saved many lives, son," the medic said. "We'll take you home and give your parents a reward. Where do you live?"

  Jurek drew a circle with his one arm. "Everywhere."

  "Don't you have a family?"

  "No."

  "What are you doing around here?"

  "I was looking for work."

  "What happened to your arm?"

  "Are you a doctor?" Jurek asked.

  "No," the man said. "I'm a medic."

  "It was caught in a machine."

  The two men exchanged a few sentences. The medic turned to Jurek. "The sergeant here is asking if you'd like to stick with him," he said. "I'd adopt you myself, because I speak Polish, but I'm leaving for Moscow soon. I won't rejoin the unit until next winter."

  Jurek looked at the broad-shouldered sergeant. The sergeant pointed to himself and said, "Sasha."

  Jurek did the same thing and said, "Jurek."

  Sasha stuck out his hand and they shook.

  "Tell him I'll stick with him," Jurek told the medic.

  "That's a wise decision," the medic said. "Sasha is a good fellow."

  The medic took out some bread and a round box full of silver triangles. He cut a slice of bread, peeled silver foil from a triangle, smeared something yellow on the bread, and handed it to Jurek.

  "Do you know what this is?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Cheese that came all the way from America."

  "It did?"

  "Yes. So did those trucks and the cans of Spam that you'll eat until you're sick of it. It's all from America."

  Jurek knew America was far away. He asked how the trucks had come from there.

  "By ship, son," the medic said. "Across the North Sea."

  Sasha returned with a uniform. He borrowed scissors from the medic and shortened the sleeves and pants. Then he pointed to the river to tell Jurek to bathe before putting it on.

  Word of the one-armed boy and the mined bridge went around among the soldiers. They all were friendly. Jurek spent the day hanging around the tanks and admiring them. When it was time for the soldiers to wash and lubricate them, he grabbed a rag and joined the work. That evening they sat around a campfire. A large pot of kasha was hung above the fire to cook. When it was ready, tins of American Spam were opened and added to it. Sasha gave Jurek a spoon and they ate from the same tin cup. He talked and joked in Russian as though Jurek understood. When the soldiers drifted away from the fire, he took Jurek to a truck, lit a flashlight, and shone it inside the truck. It was filled with tools and instruments. It made Jurek think of the blacksmith's shop in Blonie. Sasha pointed to the tools, then to a tank, and thumped his chest. Jurek understood. Sasha was a tank mechanic. He spread a blanket by the truck and invited Jurek to lie down next to him.

  The next morning the unit moved out. Jurek sat with Sasha and a few other soldiers on one of the tanks. At first, despite his protests, Sasha held on to him. After a while, though, he learned to respect Jurek's independence, even though he had only one arm.

  Suddenly there was a burst of gunfire. The tank crew jumped into the tank and the other soldiers hit the ground. The tank swiveled its turret, looking for the Germans who had started shooting. There was a firefight. The soldiers on the ground fixed bayonets and charged behind their officer. Jurek, worried about Sasha, raised himself to see what was happening. There was too much dust and smoke to see.

  After a while the shooting stopped. He heard cheers. Some soldiers came back pushing three frightened German prisoners ahead of them. Suddenly one of the soldiers let loose a long volley. The Germans fell to the ground in a pool of blood. Jurek fought back his nausea and went to look at the dead men. No, Werner was not one of them. He turned away and saw Sasha.

  Sasha looked at him.

  "You're pale, Jurek. Get away from there."

  Sasha and his crew of mechanics took some tools from the truck and set to work on a tank. Jurek watched them. Sasha pointed to a tool. Jurek handed it to him. Then he handed him another one. Sasha taught him the names of the tools in Russian.

  The men stopped for a cigarette break. Jurek took his lighter and lit Sasha's cigarette. Everyone wanted to see it. It passed from hand to hand.

  ***

  The unit advanced, sometimes fighting and sometimes waiting. Jurek's friendship with Sasha grew stronger. At first they couldn't communicate. Sometimes, though, the Russian and Polish words for things were similar. That made them burst into happy laughter.

  "Would you like to eat something different for a change?" Sasha asked one night after their usual meal of kasha and Spam.

  Jurek laughed. Sasha's Russian sounded as if he were trying to speak bad Polish to be funny.

  "Yes," he said. />
  "Tomorrow morning."

  That night they bivouacked by a lake. The next morning Sasha took a crate and a hand grenade and went to the lakeshore with Yurek. He pulled the pin from the grenade and tossed it into the water. A few seconds later there was an explosion and waves. After a while the bodies of dead fish began to surface, bellies up. Sasha undressed and swam out to gather them. They filled the crate with the fish and brought them back. The soldiers were delighted. The unit had to move out before the fish could be cooked, but they grilled and ate them at their next rest stop.

  Despite their language problem, Sasha managed to tell Jurek about his family. Using his hands, he explained that he had an elder brother in the army, two younger sisters, and a little brother smaller than Jurek. Jurek told Sasha about his own family. He was also one of five children, but the youngest. Then Sasha told Jurek the names of his parents, brothers, and sisters. Jurek wanted to do the same, but he couldn't remember anyone's name.

  "I forget," he said sadly.

  "Where are they?"

  Jurek shrugged. "Maybe dead," he said after a while.

  Sasha consoled him with a warm slap on the shoulder.

  The boom and flash of artillery shells grew further away as the front receded. One day their unit was ordered to halt while the rest of the army continued to advance. Jurek asked the medic why. The medic was sitting on the ground, playing checkers with his driver.

  "The army is moving on to the Wisla, son. It will dig in there."

  "What about us?"

  "We're in luck. We're being saved for the big push on Berlin. Meanwhile we're in summer camp."

  Jurek stayed to watch the game. When it was over, he challenged the medic to another.

  "You want to play me?" The medic laughed. "All right."

  Jurek lost. They played again and he lost again.

  "Never mind," the medic consoled him. "Come and play some more. You learn by losing."

  He came back often and lost each time. But he didn't give up. The medic was right. His checkers game was improving.