by M. Ben Yanay
“Yes. It’s still early. Go back to sleep.”
“But Mom, what happened to you?”
“Go to sleep, I said. It’s still early.”
“Your hair, Mom. What happened to your hair?”
He sounded frightened and confused. She quickly touched his forehead. “You’re fine. You haven’t got any fever.”
Sandor got up and produced a jagged piece of broken mirror from the wooden box. He held it in front of her face. “Look,” he said.
Her tired eyes blinked at the mirror. She could not recognize her own face. A white-haired stranger looked back at her, teary-eyed.
The pain had not subsided since then. It merely grew, a swelling sore that intensified with each passing day, turning her nights into ongoing terror filled with dreadful dreams.
Now, at Strasshof Camp, she got up and felt the mattress. Her fingers gently ran over Andre’s body. She caressed him most attentively.
16. Janos—“Lexy” Under an Air Raid
They left the guard post behind them and continued in the mountainous area filled with forests. The high slopes were full of trees in white. Only their tops were visible through the snow. They resembled green crowns. The low slopes had green as well as empty branches, seemingly taunting their higher brothers who were still carrying heavy loads of snow. The trees closest to the railroad had already shed their snow. They stood upright and barren, giving in to the heavy rain. It seemed the earth was yearning for more and more water until it burst and poured its surplus water into the ravines.
The raindrops kept dancing on the windshield, collected for a short while on the line between the window and the metal frame and formed a quivering flat trail of water. Janos and Ina kept looking sideways closely, as Bob stoked the furnace.
The rain intensified following muffled thunder. The soldiers marched along in a line by the tracks, beaten down and ungainly. From afar, they saw a soldier slipping, and two fellow soldiers rush over to prop him up. The locomotive went past them grunting and shrieking.
Bob got up and touched Ina’s shoulder. He pushed her aside. “Do you mind moving a bit?”
“You can watch through the other window,” she replied whimsically, feigning anger as she moved over to allow him some room.
“Would you look at that pack of dogs,” Bob said.
“I thought they were wolves,” said Ina.
The dogs hurried, making their way through the trees, beating against the soft snow.
Where did all these dogs come from? Ina wondered. Are they expecting the soldiers to feed them?
“They didn’t just spring up. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find they used to be guard dogs at some abandoned German camp. This is their flight. They are on the run. They don’t care about food now. They hear danger long before any human ear can; I think they heard airplanes. Pay attention; looks like we’re in for an air raid in a few minutes,” Bob warned his friends.
Janos looked up. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. The clouds hide everything. You cannot see a thing.”
“Come on,” Bob said. “Dogs have much keener senses than you and people in general.”
“The Stalag had dogs, too. I remember thinking they were starving them on purpose so that they would be aggressive. They were always barking, I could hear it in the background the whole time, day and night. Once, I saw a guard shooting his dog. They said the dog got loose and bit him.” Much against her own will, the image of the shot dog surfaced in front of her. She cringed.
“You’ll be surprised to hear the Germans are well-known animal-lovers and avid pet owners. Even Hitler has a pet German shepherd; her name is Blondi. He set a special day the Germans celebrate each year. I think it’s called ‘Day of the Dog,’” Janos said.
“How strange,” Ina muttered, “I thought they were incapable of liking anyone or anything apart from themselves.”
“You’re wrong. They really do love dogs. In fact, Hitler has two bitches. Blondi has four legs and Eva Brown, two,” Janos snickered.
“There must be thirty or forty dogs in that pack,” Bob noted.
“I know this phenomenon of forming a pack,” Janos said. “War is hell for dogs. The sounds of gunfire, shelling, and bombing frighten them. Even trained dogs at camps suffer. Those who grew up in homes simply run away during a bombing and then lose their way back. A weaker dog finds a stronger one to latch onto. That is how a pack forms. Nevertheless, ultimately, only the strongest survive. That’s how it is in nature.”
*
“There they are!” called Bob. A pair of bombers dived right on the convoy. The soldiers dispersed, some fleeing into the forest, others lying flat on the ground. The vehicles stopped and the soldiers jumped out. The paved road had only teams of mules tied to light field guns. The aircraft fired three shots at the mules. They ran away frightened. The fire hit one of the trucks. Its tarp-covered cabin caught fire.
All of a sudden, a great ball of fire swallowed the last team of mules. There were flashes everywhere. One of the mules fell, but the other kept its stampede, dragging the fallen mule as well as the gun, until it stopped, calling for help. The gun turned over. The stunned mule fell, too. The planes fired relentlessly. The mules waved their legs in the air helplessly. The locomotive passed them. The air raid lasted long after that. Smoke was rising all over the place. The locomotive kept going slowly, leaving the kill-zone behind.
“It’s lucky we weren’t hit,” Bob remarked. “It wouldn’t surprise me if this was the first wave in a series of attacks. We’re in for more. They won’t leave the convoy alone, now that they discovered it by chance.”
Janos was shaken. He recalled the small aircraft he had seen above. “I have a feeling this was no fluke. Right before we passed the guard post, there was a small plane, I don’t know if you saw it. I saw it for a few moments before it was gone. Now that I think of it, it must have been a reconnaissance plane. We have to speed up and disengage from the convoy.”
The locomotive screeched as it climbed up the hill. Bob stoked the furnace with more coal. There were only a few vehicles on the road parallel to the tracks. When they reached the top, the tracks began to wind downward. The vehicles were gone now. The view before them was now a plain of green fields strewn with white patches. There were a few trees here and there that shaded the flat landscape. Low clouds cast their own shadow over the snow. A few rays of sun came through the clouds. The rain shattered the golden lines. A huge rainbow ran across the plain, encompassing the fields. The rain stopped.
*
The road parallel to the rail tracks was empty, without a vehicle or a person in sight. “We passed the head of the German column,” Janos remarked, satisfied.
“I’m not sure,” Bob replied. “They must be too afraid to use this route. There are other ways. They would prefer a road that runs through forests over an exposed road.”
“I’m with Bob,” agreed Ina. “Go figure how many German convoys are making their way now through the forests?”
They got closer to the end of the slope. The plane was very close. Janos decided to slow down.
“What’s wrong? What made you slow down? Bob asked him.
“I have a bad feeling, instinct if you will.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Ina demanded to know.
“We were very lucky up to now. Like Bob said before, it’s kind of a miracle. But we know we are exposed. We’d better watch out. A low speed would allow us to jump out of the locomotive in case of another air raid. I mean actual walking speed.”
Ina began to mumble. Her lips moved as she closed her eyes.
Bob looked at her, surprised. Is the former Communist praying? His gaze lingered on her concentrating face. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that the worst was behind them, that he’s there to protect her, and that he was touched by her plea to God. He, too, was used to turning to God when the going got tough, even though the Lord never seemed to respond. He recalled all those times he had
prayed for salvation, certain his prayers deserved to be heard by Him, but nothing came. Reality hit him hard.
*
He saw his younger brother Marshall before him. Marshall was a smart kid. He knew the entire multiplication table at the age of eight, read and wrote well and always made their parents very proud. He was a long-legged nice looking boy with broad shoulders. Eleven-year-old Marshall was bouncing a small round stone on the dirt path on his way to see a friend of his. Bob saw him through the window and waved goodbye. But Marshall never got to his friend’s house. Unluckily for him, two white scalawags hit him with sticks for no good reason. Actually, they did have a reason. He was a black kid that got caught in a white ambush that occasionally occurred in the city streets, often ending in the hospital or the cemetery.
Bob was called to hurry to the hospital. He sat by his brother’s bed in a shabby windowless room and prayed. No, he did not pray for the criminals to be caught and punished severely. He prayed for his beloved brother’s recovery. Night followed day and so on, but badly injured Marshall never got better. He remained in a daze. His eyes were glossy. His legs healed, but they remained bent. His arms became motionless, weak, and thin as twigs hanging on either side. Marshall went home in a heavy wheelchair, his tormented soul bound by his crushed body. He was an incontinent baby once more. He could no longer speak or reason. After poor Marshall went home, Bob changed his prayer. He asked for deliverance for his brother. Then, too, God would not oblige. Bob recalled that during confession at Father Michael’s church, the clergyman told him, among other things, that, “This was God’s will.” But Bob couldn’t believe that. He was sixteen when he decided, much to his parents’ frustration, to stay away from church. “I no longer believe in Him,” he said bravely.
Marshall died in his sleep at the age of fourteen after three years of prolonged suffering. It was Halloween. Children ran around in disguise in small bands, banging on doors and shouting, “Trick or treat!” They got their candy.
November 1, the day after Halloween, they buried Marshall. During the modest funeral, Father Michael stood by the casket and said, “Marshall was taken by the angels, for God had willed it so.” Bob felt the bitterness rising in him. He felt cheated and betrayed. Well, nothing is easier than throwing anything, for good and bad, at God’s lap. If that’s how the world turns, he would reckon with God as long as he drew breath. When he applied to college, he filled in “atheist” under “religion.”
Although the ordeal had subsided long ago, he remained firm in his belief that faith in God was the providence of the gullible and ignorant, because it did not change reality, nor help matters any.
*
Ina kept mumbling intently. Her lips moved without making a sound. Her porcelain face glistened, thanks to her golden hair.
Bob’s eyes moved across her body, which was cloaked in the heavy coat. Her shapely figure could not be seen through it. He found her pleasant to look at and wanted to hold her in his arms as men do with women. He almost reached out to hold her, but ashamed, he drew his hand back. His thoughts focused on her vulnerability and weakness, not only as a woman but also as a person who needed protection. He drew closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t flinch, so he dared to hug her.
“I am praying for us, I’m praying to the Virgin Mary,” she said softly.
“That’s fine,” Bob whispered in her ear and caressed her fur hat. His fingers gently ran across her face.
“You know that Communists are only allowed to have one prayer,” Janos said.
Bob looked at him inquisitively.
“To Stalin, of course! This is how it goes, ‘Stalin our father, Russia our mother, the party our love.’ Don’t you know it? This is the only sanctioned version in the Soviet Union.”
“And I add my own line,” Ina said and opened her eyes: “If only we were orphans!”
“Amen!” Janos cried out.
“You know that such a sentence is a one-way ticket.”
“You won’t tell on me, right?” She laughed.
“Where to a gulag in Siberia?” asked Bob.
“It only sounds scary,” Ina said, feigning complacency. “You freeze within a day anyway and forget about everything.”
Bob smiled. He pulled his hand away from her shoulder and felt his neck. “I want to thank you for your prayer. I don’t believe in God, but I respect those who do. I often wonder whether there is some guiding hand in this world that’s responsible for it all. Since I have no answer, I tend to cherish some obscure being who decides fate.”
Bob removed a thin golden chain from his neck. One of the links had a small cross. It glistened like a star at night.
“Here, take it. Pray to it,” he said as he handed her the chain. “For me, it’s just a keepsake from my grandma, Roberta Kane. I’m named after her. But for you, this has significance.”
“So your name is Roberta?” Janos laughed.
“You, Sergeant, can call me Robert Kane. Lieutenant Kane,” Bob answered him, then turning to Ina, he said, “But you may call me Bob.”
They went silent. The sound of the locomotive’s wheels served as background to their silence, breaking it at regular intervals.
“How long do you mean to crawl at this pace?” Bob asked him
Janos did not reply. He pointed to the edge of the railroad.
All signs pointed to a battle that had taken place in the area. The field was strewn with burnt remains of tanks and armored vehicles. Steel helmets and light weaponry covered the melting snow like blisters, right next to uniformed corpses. Ina’s eyes nearly leaped out. Some of the soldiers’ bodies were completely torn. Some were without any limbs. She had not expected such horrors, so she covered her eyes.
“Can you see any movement in the field?”
Bob looked through the holes in the locomotive’s back. He then went over to watch through the windows. “I can only see a few dogs wandering about. If there’s no smoke, there’s no fire, so this looks like a battle that took place a few days ago.”
“Yeah, this is what a battle zone looks like after an air raid,” Janos hummed.
“Hey, look over there, up ahead!” Ina said loudly.
A small stone structure, with walls in ruin, stood just up the road. Next to it, there was a metal tower with a large tank at the top. There was an arm of sorts coming out of the tank. The arm ended with some sort of elastic tube.
“Water. For the locomotives’ steam engines. This could make for a nice surprise,” said Janos. “Let’s see if there’s any water left in the tank.”
He brought the engine closer until he stopped right under the elastic tube and instructed to Bob to insert the tube’s tip into the mouth of the locomotive’s boiler. “Are you holding it?” he asked, as he came down to open the container’s tap.
“Yeah!” Bob cried out happily, as he held onto the pipe. “The water’s running!”
Janos climbed the metal ladder and reached the top of the water tank. He pushed his head in and surveyed the contents.
“What’s the situation?” Bob asked.
“About a quarter of a tank. We’ll fill up as much as we can. You never know when we’ll get another chance to find a water reservoir.”
Ten dogs ran past them, as they were busy with the water tank.
“Bob, Janos,” Ina called out to them. “The dogs! Did you see?! The dogs are running, there’s gonna be another attack!”
The buzzing of incoming aircraft corroborated her warning soon enough. A formation of four fighters seemed to be approaching.
Janos raised his head. “What are the chances they won’t bomb us?”
“I’m leaving nothing to chance. I’m praying,” she replied.
Bob fixed the pipe into the engine’s boiler and jumped out. He looked up. He was so homesick for his own cockpit.
“These are Russian fighters!” he called. “Ilyushin-3!”
“Russian aircraft?! So it’s the Ilyushas!” Ina cried out. She took h
er fur coat off and let her hair down. She got out of the locomotive’s cabin fast and lithe as a cat, and climbed the roof, where she waved at the pilots enthusiastically. Bob and Janos returned to the engine. One of the four fighters disengaged from the formation and dived toward them. He waved his wings in reply to Ina, and immediately soared back to join his team.
“The chances a Russian plane will attack us is close to zero,” Bob noted confidently.
“What makes you so sure?” Janos asked him.
“Because we are already in a liberated zone, quite a distance behind the front lines. It isn’t in their interest to damage infrastructure such as railroads, bridges and roads. They know they’ll need them later on. They are after German forces caught up in this giant pocket. I guess we were in danger when we drove parallel to the German convoy. Had we gotten hurt, it would have been due to some misfire, not a deliberate hit. We can afford to be much calmer now.”
*
The day before he parachuted from his plane, Bob and his unit received an updated intelligence briefing, according to which, the Red Army’s northern armies had crossed the German border and were a few fighting days east of Berlin—the war’s final target. The southern flank of the Red Army had already beaten the Germans’ siege of Stalingrad, pushed them back, and reclaimed Russian territory. They then pursued them all the way across the east, capturing parts of Romania and Bulgaria. On the day his airplane was hit, the fighting had reached Hungarian soil. The briefing also included an updated on the Western Front, where the Allies had liberated France, Belgium and Holland. The Allied forces also had crossed into German territory and were fast approaching Berlin. Only the pocket, spanning nearly four thousand square miles [about ten thousand square kilometers], remained breached.
According to an Army intelligence assessment, two German brigades had remained in the pocket, one of which was a Wehrmacht infantry brigade. This brigade was trapped, having fled from the Allies, unable to mount an attack or even defend themselves. As it attempted to rejoin the main German forces, the troops had become easy targets, as their progress was very slow. Moreover, they were desperate, having no supplies of any water, food or fuel. Once their food rations fan out and the last drop of fuel was exhausted, only a few of them would be able to make it back into the hands of the Allies alive. Their salvation was being taken captive, still alive. As for the other brigade, they were in a better shape. The intelligence assessment revealed it consisted of an elite group of SS men. They were tough and highly trained, loyal fighters, ready to fight right to the last bullet for the sake of the Führer. This was the brigade Ina, Bob, and Janos had met.