‘That’s a Russian flag,’ he shouted and stamped on the tattered remains of a swastika that had been pulled from a window and trampled underfoot. ‘The Russians are here.’
And in that moment, as if someone had waved a wand, the crowd stopped singing, shouting and hugging and stood still and silent. Then, a huge cheer began on one side of the square and rolled like a wave across the crowd, bounced off the buildings and away up the streets to those people standing at the windows who hadn’t been brave enough to come out into the sunshine. Tears were mixed with happiness as the first of the Russians entered the square.
From this high up I could see the Russian soldiers. I couldn’t believe my eyes. German soldiers were always so smart and neat. These Russians were shabby, tired and had beards. Their uniforms were strange – they wore round fur-lined caps with flaps over their ears and long green coats pulled in at the waist, even though it was summertime. They weren’t marching like the Germans with their straight legs high in the air but in a messy line. But what surprised me more than anything was their faces – they were round and happy and smiling. Not a bit like the cold tight faces of the Germans.
As the Russian soldiers marched into the square they waved, then reached in their pockets and threw little packets at the crowd. People fought to catch them. I leaned down and shouted in Barek’s ear, ‘What are they throwing?’
‘Chocolate!’
‘I want some, too,’ I shouted, stretching out my arms skywards.
None came my way.
Instead I watched the Russian soldiers march round the square in a great never-ending line with boots stamping all together. On and on they came, hundreds of them all smiling and throwing their little packets of chocolate. And then, when I thought that the line would never cease, came some strange animals I had never seen before except in one of the books I had borrowed from the library. There was no mistaking what these animals were. They really were camels! They had long, long legs, knobbly knees and huge humps, and they rolled slowly through the market square, with their large eyes that looked in all directions and haughty, toothy smiles. They carried enormous packs on their backs and were led on long ropes by soldiers. The book said that camels lived in the desert, in faraway magical places like Egypt and Arabia. Perhaps the Russians had borrowed them? Seeing these animals here in Przemyśl made me realise that Barek was right and something great must be happening.
And then they were gone – the soldiers, the camels, the smiles and, worst of all, the chocolate. As the noise faded and the people started to go home, I felt very tired. I was also very upset that no chocolate had fallen into my hands. I caught sight of a man who had not yet unwrapped his bar. He looked up at me perched on the top of Barek’s shoulders and then broke his bar in two. With a smile and a wink, he patted my leg and handed me one half.
Delighted, I took it from him, smiling to say thank you. I couldn’t wait to taste it. I unwrapped it and bit into it gently. As the dark, sweet smoothness melted on my tongue, my taste buds came alive with the sensational flavour. Barek laughed at my astonishment and slowly we made our way home.
‘That was a morning none of us will forget,’ Barek said later as we drank coffee in the kitchen. ‘You will tell your children and grandchildren about this wonderful day, Renata.’
‘I will tell them about the camels and the chocolate,’ I said. I knew exactly what had been important about the morning even if Barek didn’t.
After the Russian soldiers – people called them our saviours – came to Przemyśl, the whole town began to relax.
‘We feel safer now the Germans have gone,’ Aunt Zuzia explained.
Even Aunt Zuzia started to relax; she began to let me go downstairs to the library alone. All I had to do was go down the three flights of stairs, out through the front door, turn left and in through the door to the library. It wasn’t very far but it made me feel grown-up and I enjoyed looking for books and talking to the librarian. She had read many of the books in the library too and we had long conversations about the books I’d read and then she would tell me the titles of others that she thought I would enjoy, steering me away from those that, according to her, were not right for my age by gently taking one out of my hands and replacing it with another.
‘Are the Russians going to stay?’ I asked.
‘For a while, I think,’ Aunt Zuzia replied. ‘We don’t want the Nazis coming back, do we?’
They did stay, some at least, but these soldiers were very different from the German ones. They were kind to children and had supplies of sweets and chocolates to give away.
Groups of women were meeting and talking on the street corners again.
‘Just like before the war,’ said Aunt Zuzia, ‘even though there’s still nowhere to meet for coffee and cakes.’
‘And not enough food,’ Uncle Julek sniffed.
Food was still rationed and everyone hung on to what they had – no one shared anything.
For a while after the Russian soldiers marched into Przemyśl everyone only said nice things about them. But then things changed again.
‘The Russians drink too much, just like some of the Poles,’ Uncle Julek complained. ‘The Poles always come off worse.’
From my bed, I could hear slurry voices late at night in the street below, and often they were arguing. Fights started, sometimes ending in bloodshed, and Uncle Julek was called on once or twice to help. I could tell he wasn’t happy about going.
One morning my aunt and I had got up early to make sure we reached the bakery queue before it was too long. We had bought our loaf and crossed back across the square towards home, enjoying the mid-morning sun on our faces. By the time we reached the apartment building my aunt was tired. We stopped for a moment on the front step for her to catch her breath and find her keys. Just then, from around the corner, stumbled a Russian soldier. He didn’t look very well. His uniform was messy and dusty and his eyes were droopy and puffy. He didn’t seem able to see anything: he kept bumping into things that weren’t even in his path.
‘Renata, come here,’ called my aunt. ‘He’s drunk, let’s get inside, quick.’
But the soldier had already caught sight of us and began shouting in Russian. We couldn’t understand what he was saying and tried to ignore him. Aunt Zuzia dropped her keys. I watched her stoop to pick them up, then she dropped them again.
By now the Russian was close enough to be able to reach out and touch my curls. I froze as he started stroking my hair, murmuring in a soft voice. His voice cracked and he suddenly became tearful.
My aunt dropped her shopping and shouted, ‘Leave her alone. Go away.’ She waved her hands to shoo him away as if he were a fly.
The man looked at her and grinned, his wide yellow teeth showing through his thick lips – he seemed to think all her shouting and waving was very funny. He said something in Russian and then grabbed hold of my hand, pulling me towards him.
Aunt Zuzia panicked.
‘Let her go! Let her go!’ she screamed. ‘Help, someone, anyone, help –’
But the soldier ignored her. As Aunt Zuzia continued to shout and scream, he calmly sat down on the steps to the house and sat me on his knee. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a packet. I recognised the colours of the wrapper and the strange gold letters and beamed in delight. He unwrapped the bar and handed it, the whole thing, over to me. Without a moment’s hesitation I took it and bit into the chocolate. Oh was it glorious. It was even better than last time.
‘Drop that chocolate! Renata, drop it on the floor at once! It’s poisoned,’ my aunt shouted and began hitting the man with her fists.
The soldier didn’t understand, but his face suddenly lost its smile and he sneered at her. Putting me down on the step, he stood up and pushed me behind him. Reaching inside his overcoat, he took out a pistol and pointed it at Aunt Zuzia. With his other hand he began waving her away. He held the pistol at arm’s length and beckoned towards the front door with it. My poor aunt had no choice b
ut to open the door of the building and stumble inside, with tears streaming down her face.
I was so busy eating the chocolate that I didn’t take much notice of what was happening. The soldier was my friend. He had given me chocolate. He was a very kind man and I couldn’t understand why my aunt was making such a fuss. Of course the chocolate wasn’t poisoned. The Russian, smiling at me and stroking my hair, pulled out another bar of chocolate from his pocket. I smiled at him and began to work my way through the second one.
When it became obvious my aunt wasn’t coming out of the apartment building, he sank back down on the step and pulled me onto his lap again. He sighed and then began searching in his breast pocket. This time he produced some crumpled photographs and with one large, dirty hand flattened them on his knee so that I could see. They were of two children, a girl about my age with long blonde plaits and a round, smiling face and a very small boy with dark hair, holding a man’s hand.
‘Moi dzieci – my children,’ the soldier said in very bad Polish.
‘I have a father too,’ I told him.
‘Tak, tak,’ he said, pulling out more chocolate.
Then all of a sudden he stood up, patted me on the head and, handing me the final bar, opened the front door and pushed me inside. The door swung shut behind me and I slowly climbed the steps, taking my time so that I could finish the chocolate before I reached the third floor. I was frightened that Aunt Zuzia would snatch it away from me. When I entered the apartment I could hear Aunt Zuzia’s anguished sobs coming from inside.
‘Oh Julek, he has a pistol. Renata is still out there. What are we going to do? He might kill her.’
I hesitated and then pushed the kitchen door open and walked in. Uncle Julek was standing with his arms around Aunt Zuzia trying to calm her down.
‘You are safe. Thank God,’ she cried when she saw me.
She rushed over, hugged me, covering me with kisses. The concern I had seen on Uncle Julek’s face disappeared and was replaced by his usual scowl.
‘I told you you were making a fuss about nothing. Those pigs like small children too much to hurt them. That’s about the only thing in their favour. Otherwise they’re no better than the Nazis.’
‘He was very nice,’ I said. ‘He gave me his chocolate and showed me photographs of his children. He has a boy and a girl. The girl has long plaits. I would like plaits like that too.’
As time passed I thought less and less about Aunt Adela and Zazula, Jorik and Jan. I was happy living with Aunt Zuzia and Uncle Julek. Sometimes after I’d been tucked up in bed, I would hear my aunt and uncle arguing but I couldn’t make out what they were squabbling about. Sometimes I heard my name but I knew Aunt Zuzia would never want me to leave so I had nothing to worry about. But I also knew that she couldn’t understand why Uncle Julek didn’t love me like she did. But since the Russians had arrived Uncle Julek was less grumpy and was being more friendly towards me, even playing cards and helping me with my reading and explaining the words I didn’t understand. I began to enjoy these times together and didn’t make my aunt choose between us so often.
Sometimes we got a letter from Božena, but more often we got one from Frederika. When a letter arrived, Aunt Zuzia would sit at the kitchen table and read it aloud. The letters always said that she was well, and so were her parents, and they all sent their love with special love and kisses for me. She was coming to see us just as soon as her work allowed but in the meantime she enclosed a little money to help with my keep. Aunt Zuzia always handed the money to Uncle Julek, who usually made some comment about it not being enough, which I thought was most ungrateful.
One day Barek appeared in the doorway of the kitchen while I was still eating my breakfast.
‘Renata, I have asked your aunt if I can take you along to see a very important man who is visiting Przemyśl today,’ he announced. ‘It is another historic event. Zuzia has agreed so when you’re finished we can go.’
We left the apartment as soon as I had swallowed my last mouthful of bread and joined the people making their way to the market square. The Rynek was not as crowded as the day the Russians arrived but it was still busy. Barek swung me up on to his shoulders and from there I could see a big, tall man wearing a peaked cap and military uniform standing at the base of a column. Music was playing and as he saluted, the people started to clap and cheer. I was disappointed. Was this it? I’d expected to see long lines of soldiers, hear the roar of the crowd and catch pretty packets of chocolate thrown into the crowd. But here we were watching just one man in uniform who wasn’t as well dressed as the Nazis, and didn’t look as friendly as the Russians.
‘Remember that man,’ Barek called up to me. ‘Marshal Tito of Yugoslavia. He is very important. One day he will be famous and you will be able to tell your children and grandchildren you saw him.’
I had no idea who Marshal Tito was but, as I looked at him, I knew that I would not forget this dark-haired, tall man with his shiny uniform.
Chapter Fifteen
September 1944
One saturday morning uncle Julek asked me if I wanted to accompany him on his rounds.
‘Yes please,’ I replied. I was always happy to be out in the fresh air and feel the warmth of the sun’s rays. ‘Are we going in a fiacre?’
I could never refuse the chance to sit in an open-topped carriage behind a trotting horse, listening to the clippety-clop of hooves on the paved streets, waving at people and feeling like a real princess from a fairy tale being driven to a magic kingdom. I loved it when children waved back at me.
‘I need to go to the Zimińskis who live on the outskirts of town – it’s about an hour’s drive away. They are sending a fiacre for me. So if you want to come, get your coat. I can’t keep the driver waiting.’
‘Isn’t it too cold for her to be sitting about waiting for you?’ Aunt Zuzia asked, wrapping me in one shawl after another until I looked just like the Egyptian mummy from a book I had just borrowed from the library. ‘She might catch a cold or pneumonia.’
‘Rubbish,’ he replied testily. ‘It will do the girl good to get some fresh air and get away from your ridiculous molly-coddling. How do you think she survived those years when you weren’t there to wrap her up in cotton wool? She’s as tough as old boots.’
That made me smile, but I didn’t let Uncle Julek or Aunt Zuzia see. I didn’t mind waiting in the fiacre while Uncle Julek went to see his patients. I had made friends with one of the drivers who always let me climb over the box and sit beside him. He told me all about his grandchildren and the old days before the war.
As soon as our carriage turned the corner and I could no longer see my waving aunt, I began to peel off the shawls, flinging them on the seat beside me. Uncle Julek watched but made no comment.
Uncle Julek began pointing out interesting parts of Przemyśl; some were huge, empty spaces but others still had the piles of rubble from the buildings that had been bombed. He showed me where the synagogue used to stand and I remembered how upset Mamusia and Babcia were when it was destroyed although I still couldn’t really understand why.
‘There,’ Uncle Julek waved at a pile of rubble, ‘was once a large building that …’ On our journeys he liked to tell me what each building had been used for, who had owned it and all about the people who had once worked in it.
He was in a good mood that day, telling me stories about patients who had lived in the houses and about his friends, many of whom were now dead. He pointed out the hospital where his older son, Fredzio, had been a doctor before he moved to Warsaw.
‘Do you remember Fredzio and Jerzyk?’
‘I remember Cousin Fredzio,’ I said. ‘He was very tall.’ I thought hard until I could see him clearly, his face close to mine. ‘I remember being in a room with him once. He was lying down and I was standing next to him. I remember asking him how old he was and he said that he was twenty-eight and I said, “One day I will catch up with you and then I will be older than you.”’
‘And so you will,’ said Uncle Julek quietly. ‘He’s not getting any older now.’ He patted my hand. ‘Both Fredzio and Jerzyk were lovely young men.’ Uncle Julek stopped and when I glanced up at him I noticed a tear rolling down his cheek.
I stared at it in surprise and watched it run to the tip of his nose before he brushed it away quickly with his handkerchief. I put out my hand and took hold of his clasped firmly round his handkerchief. I felt the loose skin and the raised-up veins. I realised for the first time that he was an old man and gave his hand a squeeze. He turned his head away but kept his hand in mine. In that moment, I suddenly felt great sadness for him. I thought of Mamusia and I understood how he was feeling.
When we arrived at Mr and Mrs Zimiński’s apartment Uncle Julek said, ‘I may be quite a long time in there, so you must be patient. The driver will look after you.’
The driver smiled. ‘She’s welcome to join me up here.’
The driver jumped down and, lifting me out of the fiacre, hoisted me up high and put me on the seat beside his own.
‘Be careful with her,’ Uncle Julek said.
‘Don’t worry, sir, I won’t let her come to any harm,’ he said. ‘We have little ones at home too.’
He climbed back up beside me and handed me the reins. We sat there for a while whilst I pretended to be driving the carriage until he said, ‘How about going for a little drive round the block? You can hold the reins.’
‘Really?’ I couldn’t believe it. ‘I would love to.’
He clicked his tongue and the horse set off at a walking pace. I felt very proud, sitting so high and holding the reins of such a beautiful horse.
‘Pull on the right rein,’ the driver said. ‘Gently now.’
To my delight the horse responded and stepped to the right and around the corner. We went all the way round the block and on the way back the driver taught me how to make the horse trot, clasping his large, rough hands over mine and showing me what to do. We were going so fast and I was so high up. I could see the shiny cobbles on the street winking at me in the sunlight and I could feel the breeze in my hair. I felt free and wanted to go faster.
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