Chapter Fifteen - The Safe House
‘Are they set?’ As soon as Katka was over the wall it was the first question Petr asked. He had the radio detonator in his hand and his fingers on the switch.
‘Yes.’ Katka nodded breathlessly and Petr turned the switch.
Immediately the sky lit up. A sudden flash, followed by the ripping sound of the explosion.
There was no time to tell anyone to get down. There was no need. Katka felt herself being thrown to the floor, and with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs.
When she stood up her ears were ringing, her vision momentarily blurred.
Petr put out a hand and he pulled her into the back of the van. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his words barely audible against the ringing in Katka’s ears. Katka nodded in reply, she didn’t care what Petr was asking, she was more concerned about Paul and she looked back towards the train yard.
He must only have got over the wall when the explosives went off. He had been knocked to the ground about fifty metres from the truck and was getting up as Katka looked at him, dusting dirt from the front of his trousers. Behind him the train yard was a smouldering ruin, crumpled like a child’s train set that had been tossed carelessly onto the floor. Carriages and bits of track with wooden sleeper hanging like broken limbs or pointing upwards at the clouded sky.
‘Christ,’ Petr was saying to someone else in the truck, ‘They’ll be able to see that fire all the way to Berlin!’
He was referring to the glow from the fire that had begun to rage. It had taken hold quickly and as the flames were beginning to hungrily devour the wood of the train carriages, its orange glow flicked and licked at the low clouds above.
The two men laughed. Katka paid little attention to them though, she was more interested in helping Paul into the truck, although he didn’t thank her. He pushed Katka aside, dumped the armful of guns he had been carrying onto the truck floor and then lunged at Petr.
‘What the hell were you thinking?’ he shouted, gripping the collars of Petrs jacket, ‘You could have killed me, you idiot. Why did you let off the explosives before I was even over the wall?’
Petr threw him off. Despite his age he was wired and strong and he knocked Paul to the floor. Paul struggled beneath him, but with just his left arm Petr was able to hold him down, then in one swift movement he pulled a knife from his jacket pocket and put it to Paul’s throat, ‘You just be grateful you’re alive after what you did last night!’ he snarled.
It was Jan who pulled Petr away. He forced him back into his seat, on one of the benches that ran along either side of the truck. ‘Leave him.’ he ordered, ‘After this morning’s work they are redeemed, both of them.’ and with a quick movement of his head he signalled that he meant Katka too, and then he said delightedly, ‘And look at what they’ve brought with them, more arms for us to fight our cause with!’
He was referring to the stash of weapons Paul had dumped on the truck floor, about seven weapons in total, machine guns with long barrels, and by the perfect newness of their wooden butts it looked as if they had never been used. It was a good haul, Jan smiled broadly as he looked at them. Petr only muttered something beneath his breath and looked away.
‘You did excellent work this morning.’ Jan went on, looking directly at Katka and then Paul as he spoke. ‘This will be a serious blow to the Nazi cause. You may well have brought about a quicker end to this devastating war.’ He then banged his fist on the driver’s cabin behind him, and then shouted to Rudi, who must have been in the driver’s seat, ‘Drive! Come on, let's go.’ And then to the those nearest to him, ‘We must be out of here before more military turns up.’ Then glancing from Petr to Paul said, ‘We will sort our differences later.’
The truck jerked as it pulled away, Katka looked out through the back. As they gained distance she was able to see the destruction in its entirety. A flaming wreck. Orange tongues of fire had begun leaping high up at the early morning sky. The fire crackled and spat, audible even above the roar of the old truck engine, and as they travelled out of sight they heard the crash of explosions as more of the ammunition boxes caught fire and exploded.
Katka watched until the yard was completely out of sight. Then, standing so she could pull the canvas door across the back of the truck,she said quietly, ‘There were men in there, soldiers. Me and Paul had to hide from them.’
The others looked at her. ‘They will be dead now.’ She said after a pause.
In reply Petr only shrugged, ‘Good.’ he said and the hint of a smile showed momentarily on his face.
It was the closest thing to a smile Katka had seen from Petr. She hated him for it. She had to look away. She felt suddenly sick, repulsed at the idea that she had killed, and absolutely appalled by the fact Petr could take pleasure in the fact. In that moment Petr seemed the most evil person in all the world.
‘Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’ she demanded, suddenly angry. ‘That explosion we just created, it would have killed every one of those men in there. Do you have no compassion?’
Petr glared at Katka. ‘They are the enemy.’ he said, ‘They are supposed to die.’ and by the tone of his voice it was clear he thought Katka mad to even have such a thought.
‘No.’ Katka shook her head, But she did not know what to say and instead she just shook her head.
Jan leant forward and put his hand on Katka’s arm, ‘They are soldiers, Katka.’ he said.
‘They are human beings.’ Katka replied.
‘Yes, they are human beings but they have chosen to fight for the Nazis, to enforce Hitler’s barbaric laws. And because of this they deserved to die.’ and he said this with such finality, such authority, that Katka could think of nothing she could say in answer.
There was no argument.
They were enforcing the laws that had caused so many innocent people to die, so why should they deserve sympathy or compassion?
But still the thought blazed in her mind, persistent like a thirst driven fly. She pictured the soldiers she had seen only minutes before, the sound of their boots on the snowy ground, the sound of their voices as they called out to each other, joking and laughing like normal people.
Only now they were dead. And it seemed then, sitting in the back of the truck as it jolted its way through the quiet morning countryside, fully light now so that white winter sunlight shone through the crack on the canvas covering, that war was just a game.
You kill us and we kill you. We win you lose. Katka thought. It was brutal and stupid. It was the worst of human behaviour.
Petr had got a small hip flask out and he swigged from it. The smell of alcohol sullied the cold air and as he handed it to Jan, who drank too, he laughed and made a comment about how the war was being won and how he Germans were on the run, and then he started singing. He broke out loud and timelessly, a with verses about victory and glory.
Jan nodded as he smiled at Petr. he handed the hip flask to Paul too, who drank also and the three men seemed at last to take a liking for each other.
It was only Katka that sat in silence.
Because it is not alright, she thought. Killing is not the answer to any of life’s problems. And when Jan noticed by the dark look on Katka’s face. He looked at her, serious for a moment and seeming as if he understood. But it was only momentarily. He soon went back to the conversation he was having with Paul and Petr and it was only when the truck began to slow that he looked at Katka again.
He shook his head, ‘Katka, do not think.’ he said.
And when the truck finally stopped, and Petr had immediately lept from the back of the truck onto the muddy ground outside, Jan said, ‘This is war. There is no space for thought. You must steal yourself if you are going to be involved.’
‘I wasn’t supposed -’ Katka began, but stopped herself. She was about to tell Jan again the same words Paul had said yesterday, about it not being there plan, ‘I just want to find my father.’ she said instead.
‘And you will.’ Jan said, ‘When the war is done.’ he stepped down from the truck and put out his hand to help Katka down.
The truck had stopped outside a small farmhouse. It had a muddy driveway in front of it and beyond it was open space, a barn and some fields that looked as if they were used for animals. Although there was nothing there now. Just frost covered grass with a thin mist that hung low in the air like a phantom.
‘But this war won’t be done.’ Katka said, ‘even if the Nazis are defeated they’ll be something else. Some other war, some struggle that will cause us to have to kill each other.’
Jan smiled sympathetically. He reached into the truck and took two of the guns and passed them to Katka. ‘You are tired.’ he said, ‘let’s go inside and we can get some rest, then we can talk some more. I think I can make you understand.’
Katka said nothing. She simply held the guns that Jan had given her and waited as he tied shut the canvas covering of the truck.
Paul and the two men had already gone inside the farmhouse. Katka could hear them moving around inside and when she followed Jan in through the low doorway she saw that Petr had begun preparing the stove to cook. He had taken wood from a stack by the door and was busy loading it inside.
‘Ah, good.’ Jan said, ‘Petr is an excellent cook. After food and sleep you will see things differently.’ he told Katka then to take off her boot and that there was a bathroom upstairs. ‘Go and wash.’ he said, ‘When you come down there will be food waiting.’
Katka cleaned herself as best she could. She looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Perhaps it was the tiredness she felt, or the hours spent in the cold during the last few days, but her eyes had taken on a sullenness that she did not recognise. She thought that in the last few days she had aged badly, she had learnt, had seen things that she had never wanted to see.
When she came downstairs she saw that Paul had not been affected in the same way. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of beer in front of him. Next to him sat Rudi, who Katka noticed must be the same age as Paul. They were talking, drinking together and Rudi smoked a cigarette as he leant back in his seat against the wall.
‘Katka.’ Jan said, when he saw her, ‘Come, sit here. Petr has heated some soup for us.’
Katka did as she was told and took the chair next to Jan, at the opposite end of the the long kitchen table to Paul and Rudi.
‘Now.’ Jan said, ‘pouring a little beer into a glass that he set in front of Katka. ‘Tell me about your father.’
Katka sipped from the beer glass. She did not want it, she hated beer and it was warm and bitter, but she was thirsty and tired and she suspected there was nothing else to drink and so she drank. She thought about her father, what little she could say about a man she had only met when she was very young. ‘He has the same name as you.’ she said, after a pause and feeling awkward at saying something so personal, so trivial.
She expected Jan to laugh at this, but he only exhaled a silent laugh through his nose, took a sip of beer and looked up towards the ceiling, gestures that Katka found strangely familiar. There was something fatherly, a wiseness in Jan’s mannerisms. It was not just the way he spoke, he with a kindness in his tone, or in his eyes when he looked at her, but the way he was with the other men too. He was like a father to them all, not just their leader.
Petr came to the table and placed a bowl of soup in front of him. He waited as Jan lifted the spoon and tasted it. From the other end of the table Rudi watched. It was as if these two men would do anything for Jan. He was kind and wise. He nodded his approval at Petr, who then gave soup to everyone and poured some for himself too.
‘And is he Czech or German?’ Jan asked, after a few moments had passed.
‘Czech.’ Katka said.
‘And he lived in Czech and enlisted like a fool in the German army, thinking he was doing the right thing.’
Katka nodded, sipping from her spoon. The soup was warm and surprisingly good.
‘Then I know where to find him.’ Said Jan, ‘You will know everything you need to know by tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Yes.’ Katka nodded breathlessly and Petr turned the switch.
Immediately the sky lit up. A sudden flash, followed by the ripping sound of the explosion.
There was no time to tell anyone to get down. There was no need. Katka felt herself being thrown to the floor, and with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs.
When she stood up her ears were ringing, her vision momentarily blurred.
Petr put out a hand and he pulled her into the back of the van. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, his words barely audible against the ringing in Katka’s ears. Katka nodded in reply, she didn’t care what Petr was asking, she was more concerned about Paul and she looked back towards the train yard.
He must only have got over the wall when the explosives went off. He had been knocked to the ground about fifty metres from the truck and was getting up as Katka looked at him, dusting dirt from the front of his trousers. Behind him the train yard was a smouldering ruin, crumpled like a child’s train set that had been tossed carelessly onto the floor. Carriages and bits of track with wooden sleeper hanging like broken limbs or pointing upwards at the clouded sky.
‘Christ,’ Petr was saying to someone else in the truck, ‘They’ll be able to see that fire all the way to Berlin!’
He was referring to the glow from the fire that had begun to rage. It had taken hold quickly and as the flames were beginning to hungrily devour the wood of the train carriages, its orange glow flicked and licked at the low clouds above.
The two men laughed. Katka paid little attention to them though, she was more interested in helping Paul into the truck, although he didn’t thank her. He pushed Katka aside, dumped the armful of guns he had been carrying onto the truck floor and then lunged at Petr.
‘What the hell were you thinking?’ he shouted, gripping the collars of Petrs jacket, ‘You could have killed me, you idiot. Why did you let off the explosives before I was even over the wall?’
Petr threw him off. Despite his age he was wired and strong and he knocked Paul to the floor. Paul struggled beneath him, but with just his left arm Petr was able to hold him down, then in one swift movement he pulled a knife from his jacket pocket and put it to Paul’s throat, ‘You just be grateful you’re alive after what you did last night!’ he snarled.
It was Jan who pulled Petr away. He forced him back into his seat, on one of the benches that ran along either side of the truck. ‘Leave him.’ he ordered, ‘After this morning’s work they are redeemed, both of them.’ and with a quick movement of his head he signalled that he meant Katka too, and then he said delightedly, ‘And look at what they’ve brought with them, more arms for us to fight our cause with!’
He was referring to the stash of weapons Paul had dumped on the truck floor, about seven weapons in total, machine guns with long barrels, and by the perfect newness of their wooden butts it looked as if they had never been used. It was a good haul, Jan smiled broadly as he looked at them. Petr only muttered something beneath his breath and looked away.
‘You did excellent work this morning.’ Jan went on, looking directly at Katka and then Paul as he spoke. ‘This will be a serious blow to the Nazi cause. You may well have brought about a quicker end to this devastating war.’ He then banged his fist on the driver’s cabin behind him, and then shouted to Rudi, who must have been in the driver’s seat, ‘Drive! Come on, let's go.’ And then to the those nearest to him, ‘We must be out of here before more military turns up.’ Then glancing from Petr to Paul said, ‘We will sort our differences later.’
The truck jerked as it pulled away, Katka looked out through the back. As they gained distance she was able to see the destruction in its entirety. A flaming wreck. Orange tongues of fire had begun leaping high up at the early morning sky. The fire crackled and spat, audible even above the roar of the old truck engine, and as they travelled out of sight they heard the crash of explosions as more of the ammunition boxes caught fire and exploded.
Katka watched until the yard was completely out of sight. Then, standing so she could pull the canvas door across the back of the truck,she said quietly, ‘There were men in there, soldiers. Me and Paul had to hide from them.’
The others looked at her. ‘They will be dead now.’ She said after a pause.
In reply Petr only shrugged, ‘Good.’ he said and the hint of a smile showed momentarily on his face.
It was the closest thing to a smile Katka had seen from Petr. She hated him for it. She had to look away. She felt suddenly sick, repulsed at the idea that she had killed, and absolutely appalled by the fact Petr could take pleasure in the fact. In that moment Petr seemed the most evil person in all the world.
‘Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’ she demanded, suddenly angry. ‘That explosion we just created, it would have killed every one of those men in there. Do you have no compassion?’
Petr glared at Katka. ‘They are the enemy.’ he said, ‘They are supposed to die.’ and by the tone of his voice it was clear he thought Katka mad to even have such a thought.
‘No.’ Katka shook her head, But she did not know what to say and instead she just shook her head.
Jan leant forward and put his hand on Katka’s arm, ‘They are soldiers, Katka.’ he said.
‘They are human beings.’ Katka replied.
‘Yes, they are human beings but they have chosen to fight for the Nazis, to enforce Hitler’s barbaric laws. And because of this they deserved to die.’ and he said this with such finality, such authority, that Katka could think of nothing she could say in answer.
There was no argument.
They were enforcing the laws that had caused so many innocent people to die, so why should they deserve sympathy or compassion?
But still the thought blazed in her mind, persistent like a thirst driven fly. She pictured the soldiers she had seen only minutes before, the sound of their boots on the snowy ground, the sound of their voices as they called out to each other, joking and laughing like normal people.
Only now they were dead. And it seemed then, sitting in the back of the truck as it jolted its way through the quiet morning countryside, fully light now so that white winter sunlight shone through the crack on the canvas covering, that war was just a game.
You kill us and we kill you. We win you lose. Katka thought. It was brutal and stupid. It was the worst of human behaviour.
Petr had got a small hip flask out and he swigged from it. The smell of alcohol sullied the cold air and as he handed it to Jan, who drank too, he laughed and made a comment about how the war was being won and how he Germans were on the run, and then he started singing. He broke out loud and timelessly, a with verses about victory and glory.
Jan nodded as he smiled at Petr. he handed the hip flask to Paul too, who drank also and the three men seemed at last to take a liking for each other.
It was only Katka that sat in silence.
Because it is not alright, she thought. Killing is not the answer to any of life’s problems. And when Jan noticed by the dark look on Katka’s face. He looked at her, serious for a moment and seeming as if he understood. But it was only momentarily. He soon went back to the conversation he was having with Paul and Petr and it was only when the truck began to slow that he looked at Katka again.
He shook his head, ‘Katka, do not think.’ he said.
And when the truck finally stopped, and Petr had immediately lept from the back of the truck onto the muddy ground outside, Jan said, ‘This is war. There is no space for thought. You must steal yourself if you are going to be involved.’
‘I wasn’t supposed -’ Katka began, but stopped herself. She was about to tell Jan again the same words Paul had said yesterday, about it not being there plan, ‘I just want to find my father.’ she said instead.
‘And you will.’ Jan said, ‘When the war is done.’ he stepped down from the truck and put out his hand to help Katka down.
The truck had stopped outside a small farmhouse. It had a muddy driveway in front of it and beyond it was open space, a barn and some fields that looked as if they were used for animals. Although there was nothing there now. Just frost covered grass with a thin mist that hung low in the air like a phantom.
‘But this war won’t be done.’ Katka said, ‘even if the Nazis are defeated they’ll be something else. Some other war, some struggle that will cause us to have to kill each other.’
Jan smiled sympathetically. He reached into the truck and took two of the guns and passed them to Katka. ‘You are tired.’ he said, ‘let’s go inside and we can get some rest, then we can talk some more. I think I can make you understand.’
Katka said nothing. She simply held the guns that Jan had given her and waited as he tied shut the canvas covering of the truck.
Paul and the two men had already gone inside the farmhouse. Katka could hear them moving around inside and when she followed Jan in through the low doorway she saw that Petr had begun preparing the stove to cook. He had taken wood from a stack by the door and was busy loading it inside.
‘Ah, good.’ Jan said, ‘Petr is an excellent cook. After food and sleep you will see things differently.’ he told Katka then to take off her boot and that there was a bathroom upstairs. ‘Go and wash.’ he said, ‘When you come down there will be food waiting.’
Katka cleaned herself as best she could. She looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Perhaps it was the tiredness she felt, or the hours spent in the cold during the last few days, but her eyes had taken on a sullenness that she did not recognise. She thought that in the last few days she had aged badly, she had learnt, had seen things that she had never wanted to see.
When she came downstairs she saw that Paul had not been affected in the same way. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of beer in front of him. Next to him sat Rudi, who Katka noticed must be the same age as Paul. They were talking, drinking together and Rudi smoked a cigarette as he leant back in his seat against the wall.
‘Katka.’ Jan said, when he saw her, ‘Come, sit here. Petr has heated some soup for us.’
Katka did as she was told and took the chair next to Jan, at the opposite end of the the long kitchen table to Paul and Rudi.
‘Now.’ Jan said, ‘pouring a little beer into a glass that he set in front of Katka. ‘Tell me about your father.’
Katka sipped from the beer glass. She did not want it, she hated beer and it was warm and bitter, but she was thirsty and tired and she suspected there was nothing else to drink and so she drank. She thought about her father, what little she could say about a man she had only met when she was very young. ‘He has the same name as you.’ she said, after a pause and feeling awkward at saying something so personal, so trivial.
She expected Jan to laugh at this, but he only exhaled a silent laugh through his nose, took a sip of beer and looked up towards the ceiling, gestures that Katka found strangely familiar. There was something fatherly, a wiseness in Jan’s mannerisms. It was not just the way he spoke, he with a kindness in his tone, or in his eyes when he looked at her, but the way he was with the other men too. He was like a father to them all, not just their leader.
Petr came to the table and placed a bowl of soup in front of him. He waited as Jan lifted the spoon and tasted it. From the other end of the table Rudi watched. It was as if these two men would do anything for Jan. He was kind and wise. He nodded his approval at Petr, who then gave soup to everyone and poured some for himself too.
‘And is he Czech or German?’ Jan asked, after a few moments had passed.
‘Czech.’ Katka said.
‘And he lived in Czech and enlisted like a fool in the German army, thinking he was doing the right thing.’
Katka nodded, sipping from her spoon. The soup was warm and surprisingly good.
‘Then I know where to find him.’ Said Jan, ‘You will know everything you need to know by tomorrow afternoon.’