Chapter Twenty Five
‘Listen.’ Jan said, turning the dial of the bulky radio at Katka’s feet.
A snow of static, garbled words.
Katka shifted her feet because the radio, big and bulky and old fashioned, took up most of the legroom on the passenger side of the car Jan had used to drive her to the outskirts of the city.
‘I can’t -’ Katka began, but Jan silenced her with a move of his hand. ‘Listen,can you hear it?’ he said, ‘It’s the General of Police.’
Katka strained her ear against the white noise emitting from the radio speaker. But it was impossible. ‘The chief of police? How can I -?’ but again Jan forced her to be quiet.
How can you tell? Katka wanted to ask, because the voice on the radio - male, slow, monotonous - could only be heard intermittently, drowned out almost completely and only sounding clearly enough for the odd word to be come through the static clearly every other sentence.
Katka gestured that it was hopeless.
Jan turned up the volume - wait, he told Katka with a finger poised in the air between them, wait just a minute - suddenly radio snapped to live, the man’s voice sounded, suddenly clear, suddenly Katka could hear what he was saying as if he was in the car with them, speaking, still slowly, still dull, and threatening.
‘A sea of blood. You will be crushed. Any dissidence will be eliminated at once, with no mercy, no exception.’
Jan snapped off the radio. ‘There’s no need to listen to more.’ he said, sitting back in his seat, looking at Katka, ‘He’s been saying the same thing all day, the same message.’
‘Has he nothing better to do?’ Katka asked mockingly. At once she regretted it.
‘Stupid girl!’ Jan snapped. ‘Don’t you realise why I’m telling you this? They will kill you if they catch you. I they find out what you’re doing they’ll shoot you on the spot.’
Katka shook her head, ‘That’s not what I meant -’
‘It’s been happening for days now. Bodies left bleeding in the street, bullets in the back of the head. And don’t think you’re an exception, because your young, because you’re a girl, it’ll be the same treatment you receive. It might even be worse.’
‘Worse?’ Katka asked.
Jan didn’t reply. Instead he just looked at Katka, for a long moment, long enough for her to understand and then he turned and looked out of the car window. I understand, thought Katka and she too slumped back into her seat and looked out of the car window.
In front of them lay the city, dark and wide. It was unlit just as it had been months before when Katka had last been here, when she had had to run for her life. Only it was silent now. There was no traffic on the roads, no movement of any kind. It was as if the city waited, as if it tried to hide in the darkness. It was waiting, tensing itself with hands covering its face for the blow that was surely to come.
‘I understand.’ Katka said, and she meant it this time.
Earlier she had used the same words but not meant them. In Jan’s office, which was just a room he had been using on the top floor of the house in the little village just north of the city. He and two other men had been deep in conversation when Katka had entered. In front of them a large map of the city spread out on a table top. They had been using chalk to mark it, to block roads with thick white crosses, to draw arrows along other roads.
‘Katka.’ Jan had said, when he had noticed her standing in the doorway. The other men had looked up. ‘We have your instructions. We think we have a route that will get you to the centre of the city safely.’
‘I know the city like the back of my hand.’ Katka had replied, walking to the table so that she was standing directly in front of them.
‘No,’ Jan had said, ‘We need you to look at this map and to memorise the route that we have planned for you.’ and perhaps realising that Katka did not agree that she thought she did not need to be told how to get to the centre of the city he said, for the first time that day, ‘If you are caught, they will kill you.’
‘I know.’ Katka had smiled, because already she was sick of hearing it.
But Jan had not shouted, not like he would later when they would be sitting side by side in a car with Katka about to leave knowing full well the dangers of the mission she was about to undertake. Katka did not understand earlier when she had been standing in front of Jan and the other men. But Jan had kept calm. He had let out a long breath and calmly he said, ‘This is not a game, Katka. There are men and women who have gone before you, hundreds, who have all failed, all been tied to a stake and executed.’
Katka looked at him, but she didn’t speak. She wanted to ask what it was he wanted her to do. She wanted to tell him that there really was no point in getting upset about it all, it was over. Either we live or we die, and nothing really matters anymore.
‘Katka, the message you are to deliver is to instruct the police in Prague that we are waiting outside the city and we are ready to begin the uprising.’
Katka nodded.
‘You are to tell them that we are ready to fight. As soon as you tell them this, the uprising will begin.’
Katka nodded again. She waited for Jan to go on, but for a long moment he did not speak. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief from his pocket.
‘Katka, if you are caught and the message is intercepted by the Nazis, not only will they kill you they will crush the uprising before it has even begun.’
‘I understand, I won’t -’
‘You won’t speak?’ Jan interrupted, a knowing smile appeared momentarily on his lips, ‘You are brave, Katka, but you are young and naive The Nazis will make you speak. They have ways of making sure this happens. They will stop the revolution before it has even begun and they will shoot you.’ On finishing these words Jan shook his head, he sighed. Then he took a piece of paper from one of the other men and slid it across the table to Katka.
‘Read this. Memorise it.’ he said.
Katka unfolded the paper. On one side was a note. It made no sense, just a series of non-sequential words, it was random, just nonsense. ‘I won’t remember -’
‘Learn it.’ Jan ordered, but without raising his voice, ‘You cannot take the paper with you.’
‘Yes.’ Katka said, knowing that it would be pointless arguing. She was about to turn and leave but Jan stopped her.
‘We will leave after it gets dark.’ he said.
Katka stopped in the doorway. She turned and looked at Jan and it seemed a long moment before he spoke again. It also seemed, perhaps thought Katka, that he was struggling for words, that there was more he wanted to say but wasn’t able to. But then he said, with words that came in a rush, ‘‘Perhaps you would like me to come with you. Not far, but I will take you to the edge of the city and we will wait together until just before dawn.’
‘Alright.’ Katka said and she left the room. And for the rest fo the day, as she had sat by herself in the window of the room where she had slept, and then later in the garden because the afternoon sun was warm and cheerful, she had learnt the list of words Jan had given her, and she had thought.
There was something about Jan, something familiar. Perhaps something in shape of his jaw, his eyes. Or maybe it was in his voice, but she recognised him, she thought, she remembered him and it was not from the few days they had spent together in Germany. It was a time before, long ago. A childish memory from when she lived in the little house with the woman who owned a little dog upstairs.
Perhaps, thought Katka. Perhaps. And as she sat next to Jan through the night, with the radio at her feet and turned down low so the static was just a soothing hiss, she pondered on this some more.
‘You really might die today.’ Jan said, long into the night, when the sky had begun to lighten and the outline of the city had begun to take shape.
‘So why are you sending me?’ Katka asked.
‘Because you asked.’ Jan replied.
‘But I may change my mind, I may not deliver the message at all.’
Jan looked at her when she said this, scowled slightly and he said, ‘I know you better than that. In fact I trust you.’
And this made Katka smile. Then she said, ‘And if you know that I’ll do it, that I won’t let anyone down, then you know that you could be killing me by sending me. You might be sending me to my death.’
Jan had no reply to this.
‘Why did you leave me in the woods?’ Katka asked.
‘You weren’t on your own.’
‘Still, you left me. Why?’
Jan breathed out hard, ‘You didn’t want any of this. You said so several times.’
‘It was mostly Paul who said that.’
‘And you never disagreed with him.’
‘You still haven’t answered me, Why? What’s the real reason.’ Katka said, because there was something more, something he wasn’t saying. It was clear by the way he kept looking at the ground, kept moving his lips as if he wanted to say something more but kept changing his mind.
‘Because I thought you were safe there.’
‘We weren’t.’ Katka snapped.
‘I didn’t know the German soldiers would continue looking for you there. When we left I was sure they would notice and think that we had all gone.’
‘So you thought we would be safe there? For how long, for the rest of the war?’ Katka asked.
‘Until you were safe. Until -’
‘You wanted to protect me, but why?’
‘It is because I am your -’ he began but suddenly corrected himself, ‘It was the right thing to do. It is what I wanted to do.’
There was a long silence then. It was long enough for the sky to lighten almost completely and from beyond the clouds the sun shone. It almost broke free and then Jan said, ‘Here, take this.’
Katka looked down at Jan’s hand. He was holding a pistol, offering it to her handle first.
‘I don’t want -’
‘Take it.’ Jan insisted.
And when Katka took it he said, ‘I will miss you.’
Katka opened her mouth to speak but said nothing.
‘And I’m sorry we never got the chance to get to know each other. I’m sorry I was never there and that I left you.’
And Katka thought on these words. She wondered what he meant. She thought she knew what he meant and she wanted to tell him so. But instead she said nothing.
Because she knew.
But what she did not know was that the uprising had already begun.
A snow of static, garbled words.
Katka shifted her feet because the radio, big and bulky and old fashioned, took up most of the legroom on the passenger side of the car Jan had used to drive her to the outskirts of the city.
‘I can’t -’ Katka began, but Jan silenced her with a move of his hand. ‘Listen,can you hear it?’ he said, ‘It’s the General of Police.’
Katka strained her ear against the white noise emitting from the radio speaker. But it was impossible. ‘The chief of police? How can I -?’ but again Jan forced her to be quiet.
How can you tell? Katka wanted to ask, because the voice on the radio - male, slow, monotonous - could only be heard intermittently, drowned out almost completely and only sounding clearly enough for the odd word to be come through the static clearly every other sentence.
Katka gestured that it was hopeless.
Jan turned up the volume - wait, he told Katka with a finger poised in the air between them, wait just a minute - suddenly radio snapped to live, the man’s voice sounded, suddenly clear, suddenly Katka could hear what he was saying as if he was in the car with them, speaking, still slowly, still dull, and threatening.
‘A sea of blood. You will be crushed. Any dissidence will be eliminated at once, with no mercy, no exception.’
Jan snapped off the radio. ‘There’s no need to listen to more.’ he said, sitting back in his seat, looking at Katka, ‘He’s been saying the same thing all day, the same message.’
‘Has he nothing better to do?’ Katka asked mockingly. At once she regretted it.
‘Stupid girl!’ Jan snapped. ‘Don’t you realise why I’m telling you this? They will kill you if they catch you. I they find out what you’re doing they’ll shoot you on the spot.’
Katka shook her head, ‘That’s not what I meant -’
‘It’s been happening for days now. Bodies left bleeding in the street, bullets in the back of the head. And don’t think you’re an exception, because your young, because you’re a girl, it’ll be the same treatment you receive. It might even be worse.’
‘Worse?’ Katka asked.
Jan didn’t reply. Instead he just looked at Katka, for a long moment, long enough for her to understand and then he turned and looked out of the car window. I understand, thought Katka and she too slumped back into her seat and looked out of the car window.
In front of them lay the city, dark and wide. It was unlit just as it had been months before when Katka had last been here, when she had had to run for her life. Only it was silent now. There was no traffic on the roads, no movement of any kind. It was as if the city waited, as if it tried to hide in the darkness. It was waiting, tensing itself with hands covering its face for the blow that was surely to come.
‘I understand.’ Katka said, and she meant it this time.
Earlier she had used the same words but not meant them. In Jan’s office, which was just a room he had been using on the top floor of the house in the little village just north of the city. He and two other men had been deep in conversation when Katka had entered. In front of them a large map of the city spread out on a table top. They had been using chalk to mark it, to block roads with thick white crosses, to draw arrows along other roads.
‘Katka.’ Jan had said, when he had noticed her standing in the doorway. The other men had looked up. ‘We have your instructions. We think we have a route that will get you to the centre of the city safely.’
‘I know the city like the back of my hand.’ Katka had replied, walking to the table so that she was standing directly in front of them.
‘No,’ Jan had said, ‘We need you to look at this map and to memorise the route that we have planned for you.’ and perhaps realising that Katka did not agree that she thought she did not need to be told how to get to the centre of the city he said, for the first time that day, ‘If you are caught, they will kill you.’
‘I know.’ Katka had smiled, because already she was sick of hearing it.
But Jan had not shouted, not like he would later when they would be sitting side by side in a car with Katka about to leave knowing full well the dangers of the mission she was about to undertake. Katka did not understand earlier when she had been standing in front of Jan and the other men. But Jan had kept calm. He had let out a long breath and calmly he said, ‘This is not a game, Katka. There are men and women who have gone before you, hundreds, who have all failed, all been tied to a stake and executed.’
Katka looked at him, but she didn’t speak. She wanted to ask what it was he wanted her to do. She wanted to tell him that there really was no point in getting upset about it all, it was over. Either we live or we die, and nothing really matters anymore.
‘Katka, the message you are to deliver is to instruct the police in Prague that we are waiting outside the city and we are ready to begin the uprising.’
Katka nodded.
‘You are to tell them that we are ready to fight. As soon as you tell them this, the uprising will begin.’
Katka nodded again. She waited for Jan to go on, but for a long moment he did not speak. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief from his pocket.
‘Katka, if you are caught and the message is intercepted by the Nazis, not only will they kill you they will crush the uprising before it has even begun.’
‘I understand, I won’t -’
‘You won’t speak?’ Jan interrupted, a knowing smile appeared momentarily on his lips, ‘You are brave, Katka, but you are young and naive The Nazis will make you speak. They have ways of making sure this happens. They will stop the revolution before it has even begun and they will shoot you.’ On finishing these words Jan shook his head, he sighed. Then he took a piece of paper from one of the other men and slid it across the table to Katka.
‘Read this. Memorise it.’ he said.
Katka unfolded the paper. On one side was a note. It made no sense, just a series of non-sequential words, it was random, just nonsense. ‘I won’t remember -’
‘Learn it.’ Jan ordered, but without raising his voice, ‘You cannot take the paper with you.’
‘Yes.’ Katka said, knowing that it would be pointless arguing. She was about to turn and leave but Jan stopped her.
‘We will leave after it gets dark.’ he said.
Katka stopped in the doorway. She turned and looked at Jan and it seemed a long moment before he spoke again. It also seemed, perhaps thought Katka, that he was struggling for words, that there was more he wanted to say but wasn’t able to. But then he said, with words that came in a rush, ‘‘Perhaps you would like me to come with you. Not far, but I will take you to the edge of the city and we will wait together until just before dawn.’
‘Alright.’ Katka said and she left the room. And for the rest fo the day, as she had sat by herself in the window of the room where she had slept, and then later in the garden because the afternoon sun was warm and cheerful, she had learnt the list of words Jan had given her, and she had thought.
There was something about Jan, something familiar. Perhaps something in shape of his jaw, his eyes. Or maybe it was in his voice, but she recognised him, she thought, she remembered him and it was not from the few days they had spent together in Germany. It was a time before, long ago. A childish memory from when she lived in the little house with the woman who owned a little dog upstairs.
Perhaps, thought Katka. Perhaps. And as she sat next to Jan through the night, with the radio at her feet and turned down low so the static was just a soothing hiss, she pondered on this some more.
‘You really might die today.’ Jan said, long into the night, when the sky had begun to lighten and the outline of the city had begun to take shape.
‘So why are you sending me?’ Katka asked.
‘Because you asked.’ Jan replied.
‘But I may change my mind, I may not deliver the message at all.’
Jan looked at her when she said this, scowled slightly and he said, ‘I know you better than that. In fact I trust you.’
And this made Katka smile. Then she said, ‘And if you know that I’ll do it, that I won’t let anyone down, then you know that you could be killing me by sending me. You might be sending me to my death.’
Jan had no reply to this.
‘Why did you leave me in the woods?’ Katka asked.
‘You weren’t on your own.’
‘Still, you left me. Why?’
Jan breathed out hard, ‘You didn’t want any of this. You said so several times.’
‘It was mostly Paul who said that.’
‘And you never disagreed with him.’
‘You still haven’t answered me, Why? What’s the real reason.’ Katka said, because there was something more, something he wasn’t saying. It was clear by the way he kept looking at the ground, kept moving his lips as if he wanted to say something more but kept changing his mind.
‘Because I thought you were safe there.’
‘We weren’t.’ Katka snapped.
‘I didn’t know the German soldiers would continue looking for you there. When we left I was sure they would notice and think that we had all gone.’
‘So you thought we would be safe there? For how long, for the rest of the war?’ Katka asked.
‘Until you were safe. Until -’
‘You wanted to protect me, but why?’
‘It is because I am your -’ he began but suddenly corrected himself, ‘It was the right thing to do. It is what I wanted to do.’
There was a long silence then. It was long enough for the sky to lighten almost completely and from beyond the clouds the sun shone. It almost broke free and then Jan said, ‘Here, take this.’
Katka looked down at Jan’s hand. He was holding a pistol, offering it to her handle first.
‘I don’t want -’
‘Take it.’ Jan insisted.
And when Katka took it he said, ‘I will miss you.’
Katka opened her mouth to speak but said nothing.
‘And I’m sorry we never got the chance to get to know each other. I’m sorry I was never there and that I left you.’
And Katka thought on these words. She wondered what he meant. She thought she knew what he meant and she wanted to tell him so. But instead she said nothing.
Because she knew.
But what she did not know was that the uprising had already begun.