Chapter Fourteen - The Tattered Cord
‘We will wait until just before dawn. It is the quietest time. The soldiers on guard will least expect us then.’
It was the taller man who spoke, the leader of the three. He was sitting on a bale of hay and the other two men were standing at opposite sides of the barn - the younger man nearest to Katka and paul had his gun resting in his hands and pointing at the floor, the older man was by the door and every few minutes he would look out towards the town and the railway yard.
‘You will go into the yard the way you escaped last night, through the gardens and over the wall. It was our original plan.’ the taller man said. He stroked his chin, thought for a moment, ‘Once you get to the carriages you need to crawl beneath them and place one of these beneath each of the carriages. You will need to be quick, attach them to the bottom of the carriages and get out. We will take care of the rest.’
With his foot he then slid an open crate across the floor towards katka and paul. Inside were some dark green rectangular objects, the size of chocolate bars.
Katka reached inside and took one of the objects out. It was heavy that she expected, and smelt familiar - a chemical, peppery smell. Similar to the smell of the munitions factory.
‘They’re bombs.’ Katka said.
The man nodded.
Katka held the one she had in her hands out to Paul, offering for him to take it from her, to see for himself how it felt. He ignored her though. He sat with his head lowered and he rubbed at his wrists, occasionally glaring at the men, especially the older man who had held a pistol to his head.
And it seemed Paul’s dislike was mutual. The older man glared back.
Noticing this, the taller man said, ‘Gentlemen, we must act together. If we are to bring an end to this evil we must put all pettry differences aside.’
‘Petty?’ Paul snapped, ‘He was about to kill me this morning.’ These first words he had spoken since they had been interrogated and he glared at each of the men in turn.
‘No.’ the older man said, ‘Last night you destroyed our plan, it is us that should complain of nearly being killed, but if you go through with this mission into the train yard in a few hours you will have rectified the damage you created.’
‘We will do it.’ Katka said and she glanced nervously across the Paul.
The taller man leant forward, looking directly at Paul as he spoke his next words, ‘Do you understand what it is you have to do?’
Paul looked back at the man, staring hard into his face, ‘Do we have a choice?’ he asked bitterly.
At this the man smiled, ‘Yes.’ he said, ‘You can choose to do the mission or you can choose to be shot.’
The other men laughed.
The taller man stared at Paul, the smile on his face slowly disappeared and returned to the frown he had worn before. It suited him better, when he had smiled his face seemed younger, unnatural and it stood had at odds with everything else about him - the seriousness of his manner, the way he dominated the conversation.
He leant back against the wall, ‘You had a choice.’ he said, ‘You chose to join us and fight against the Nazis when you acted last night.’
Paul shook his head. ‘It wasn’t our plan.’ he said.
‘And what was your plan?’ the man asked, sounding a little angry suddenly, ‘apart from destroying what we had been planning for weeks with an act of complete stupidity.’
‘We are looking for someone, that’s all.’ Paul said, attempting to raise his voice, but it sounded thin and weak compared the man, ‘We just need to find someone. We had no interest in this.’
‘You are not interested? the man repeated reproachfully, ‘In the resistance, you mean? It is your duty to fight against this evil. It is everyone in Europe’s duty and it is certainly your plan now.’
‘It that what you are?’ Katka interrupted, ‘The resistance?’
‘Yes.’ the man said.
A shivver of excitement ran up Katka’s spine. The resistance, she thought and remembered the times she had thought about these people, risking everything, risking certain death for what they believed in.
She thought about the graffiti she had seen, angry and rebellious words painted onto the side of the police building, leaflets pasted to walls speaking of the injustice that was bing caused. She remembered the men who had killed Heindrickt, the reprisals that had happened afterwards.
Katka had formed in her mind an image of the men and women who were part of this movement. She had thought they must be brave, strong, determined.
These men just did not fit that expectation. They looked like farmers. Bearded and with flat caps and scruffy jackets and dirt covered trousers tucked into work boots. But they had a plan to blow up the train yard, they had real explosives, weapons . They had to be.
‘What is your name?’ the taller man asked.
‘Katka.’ she replied, then hesitantly added, ‘And this is Paul.’
Paul looked at her when she said his name. He did not speak though.
‘My name is Jan.’ the man said, ‘I am member of the German resistance movement. And then pointing to the older man and then the younger man in turn, he said, ‘This is Petr and this is Rudi. We three are fighting together to disrupt the efforts of the German army and to hasten the end of the war.’
Neither of the men acknowledged Katka when their names were spoken. Neither spoke, but both looked in the direction of Katka and Paul.
‘And providing you don’t get yourself killed when you go back into the train yard,’ added Jan, ‘We will no longer be three, we will be five.’
It took a long moments for the weight of what Jan had said to sink in. perhaps to Paul it meant nothing, but to Katka there was no weight to Jan’s words at all. Instead she felt her chest fill with pride. I am part of the resistance, she thought. And it felt as if her life had meaning at last, as if her life had finally taken direction.
Jan must have noticed this. He looked at Katka, their eyes locked and Katka knew that he understood. She knew too that she would not be killed when she went back into the train yard. She would complete the mission and she would survive and then she would fight again, she would continue the fight against the Germans, against the Nazi regime until it was defeated.
Then she thought of her father. It was the shape of Jan’s eyes that made her think of him. Because, amid his hard exterior his eyes seemed soft somehow, sympathetic, and whilst the other men had eyes that were narrow and cold and they looked at Katka and Paul with a cynical nastiness, a sort of sneer as they listened to the conversation they were having, Jan’s eyes were full of compassion.
I have set out to find my father, Katka thought, I did not set out to get involved in this. The thought scratched at her conscience like a pin pressing against the skin of a balloon.
As if reading her mind, Jan asked then the same question he had asked earlier, ‘What was your plan?’
Katka looked up at him, but did not answer.
‘You said you were looking for someone, who were you looking for?’
‘My father.’ Katka said.
‘And how will you find him?’
Katka shrugged. It suddenly seemed so pointless, so hopeless. To search the entire country looking for someone who was probably dead. To search a country that was at war, where battles were raging, cities were being bombed, soon fighting would be on every street in Europe, ‘I don’t know. She said, ‘He is a soldier. He is Czech but he joined the German army.’ she let out a deep breath, ‘He is probably dead.’
Jan had no reply to this. Although it was clear to Katka what he was thinking, that she was right, that he was dead, probably, that if he wasn’t he would be impossible to find. Instead of speaking Jan just looked at Katka, remained silent for a long time. Then, when he must have sensed the moment was right, he began reciting a poem.
‘The tattered cord,’ he began, ‘can again become knotted.’
The other men, Jan and Rudi, both looked at him. Even Paul looked up from the floor, and Jan went on,
‘It holds, but it is torn.
Perhaps we'll face
each other again
but there,
where you left me,
you'll not meet me
again.’
‘What is that?’ Katka asked.
‘It is a poem by Brecht.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Katka said, ‘what does it mean?’
‘What do you think it means?’ Jan asked and when Katka did not answer, he went on, ‘You have lost your father. This war has torn you and him apart, but you will find him again, I am sure of that. And when you do, you can be together again. Like the cord, your relationship can be knotted together. It does not matter how damaged it has become.’
Katka thought about these words. She thought about the idea of a cord, cut in two, just as the link between her and her father had been cut in two, but if he was alive and she found him it could be reconnected, tied together like a knot in a cable or string. It did not matter how tattered it had become, there is always the possibility to repair.
‘All of Europe has become tattered now.’ She said, looking at Jan.
Jan nodded, ‘We travel a tattered path, we people of Europe.’
‘Yes.’ said Katka, ‘We travel a tattered path. And now it is time to take action.’
It was the taller man who spoke, the leader of the three. He was sitting on a bale of hay and the other two men were standing at opposite sides of the barn - the younger man nearest to Katka and paul had his gun resting in his hands and pointing at the floor, the older man was by the door and every few minutes he would look out towards the town and the railway yard.
‘You will go into the yard the way you escaped last night, through the gardens and over the wall. It was our original plan.’ the taller man said. He stroked his chin, thought for a moment, ‘Once you get to the carriages you need to crawl beneath them and place one of these beneath each of the carriages. You will need to be quick, attach them to the bottom of the carriages and get out. We will take care of the rest.’
With his foot he then slid an open crate across the floor towards katka and paul. Inside were some dark green rectangular objects, the size of chocolate bars.
Katka reached inside and took one of the objects out. It was heavy that she expected, and smelt familiar - a chemical, peppery smell. Similar to the smell of the munitions factory.
‘They’re bombs.’ Katka said.
The man nodded.
Katka held the one she had in her hands out to Paul, offering for him to take it from her, to see for himself how it felt. He ignored her though. He sat with his head lowered and he rubbed at his wrists, occasionally glaring at the men, especially the older man who had held a pistol to his head.
And it seemed Paul’s dislike was mutual. The older man glared back.
Noticing this, the taller man said, ‘Gentlemen, we must act together. If we are to bring an end to this evil we must put all pettry differences aside.’
‘Petty?’ Paul snapped, ‘He was about to kill me this morning.’ These first words he had spoken since they had been interrogated and he glared at each of the men in turn.
‘No.’ the older man said, ‘Last night you destroyed our plan, it is us that should complain of nearly being killed, but if you go through with this mission into the train yard in a few hours you will have rectified the damage you created.’
‘We will do it.’ Katka said and she glanced nervously across the Paul.
The taller man leant forward, looking directly at Paul as he spoke his next words, ‘Do you understand what it is you have to do?’
Paul looked back at the man, staring hard into his face, ‘Do we have a choice?’ he asked bitterly.
At this the man smiled, ‘Yes.’ he said, ‘You can choose to do the mission or you can choose to be shot.’
The other men laughed.
The taller man stared at Paul, the smile on his face slowly disappeared and returned to the frown he had worn before. It suited him better, when he had smiled his face seemed younger, unnatural and it stood had at odds with everything else about him - the seriousness of his manner, the way he dominated the conversation.
He leant back against the wall, ‘You had a choice.’ he said, ‘You chose to join us and fight against the Nazis when you acted last night.’
Paul shook his head. ‘It wasn’t our plan.’ he said.
‘And what was your plan?’ the man asked, sounding a little angry suddenly, ‘apart from destroying what we had been planning for weeks with an act of complete stupidity.’
‘We are looking for someone, that’s all.’ Paul said, attempting to raise his voice, but it sounded thin and weak compared the man, ‘We just need to find someone. We had no interest in this.’
‘You are not interested? the man repeated reproachfully, ‘In the resistance, you mean? It is your duty to fight against this evil. It is everyone in Europe’s duty and it is certainly your plan now.’
‘It that what you are?’ Katka interrupted, ‘The resistance?’
‘Yes.’ the man said.
A shivver of excitement ran up Katka’s spine. The resistance, she thought and remembered the times she had thought about these people, risking everything, risking certain death for what they believed in.
She thought about the graffiti she had seen, angry and rebellious words painted onto the side of the police building, leaflets pasted to walls speaking of the injustice that was bing caused. She remembered the men who had killed Heindrickt, the reprisals that had happened afterwards.
Katka had formed in her mind an image of the men and women who were part of this movement. She had thought they must be brave, strong, determined.
These men just did not fit that expectation. They looked like farmers. Bearded and with flat caps and scruffy jackets and dirt covered trousers tucked into work boots. But they had a plan to blow up the train yard, they had real explosives, weapons . They had to be.
‘What is your name?’ the taller man asked.
‘Katka.’ she replied, then hesitantly added, ‘And this is Paul.’
Paul looked at her when she said his name. He did not speak though.
‘My name is Jan.’ the man said, ‘I am member of the German resistance movement. And then pointing to the older man and then the younger man in turn, he said, ‘This is Petr and this is Rudi. We three are fighting together to disrupt the efforts of the German army and to hasten the end of the war.’
Neither of the men acknowledged Katka when their names were spoken. Neither spoke, but both looked in the direction of Katka and Paul.
‘And providing you don’t get yourself killed when you go back into the train yard,’ added Jan, ‘We will no longer be three, we will be five.’
It took a long moments for the weight of what Jan had said to sink in. perhaps to Paul it meant nothing, but to Katka there was no weight to Jan’s words at all. Instead she felt her chest fill with pride. I am part of the resistance, she thought. And it felt as if her life had meaning at last, as if her life had finally taken direction.
Jan must have noticed this. He looked at Katka, their eyes locked and Katka knew that he understood. She knew too that she would not be killed when she went back into the train yard. She would complete the mission and she would survive and then she would fight again, she would continue the fight against the Germans, against the Nazi regime until it was defeated.
Then she thought of her father. It was the shape of Jan’s eyes that made her think of him. Because, amid his hard exterior his eyes seemed soft somehow, sympathetic, and whilst the other men had eyes that were narrow and cold and they looked at Katka and Paul with a cynical nastiness, a sort of sneer as they listened to the conversation they were having, Jan’s eyes were full of compassion.
I have set out to find my father, Katka thought, I did not set out to get involved in this. The thought scratched at her conscience like a pin pressing against the skin of a balloon.
As if reading her mind, Jan asked then the same question he had asked earlier, ‘What was your plan?’
Katka looked up at him, but did not answer.
‘You said you were looking for someone, who were you looking for?’
‘My father.’ Katka said.
‘And how will you find him?’
Katka shrugged. It suddenly seemed so pointless, so hopeless. To search the entire country looking for someone who was probably dead. To search a country that was at war, where battles were raging, cities were being bombed, soon fighting would be on every street in Europe, ‘I don’t know. She said, ‘He is a soldier. He is Czech but he joined the German army.’ she let out a deep breath, ‘He is probably dead.’
Jan had no reply to this. Although it was clear to Katka what he was thinking, that she was right, that he was dead, probably, that if he wasn’t he would be impossible to find. Instead of speaking Jan just looked at Katka, remained silent for a long time. Then, when he must have sensed the moment was right, he began reciting a poem.
‘The tattered cord,’ he began, ‘can again become knotted.’
The other men, Jan and Rudi, both looked at him. Even Paul looked up from the floor, and Jan went on,
‘It holds, but it is torn.
Perhaps we'll face
each other again
but there,
where you left me,
you'll not meet me
again.’
‘What is that?’ Katka asked.
‘It is a poem by Brecht.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Katka said, ‘what does it mean?’
‘What do you think it means?’ Jan asked and when Katka did not answer, he went on, ‘You have lost your father. This war has torn you and him apart, but you will find him again, I am sure of that. And when you do, you can be together again. Like the cord, your relationship can be knotted together. It does not matter how damaged it has become.’
Katka thought about these words. She thought about the idea of a cord, cut in two, just as the link between her and her father had been cut in two, but if he was alive and she found him it could be reconnected, tied together like a knot in a cable or string. It did not matter how tattered it had become, there is always the possibility to repair.
‘All of Europe has become tattered now.’ She said, looking at Jan.
Jan nodded, ‘We travel a tattered path, we people of Europe.’
‘Yes.’ said Katka, ‘We travel a tattered path. And now it is time to take action.’