Chapter Seven - Return of an Old Friend
‘Why did my mother kill herself?’ It was the question Katka had to ask.
The old woman frowned, 'Such a terrible shame. Another victim of the Nazis.' And from that moment Katka knew she could trust her. She listened as the old woman explained how she had known Katka’s mother.
‘I would see her in the market sometimes, before you went away. I suppose you don’t remember that, do you?’
Katka shook her head.
‘You were a sweet little girl. I remember when you were just a baby, and even before that, I remember when your mother was just a child herself. It's such a long time I’ve lived here and the changes I’ve seen -’ the old woman sighed, she let her hands drop to her lap and all interest in the work she should have been doing was lost for a moment as she remembered. She licked her lips as she went on, ‘There has always been someone making life difficult for us here.’
‘What about my father?’ Katka asked, ‘Do you remember him?’
‘No.’ The old woman replied, ‘ I do not remember him.’ And it was as if she didn’t want to talk about that, her reply so abrupt, sudden. ‘You mother was a wonderful woman though, so kind, gentle -’
Suddenly the old woman stopped talking. One of the supervisors was standing in front of their workstation. Not the same woman Katka had met in the morning, although in appearance she was the same, tall and broad, the same buttoned uniform. She glared down at the old woman, ‘You are here to work!’ She said in a loud, commanding voice, ‘Not for idle chit-chat.’
The old woman didn’t seem in the slightest unsettled. She picked up another shell case and with no great hurry began filling it with the black powder.
‘Break-time is not until later.’ The supervisor went on, not wanting to let the matter lie and speaking in a loud important voice - as if what she was saying was for the benefit of everyone - ‘You can talk as much as you like then, but right now you should concentrate on your job.’
Katka picked up an empty bullet casing and began filling it, but because the supervisor was watching she fumbled and spilled powder onto the desk-top. The supervisor tutted and muttered something beneath her breath, then walked away. Once she was gone the old woman snickered and jabbed Katka in the arm, 'You've made a friend for life there.' She said jokingly, and this made Katka smile, although only a little. 'What's wrong?' The old woman asked, noticing the worried expression on Katka's face.
‘I’ve lied to them.’ Katka said.
At this the old woman just laughed, ‘You mean you’re not really Olga from Ostrava? I don’t think anyone really cares who you are.’ She said, then added sadly, ‘Not in these times.’
‘But I had to run from soldiers in Prague. Frau Schneider said this morning that the police were looking for me.’
‘It is best you do not think about it.’ The old woman said. ‘There are bigger crimes being committed right now.’ And then she reached over and placed a small piece of bread on Katka’s desk-top, next to the casing she had just spilled powder from. ‘You look hungry. Eat that quickly before the guard comes back.’ And on the word guard she winked at Katka, smiled a mischievous smile, ‘By guard I mean supervisor, of course. But it's the same thing as far as we’re concerned.’
The morning passed more slowly after this. The repetitive action of filling the bullet casings, sealing them shut with the tall levered machine and then tossing them into the wooden case that she shared with the old woman, was enough to take Katka’s mind off her worries.
What struck Katka most about the factory, apart from the overbearing smell and noise of machinery, was how miserable it was. It was a dull place and how much more interesting it would be if the women were just allowed to talk to each other. But even during the half hour lunch-break, when the women sat in the canteen, no one smiled. No one even paid attention to the other women in the room.
It wasn’t until they were walking out of the factory at the end of the day that Katka asked Anna why this was, ‘What’s wrong with them?’ She said, ‘Why is everyone so miserable in that place?’
For a moment Anna didn’t reply. Then she asked, ‘What joy can we take from working there? We are betraying ourselves working in that factory, we are providing weapons so this ugly war can continue. And most of the women feel bitter about who will use the bullets and bombs we make.’
‘The German soldiers?’
Anna nodded, ‘Those who are ruling over us. The women in that place feel ashamed of themselves, of what they are doing.’
‘Why do they do it then?’ Katka asked.
To this Anna just laughed, bitter and quick, ‘Why do you do it, you mean? They work there for the same reason you started there today, for security, so that they don’t stand out. No one wants to work there at all, of course they don’t, but to refuse work -’ her words trailed off.
There was no need for Anna to explain any further, it was obvious. Katka could see it in the stares of the soldiers they passed, she saw it in the armoured car parked by the station, to refuse to work would mean punishment, and in these times that could only mean one thing.
‘I think you understand.’ Anna said and as they passed the station building she nodded towards the tracks, ‘I used to watch the trains go past in the night. Some of them were filled with people. Not soldiers, just normal people like you and me. No one knows where they were being taken, but I’ve heard rumours. I’ve heard horrible things.’
Katka didn’t ask any more questions. She didn’t dare. Only she thought how hopeless it all was, this whole country, this whole continent. Every town in Europe must be like this, she thought, with tanks and soldiers on every street corner, with rules, punishments for anyone who objected.
It was pointless trying to understand how things had become so bad. But that evening Anna made things a little clearer and although she did not speak directly of the things that had happened, the tiredness in her voice, her tone, the fact that she never spoke of the future, of her hopes or plans, made everything clear. She seemed to prefer talking of the past and her eyes lit up when Katka asked her about her mother.
‘We were friends when we were girls.’ She told Katka.
Katka smiled, ‘The old woman I was with told me she remembered her.’
Anna smiled too, ‘That old woman used to run the little shop on our old road, although she wasn’t so old then. She used to sell us sweets when we had pocket money, She caught your mother stealing once.’
Katka laughed, ‘But the old woman is so nice.’
‘Yes.’ Anna said, sounding more serious, ‘There are still decent people in the world, Katka, even now, even with all that is going on.’
‘And what about the supervisors, that woman who came to your door this morning? They aren’t decent people, are they?’
To this Anna only sighed, ‘Some people are just weak.’ She said, ‘Those women get paid more. It is the same with the men, if you are prepared to enforce the German laws you get more money, better rations.’
‘But I don’t understand why someone would do that.’ Katka said, indignation rising in her voice. But then she thought about the matrons in the home in Prague, how mean some of them had been. Although wasn't that different? The matrons weren’t forcing other people to make bullets, to arm the occupying soldiers so that they could repress them more. What the supervisors were doing made no sense to Katka at all.
‘It is a little like your father.’ Anna said in a quiet voice.
Katka suddenly sat up. ‘What about my father?’ she said, ‘what do you know about him?’
‘You never met him, did you?’
‘No.’ Katka said.
‘He was a good man.’ Anna said, but there was something in the way she said this - quiet, apologetic - as if Anna was only saying these words because it was the sort of thing she was meant to say.
So Katka asked, ‘Did you know him very well?’
‘Yes, I knew him very well.’ Anna said.
'But -' Katka stopped. There was something in the way Anna was looking at Katka, the pained expression on her face, the way she fingered her mug nervously with both hands. Quickly Katka changed the subject and asked instead about her mother and it was a pleasure to listen to Anna then, because the stories she told she seemed so alive and she seemed so happy at the memories of those better times.
‘She really loved you.’ Anna said finally, sounding serious, ‘And she was so sad when you had to go away, when they forced her to take a job in the factory and it would have been impossible for you to stay here after that.’
‘Is that why she was so sad?’ Katka asked, ‘Is that why she -?’ A lump forming in her throat as she spoke the words.
Anna nodded.
Katka smiled. She looked away across the room. She didn’t want to ask any more questions. She didn’t want to hear how her mother had been in the last few years, when she had slipped into depression, when she had -
‘But what about the letters she used to send?’ Katka asked, the words slipping from her mouth before she was able to stop them.
‘Yes, she used to write to you every week. She always spoke about you.’ Anna said.
‘Was she sad when I stopped writing, when I didn’t reply?’ Katka asked.
‘I did not know about that.’ Anna said, quietly.
And Katka was convinced then. And how sad she felt as she climbed into bed at the end of the evening. It was because of me, she thought, I was all she had, I was her only hope and I turned from her when she needed me most.
The next day Katka said this to the old woman. It was in the morning as Katka was clumsily fitting powder into a bullet casing and the old woman must have seen that Katka was upset so she leant over and asked in a hushed voice, ‘What is it, Katka, why are you so sad this morning?’
And when Katka had explained what was troubling her, the old woman immediately snapped, ‘What nonsense! Your mother loved you and of course she understood when you didn’t want to speak to her. She was an intelligent woman and she would have made it up to you somehow. You would have been together again, I am sure of that.’
‘What do you mean?’ Katka said in reply, ‘She killed herself. She didn’t want to be with me again. She killed herself and it was because of me.’
The old woman waved her hand for Katka to speak more quietly - one of the supervisors was looking in their direction - ‘I said you would have been together, it is what she wanted.’ She whispered, ‘if it wasn’t for that man, what he did to her, she would still be alive, of this I am sure.’
‘What man? What do you mean?’ It was impossible for Katka to keep her voice down upon hearing this - but there was no need for Katka to ask. She already knew who the old woman was talking about. ‘You mean my father, don't you?’
‘We will speak later.’ The old woman said, then added quickly, ‘Your father is the real reason your mother is dead.’
‘What did he do?’ Katka demanded.
‘Later.’ The old woman said, an almost pleading expression on her face for Katka to be quiet. One of the supervisors had begun walking towards them. ‘I will tell you everything during our break. I will tell you all about your father and even where he is now. You can then ask him yourself once the war is finished.’
‘You know where he is?’ Katka asked.
‘Later!’ The old woman hissed.
It was with a sense of apprehension that Katka worked after this. She worked as fast as she could, every few minutes looking at the clock, but it was as if time was not passing, as if the morning was without end.
From time to time Katka looked across to the old woman, desperate to make eye contact with her, to grasp a moment in which they could speak. But the old woman paid no attention to Katka, instead working slowly, methodically. She filled each casing in the same way - a spoonful of powder, a pull of the lever on the tall machine, then a completed bullet tossed into the case.
But not every time.
Sometimes she only brought the lever down halfway. And she had a glass of water that she would dip her fingers into. Katka couldn't understand why the old woman did this. But ten minutes before the break she found out.
As sudden as an alarm, one of the supervisors shouted something. Too quick and too abrupt for Katka to understand. But within a few seconds several of the supervisors were standing in front of Katka and the old woman.
‘Sabotage!’ One of them shouted, spitting the word as she stood looking down at case between Katka and the old woman. It was the same supervisor that had been inside Anna’s flat yesterday morning - Frau Schneider - ‘So this is what you've been doing, sabotaging your work so that the bullets will not work.’
Katka was terrified, she looked from the supervisor to the old woman and then back again.
‘Which of you has done this?’ Frau Schneider demanded and she opened her hand to reveal a bullet - its casing broken open and the gunpowder inside, which should have been dry and grey, was a dark wet sludge - 'Water added to the mix!’ Who is responsible?'
‘I did it.’ The old woman said at once.
The supervisor looked fleetingly at Katka.
‘No,’ the old woman said, ‘it was only me. I did this alone, the girl knew nothing of it.’
Immediately the other supervisors took a rough hold of the old woman. She didn't put up a fight, but the supervisors acted as if she had. They made a show of physically restraining her, one supervisor pushed the old woman’s arms up behind her back, another pulled her by the collar, and together they led her out of the factory.
‘What happened?’ Katka exclaimed the moment the bell had sounded for lunch, asking anyone who would listen.
‘She was sabotaging the bullets.’ Someone said, although without much interest or concern.
‘What will happen to her? Katka asked.
No one would answer this question. And it was only when Katka was in Anna’s flat that evening she found out.
‘They will either put her in prison or shoot her.’ Anna said.
‘Because of that, because she destroyed a few bullets?’
‘It is an act of resistance, a lot of women have done it before. A bullet that has had been tampered with, either with water or loosened casing will not work properly. It will mean the soldier will not be able to fight, his gun will not work, the bullet may even get lodged in the barrel of his gun and explode. It could kill him.’
‘Good!’ Katka said, anger sounding in her voice, ‘Good, they deserve it!’
But Anna did not seem to agree, ‘No, Katka.’ She said, ‘No they do not.’
‘Yes, they do.’ Katka argued, ‘Why should we care if a German soldier is killed. It is a good thing. They are the enemy, they are occupying our cities, our towns. We should stand up to them in any way we can.’
‘No, please, Katka. It is not that simple.’ And to stop Katka from disagreeing with her any more, Anna raised her voice, making herself as loud as she could, ‘We are all human beings, Katka. We all have lives. No one deserves to die!’
‘But - But -’ Katka tried to reply but could not find the words. And it seemed Anna had nothing more to say either, so they sat in silence for a while - neither wanting to talk, neither wanting to discuss the matter any further - Then suddenly Katka remembered, ‘The old woman.’ She said, ‘This morning she was going to tell me something, something about my father.’
Anna looked at her.
‘I suppose now I will never know.’ Katka said sadly.
‘You want to know about your father?’ Anna asked.
Katka nodded, ‘Yes, what did the old woman know?’
‘I can guess what it was that she wanted to tell you,’ Anna said, a note of sadness sounding in her voice.
‘What did he do?’
Anna paused for a moment, then said, ‘He did not want to work in the factories. It was because he felt he could have a better life if he joined them, I suppose.’
‘Joined them?’ Katka asked, ‘You don’t mean -?’
‘Yes, Katka. He joined the German army. He became a soldier for the Wehrmacht.’ Then after a pause, ‘So perhaps one of those sabotaged bullets was meant for him?’
The old woman frowned, 'Such a terrible shame. Another victim of the Nazis.' And from that moment Katka knew she could trust her. She listened as the old woman explained how she had known Katka’s mother.
‘I would see her in the market sometimes, before you went away. I suppose you don’t remember that, do you?’
Katka shook her head.
‘You were a sweet little girl. I remember when you were just a baby, and even before that, I remember when your mother was just a child herself. It's such a long time I’ve lived here and the changes I’ve seen -’ the old woman sighed, she let her hands drop to her lap and all interest in the work she should have been doing was lost for a moment as she remembered. She licked her lips as she went on, ‘There has always been someone making life difficult for us here.’
‘What about my father?’ Katka asked, ‘Do you remember him?’
‘No.’ The old woman replied, ‘ I do not remember him.’ And it was as if she didn’t want to talk about that, her reply so abrupt, sudden. ‘You mother was a wonderful woman though, so kind, gentle -’
Suddenly the old woman stopped talking. One of the supervisors was standing in front of their workstation. Not the same woman Katka had met in the morning, although in appearance she was the same, tall and broad, the same buttoned uniform. She glared down at the old woman, ‘You are here to work!’ She said in a loud, commanding voice, ‘Not for idle chit-chat.’
The old woman didn’t seem in the slightest unsettled. She picked up another shell case and with no great hurry began filling it with the black powder.
‘Break-time is not until later.’ The supervisor went on, not wanting to let the matter lie and speaking in a loud important voice - as if what she was saying was for the benefit of everyone - ‘You can talk as much as you like then, but right now you should concentrate on your job.’
Katka picked up an empty bullet casing and began filling it, but because the supervisor was watching she fumbled and spilled powder onto the desk-top. The supervisor tutted and muttered something beneath her breath, then walked away. Once she was gone the old woman snickered and jabbed Katka in the arm, 'You've made a friend for life there.' She said jokingly, and this made Katka smile, although only a little. 'What's wrong?' The old woman asked, noticing the worried expression on Katka's face.
‘I’ve lied to them.’ Katka said.
At this the old woman just laughed, ‘You mean you’re not really Olga from Ostrava? I don’t think anyone really cares who you are.’ She said, then added sadly, ‘Not in these times.’
‘But I had to run from soldiers in Prague. Frau Schneider said this morning that the police were looking for me.’
‘It is best you do not think about it.’ The old woman said. ‘There are bigger crimes being committed right now.’ And then she reached over and placed a small piece of bread on Katka’s desk-top, next to the casing she had just spilled powder from. ‘You look hungry. Eat that quickly before the guard comes back.’ And on the word guard she winked at Katka, smiled a mischievous smile, ‘By guard I mean supervisor, of course. But it's the same thing as far as we’re concerned.’
The morning passed more slowly after this. The repetitive action of filling the bullet casings, sealing them shut with the tall levered machine and then tossing them into the wooden case that she shared with the old woman, was enough to take Katka’s mind off her worries.
What struck Katka most about the factory, apart from the overbearing smell and noise of machinery, was how miserable it was. It was a dull place and how much more interesting it would be if the women were just allowed to talk to each other. But even during the half hour lunch-break, when the women sat in the canteen, no one smiled. No one even paid attention to the other women in the room.
It wasn’t until they were walking out of the factory at the end of the day that Katka asked Anna why this was, ‘What’s wrong with them?’ She said, ‘Why is everyone so miserable in that place?’
For a moment Anna didn’t reply. Then she asked, ‘What joy can we take from working there? We are betraying ourselves working in that factory, we are providing weapons so this ugly war can continue. And most of the women feel bitter about who will use the bullets and bombs we make.’
‘The German soldiers?’
Anna nodded, ‘Those who are ruling over us. The women in that place feel ashamed of themselves, of what they are doing.’
‘Why do they do it then?’ Katka asked.
To this Anna just laughed, bitter and quick, ‘Why do you do it, you mean? They work there for the same reason you started there today, for security, so that they don’t stand out. No one wants to work there at all, of course they don’t, but to refuse work -’ her words trailed off.
There was no need for Anna to explain any further, it was obvious. Katka could see it in the stares of the soldiers they passed, she saw it in the armoured car parked by the station, to refuse to work would mean punishment, and in these times that could only mean one thing.
‘I think you understand.’ Anna said and as they passed the station building she nodded towards the tracks, ‘I used to watch the trains go past in the night. Some of them were filled with people. Not soldiers, just normal people like you and me. No one knows where they were being taken, but I’ve heard rumours. I’ve heard horrible things.’
Katka didn’t ask any more questions. She didn’t dare. Only she thought how hopeless it all was, this whole country, this whole continent. Every town in Europe must be like this, she thought, with tanks and soldiers on every street corner, with rules, punishments for anyone who objected.
It was pointless trying to understand how things had become so bad. But that evening Anna made things a little clearer and although she did not speak directly of the things that had happened, the tiredness in her voice, her tone, the fact that she never spoke of the future, of her hopes or plans, made everything clear. She seemed to prefer talking of the past and her eyes lit up when Katka asked her about her mother.
‘We were friends when we were girls.’ She told Katka.
Katka smiled, ‘The old woman I was with told me she remembered her.’
Anna smiled too, ‘That old woman used to run the little shop on our old road, although she wasn’t so old then. She used to sell us sweets when we had pocket money, She caught your mother stealing once.’
Katka laughed, ‘But the old woman is so nice.’
‘Yes.’ Anna said, sounding more serious, ‘There are still decent people in the world, Katka, even now, even with all that is going on.’
‘And what about the supervisors, that woman who came to your door this morning? They aren’t decent people, are they?’
To this Anna only sighed, ‘Some people are just weak.’ She said, ‘Those women get paid more. It is the same with the men, if you are prepared to enforce the German laws you get more money, better rations.’
‘But I don’t understand why someone would do that.’ Katka said, indignation rising in her voice. But then she thought about the matrons in the home in Prague, how mean some of them had been. Although wasn't that different? The matrons weren’t forcing other people to make bullets, to arm the occupying soldiers so that they could repress them more. What the supervisors were doing made no sense to Katka at all.
‘It is a little like your father.’ Anna said in a quiet voice.
Katka suddenly sat up. ‘What about my father?’ she said, ‘what do you know about him?’
‘You never met him, did you?’
‘No.’ Katka said.
‘He was a good man.’ Anna said, but there was something in the way she said this - quiet, apologetic - as if Anna was only saying these words because it was the sort of thing she was meant to say.
So Katka asked, ‘Did you know him very well?’
‘Yes, I knew him very well.’ Anna said.
'But -' Katka stopped. There was something in the way Anna was looking at Katka, the pained expression on her face, the way she fingered her mug nervously with both hands. Quickly Katka changed the subject and asked instead about her mother and it was a pleasure to listen to Anna then, because the stories she told she seemed so alive and she seemed so happy at the memories of those better times.
‘She really loved you.’ Anna said finally, sounding serious, ‘And she was so sad when you had to go away, when they forced her to take a job in the factory and it would have been impossible for you to stay here after that.’
‘Is that why she was so sad?’ Katka asked, ‘Is that why she -?’ A lump forming in her throat as she spoke the words.
Anna nodded.
Katka smiled. She looked away across the room. She didn’t want to ask any more questions. She didn’t want to hear how her mother had been in the last few years, when she had slipped into depression, when she had -
‘But what about the letters she used to send?’ Katka asked, the words slipping from her mouth before she was able to stop them.
‘Yes, she used to write to you every week. She always spoke about you.’ Anna said.
‘Was she sad when I stopped writing, when I didn’t reply?’ Katka asked.
‘I did not know about that.’ Anna said, quietly.
And Katka was convinced then. And how sad she felt as she climbed into bed at the end of the evening. It was because of me, she thought, I was all she had, I was her only hope and I turned from her when she needed me most.
The next day Katka said this to the old woman. It was in the morning as Katka was clumsily fitting powder into a bullet casing and the old woman must have seen that Katka was upset so she leant over and asked in a hushed voice, ‘What is it, Katka, why are you so sad this morning?’
And when Katka had explained what was troubling her, the old woman immediately snapped, ‘What nonsense! Your mother loved you and of course she understood when you didn’t want to speak to her. She was an intelligent woman and she would have made it up to you somehow. You would have been together again, I am sure of that.’
‘What do you mean?’ Katka said in reply, ‘She killed herself. She didn’t want to be with me again. She killed herself and it was because of me.’
The old woman waved her hand for Katka to speak more quietly - one of the supervisors was looking in their direction - ‘I said you would have been together, it is what she wanted.’ She whispered, ‘if it wasn’t for that man, what he did to her, she would still be alive, of this I am sure.’
‘What man? What do you mean?’ It was impossible for Katka to keep her voice down upon hearing this - but there was no need for Katka to ask. She already knew who the old woman was talking about. ‘You mean my father, don't you?’
‘We will speak later.’ The old woman said, then added quickly, ‘Your father is the real reason your mother is dead.’
‘What did he do?’ Katka demanded.
‘Later.’ The old woman said, an almost pleading expression on her face for Katka to be quiet. One of the supervisors had begun walking towards them. ‘I will tell you everything during our break. I will tell you all about your father and even where he is now. You can then ask him yourself once the war is finished.’
‘You know where he is?’ Katka asked.
‘Later!’ The old woman hissed.
It was with a sense of apprehension that Katka worked after this. She worked as fast as she could, every few minutes looking at the clock, but it was as if time was not passing, as if the morning was without end.
From time to time Katka looked across to the old woman, desperate to make eye contact with her, to grasp a moment in which they could speak. But the old woman paid no attention to Katka, instead working slowly, methodically. She filled each casing in the same way - a spoonful of powder, a pull of the lever on the tall machine, then a completed bullet tossed into the case.
But not every time.
Sometimes she only brought the lever down halfway. And she had a glass of water that she would dip her fingers into. Katka couldn't understand why the old woman did this. But ten minutes before the break she found out.
As sudden as an alarm, one of the supervisors shouted something. Too quick and too abrupt for Katka to understand. But within a few seconds several of the supervisors were standing in front of Katka and the old woman.
‘Sabotage!’ One of them shouted, spitting the word as she stood looking down at case between Katka and the old woman. It was the same supervisor that had been inside Anna’s flat yesterday morning - Frau Schneider - ‘So this is what you've been doing, sabotaging your work so that the bullets will not work.’
Katka was terrified, she looked from the supervisor to the old woman and then back again.
‘Which of you has done this?’ Frau Schneider demanded and she opened her hand to reveal a bullet - its casing broken open and the gunpowder inside, which should have been dry and grey, was a dark wet sludge - 'Water added to the mix!’ Who is responsible?'
‘I did it.’ The old woman said at once.
The supervisor looked fleetingly at Katka.
‘No,’ the old woman said, ‘it was only me. I did this alone, the girl knew nothing of it.’
Immediately the other supervisors took a rough hold of the old woman. She didn't put up a fight, but the supervisors acted as if she had. They made a show of physically restraining her, one supervisor pushed the old woman’s arms up behind her back, another pulled her by the collar, and together they led her out of the factory.
‘What happened?’ Katka exclaimed the moment the bell had sounded for lunch, asking anyone who would listen.
‘She was sabotaging the bullets.’ Someone said, although without much interest or concern.
‘What will happen to her? Katka asked.
No one would answer this question. And it was only when Katka was in Anna’s flat that evening she found out.
‘They will either put her in prison or shoot her.’ Anna said.
‘Because of that, because she destroyed a few bullets?’
‘It is an act of resistance, a lot of women have done it before. A bullet that has had been tampered with, either with water or loosened casing will not work properly. It will mean the soldier will not be able to fight, his gun will not work, the bullet may even get lodged in the barrel of his gun and explode. It could kill him.’
‘Good!’ Katka said, anger sounding in her voice, ‘Good, they deserve it!’
But Anna did not seem to agree, ‘No, Katka.’ She said, ‘No they do not.’
‘Yes, they do.’ Katka argued, ‘Why should we care if a German soldier is killed. It is a good thing. They are the enemy, they are occupying our cities, our towns. We should stand up to them in any way we can.’
‘No, please, Katka. It is not that simple.’ And to stop Katka from disagreeing with her any more, Anna raised her voice, making herself as loud as she could, ‘We are all human beings, Katka. We all have lives. No one deserves to die!’
‘But - But -’ Katka tried to reply but could not find the words. And it seemed Anna had nothing more to say either, so they sat in silence for a while - neither wanting to talk, neither wanting to discuss the matter any further - Then suddenly Katka remembered, ‘The old woman.’ She said, ‘This morning she was going to tell me something, something about my father.’
Anna looked at her.
‘I suppose now I will never know.’ Katka said sadly.
‘You want to know about your father?’ Anna asked.
Katka nodded, ‘Yes, what did the old woman know?’
‘I can guess what it was that she wanted to tell you,’ Anna said, a note of sadness sounding in her voice.
‘What did he do?’
Anna paused for a moment, then said, ‘He did not want to work in the factories. It was because he felt he could have a better life if he joined them, I suppose.’
‘Joined them?’ Katka asked, ‘You don’t mean -?’
‘Yes, Katka. He joined the German army. He became a soldier for the Wehrmacht.’ Then after a pause, ‘So perhaps one of those sabotaged bullets was meant for him?’