Chapter Ten - Family
It happened the moment Katka met with Paul.
She had come down from Anna’s apartment with a heavy tread on the concrete steps, letting the door slam shut behind her. Paul was waiting by the bench and he must have been able to tell from the look on Katka’s face the dark mood she was in.
‘It’s not use, Paul. I don’t know where he is. I couldn’t -’
‘- find the old woman’, Katka was about to say. But a sudden noise from the other side of the square interrupted her. Shouting, the scuffle of feet and then a woman’s voice, ‘Don’t shoot me. Please!’
Katka immediately recognised the voice, it was the old woman from the factory. She was on her knees and begging with clasped hands as two soldiers stood over her. Without hesitating Katka made a move towards them.
‘Wait!’ Paul exclaimed, ‘Don’t get involved, we shouldn’t even be in the street at this time.’ And he took hold of Katka’s arm.
‘Let go!.’ Katka pulled her arm free, ‘They shouldn’t be treating her like that - and besides, she knows where my father is. I have to speak to her.’ And she rushed to where the soldiers were standing. One had his rifle pointed at the old woman, the other had a brandy bottle in his hand and was swigging from it.
‘What are you doing?’ She’s just an old woman.’ Katka shouted and she pushed the soldier with the gun in the chest, forcing him to step backwards.
At this the soldier immediately turned his gun to Katka. His face was filled with anger - it was clear he had been drinking, the smell of alcohol was overpowering. He shouted something at Katka in German, bits of spit landing on the front of his open jacket front.
‘No!’ Paul shouted, running to catch up. He pushed the muzzle of the soldier’s gun to the side, then he began speaking in German - rushed and angry words - and as they argued Katka turned her attention to the old woman. ‘Are you alright?’ She asked, crouching so that she could speak to her privately.
The old woman muttered something with lips that were wet with blood. Her skin was pale. Katka wanted to say something to comfort her, but her need to ask about her father, to tell the old woman that she was leaving, that she was going to find him, was greater. ‘I am going to Germany.’ she said.
The old woman did not seem to understand.
‘Germany. To find my father. We want to leave tonight.’
‘Yes, go.’ the old woman said, managing at last to pick the word she needed form the confusion in her mind.
‘But where?’ Katka asked, ‘Where can I find him?.’
The old woman tried to mouth an answer, lips working on thoughts that weren’t there, and just as Katka thought the old woman might say something, Paul suddenly interrupted. ‘Come on, Katka, we have to go.’ He said, breathless from his frantic exchange with the soldiers.
‘No, wait-’ Katka said.
Paul began to get angry, ‘Just ask her what you need to know. Ask her quickly. These soldiers have a job to do.’
‘Job? What do you mean?’ Katka replied. But she knew already. It was clear from the look on the old woman’s face, from the glassy-eyed fear on the faces of the soldiers. Something was wrong, something bad was about to happen and it made Katka feel sick.
Paul tried to force Katka from the old woman, ‘Quickly, we need to leave!’ he hissed.
But Katka shrugged him off. She asked the old woman again, and when she only shook her head the soldier with the gun stepped forward and roughly pushed Katka aside. ‘Stop asking so politely!’ He said and grabbed the old woman by the hair so that her head was pulled back. ‘Answer her question, old woman! Where did her father go?’
This made the soldier holding the bottle laugh loudly. And when the old woman still did not answer the first soldier struck the side of the old woman’s face with the back of his hand.
‘Marsfeld.’ She said at once - although barely audible because her mouth was bleeding.
‘Louder!’ The soldier shouted, ‘Say it again.’
The old woman repeated, ‘Near Munich. It is where the Czechs were sent - the volunteers - I am sorry, but I do not know any more.’ And she put her hands in front of her head to protect herself, as if expecting another blow from the soldier any moment.
At this the soldier released his grip, allowing the old woman to fall heavily onto the ground. ‘You see.' He said, turning to Katka and Paul with a broad smile spreading across his face, 'That is how you talk to the elderly, otherwise they cannot hear.’ It was a joke but nobody laughed. And before taking hold of the old woman again, he said, ‘Now go! Get out of here before I have you arrested.’
‘They were drunk.’ Katka said to Paul when they were out of earshot.
‘Yes, they were drinking.’ Paul said, ‘But so would you be if you were on your way to execute someone.’
‘Execute someone? What pigs!’ Katka exclaimed.
But this only seemed to annoy Paul. He turned abruptly to Katka, ‘What do you expect? She was sabotaging bullets in that factory. She was in the resistance, she was the enemy of those soldiers, of course they will shoot her.’
Katka could not believe Paul could say such a thing. She wanted to demand he explain himself - how could he claim that it was ever right to shoot someone? But instead she said, ‘But she is just an old lady.’
‘And those soldiers are young.’ Paul nodded in their direction, ‘That old woman tried to kill them.’
‘No she did not!’
‘She tried to kill a German soldier. That was her intention when she tampered with the bullet. What did you think, to get a bullet stuck in a chamber, to force a soldier to fight with his hands when his enemy has a gun? Of course she was trying to kill him, that is exactly what she wanted. And now in return she will lose her life.’
'And that makes it alright, does it?’ Katka demanded.
‘It is exactly what she deserves.’ Paul replied, then pointing again towards the soldiers, who were some distance away now, unsteady on their legs as they weaved along the road. ‘How old do you think they are? Look at them, they can’t be a day older than eighteen and you want them dead?’
‘No.’ Katka said, ‘I don’t want them dead, I -’ but she didn’t know what to say. Paul was making the same argument Anna had made the night before and it was true, Katka realised - although she didn’t want to admit it and she did not want to agree with Paul - it was true that the soldiers were young, barely older than she was herself. They could only have been boys when the war started and now they were part of it. ‘I don’t want them dead, Paul. it’s just -’
‘Just what, katka?’
‘They are the enemy -’
‘No they are not!’ Paul snapped and he looked directly at Katka, ‘There is no enemy. There is no such thing. For God's sake, Katka, grow up. We are all the same and those soldiers are no different from you and me.’
Paul’s anger made Katka feel small-minded, mean. It was horrible the way she thought - but it was true, all through the war she had thought of the German soldiers as the enemy, as inhuman, she had wished them dead and now she realised how wrong this had been.
Perhaps sensing that what Katka was thinking, Paul went on, ‘It is those in power that are the true enemy, those who had forced this war to happen in the first place.’
They walked on in silence for a moment, out of the square and into a side street. Paul seemed to know where they were going, he led the way and as Katka followed at his side it occurred to her - it seemed suddenly so obvious. ‘Paul,’ she said, taking hold of his arm and forcing him to stop, ‘Where did you learn to speak German?’
Paul didn’t answer. But he made no effort to free himself from Katka’s grip. She took hold of him with both her hands and turned him so he was facing her. ‘Paul,’ she said, ‘Where are you from?’
In reply Paul only sighed, ‘It makes no difference, but if you must know I am from Berlin.’
‘So this is why.’ Katka said, and by this she meant the reason he understood, the reason he had empathy, the reason he didn’t see German soldiers as the enemy - because that would mean he was the enemy too.
‘I came to Prague like you did, when I was very young. My mother brought me here when the Nazis came to power. I was only a little boy, about six years old.’ Paul smiled, ‘My mother did not agree with the new regime and she thought we would be safe in Prague because it was different here, it was free.’ He gave a sour laugh, ‘I guess she was wrong about that and when the Nazis invaded, when they followed us here, our life became unbearable. Do you realise how much people hate us in this country?’
‘It’s only the soldiers people hate.’
‘No.’ Paul responded at once, ‘We were told to leave our apartment. Our landlord said we weren’t welcome anymore. My mother lost her job, we were spat at in the street when people heard us speaking German. Life became intolerable.’
‘Why didn’t you go back to Germany?’ Katka asked, but at once realised what a stupid, insensitive question it was. So she waited a moment, then asked, ‘Where is your mother now?’
‘Like you, I too have lost my mother.’ Paul replied.
Katka wanted to ask how, but she thought not to. Instead they stood for a moment without talking. Each looking at the ground and both lost in their thoughts. Katka wondered why he hadn’t told her this before. But then she realised it was because she had never asked.
‘Paul, you do know that I would never hate you for being German, don’t you?’
Paul nodded.
Katka noticed that his eyes had begun to water, that he had lowered his head to hide his face. He was breathing hard through his nose and Katka realised how selfish she had been. In the few weeks she had known Paul she had never asked him about his life, all she had ever talked about was herself.
‘A fine pair we make, don’t we?’ Paul said, looking up at Katka.
‘I just didn’t know.’ Katka said.
‘But between us we still have one parent.’ He smiled, ‘We should leave tonight. We will take a car and drive until morning to Munich.
‘Alright.’ Katka said, and she smiled a weak smile.
She had come down from Anna’s apartment with a heavy tread on the concrete steps, letting the door slam shut behind her. Paul was waiting by the bench and he must have been able to tell from the look on Katka’s face the dark mood she was in.
‘It’s not use, Paul. I don’t know where he is. I couldn’t -’
‘- find the old woman’, Katka was about to say. But a sudden noise from the other side of the square interrupted her. Shouting, the scuffle of feet and then a woman’s voice, ‘Don’t shoot me. Please!’
Katka immediately recognised the voice, it was the old woman from the factory. She was on her knees and begging with clasped hands as two soldiers stood over her. Without hesitating Katka made a move towards them.
‘Wait!’ Paul exclaimed, ‘Don’t get involved, we shouldn’t even be in the street at this time.’ And he took hold of Katka’s arm.
‘Let go!.’ Katka pulled her arm free, ‘They shouldn’t be treating her like that - and besides, she knows where my father is. I have to speak to her.’ And she rushed to where the soldiers were standing. One had his rifle pointed at the old woman, the other had a brandy bottle in his hand and was swigging from it.
‘What are you doing?’ She’s just an old woman.’ Katka shouted and she pushed the soldier with the gun in the chest, forcing him to step backwards.
At this the soldier immediately turned his gun to Katka. His face was filled with anger - it was clear he had been drinking, the smell of alcohol was overpowering. He shouted something at Katka in German, bits of spit landing on the front of his open jacket front.
‘No!’ Paul shouted, running to catch up. He pushed the muzzle of the soldier’s gun to the side, then he began speaking in German - rushed and angry words - and as they argued Katka turned her attention to the old woman. ‘Are you alright?’ She asked, crouching so that she could speak to her privately.
The old woman muttered something with lips that were wet with blood. Her skin was pale. Katka wanted to say something to comfort her, but her need to ask about her father, to tell the old woman that she was leaving, that she was going to find him, was greater. ‘I am going to Germany.’ she said.
The old woman did not seem to understand.
‘Germany. To find my father. We want to leave tonight.’
‘Yes, go.’ the old woman said, managing at last to pick the word she needed form the confusion in her mind.
‘But where?’ Katka asked, ‘Where can I find him?.’
The old woman tried to mouth an answer, lips working on thoughts that weren’t there, and just as Katka thought the old woman might say something, Paul suddenly interrupted. ‘Come on, Katka, we have to go.’ He said, breathless from his frantic exchange with the soldiers.
‘No, wait-’ Katka said.
Paul began to get angry, ‘Just ask her what you need to know. Ask her quickly. These soldiers have a job to do.’
‘Job? What do you mean?’ Katka replied. But she knew already. It was clear from the look on the old woman’s face, from the glassy-eyed fear on the faces of the soldiers. Something was wrong, something bad was about to happen and it made Katka feel sick.
Paul tried to force Katka from the old woman, ‘Quickly, we need to leave!’ he hissed.
But Katka shrugged him off. She asked the old woman again, and when she only shook her head the soldier with the gun stepped forward and roughly pushed Katka aside. ‘Stop asking so politely!’ He said and grabbed the old woman by the hair so that her head was pulled back. ‘Answer her question, old woman! Where did her father go?’
This made the soldier holding the bottle laugh loudly. And when the old woman still did not answer the first soldier struck the side of the old woman’s face with the back of his hand.
‘Marsfeld.’ She said at once - although barely audible because her mouth was bleeding.
‘Louder!’ The soldier shouted, ‘Say it again.’
The old woman repeated, ‘Near Munich. It is where the Czechs were sent - the volunteers - I am sorry, but I do not know any more.’ And she put her hands in front of her head to protect herself, as if expecting another blow from the soldier any moment.
At this the soldier released his grip, allowing the old woman to fall heavily onto the ground. ‘You see.' He said, turning to Katka and Paul with a broad smile spreading across his face, 'That is how you talk to the elderly, otherwise they cannot hear.’ It was a joke but nobody laughed. And before taking hold of the old woman again, he said, ‘Now go! Get out of here before I have you arrested.’
‘They were drunk.’ Katka said to Paul when they were out of earshot.
‘Yes, they were drinking.’ Paul said, ‘But so would you be if you were on your way to execute someone.’
‘Execute someone? What pigs!’ Katka exclaimed.
But this only seemed to annoy Paul. He turned abruptly to Katka, ‘What do you expect? She was sabotaging bullets in that factory. She was in the resistance, she was the enemy of those soldiers, of course they will shoot her.’
Katka could not believe Paul could say such a thing. She wanted to demand he explain himself - how could he claim that it was ever right to shoot someone? But instead she said, ‘But she is just an old lady.’
‘And those soldiers are young.’ Paul nodded in their direction, ‘That old woman tried to kill them.’
‘No she did not!’
‘She tried to kill a German soldier. That was her intention when she tampered with the bullet. What did you think, to get a bullet stuck in a chamber, to force a soldier to fight with his hands when his enemy has a gun? Of course she was trying to kill him, that is exactly what she wanted. And now in return she will lose her life.’
'And that makes it alright, does it?’ Katka demanded.
‘It is exactly what she deserves.’ Paul replied, then pointing again towards the soldiers, who were some distance away now, unsteady on their legs as they weaved along the road. ‘How old do you think they are? Look at them, they can’t be a day older than eighteen and you want them dead?’
‘No.’ Katka said, ‘I don’t want them dead, I -’ but she didn’t know what to say. Paul was making the same argument Anna had made the night before and it was true, Katka realised - although she didn’t want to admit it and she did not want to agree with Paul - it was true that the soldiers were young, barely older than she was herself. They could only have been boys when the war started and now they were part of it. ‘I don’t want them dead, Paul. it’s just -’
‘Just what, katka?’
‘They are the enemy -’
‘No they are not!’ Paul snapped and he looked directly at Katka, ‘There is no enemy. There is no such thing. For God's sake, Katka, grow up. We are all the same and those soldiers are no different from you and me.’
Paul’s anger made Katka feel small-minded, mean. It was horrible the way she thought - but it was true, all through the war she had thought of the German soldiers as the enemy, as inhuman, she had wished them dead and now she realised how wrong this had been.
Perhaps sensing that what Katka was thinking, Paul went on, ‘It is those in power that are the true enemy, those who had forced this war to happen in the first place.’
They walked on in silence for a moment, out of the square and into a side street. Paul seemed to know where they were going, he led the way and as Katka followed at his side it occurred to her - it seemed suddenly so obvious. ‘Paul,’ she said, taking hold of his arm and forcing him to stop, ‘Where did you learn to speak German?’
Paul didn’t answer. But he made no effort to free himself from Katka’s grip. She took hold of him with both her hands and turned him so he was facing her. ‘Paul,’ she said, ‘Where are you from?’
In reply Paul only sighed, ‘It makes no difference, but if you must know I am from Berlin.’
‘So this is why.’ Katka said, and by this she meant the reason he understood, the reason he had empathy, the reason he didn’t see German soldiers as the enemy - because that would mean he was the enemy too.
‘I came to Prague like you did, when I was very young. My mother brought me here when the Nazis came to power. I was only a little boy, about six years old.’ Paul smiled, ‘My mother did not agree with the new regime and she thought we would be safe in Prague because it was different here, it was free.’ He gave a sour laugh, ‘I guess she was wrong about that and when the Nazis invaded, when they followed us here, our life became unbearable. Do you realise how much people hate us in this country?’
‘It’s only the soldiers people hate.’
‘No.’ Paul responded at once, ‘We were told to leave our apartment. Our landlord said we weren’t welcome anymore. My mother lost her job, we were spat at in the street when people heard us speaking German. Life became intolerable.’
‘Why didn’t you go back to Germany?’ Katka asked, but at once realised what a stupid, insensitive question it was. So she waited a moment, then asked, ‘Where is your mother now?’
‘Like you, I too have lost my mother.’ Paul replied.
Katka wanted to ask how, but she thought not to. Instead they stood for a moment without talking. Each looking at the ground and both lost in their thoughts. Katka wondered why he hadn’t told her this before. But then she realised it was because she had never asked.
‘Paul, you do know that I would never hate you for being German, don’t you?’
Paul nodded.
Katka noticed that his eyes had begun to water, that he had lowered his head to hide his face. He was breathing hard through his nose and Katka realised how selfish she had been. In the few weeks she had known Paul she had never asked him about his life, all she had ever talked about was herself.
‘A fine pair we make, don’t we?’ Paul said, looking up at Katka.
‘I just didn’t know.’ Katka said.
‘But between us we still have one parent.’ He smiled, ‘We should leave tonight. We will take a car and drive until morning to Munich.
‘Alright.’ Katka said, and she smiled a weak smile.