Chapter Thirteen - A New Friend
‘He’s still there.’ Katka said.
But Paul wasn’t listening. He was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were closed and he was leaning his head against the hay-stack, but it was clear he was still awake.
‘Paul, do you hear me?’ Katka snapped.
Paul opened one eye. He looked at Katka but did not speak.
‘That man. He’s still out there. I saw him in the field.’
But Paul only closed his eye again and shifted himself slightly as if trying to get comfortable, trying to show Katka that he did not care.
Of course he did care though. It was impossible not to be worried right now. Outside on the road army cars passed through the village for most of the morning. Grey trucks filled with soldiers, machine guns, equipment.
‘It’s because the war is getting close.’ Paul said sleepily, talking like it was the most normal thing in the world, ‘Everyone will be fighting soon.’
Around lunchtime a truck with a red cross painted on the side passed. Then only a few minutes later another and Katka thought that somewhere nearby everyone must already be fighting. And when she said this to Paul he only sighed, then said, ‘Look, Katka. Come away from the door and stop watching everything that passes. You need to get some rest. That man will leave us alone soon. He’ll get bored, find someone else to scare off. And besides,’ he paused, ‘You want to get away from here, we’ll be able to move from here as soon as it get’s dark, but only if you get some rest.’
He was right of course. Katka did want to get away from here, and she began to feel incredibly tired.
Kata wondered when it was she had last slept. She tried to calculate the number of days.
She tried but gave up. It was too hard, too much of mental exertion, it was too late in the day.
It was past midday, well into the afternoon. The sun was getting low and it was warmer that it had been in the morning and with all the hay stacked against the sides of the wooden barn they were well insulated. It was deliciously warm in the barn.
‘Katka,’ Paul said, speaking in a gentle voice, almost like a parent speaking to a child, ‘he’s just a farmer. He’s probably just waiting for us to leave. And we will, just as soon as it gets dark and it’s quiet outside.’
Katka thought about this. She looked down at the clothes she was wearing, she looked at Paul. Their clothes were dirty from the skirmish in the train yard. Their faces too, Katka’s hair was lank and greasy. She hadn’t washed in days.
‘Get some rest.’ said Paul.
‘Yes.’ Katka said, ‘But -’
‘But nothing.’ Paul replied and he closed his eyes and brought his hands up to his face, he turned onto his side and it was clear he would talk no more. It was time for sleep, it was time to stop worrying.
So Katka obeyed. But only because it made sense, not because it was Paul telling her what she should do. It was because it was true. There was no point in worrying, it was just fear, just a paranoia that itched at the back of her head like the dirty clothes that itched at her skin. It was time to sleep, time to curl up and close her eyes.
So Katka found a piece of floor, next to the hay bales where some of the yellow straws had spilled onto the floor and she lay down and closed her eyes.
Eventually she slept.
And the afternoon sun, weak and winterish though it was, warmed the air in the barn, even as the sun set and the night took hold. Katka began to sleep and she left behind the desire to leave, to run through the night across frozen country fields.
Instead she began to dream.
She dreamt of Mother, the flat with a garden where they had used to live, father - she remembered he was tall, the boots he wore, the coat that hung by the door and smelt sometimes of tobacco. She remembered the smell of his cologne. Katka dreamt of these and these were happy thoughts.
Suddenly she was awake.
Someone was outside and they were banging on side of the barn.
Katka and Paul both sat up.
The barn doors were flung open. And in the same instance that Katka scrambled to her feet and ducked for cover, she realised she must have spoken. Paul!’ she shouted.
Too late.
A blast of cold air barged its way into the room, along with three men. They knocked Paul to the floor.
‘Run!’ he called to Katka.
The men had rifles. They weren’t soldiers though, they wore boots and had beards and caps that hid their faces. One was the man who had waited all day outside, Katka could tell by the gait of his walk as he went quickly over to Paul, who was struggling to his feet, and punched him in the face.
Paul slumped down to the floor.
Katka tried to run, but one of the other men had blocked her way. He lifted her by her clothes and pulled back his fist.
‘No!’ Katka screamed, the shock of his fist as it came towards her. The dizzying feeling of falling, returning to the dream, remembering again, if only for a second - the coat by the door, the smell of cologne, a grey uniform, his face, for a second Katka saw his face and he was smiling.
*
When she woke she saw his face.
A different face, much older. He had his cap pulled down over war-sunken eyes, a beard on ravaged cheeks and thin lips.
He slapped her face.
‘Ow!’ Katka muttered.
She felt that her hands were tied. She was sitting on the floor. Paul was next to her, also tied and he was talking.
‘Please.’ He was saying, desperation sounding in his voice, ‘Who are you? Please let us go. We won’t speak, we promise.’
Katka couldn’t see who he was talking to. The man who had slapped her stood up and stepped back behind a bright light that was shining directly at them.
‘She’s awake.’ a voice said, male and gruff, speaking German.
‘Ask her then.’ another voice said, out of sight beyond the glare of the lamp that was so bright Katka was forced to squint, to lower her head.
The voice stepped closer. But he kept behind the lamp. It was so bright she couldn’t see anything but its white glare. She couldn’t see the men who were standing around them, but she sensed there were three. They exchanged a few quick words and then the first voice spoke again.
‘Where are you from?’
‘Tell them, Katka.’ Paul said at once, making one of the men step forward. He slapped Paul, ‘Quiet.’ he said.
‘We’re from Prague.’ Katka said.
‘And what were you doing in the train yard last night?’
‘We were looking for shelter, we’re travelling.’ Katka said, ‘We needed food.’
‘Liar!’ the man shouted. From somewhere in the darkness she heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. ‘Do as your friend told you and tell the truth. Lie again and he will be shot.’
‘No!’ Katka exclaimed and she tried to pull her arms free but this only made the knot tighten and it dug into the flesh of her wrists, ‘Leave him alone.’
‘Tell us what you were doing in the railway yard.’ another voice shouted. And even though Katka could not see who had spoken, she knew it was the first man, the man who had waited outside all day and who had fired at them. He was the leader of the three and he stepped forward into the light and crouched next to Paul. Katka recognised him at once. He held a pistol, he put it against Paul’s head. With his other hand he covered Paul’s mouth to stop him from speaking. Paul let out a muffled cry.
‘Please don’t hurt him.’ Katka begged.
‘Tell us the truth!’ the man demanded.
‘Alright.’ Katka said, ‘We were breaking the locks of the train carriages. We wanted to do something to stop the Nazis, we -’ she trailed off.
The man stared at her, the look on his face incredulous, wide eyed and unbelieving. ‘You broke some locks?’ he asked, ‘And you did it to stop the German army?’
One of the men behind the lamp let out a laugh.
‘So why were the soldiers shooting at you?’
‘I, I mean we -’
‘How did you get away?’ the men fired questions at Katka. It seemed they weren’t interested in letting Katka reply and whilst the man who crouched next to them sounded angry, indignant in his tone with everything he asked, the men behind the lamps almost laughed as they spoke, it sounded like it was a game to them.
‘It was because we found guns, we had to run. They would have killed us if we hadn’t fought back.’
‘What did you find in the railway yard?’ the man next to Paul demanded.
‘Guns.’ Katka said, ‘And some grenades.’
‘So tell us,’ the man behind the light shouted then, ‘Who are you working for?’
‘No one, I promise.’ Katka pleaded.
‘Give us answers or I’m going to shoot him.’ the man next to Paul said and he pushed the gun hard into Paul’s temple. His finger tensed on the trigger.
‘Please no!’ Katka screamed. She thrashed at the rope that held her hands.
‘Who then!’
‘Who?’ she stammered, ‘We’re not working for anyone?’
The man relaxed his arm and lowered the gun. One of the other men laughed and then with a bitter sneer the man said, ‘So just out in the night breaking into train carriages and you happened to stumble across a shipment of arms?’
‘It’s the truth, I swear.’
The men spoke to each other then, out of sight behind the light, a brief exchange of words. Then silence, a moment for them to collect their thoughts, for a third voice then, a man on the far side of the room who had not yet spoken, to came forward, he stepped in front of the interrogation lamp but did not come close enough that his face could be seen in the dull light. He was just a silhouette against the lamp light.
‘Do you realise what you’ve done?’ he asked.
Katka said nothing.
‘We have been watching that yard for weeks. We have been waiting, planning the exact time and then you barge in their and ruin it for us.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Katka pleaded.
The man stepped forward, close enough that katka could see the features of his face. He had a beard, like the man next to Paul, a cap too, except his features were finer, his face longer and slimmer, he had dark eyes and he was a few years younger than the man who had held the gun to Paul’s head. He crouched close to Katka and spoke in a soft voice, calm, ‘That train that you discovered was filled with arms that were being taken to the front. We had a plan to go in there tonight and to set charges beneath it. We would have destroyed in, destroyed the whole train yard with it. It would have been a severe blow to the Nazi cause. It could have ended the war far sooner.’
Katka didn’t know what to say, ‘I’m sorry, we -’
‘Sorry?’ the man shouted, suddenly angry, ‘You’re sorry that your little act of resistance interfered with our plan?’ he knocked over the lamp.
All three men were revealed then. The man behind the lamp was stocky in build, the youngest of the three. He had a crooked nose and no beard like the other two. He held a rifle and he raised it at Katka.
‘Please, we didn’t mean -’ Katka tried again.
‘The train yard is crawling with soldiers now. All around here there are German soldiers because of what you did.’ he paused for a moment, walked away from katka. Then he turned and said, ‘How old are you anyway?’ by the tone of his voice he sounded exasperated, tired suddenly.
‘Fifteen.’ Katka said.
‘Old enough to know better then.’ he said, ‘take them outside. We’ll shoot them and then leave.’
‘No please.’ Katka begged. ‘We just wanted to help, we want to do anything we can to end the war!’
At this the man stopped. Then slowly he turned and he said, ‘What will you do to help?’
‘Anything.’ Katka said, unable to keep the desperation from her voice, ‘We’ll risk our lives, we’ll fight. Just please don’t kill us.’
The youngest of the men had freed Katka’s hand, but he held her arms behind her back as he lifted her.
‘Will you give your life?’ the man asked
‘We will. Katka said.
The man walked over. ‘You have a choice.’ he said, speaking to paul and katka at the same time, ‘Either you are shot now or we give you a job to do. It will make amends for the mess you caused last night, but it is a job that will almost certainly get you killed.’
‘We’ll do it.’ Katka said at once.
But Paul wasn’t listening. He was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were closed and he was leaning his head against the hay-stack, but it was clear he was still awake.
‘Paul, do you hear me?’ Katka snapped.
Paul opened one eye. He looked at Katka but did not speak.
‘That man. He’s still out there. I saw him in the field.’
But Paul only closed his eye again and shifted himself slightly as if trying to get comfortable, trying to show Katka that he did not care.
Of course he did care though. It was impossible not to be worried right now. Outside on the road army cars passed through the village for most of the morning. Grey trucks filled with soldiers, machine guns, equipment.
‘It’s because the war is getting close.’ Paul said sleepily, talking like it was the most normal thing in the world, ‘Everyone will be fighting soon.’
Around lunchtime a truck with a red cross painted on the side passed. Then only a few minutes later another and Katka thought that somewhere nearby everyone must already be fighting. And when she said this to Paul he only sighed, then said, ‘Look, Katka. Come away from the door and stop watching everything that passes. You need to get some rest. That man will leave us alone soon. He’ll get bored, find someone else to scare off. And besides,’ he paused, ‘You want to get away from here, we’ll be able to move from here as soon as it get’s dark, but only if you get some rest.’
He was right of course. Katka did want to get away from here, and she began to feel incredibly tired.
Kata wondered when it was she had last slept. She tried to calculate the number of days.
She tried but gave up. It was too hard, too much of mental exertion, it was too late in the day.
It was past midday, well into the afternoon. The sun was getting low and it was warmer that it had been in the morning and with all the hay stacked against the sides of the wooden barn they were well insulated. It was deliciously warm in the barn.
‘Katka,’ Paul said, speaking in a gentle voice, almost like a parent speaking to a child, ‘he’s just a farmer. He’s probably just waiting for us to leave. And we will, just as soon as it gets dark and it’s quiet outside.’
Katka thought about this. She looked down at the clothes she was wearing, she looked at Paul. Their clothes were dirty from the skirmish in the train yard. Their faces too, Katka’s hair was lank and greasy. She hadn’t washed in days.
‘Get some rest.’ said Paul.
‘Yes.’ Katka said, ‘But -’
‘But nothing.’ Paul replied and he closed his eyes and brought his hands up to his face, he turned onto his side and it was clear he would talk no more. It was time for sleep, it was time to stop worrying.
So Katka obeyed. But only because it made sense, not because it was Paul telling her what she should do. It was because it was true. There was no point in worrying, it was just fear, just a paranoia that itched at the back of her head like the dirty clothes that itched at her skin. It was time to sleep, time to curl up and close her eyes.
So Katka found a piece of floor, next to the hay bales where some of the yellow straws had spilled onto the floor and she lay down and closed her eyes.
Eventually she slept.
And the afternoon sun, weak and winterish though it was, warmed the air in the barn, even as the sun set and the night took hold. Katka began to sleep and she left behind the desire to leave, to run through the night across frozen country fields.
Instead she began to dream.
She dreamt of Mother, the flat with a garden where they had used to live, father - she remembered he was tall, the boots he wore, the coat that hung by the door and smelt sometimes of tobacco. She remembered the smell of his cologne. Katka dreamt of these and these were happy thoughts.
Suddenly she was awake.
Someone was outside and they were banging on side of the barn.
Katka and Paul both sat up.
The barn doors were flung open. And in the same instance that Katka scrambled to her feet and ducked for cover, she realised she must have spoken. Paul!’ she shouted.
Too late.
A blast of cold air barged its way into the room, along with three men. They knocked Paul to the floor.
‘Run!’ he called to Katka.
The men had rifles. They weren’t soldiers though, they wore boots and had beards and caps that hid their faces. One was the man who had waited all day outside, Katka could tell by the gait of his walk as he went quickly over to Paul, who was struggling to his feet, and punched him in the face.
Paul slumped down to the floor.
Katka tried to run, but one of the other men had blocked her way. He lifted her by her clothes and pulled back his fist.
‘No!’ Katka screamed, the shock of his fist as it came towards her. The dizzying feeling of falling, returning to the dream, remembering again, if only for a second - the coat by the door, the smell of cologne, a grey uniform, his face, for a second Katka saw his face and he was smiling.
*
When she woke she saw his face.
A different face, much older. He had his cap pulled down over war-sunken eyes, a beard on ravaged cheeks and thin lips.
He slapped her face.
‘Ow!’ Katka muttered.
She felt that her hands were tied. She was sitting on the floor. Paul was next to her, also tied and he was talking.
‘Please.’ He was saying, desperation sounding in his voice, ‘Who are you? Please let us go. We won’t speak, we promise.’
Katka couldn’t see who he was talking to. The man who had slapped her stood up and stepped back behind a bright light that was shining directly at them.
‘She’s awake.’ a voice said, male and gruff, speaking German.
‘Ask her then.’ another voice said, out of sight beyond the glare of the lamp that was so bright Katka was forced to squint, to lower her head.
The voice stepped closer. But he kept behind the lamp. It was so bright she couldn’t see anything but its white glare. She couldn’t see the men who were standing around them, but she sensed there were three. They exchanged a few quick words and then the first voice spoke again.
‘Where are you from?’
‘Tell them, Katka.’ Paul said at once, making one of the men step forward. He slapped Paul, ‘Quiet.’ he said.
‘We’re from Prague.’ Katka said.
‘And what were you doing in the train yard last night?’
‘We were looking for shelter, we’re travelling.’ Katka said, ‘We needed food.’
‘Liar!’ the man shouted. From somewhere in the darkness she heard the sound of a pistol being cocked. ‘Do as your friend told you and tell the truth. Lie again and he will be shot.’
‘No!’ Katka exclaimed and she tried to pull her arms free but this only made the knot tighten and it dug into the flesh of her wrists, ‘Leave him alone.’
‘Tell us what you were doing in the railway yard.’ another voice shouted. And even though Katka could not see who had spoken, she knew it was the first man, the man who had waited outside all day and who had fired at them. He was the leader of the three and he stepped forward into the light and crouched next to Paul. Katka recognised him at once. He held a pistol, he put it against Paul’s head. With his other hand he covered Paul’s mouth to stop him from speaking. Paul let out a muffled cry.
‘Please don’t hurt him.’ Katka begged.
‘Tell us the truth!’ the man demanded.
‘Alright.’ Katka said, ‘We were breaking the locks of the train carriages. We wanted to do something to stop the Nazis, we -’ she trailed off.
The man stared at her, the look on his face incredulous, wide eyed and unbelieving. ‘You broke some locks?’ he asked, ‘And you did it to stop the German army?’
One of the men behind the lamp let out a laugh.
‘So why were the soldiers shooting at you?’
‘I, I mean we -’
‘How did you get away?’ the men fired questions at Katka. It seemed they weren’t interested in letting Katka reply and whilst the man who crouched next to them sounded angry, indignant in his tone with everything he asked, the men behind the lamps almost laughed as they spoke, it sounded like it was a game to them.
‘It was because we found guns, we had to run. They would have killed us if we hadn’t fought back.’
‘What did you find in the railway yard?’ the man next to Paul demanded.
‘Guns.’ Katka said, ‘And some grenades.’
‘So tell us,’ the man behind the light shouted then, ‘Who are you working for?’
‘No one, I promise.’ Katka pleaded.
‘Give us answers or I’m going to shoot him.’ the man next to Paul said and he pushed the gun hard into Paul’s temple. His finger tensed on the trigger.
‘Please no!’ Katka screamed. She thrashed at the rope that held her hands.
‘Who then!’
‘Who?’ she stammered, ‘We’re not working for anyone?’
The man relaxed his arm and lowered the gun. One of the other men laughed and then with a bitter sneer the man said, ‘So just out in the night breaking into train carriages and you happened to stumble across a shipment of arms?’
‘It’s the truth, I swear.’
The men spoke to each other then, out of sight behind the light, a brief exchange of words. Then silence, a moment for them to collect their thoughts, for a third voice then, a man on the far side of the room who had not yet spoken, to came forward, he stepped in front of the interrogation lamp but did not come close enough that his face could be seen in the dull light. He was just a silhouette against the lamp light.
‘Do you realise what you’ve done?’ he asked.
Katka said nothing.
‘We have been watching that yard for weeks. We have been waiting, planning the exact time and then you barge in their and ruin it for us.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Katka pleaded.
The man stepped forward, close enough that katka could see the features of his face. He had a beard, like the man next to Paul, a cap too, except his features were finer, his face longer and slimmer, he had dark eyes and he was a few years younger than the man who had held the gun to Paul’s head. He crouched close to Katka and spoke in a soft voice, calm, ‘That train that you discovered was filled with arms that were being taken to the front. We had a plan to go in there tonight and to set charges beneath it. We would have destroyed in, destroyed the whole train yard with it. It would have been a severe blow to the Nazi cause. It could have ended the war far sooner.’
Katka didn’t know what to say, ‘I’m sorry, we -’
‘Sorry?’ the man shouted, suddenly angry, ‘You’re sorry that your little act of resistance interfered with our plan?’ he knocked over the lamp.
All three men were revealed then. The man behind the lamp was stocky in build, the youngest of the three. He had a crooked nose and no beard like the other two. He held a rifle and he raised it at Katka.
‘Please, we didn’t mean -’ Katka tried again.
‘The train yard is crawling with soldiers now. All around here there are German soldiers because of what you did.’ he paused for a moment, walked away from katka. Then he turned and said, ‘How old are you anyway?’ by the tone of his voice he sounded exasperated, tired suddenly.
‘Fifteen.’ Katka said.
‘Old enough to know better then.’ he said, ‘take them outside. We’ll shoot them and then leave.’
‘No please.’ Katka begged. ‘We just wanted to help, we want to do anything we can to end the war!’
At this the man stopped. Then slowly he turned and he said, ‘What will you do to help?’
‘Anything.’ Katka said, unable to keep the desperation from her voice, ‘We’ll risk our lives, we’ll fight. Just please don’t kill us.’
The youngest of the men had freed Katka’s hand, but he held her arms behind her back as he lifted her.
‘Will you give your life?’ the man asked
‘We will. Katka said.
The man walked over. ‘You have a choice.’ he said, speaking to paul and katka at the same time, ‘Either you are shot now or we give you a job to do. It will make amends for the mess you caused last night, but it is a job that will almost certainly get you killed.’
‘We’ll do it.’ Katka said at once.