The Heart Of A Gypsy by Roberta Kagan
A sick feeling of dread came over her as she watched the Polish Underground approach. From her wagon she heard the greetings and watched as her husband got behind the wheel of the Nazi vehicle wearing an SS uniform. She felt the bile rise in her throat, and she swallowed hard to avoid vomiting.
Then Ion jumped into the bed of the truck carrying a rifle, also dressed in the dreadful uniform. The men from the Underground got in the back, wearing gray striped pajama-type clothing. Once everyone was inside the truck bed, Ion reached up and closed the hatch. Then, knocking on the window of the cab, he signaled to Christian that they were ready to go. Before driving off, Christian glanced back at his vurdun, and there he saw Nadya waving through the window. His heart broke at the sadness in her eyes.
As they passed through the first checkpoint, Christian was nervous. But the boys at the booth looked preoccupied and waved him through without even looking twice. Both Christian and Ion breathed a sigh of relief as they drove on toward the Ukraine. Christian thought of Ion and the men in the bed of the truck. He knew that they were cold and scared. They had to be frozen, they were outside in the elements; he was chilled to the bone, and he had the shelter of the enclosed truck cab to keep him warm. There wasn’t a thing he could do to make this less difficult for them, and he was sorry. But nothing plagued his mind so much as thoughts of his wife. Constantly he prayed for her safety and for his own. Each of the check points went smoothly. So by the time they arrived at the border crossing into the Ukraine, Christian was feeling more confident.
“Heil Hitler!” A young male guard, pockmarked from acne scars, stood inside of the booth and saluted him. He was slender, and he could be no more than eighteen. How sad, Christian thought, that one so young was already taken in by the Nazi Party. It seemed to him that most of these border guards were just kids. The Hitler Youth had been influencing them since they were very young; how could anyone expect them to see the evils of the Third Reich? They’d grown up to believe in Hitler and the Fatherland above all else, above human life.
“Heil Hitler!” Christian saluted.
“Why do you need to pass into the Ukraine?” the guard asked Christian.
“I have a work crew here. They are to be transported to Sabibor on Himmler’s orders.
Examining the back, the young saw a large group of men in prisoners’ uniforms and an SS officer with a rifle seated on guard across from them. Nothing appeared suspicious to him, and so he granted them access to the Ukraine. Now it was just a matter of delivering the men to the proper safe house, and he and Ion could return to camp. The mission was almost complete. Gripping the wheel with white knuckles as he rode through the dark night, Christian was aware that he was traveling parallel to the Mantra Mountains, even though he could not see them. If they were successful, the group would hide in the pine trees that grew as they traveled up through the mountains, making their way to the safe house that the leader of the Polish Underground had secured.
“Halt! Who goes there?” A black Mercedes Benz pulled up beside them, and a man called to Christian out of the back window.
It was dark, and Christian could not see the man’s face.
“Heil Hitler! I am Officer Claus, and we are headed to Janowska. I am delivering this work crew on orders of the Reichsfuehrer Himmler,” Christian answered.
“Oh are you really? I am the Reichsfuehrer Himmler and I don’t recall giving any such orders,” the man answered. “I’d suggest you pull that vehicle to a stop this instant.”
They had been caught. Christian pushed his foot down on the gas pedal and sped away, followed by Himmler’s car just inches behind. The men of the underground realized the danger, and seized by the fear of being arrested and tortured, they began to jump from the vehicle. Those who could rolled off the road into the fields. Christian picked up speed, but the darkness and the mountains prohibited him from making any turns. He heard a thunderous explosion as the back tire of the truck blew out from a gunshot. There was no other choice; Christian took a sharp turn toward the tree-covered mountains, then he threw the vehicle into park. As soon as the truck stopped moving, Christian jumped out, with Ion following close behind him. The tires of the Nazi automobile screeched in the night as it came to an abrupt halt behind their truck. The men in their black SS uniforms emerged from all four doors and began to chase their prey. Slippery from the ice storm of the previous night, the ground was a sheet of glass. A fierce Arctic wind coming out of the north slapped its icy fingers at their faces as their feet slipped across the frozen ground. As he ran, Ion slid on a patch of ice and fell on his knee. During the fall he twisted his ankle and cried out in pain. Although Christian was several yards in front of him, he turned and came back to help his friend. With all of his strength, Christian pulled Ion to his feet. Then holding on to his arm, they both continued to race towards the safety of the trees that covered the mountains. In the distance gun shots rang out, and Christian wondered if the men from the Polish Underground had been captured or killed, but there was no time to think about the others. They must run…and fast. Close behind Christian and Ion, the SS guards were gaining ground. Christian knew that they must increase speed if they were to make it to the forest’s edge before the Nazis caught up with them, but he could not move any faster while carrying Ion. And he would not leave him behind. The sound of the footsteps behind them grew louder. Ion nearly fell again, but Christian held him fast. Then, all at once, it happened… The SS were upon them. They were pushed to the ground as rifles were pointed in their faces. While holding them at gunpoint Himmler’s men seized their weapons.
“Get up!” one of the Nazis said as two more of them pushed gun barrels into Christian’s and Ion’s backs. “Now walk!” the Nazi said, forcing Christian and Ion out into the open and toward the car.
“I’m sorry,” Ion mouthed the words without sound to Christian who walked beside him.
Flashbacks to his time in prison flooded Christian’s mind, reminding him of how grave their predicament really was. He knew firsthand what to expect if they were taken to a Nazi jail. The memory made him shudder. And from what he had heard, the jail was nothing compared to the camps. As enemies of the Reich, there was a good chance they would be taken to a concentration camp. Better off dead, he thought, than to be tortured until the Nazis decided to have mercy on them and end their pain with death. But what about Nadya? What would become of her? He could not die…he had promised Nadya.
When Himmler’s automobile pulled away after the confrontation with Ion and Christian, Himmler was shaken.
“Do you plan to call out a search party?” his driver asked.
“No, I would rather the Fuerher never get word of what happened here. Those men will die from exposure to the elements anyway. And our inability to snuff out a few Jews makes us look inept in our Fureher’s eyes. Let’s keep this event top secret,” Himmler said.
Chapter 43
Nadya couldn’t sleep. She lay shivering in her bed. She felt that something had gone wrong. Hanzi lay breathing softly in his bed, his arms wrapped around the puppy, who lay snoring beside him. Nadya got up and walked out of the wagon to see if perhaps one of the other women was still awake. It would help to distract her if she could find someone to talk to. As she wandered through the camp she pulled her coat tightly around her. Everything reminded her of Christian. The way the snow laid upon the leaves made her think of their walks together. The night sky filled with stars brought back memories of his arms around her after they made love, when she lay gazing at the heavens from the window of their vurdun. Perhaps she was worrying without reason. Even though she suffered so much pain at the loss of so many that she cared for, Nadya could not help feeling as if her life was too wonderful to be real. She’d found true love, and that made up for every pain she’d ever felt. “Christian,” she whispered softly into the moonlight. “Be safe… Come home to me… You promised.”
Chapter 44
As Christian and Ion walked together at gunpoint, Christian glanced
The guards were talking to each other as they led the prisoners back.
Halfway between Himmler’s automobile and the forest, Christian whirled around. He made a choice, and somehow he knew it would be the right one. In a split second, he grabbed the weapon of the guard who was next to him talking to his counterpart. Before anyone realized what had taken place, Christian began shooting. Immediately following his lead, Ion punched the stomach of the guard who stood on his left. As the man doubled, over Ion took his gun. With careful aim, Christian and Ion shot into the group. Himmler ran back to his vehicle, just missing a bullet. Taking aim again, Christian realized that it was too late. Himmler had gotten away. But so had he and Ion. They ran for the cover of the forest; then the two brothers took deep breaths.
“That was too close for me,” Ion said.
“Yes, we were lucky,” Christian answered. “Let’s go home, bar. We have a long walk.” Then they began to head back to Poland on foot. They walked side by side, hidden by the deep, thick foliage. Ion leaned on Christian for support. It would take several days of walking in the frigid weather, but at least they had survived. Christian knew that the SS would send out a search party for them, and so they must avoid the roads. Walking all through the night, by morning they were collapsing with exhaustion. Snow dropped from the canopy of the trees and blew about in heavy drifts as their toes grew numb from the cold. Blinded by the diamond-like brilliance reflected by the sun off of the icicles, their eyes began to tear and sting. As they walked through the forest, Christian continued to help Ion, whose ankle was swollen from his fall. They watched their breath turn white in the frigid air, but they did not speak; instead they conserved every ounce of energy to make it back home. After walking for the entire day and night, they stopped to rest in a barn behind an old white farmhouse. Peeling paint told them that the house was in disrepair, as was the barn. They lay down to take a break from the perils of their journey in an unoccupied horse stall, huddled close together for warmth. With his knife, Christian tore a strip of cloth from his shirt. He tied it tightly around Ion’s ankle. “There, that should give it some support,” Christian said.
Ion nodded, grateful. “Thank you brother.”
Drifting in and out of sleep…careful and watching least they should be discovered, the night passed. When Christian and Ion awoke, they noticed that by the door of the barn sat a large brown wooden storage bin. Inside, Ion found raw potatoes that had been harvested the previous year. The brown spuds were wrinkled, soft and old. White eyes grew long from their wilting bodies, but the two men stuffed their pockets with them. Then they ate what they could. Once they had eaten their fill, they left the barn and quickly headed back to the cover of the woods.
When they sucked on snow to quench their thirst they found that it had an opposite effect. It only made them thirstier, but there was no other water available. Because of Ion’s injury, it was as if Christian were carrying twice the weight. Ion leaned upon him for support. By nightfall the ordeal had them both worn out, and there was no shelter to be found.
“I think that we’d better keep going. If we fall asleep outside in this cold there’s a good chance that we won’t wake up,” Christian said.
“You’re right.”
Holding on to each other, the two men continued on their journey. Unable to resist the incredible thirst, they ate the snow, knowing that it would only serve to make them long for water all the more. As the sun made her way into the winter sky, an old Ukrainian peasant came through their path on his way to market. Ion and Christian watched him from the forest’s edge as he rode by slowly on a horse-driven cart. Because they were so spent, they decided that it was worth the risk to ask for a ride.
“Hello there, sir. Which are you headed?” Ion asked as he stepped out of the safety of the trees.
The man pointed his finger in the direction he planned to go, then he turned to Ion “Would you two fellows like a ride?” the farmer asked.
“Yes, thank you…we would,” Ion said.
“Hop on the back, then, and I’ll take you as far into town as I’m going.”
“Thank you,” Christian said as he helped Ion up onto the wagon.
They shivered from the cold, but at least they had a few hours’ rest in the back of the horse cart. But when the peasant slowed down to turn onto the main street, into town Christian asked that they be allowed to depart. Christian explained that they were headed home to a farm just a little way from where they were. He thanked the farmer for all of his trouble, and then said that they would walk the remainder of the way.
After several miles on foot, they saw an arm band with the yellow Star of David abandoned along the side of the road close to the forest. Neither of the men wanted to say what they thought aloud, but each in their own way wondered if the former owner of the arm band had found freedom or been slaughtered. Ion and Christian moved along towards their destination, side by side and totally dependent upon each other. The profound friendship that the two men had developed grew even stronger as they faced this death-defying journey together. While they continued to walk, Christian stole a glance at Ion, his dear brother. How Christian longed to unburden himself and tell Ion the terrible secret that burned like bitter bile in his heart, but the words would not come to him. If they both died before they ever reached camp, Christian decided, his undisclosed disgrace would die with him. He could not bring himself to reveal his secret.
The following night, unable to continue without rest, they lay down close to each other to keep warm. The danger of surrendering to the seductive power of sleep was ever present in their minds. They knew that if they slept they could easily freeze to death. Still, as hard as they tried, the force of their fatigue took over and they drifted off to sleep. Dreams of Nadya filled Christian’s mind; so clearly could he see her face that he felt as if she were with him. After an hour of much-needed rest, it felt as if she shook him, awakening him with a new resolve to survive. A light flurry had fallen while they slept and it covered them like a white shroud. Christian blinked hard as he found his eyelashes had frozen together. Then he turned to Ion, whose face was ashen, and shook him. For a long time Ion did not move and Christian feared that he had frozen to death. He put his hand against Ion’s neck and felt for his pulse. Although faintly, Ion’s heart still beat. Christian rubbed his hands together to warm them and then put them against Ion’s cheeks. He breathed hot breath in Ion’s face until finally, a dazed Ion awakened.
“You gave me quite a scare!” Christian said and he smiled at Ion. Then Christian rubbed Ion’s arms briskly, trying to get his blood flowing. “Today, I will hunt and make sure that we get some food,” Christian patted Ion’s shoulder. The dream of Nadya gave him strength he’d thought he’d lost. “Come, brother, we must keep going. Every step we take is another step closer to home,” Christian said as he helped Ion to his feet, and together they began again.
As the sun rose, a jackrabbit ran across an open field. Ion, spotting it, lifted his gun. He was weak and still injured, and he missed the shot. Ion glanced at Christian then bowed his head in shame. “I am sorry. I wasted a bullet,” Ion said.
“Don’t worry, well get the next one,” Christian told him, although he was not sure if there would be another chance. The afternoon was the warmest part of the day, and that made it the easiest time to navigate. As Ion and Christian walked on higher ground, they passed a deep gully where they saw a man lying dead. From where they stood, they could see that he’d been killed by a gunshot through the heart. His shirt had been ripped open, and with careful precision, a swastika had been carved into his chest. His hair and face were brushed with snow, and his gray striped uniform was covered in blood. As they went down to where he lay and looked more closely, they saw that the uniform had an imprint of an arm band that had been torn away. So this w
Almost eight days without real food or water had passed when the men finally saw the outskirts of their camp, and the glass surface of the Bug River. Laughing with joy, they embraced each other with red, frostbitten fingers as they walked as quickly as their freezing feet would allow them to, toward home. The hard snow crunched beneath their boots as they limped, sliding and falling in the drifts.
Chapter 45
As of late, the puppy Lil had begun venturing farther into the forest when she left the wagon in the mornings. Often Hanzi would carry on with concern for his dog until Nadya put a plate of scraps together and took them outside. As soon as Lil heard Nadya’s soft call, she knew that the food would be outside the door of the vurdun, and to Hanzi’s delight she would come bounding through the snow.
It was on such a morning that Nadya walked outside the vurdun door with a blanket wrapped around her against the bitter morning chill. As she turned to call for the puppy, she saw two disheveled figures hunched over and holding tight to each other as they ambled towards the campsite. The dish fell to the ground, breaking into shards of glass as her hand flew to her mouth in shock. All of her hopes were realized as she ran toward her husband and her brother with her arms wide open. Tears froze upon her face as she reached them, crying and laughing all at once. Christian nearly fell into her arms, holding her close, breathing in the sweetness of the woman whose memory had kept him alive through this ordeal.