by Ruta Sepetys
He wasn’t.
He was in his late twenties, blond, with fair, almost waxen, skin. He looked like one of Hitler’s prized Aryans from the propaganda posters. He leaned back, teetering on his chair in a long oilskin coat, basking within his power and authority. Two other soldiers stood nearby, hanging on his every word, laughing when they were supposed to. I approached the table and set down the suitcase. My pack hung on my back behind me. In it were pistols, ammunition, forgery materials, my notebook, and the Führer’s most beloved treasure, the amber swan.
The blond officer leaned forward. His chair fell to the dock with a thud.
“Papers.”
I handed him my identity card and the boarding pass.
“What’s in your suitcase?” he asked.
“It’s not mine. I’m delivering it to my nurse on board. It belongs to her.”
“Your nurse? My, my, you have your own private nurse?” He looked to the soldier on his right. “This one has his own nurse.”
“I bet he does.” The soldier laughed.
“Looks like you need a nurse.” He pointed a pencil at my bloodstained shirt. “Show me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s see this bad wound that requires a personal nurse. I think I may want one myself. I need to see what’s required.”
I quickly lifted my shirt and revealed the massive gash.
The officer twisted his face. “Nasty. The skin’s nearly grown over the stitch. Might be too late to take them out. What’s the name of the nurse you say is on board?”
I hesitated. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to implicate her. “Joana Vilkas,” I said quietly.
The other soldiers whistled. “Litwinka.”
“What?” I didn’t understand.
The inspection officer laughed. “It’s the nickname for your pretty Lithuanian nurse. There aren’t many female personnel on board, so we’ve named them all.”
He leaned back on his chair again. “I think there’s something missing here.”
Sweat beaded beneath my hairline.
“You have civilian papers and you’re trying to get on a ship. Yet you’re an able-bodied young man who could be serving the Reich.”
I leaned forward and stared him down. “I am serving.” I pulled the additional paperwork from my coat pocket and threw it on the table.
He laughed and began narrating for his buddies. “Let’s see, fellas. Here we have . . . an official medical testimony signed by Litwinka. Such a pretty signature she has. Shrapnel. Oh, and deaf in one ear, too. That’s convenient. Let’s see what other love notes he’s got.” He opened the thick cream paper, saw the seal at the top, and stopped talking. He scanned through the letter and looked up at me, angry.
“When you are asked for papers, you are to provide all of your papers.”
I allowed all of the ferocity of the past years to rise up inside me. Like a boiler about to blow, I leaned over the table.
“I will be happy to tell Gauleiter Koch that you unnecessarily held his injured courier in the freezing cold, delaying his mission and wasting the services of a nurse he himself arranged. Koch’s mood of late hasn’t been very forgiving.”
He stared back at me, wanting desperately to jump the table for a fight. Part of me hoped it would come to fists. I wanted to batter this blond idiot senseless.
He pushed the stack of papers back at me and gave a nod toward the gangway.
Adrenaline charged through me. I wanted to knock his teeth out more than I wanted to board the ship. I stuffed my papers away and buttoned my coat.
“Say hi to Litwinka for us.” He whistled to the guard at the gangway and pointed to me. “That one’s going to the infirmary.”
I felt his eyes on me, following my steps up the gangway and into the ship.
alfred
Fulfilling a woman’s request swayed emotions, giving a man the upper hand. Hannelore’s heart always seemed to soften when I brought her sweets or swept the sidewalk. Yes, if I wanted to bait the pretty nurse, I must fulfill her request. I would find the young recruit.
I walked through the halls, looking for the tall rogue. If he were on board, he would be easy to find. There weren’t many men his age in civilian clothes.
“Frick,” someone called to me from a group. “We need you to issue life vests.”
I put my hand up in protest. “My apologies, gentlemen. I’m on an important assignment.”
“Bettnässer,” the sailor replied. They all laughed.
Bed wetter.
I scraped at my hands. They would be sorry they had laughed. Very sorry.
The ship’s speaker system buzzed with announcements, calls for lost and found children, and misplaced belongings. No smoking belowdecks. Life jackets must be worn at all times.
After several rounds of the ship, I felt energized both in body and in mind. Perhaps there was something to this physical fitness curriculum the military recommended. As I rounded the corner on the upper promenade deck, I saw the old man and the little boy. The boy was hard at work, shining shoes for coins.
“Greetings. I’m looking for the young fellow from the movie house. Have you seen him?”
The old man’s eyes narrowed to unbecoming slits. He looked down at my boots. “I saw you do it, you know.”
“Do what?” I responded. Had he seen me snatch the crystal butterfly?
“You took your boot to that poor dog.”
“Oh that.” I sighed. “Our Führer would remind you that it makes no sense to support the weak or crippled. In nature, the weaker species simply die.” I leaned in toward him, examining his face. “I believe some might classify you as weak? Now, have you seen the fellow from the movie house?”
“What do you need with him? He had to wait for additional inspection.”
“Inspection, right. Very careful we must be. Can’t allow any riffraff or deserters,” I said. I left their footwear enterprise and went down a few decks to the gangway entry.
“I’ve been sent to find a young civilian man who just boarded. Tall, brown hair.”
“We just sent someone to the infirmary who matches that description. Maybe that was your man?”
I ran to the closest stairwell. I spotted the recruit and called out. He stopped and I made my way up. He looked genuinely happy to see me.
“Well, you’re exactly who I was looking for.” He clapped me on the shoulder and we continued up the stairs.
joana
I held the small bundle next to Emilia, hoping she would make eye contact with the child. The new physician, Dr. Wendt, appeared.
“Joana, a sailor is around the corner asking for you. He seems . . . eager.”
I walked out. Alfred again. He grinned and waved me forward. “Follow me.”
Didn’t he have work to do? “Alfred, I can’t. I’m very busy.”
“Come along. Come along.”
I felt sorry for Alfred. I had known boys like him in school—desperate to be a man, yet trapped in his own mind. Girls joked that boys like Alfred made a cow’s milk dry up.
Alfred stopped at the infirmary and made a grand gesture with his arm. “Ask and you shall receive.”
My stomach gave a little hop. Sitting on a cot in the corner was Florian. Near his feet sat my suitcase. I tried to mask my excitement at seeing him. “My suitcase. Thank you, Florian.”
Alfred looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “And?”
“And thank you, Alfred,” I said.
Alfred paused, eyebrows arched, staring at me.
Florian nodded to him in quiet dismissal. “Thanks again.”
“Right, yes,” said Alfred. “Must get back to work. I’m very busy.” He walked off.
I made my way over to the corner, through the rows of wounded soldiers. “You made it,” I said. I could feel myself s
miling.
“Almost didn’t. There’s a Nazi on the dock who doesn’t like me much.”
“And you brought my suitcase. So you found Eva? What about Poet and the boy?”
“They’re on board. Eva’s on the Hansa. She said to tell you good-bye.” He shifted to look at my face, then reached out and touched my arm. “You okay?”
I nodded.
“Can you take these stitches out?”
I walked over to a table to retrieve the necessary instruments. I was sad to hear about Eva. We weren’t given a chance to say good-bye properly.
I returned and Florian began unbuttoning his shirt. The dried blood on his skin now resembled powdered dirt. “Do you have any other clothes?” I asked.
“Are you saying my wardrobe is lacking?”
I smiled. “Very funny. Lie down.” I sighed.
“That was a big sigh. What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Emilia had the baby.”
“The baby didn’t make it?” He seemed genuinely upset.
“The baby’s fine.” I shook my head. “But Emilia isn’t.”
“What happened?” he asked.
I began removing the stitches. What could I tell him? How much would he even understand? He stared at me. Was he waiting for the story or just looking at me? I took a breath.
“There is no boyfriend,” I whispered. “The family she was staying with gave her to the Russians to save their daughter. The boyfriend was a story she made up to continue on. She won’t really look at the baby yet.”
His face changed. Sincerity and sadness erased the bravado. “That kid. She’s a warrior.”
“Yes, but fighting who?”
He looked at me, surprised. “Everyone. Everything. Fighting fate.”
“Now I understand. She clings to you because you saved her from the Russian in the forest. You’re proof that there are still good men in the world.”
“Stop. Don’t say those things.” He stared at the wall.
I pulled the last of the stitches from his muscular torso.
“How long until we sail?” he asked.
“They say we’ll leave soon.”
“I need to find somewhere out of sight,” he whispered. “Do you know of a place?”
He had boarded, but now he wanted to hide?
I shook my head. “I don’t know the ship well yet. I’m constantly getting lost.” I watched him button his shirt. “Florian, will you do something for me? Will you come say hello to Emilia? Please? It would really lift her spirits.”
emilia
Was I dreaming? Was the knight really walking toward me? I sat up quickly. His eyes immediately shifted to the baby.
“Yes, that’s the beautiful girl,” Joana told him.
The knight stopped and raised his arms. “No pink hat? Where’s your pink hat?” he asked.
I pointed to a heap of coats. The knight dug through and retrieved the knit cap. He then gently lifted the baby and tucked the hat over her like a blanket. She sat like a little crescent moon in the curve of his arm. He walked over to me.
He looked from the baby to me and then back to the baby.
“Hmm. Your eyes. Your nose. Pretty,” he said. He put his lips against the top of the baby’s head and closed his eyes. He looked beautiful. Joana stared at the knight. She thought he was beautiful too.
He opened his eyes and whispered to me. “Kind of incredible. She is you, she is your mother, your father, your country.” He kissed her head and leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“She is Poland.”
My arms lifted and reached for the child.
florian
We left the Polish girl holding her baby. Joana followed me out of the maternity area, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. She grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a door.
“What just happened in there?” she whispered. “Who are you?”
I shrugged. “I like kids.” I lifted my pack onto my back. “But now I need that sailor to help me find a place to hide.”
“Why is he helping you?”
I tried to suppress a smile. “I told him he would get a medal.”
“No, you didn’t,” said Joana.
“I did.”
“You’re awful.” She laughed.
“I’m awful? Then why are you laughing?” I asked.
She laughed even harder. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t laugh.”
“So stop laughing.”
She laughed more, leaning against my shoulder. Her face smelled of soap.
“You look nice clean,” I said.
Her laughter eased and she smiled. “Thank you. And thank you for bringing my suitcase.” She stood on her toes, took my face in her hands, and kissed me.
My arms were around her. I kissed her back. And kissed her again.
“And thank you,” she whispered, looking into my eyes. “For Emilia.”
She slid from my arms and walked off.
joana
The hallway narrowed and tightened with oncoming passengers. I turned the corner to the glass enclosure of the promenade deck. Frozen constellations of ice laced the edges of the window. I put my fingers on the chilled glass, staring out but not looking. I was supposed to be the smart girl. What was I doing? He was younger. I knew nothing about him. He was clearly involved in something deceitful. But if he could be so gentle with the baby, so kind to Emilia, could he really be a bad person?
I kissed him because of Emilia.
My conscience tapped at me from behind the glass.
Or maybe I kissed him because I wanted to.
And oh, my, it was nothing like chewing crackers.
I turned around and leaned against the window. January permeated the glass and my blouse. For the first time in a long time, my body felt warmer than the outside air.
Some passengers were visibly relieved and excited to be on board. Others appeared nervous, flittering around like caged birds. I was part of the relieved group. How lucky I was to be on such a large ship. I loved the hulking Gustloff with its thick steel walls and multiple levels. Dr. Richter had told me that the cruiser was only eight years old, but hadn’t sailed in four years. The lack of use had left everything in fine order. Once we left Gotenhafen, the voyage to Kiel would take only forty-eight hours. I would then board a train and finally reunite with Mother.
So much had changed since I left Lithuania. Mother said my father and brother were probably fighting in the woods. Could they really survive living in underground bunkers?
The Gustloff was my bunker. I felt a deep breath take hold. All the struggle and worry. Could it nearly be over?
alfred
Hello, my butterfly,
I know the separation is difficult and it must be lonely to fly by yourself. But soon our great country shall prevail and the dutiful will stand on pedestals of honor. The day is coming.
I am relieved to report that the boarding procedure is well under way and that I am warm. Some of the other sailors had to haul life rafts in the freezing cold. I can’t imagine where they found such a quantity of rafts.
We are told that we will board even more passengers but I don’t know where we shall fit them. The upper cabins are occupied by the privileged and the refugees have gladly taken to the mattress pads. The ship is not even moving, yet some passengers are wearing life vests. They look quite silly.
The Wilhelm Gustloff is now a living, breathing city. Enterprise is afoot. People barter their belongings and a shoemaker and his apprentice repair shoes on the upper promenade deck. They have amassed quite a sack of coins for their efforts.
I’m sure you are wondering about the activities I wrote of earlier. My friendship with the young recruit has developed quite nicely. We share important conversations on all matter of topics. Alas, I’m no longer the dreamy boy you’d
wave to at the edge of the school yard. I am a man in uniform now.
Each day I find myself in deeper allegiance to our country and our Führer, Hannelore. As such, I have helped the recruit find secret accommodation on board to assist in fulfilling his mission. He was so much obliged that he once again mentioned that upon arrival in Kiel he will promptly recommend me for a medal of valor. Just another one to add to the pile, but appreciated nonetheless. After all, everything I achieve, everything I have done, it is all for you. For you and for Germany. Surely you know that, don’t you, Lore?
emilia
The tiny baby nuzzled against me. The knight said she was part of Mother, part of Father, part of me. If she was part of us, I wanted her to know our city of Lwów. She should know Poland. Looking at the child, I suddenly became hungry for my country, for its fat bees carrying nectar from apple flowers and for the birds singing in clusters of hazel.
How would she know the truths from the untruths? Would she believe that Poles, Jews, Ukrainians, Armenians, and Hungarians had all coexisted peacefully in Lwów before the war? That I often made tea and doughnuts with Rachel and Helen in our kitchen?
Food. I wanted her to know our food. How my hands missed the feel of dough dusted with flour. My ears missed the snap of apple pancakes in the pan and my eyes missed the rainbow of fruits and vegetables sealed in jars on the shelves. War had bled color from everything, leaving nothing but a storm of gray.
I wanted her to know not only Poland, but my Poland.
I pulled her close and whispered in Polish: “There were no ghettos, no armbands. I often fell asleep to a breeze floating through my open window. It’s true. It was like that once.”
florian
The interior of the chimney measured about five meters wide. There was a ladder and a ledge of ample width to lie down on. It was cold and I couldn’t sleep. The chimney was secluded, but it could also be my downfall. If someone looked in and saw me, they would immediately know I was hiding. Should I have stayed in the infirmary? I might have been better camouflaged there, warmer. Closer to Joana. But if the Nazi from the harbor came on board, he’d look for me in the infirmary.
