by Emma Fraser
So this day, a bright August afternoon, was to be her last. Images spooled through her mind, pictures of herself as a little girl holding her mother’s hand, of her and Grandmother in the kitchen, at the piano as Alexsy sat next to her, memories of her father taking her by the hand on his visits to hospital, the first time and the last that she’d seen Piotr and then finally the most painful of all, her curled up in the armchair in the room in Skye watching Richard as he slept. My love, my love.
Another group was led away and once again the sound of gunfire rang out. They should do something. Run, attack the guards, anything. They were going to die anyway and she refused to go to her death without a fight. And not here, in this dark place that smelled of blood and terror.
She dragged in a breath. Most of the guards were herding the next group forward at the other end of the shed and only three remained at the entrance. There would be others outside, even if she made it past the ones at the entrance, but at least she would die in the sunshine.
She edged silently towards the guards. All she had was a hat-pin – less than useless against a machine gun. Nevertheless, she removed it from her cap and curled her fist around it.
As she approached, one of the soldiers looked at her and a flash of recognition crossed his face. It was the young German soldier who’d been shot on the street and who in return had saved her life.
‘Fräulein?’ he said.
She nodded. He glanced to his left where his companion had turned away to subdue a woman who was screaming as her child was wrenched from her arms.
‘You are Volksdeutsch?’
She shook her head. She wouldn’t claim German ethnicity, not even to save her life.
The soldier stared at her then grabbed her by the arm. ‘You are Volksdeutsch,’ he insisted. ‘You should not be here. Go.’
Just then a small hand slipped into hers. She looked down to find Leah looking up at her. Dear God, they were here too. She glanced over to where Hinda was standing, her son tucked into her side. For a moment their eyes locked. Take her, Hinda mouthed. Her eyes, fixed on her daughter, filled. Please.
Hinda’s face blurred and reformed, until it seemed to Irena she was looking into the beseeching eyes of the Jewish woman with the baby.
She gave a slight nod and picked up Leah. The little girl buried her head in the crook of Irena’s neck. She began to move towards the exit.
‘No,’ the soldier whispered urgently, shaking his head. ‘Just you.’
She couldn’t leave Leah. She had missed the opportunity to save a child once and she wouldn’t do so again. It was either both of them or neither of them. She lifted her chin and, holding the gaze of the soldier, took another step. She could read his indecision, feel his fear. She lowered her eyes and took one more step. Then another. Every moment she expected to hear the command to halt ring out or to feel a bullet in her back. Every step felt like a mile, but unbelievably no shout rang out. Then, just as she reached the exit, she felt a hand on her arm. It was the soldier again. But instead of dragging them back inside he propelled her roughly to the end of the queue and shoved her. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘Don’t look back. Just walk. If they catch you again, there is nothing I will be able to do for you.’
She held Leah tighter, trying to block out the sounds of machine-gunfire and, on legs that felt as if they wouldn’t hold her upright, continued to walk. As soon as she reached a building she ducked inside, Leah heavy in her arms.
‘Where’s Mama?’ Leah asked, wriggling to be put down. Her lower lip started quivering when she didn’t see them behind her. ‘Where’s Mama?’ she demanded again. ‘Where’s Jacob?’
Irena put her fingers to her lips. ‘Ssh. We are playing a game of hide-and-seek. We will hide for as long as we can, and see if they can find us. Is that all right?’
Leah’s brow knotted for a moment then she smiled timidly and nodded her head. It was the first time she’d been separated from her mother and brother and Irena prayed that if she’d learned one thing from hiding all these years, it was to do as she was told.
They stayed in the ruins of the building until long after it got dark. Irena knew she should leave the area – find a safe house or a bunker – but she couldn’t. Not until she was sure that there was no one left alive. But as the sound of gunfire continued into the afternoon, it was followed by the smell of burning and the sweet, sickly smell of scorched human flesh. They were clearing up after themselves. She clenched her hands in to fists. She could do nothing for her countrymen and women, for Hinda and Jacob, but she would do whatever she had to, to keep this child alive.
When the soldiers finally left, and an eerie silence seeped through the street, Irena crept out of the building, tightly holding Leah’s hand. She had to find whatever was left of the resistance. That was her only hope. They weaved their way through the burning buildings, stepping around the bodies that lay on the street. Leah said nothing, just sucked on her thumb harder than ever, eventually falling asleep, cradled in Irena’s arms once more. It was dark before they managed to make it back to the building where the unit Anna and Antoni were with, had their base.
Anna hugged her for a long time, delighted to see her alive – news of the hospital massacre had already reached them – but less than happy to see Leah.
‘We can’t keep a child here,’ she whispered. ‘It’s too dangerous. You must take her somewhere else.’
Irena glanced at the still-sleeping child on her bed of coats and sacks. ‘Everywhere is dangerous! Where do you suggest I take her? All the Varsovians are either fighting or hiding in their houses and refusing to come out. I won’t abandon her.’
‘I know someone who might help,’ Antoni said, leaving his position at the window. ‘She took many children from the ghetto before it was liquidated and smuggled them overseas. She might be able to arrange something for the child – if you have a family that will sponsor her.’
Irena immediately thought of Isabel and Richard. ‘I know a family in Britain. They will take her if I ask them. Where do I find this woman?’
Anna picked up her gun. ‘Is she still in Warsaw, Antoni? I will have to make enquiries. Irena, you rest.’
One of the other freedom fighters looked up and frowned. ‘We can’t waste good soldiers on a fool’s errand. We are fighting for the greater good of Poland, not for individuals.’
‘What is Poland,’ Anna countered, ‘if not individuals? Tell me where I might find this woman, Antoni.’
‘Anna, it’s too risky right now,’ Irena protested. ‘I’ll go later.’
‘It’s risky all the time and we need you, Renia, more than ever,’ Anna said. ‘Your hospital wasn’t the only one where there were mass executions of staff and patients. With so many doctors and nurses murdered, we need all the medical help we can get.’
Irena closed her eyes as a wave of exhaustion swept over her. She didn’t know if she had the strength or courage to continue. Today’s events had drained her. But as an image of Hinda’s eyes swam in front of her, she knew saving Leah was more important than anything or anyone.
Antoni chewed his lower lip. ‘Go now, Anna,’ he said urgently. ‘But if you can’t find this woman within the next twenty-four hours we’ll have to think of another plan.’
‘Thank you,’ Irena breathed. Tomorrow she knew, when Hindi and Jacob failed to appear, Leah would begin asking questions and she had no idea what she going to say to her. In the meantime, there were men and women that needed medical attention.
After doing her best for the sick and injured, Irena lowered her weary body onto the bedding beside Leah. She removed her necklace and held it up to the flickering light of a candle, remembering her mother, the way her golden hair had fallen over Irena’s face when she’d kissed her goodnight, her scent and her softness as she’d hugged her. She didn’t need the necklace to remind her of her Mama. She had all these memories locked away inside her head. With a small pair of surgical scissors, she began unpicking the hem of Leah’s coat.
Anna was true to her word. She returned the next morning with news that she’d found someone who was with the Źegota, the code name that was used for the Polish Council to Aid Jews, and who could take Leah to safety.
‘You could go with her,’ Anna said. ‘I have a spare set of papers. But you’ll have to go now.’
Irena looked down at the little girl. She was still sleeping, her cheeks flushed with tears. The child wouldn’t be so frightened if Irena was with her.
But she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not when Poland needed every freedom fighter, every nurse and doctor, every builder, engineer and teacher, to stand together in this final onslaught. What mattered right now was Leah’s survival.
She told Anna what she’d done with the necklace and pressed the remainder of the cash the SOE had given her into her hand. ‘I think there’s enough here.’ She hesitated; the necklace was the only gift Irena had to leave Leah. ‘But if you need to sell the necklace then do.’
Saying goodbye to Leah tore Irena’s heart. Tiny as she was, it took Anna and another helper to wrench Hinda’s clinging daughter from her arms. Irena’s only consolation as she watched Anna carry her away, Leah’s wide-spread flaying hands stretched out towards her, begging her with pleading, bewildered eyes not to let them take her, was that Richard’s family would take good care of her until, God willing, Irena made it back to Britain.
Chapter 48
With no way any longer to get in touch with Britain or her contacts, Irena was drawn into Warsaw’s battle for survival. Sometimes she had to take her medical bag and run across the street, ducking behind upturned tanks and cars to prevent herself from being fired on. With no longer any illusion that the sign of a red cross would protect anyone, Irena was as much a fighter in this final battle as the insurgents. The Russian army had reached the outskirts of Warsaw, but there they’d stopped. Supposedly their allies, they made no move to help the insurgents.
Sometimes in the evening, in a lull in the fighting, a group of them would meet in one of the bombed-out houses, either in the cellar or, if it was still useable, in the attic where, at least during the day, they could see the sky and feel the warmth of the sunlight through the broken windowpanes.
They were a mixed bunch – mainly young men who’d been part of the underground since war broke out, older men who’d managed to escape the round-ups, and young women, some still in their teens, who hadn’t taken part in any fighting but were now determined to do what they could to help liberate their city in advance of the Russians.
Although they knew it was unlikely they would survive, or perhaps because they knew the chances of survival were negligible, they made the most of the evenings they had together. Often someone would play a piano – there was usually one to be found in each ruined house – and they would sing Polish songs of liberation. At night, Irena would hear the muffled sounds of Antoni and Anna making love – they were separated from the rest with only a sheet hung from the ceiling to give them any pretence of privacy – and she would think of Richard, aching for the warmth and comfort of his arms around her, knowing it was unlikely she would see him again. It wasn’t true to say that she wasn’t scared; she was, but having faced death more than once she knew she could face it again with courage and there was a strange sense of companionship and comfort in being with the others. She hoped, however, that if she were to die, it would be quick. She still had her pill and would take it if necessary. She had no wish to be taken to a German prison, as many of the resistance had, only to be tortured before being executed.
When she wasn’t tending to the wounded resistors she was treating patients in the basement of a makeshift hospital in what had been the Institute for the deaf, mute and blind near the Old Town, the only part of Warsaw held by the Poles. Sometimes she, along with a nurse or medical student, had to amputate an arm or a leg by candlelight with only vodka to dull the patient’s agony.
They were almost out of all medical supplies, when it was agreed that Irena would accompany Antoni and Anna to the ruins of a hospital to try to recover any supplies that might have been left behind. They knew it was a high-risk endeavour – the bombed hospital was close to a part of Warsaw where the German soldiers had a clear view of the street, and it was possible – even likely – that anything worthwhile had been removed by them following the evacuation of the hospital. However, it was a chance they had to take. With almost no medicines left too many were dying needlessly.
They waited until it was dark. Germans prowled the streets at all hours, but it would at least give them some cover.
When the sound of gunfire was at its quietest, Antoni, Anna and Irena left the safety of their makeshift bunker and stepped onto the streets of their decimated city. The moon was hidden by clouds that would periodically drift away and light would illuminate the sky. When it did, they pressed themselves against a wall or hid behind a pile of rubble until the moon was once more obscured.
Irena’s mouth was dry – and not simply because they were limited to a quarter litre of water every day. When Antoni called her forward, it took every ounce of willpower to make her legs move. In the distance they heard a cry followed by the rat-tat-tat of machine-gunfire. She wiped her perspiring hands on her dress and, crouching low, followed her two companions along the street, passing a pile of smouldering bodies on the way. They didn’t look too closely, preferring not to see if a former patriot’s face might still be recognisable amongst the ashes.
As they crept along, the sound of German voices and boots became louder.
‘Are you still okay to do this?’ Antoni whispered. ‘You could stay behind. Leave it to Anna and me to get whatever we can.’
Irena shook her head. ‘We won’t have much time and two won’t be able to carry much. More importantly, I’ll be able to select what will be most useful.’
Antoni squeezed her shoulder. ‘There might not be anything to salvage, then you will have risked your life for nothing.’
‘We are all risking our lives all the time and mine is no more valuable than yours.’ It was true. With so little medicine and no facilities, even if they found supplies, without the resistors holding onto Warsaw they’d all be doomed.
But her words didn’t make her feel less scared. Although she’d long since given up believing in a God who could allow this to happen, she murmured a prayer. Not so much that she would live, but that if she died it would be with dignity and without betraying her friends.
It took them over an hour to traverse the streets, a journey that before the war would have taken them less than half the time. But to their dismay, the hospital, possibly only hours before, had been torched by the flame-throwers – or the mooing cows as they were known locally – and was burning, the wooden rafters falling into where once had been operating theatres and wards.
Anna swore. ‘Shit. If we’d come yesterday, there would have been a chance.’
‘There might still be something to salvage in the basement,’ Irena whispered. ‘If we can get in. That’s where the pharmacy was. Perhaps the fire hasn’t reached it yet?’
Antoni seemed indecisive for a moment, then he nodded. ‘You two wait here while I have a look. If there’s a way in, I’ll come back for you.’
Before either woman could respond, he started running towards the building in a low crouch. As the moon came from behind a cloud once more, Irena saw that Anna was pale and shaking. She reached for her hand and squeezed it.
They waited for what seemed like an eternity but could have only been a few minutes. It was then they heard the sound of motorcycles. Anna looked at Irena in horror. ‘I must warn Antoni.’
‘There’s no time,’ Irena whispered. ‘He might hear them and hide.’ Just as the German motorcycles turned into the street, Anna shook herself free from Irena’s grip and ran towards the hospital building. In the light of the flames she didn’t stand a chance. The soldiers called out but when Anna didn’t stop, they shot at her. She clutched her leg and hobbled on. They shot her again. This time
she fell to her knees. At that moment, Antoni emerged from the building. He could have saved himself but when he saw his lover on the ground he ran towards her. Before he’d taken more than a couple of steps, he too was gunned down.
There was nothing Irena could do for them, but neither could she leave her hiding place. To do so would be to walk out into the bright lights of their motorcycles. She held her breath, trying not to move a muscle.
The soldiers drove up to the bodies to make sure their victims were dead. Just then something bit Irena’s foot and before she could help herself she yelped. As a rat the size of a cat scurried away into the darkness, she prayed the Germans would think it had been the rodent who had made the noise. But it wasn’t to be. The soldier in the sidecar brought his rifle to his shoulder and swivelled towards where Irena was hiding.
‘You,’ he shouted, ‘come out.’
The driver swung his bike around until the full beam of his light fell upon her.
