From the Ashes

by Sandra Saidak

  “You’re right, Winifred. But after all the bloodshed and loss and sacrifice—‘better’ just isn’t good enough! I’m not signing on with anyone who I can’t trust with my heart and soul—not to mention my back turned.”

  “I can’t argue with you there. But that means trouble for the rest of us.”

  Adolf cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “Well, everyone wants what you just described. But for most of us, that means you! I wish you’d stop looking for a leader you can follow, and settle for being the one the rest of us want to follow!”

  “Who guards the guardians, eh Winifred?” Adolf shot her a sidelong glance, hoping he could joke his way out of this one.

  They were interrupted by a shout from one of the sentries.

  Everyone scrambled to alert, then stood down as a single injured man was brought inside the compound.

  “Get him to the infirmary,” Adolf commanded.

  “Don’t bother,” said Anton, a onetime medical student who now functioned as the colony’s doctor. “Just try to make him comfortable here. He hasn’t got much time, and he appears to be a messenger. Let’s hear what he’s trying to say.”

  The man, bleeding from a half dozen bullet wounds, was shouting incoherently. Winifred brought water and tried to feed it to him in small sips, while Adolf sponged the man’s forehead. “Get a patrol out at once,” he whispered to Anton, while smiling reassuringly at the dying man.

  “Ten millimeter ammo,” said Anton. “Only used by the Mauser 82S – sniper rifle. It’s possible he lost them, rather than leading them here.” As everyone would naturally worry about. Anton went to arrange for the patrol, while Adolf and Winifred ministered to the man.

  “Adolf!” he shouted suddenly, his fevered eyes clearing slightly. “You’re him! You’re the rabbi, aren’t you?”

  “Who wants to know?” Adolf asked automatically.

  Bloody hands clutched his shirt. “Come to the Pripet marshes. She sent me. You have to…” the messenger’s words were lost in a fit of coughing.

  “Who sent you?”

  “Come. They need…we need…” Adolf pressed his ear closer to the man’s mouth, but bubbles of blood were all that came out. His body jerked once and went rigid.

  They couldn’t cover the body with a sheet; supplies were far too scarce. Adolf led the burial party, after the body was searched for further clues to his identity or mission, and then went to join the waiting council to decide what to do.

  “It smells like a trap,” Baldric was saying.

  Winifred snorted. “Baldric, to you, everything smells like a trap.”

  “That’s because nearly everything is,” the big man retorted.

  Anton shook his head. “You’re suggesting the Party arranged to shoot a volunteer in such a manner that he would have exactly enough time to reach our base on foot, tell enough of a message to tantalize Adolf, then die before an awkward silence sets in?”

  “You don’t think they’re willing to do exactly that?” asked Baldric.

  “I’m sure they’ve tried. I’d hazard a guess they’ve even been successful. But I examined that man’s wounds, and I don’t believe that the timing was planned. Also, the condition of his body as a whole: he lived a rough life; consistent with that of a partisan unit…”

  “And maybe he was one! Maybe he was captured and…persuaded to cooperate…”

  “With a suicide mission?” said Winifred.

  “It’s been known to happen!”

  “All right,” said Adolf. “Thank you all for your input. I think I’ve heard enough.”

  “You’re going, aren’t you?” said Winifred.

  Adolf shrugged. “It gives me the perfect excuse to decline Walter’s offer, without appearing to do so. Besides, I can’t just ignore a mystery like this.”

  “That’s what worries me,” muttered Baldric.

  “We all knew it was time for me to leave. We’ve reached the point where I’m a threat to the commune.” Adolf looked at the three so very different people at the table. “I leave this place in your capable hands.”

  “We’ll never get anything done now,” sighed Winifred.

  Adolf trudged through the snowy forest, following the broad back of Heinz, the bodyguard Baldric insisted accompany them. Two other devoted disciples trudged along behind Adolf. He would have preferred to make this trip alone. Companionship was nice, but for as long as they were with him, these people were his responsibility.

  It’s spring, Adolf thought for the hundredth time. Too bad no one told that to this part of Poland. The Party had done an admirable job of clearing out forest, both to reduce the hiding and provisioning of rebels, and to create new farmland. But there were some things that were beyond even Nazi efficiency. Adolf gazed through the primordial silence of the ancient woods, and saw trees older than the Reich; older, than the name “Germany.” This forest, he realized, had seen the rise and fall of countless empires, and would be standing long after the Reich had been forgotten.

  “Well Gerik,” said Adolf, shaking off his melancholy, “we could walk on nice flat road, and stop trudging along this trail to the side of it.”

  “Sure. And get shot in the ambush. Have the whole war over with that way,” muttered Gerik.

  “The road turns soon. We need to find out where. I’d hate to get lost on top of everything else.” Rufin started off to his right and slipped from tree to tree or bush, keeping in cover.

  “Gerik, doesn’t this road have a drainage ditch alongside it?”

  Ruffin nodded. “Was built back in the 30’s when they did such things properly.”

  “Shh…” Heinz signaled for everyone to stop. Properly trained, the bodyguards took positions behind cover. Adolf leaned against a tree.

  Sure would be nice not to be threatened by every little bush, ditch, or bird. Adolf glanced around, bored with the silly exercise his bodyguards seemed intent on following. Heinz waved to the group and pointed with two fingers in the age-old gesture of “Look there”. Adolf watched Gerik and Rufin take in the scenery with wary eyes. Adolf looked where they were staring so intently.

  He remembered that snow was an easy thing to use as camouflage. The trick to spotting someone in camouflage was to watch for movement. After a moment, Adolf recognized that the slight rise he was staring at was the slope leading up from the drainage ditch to the road.

  Heinz stood up and waved everyone to walk away from the road, back into the forest. “Turn’s a couple of klicks up. Faster people, we are going way too slow. And next time, Rabbi, get down behind cover. Please.” Heinz stared at Adolf until Adolf, uncomfortable, looked away.

  Three more times, Heinz led the party back to the road. Three more times all anyone saw was the slope from the drainage ditch. Adolf yawned, tired, and cold as he stood up and started walking.

  “Are we boring you Rabbi?” asked Heinz.

  “No. Just tired,” said Adolf. Not quite a lie.

  The fourth time they approached the road, Heinz seemed even more tense.

  “Problem?” Adolf whispered.

  “Maybe. Curve in the road is classic place for ambush.”

  “Why would they bother?”

  “Someone shot that messenger.” Heinz motioned for silence and crept forward. Heinz, Gerik and Rufin took turns moving, getting into cover, and then watching in the direction of the road. Adolf crept, and felt like a real idiot for doing so.

  He froze, aware he had sensed movement. Intently he stared forward and to his right. Movement again! This time it materialized into a man. Adolf stared at an all too familiar neck and hairline; this was beginning to feel like a dream. What in hell is Heydrich doing HERE?

  Acting on an instinct he didn’t know he had, he quietly slipped the safety off on his Sten Gun, and grabbed a hand grenade. Heinz looked back, his eyes widening in almost panic as Adolf placed the grenade under his arm pit and twist the cap. Frantically, Heinz waived his open hand in short chopping motions for “Cease Fire”. Ger
ik and Rufin, alarmed started scanning in the direction of the road, silently slipping the safeties on their Sten Guns.

  Adolf was oblivious to everything but the sight of Josef Heydrich in front of him. Holding the Sten in his left hand, Adolf stood, left shoulder aligned with Heydrich in the picture perfect style of throwing a potato masher, and threw the grenade. Time seemed to stop for Adolf, yelling as he brought up his weapon to fire.

  Heinz turned to stare at the ditch, and could make out an entire squad on either side of the man Adolf was yelling at. And the platoon leader, a young Leutnant, and praise God, the platoon sergeant, a Feldwebel. In one motion, Heinz grabbed, set, and tossed a hand grenade while Adolf’s grenade was still in the air.

  The soldiers stared behind them as first one, and then a second hand grenade was heading toward them.

  Adolf had the satisfaction of watching Heydrich’s eyes go wide as he stared in Adolf’s direction. He fired his weapon at Heydrich and missed. The entire world exploded as the Germans began firing back. Gerik and Rufin unloaded their clips into the backs of the would-be ambushers. The two hand grenades went off, fragments audibly whirring among the ambushers.

  The concussions were enough to cause every tree within ten meters to shed the snow off their branches, obscuring everyone’s view more thoroughly than any amount of smoke. For a moment, the firing stopped. The cries of the wounded echoed through the forest.

  On the run, Heinz grabbed Adolf. Without being told, Rufin covered the group’s rear as they ran back into the forest, away from the road. Adolf started breathing again, somewhere in the middle of what appeared to be a kilometer run.

  In reality, Heinz stopped running after 100 meters or so, and threw himself and Adolf into cover. Gerik and Rufin caught up and found cover.

  Out of breath, Gerik spoke. “Whew! Good shooting Heinz. I think you got the platoon leader and his Feldwebel. That should keep them from following.”

  Heinz cocked his head sideways, intent on what if anything he could hear. Softly, he could hear a single voice shouting, but he couldn’t make out their words. “Who is Heydrich? Is he an officer?”

  Adolf shook his head as if to clear it. “He was the damned Health Secretary last I heard! What was doing with the infantry? And here of all places?”

  “Wanting you badly enough, that he’s rallying what’s left of that platoon to come after us. Alright, let’s get out of…” Rifle fire finished Heinz sentence. The group fell back at a run. After another 100 meters, they stopped, everyone but Heinz out of breath. Heinz placed Adolf in cover, and motioned for Rufin and Gerik to spread out.

  “Now what?” muttered Adolf.

  “We sting them to make them slow down their chase.” On their left, Rufin fired into the trees. Rifle fire quickly found the tree he was hiding behind. Rufin fired again as a rifle grenade hit the tree in front of him. The grenade severed the tree four feet from the ground and threw the trunk into Rufin. Adolf looked away from the mess the falling tree made of his young guard’s body. He changed magazines, got on his knees and fired into the forest.

  Without warning, Heinz shouted “Fallback,” and again dragged Adolf for another 100 meters. Heinz changed magazines on the run. Behind them, they could hear the shouts as their pursuers kept on coming.

  Sensing their pursuit was almost on top of them, Heinz, Adolf and Gerik turned and opened fire. Off in the distance, they could here an MG94 fire briefly, then stop. Gerik fired to his left, trying to fend off the closing flankers. Adolf watched as Germans alternately dove back under cover from his shooting, and then fired back as he paused to take aim.

  Adolf changed magazines again. He fired, and watched as a man he was trying to hit pitched forward. Heinz started firing to the left as Gerik spun around, eyes wide, as blood spurted from his shoulder. Adolf ducked back behind a tree, prepared a hand grenade and tossed it in the general direction of the enemy. And saw yet another soldier pitch forward, part of his jaw flying in Adolf’s direction. Heinz, out of ammunition took his last two grenades, and threw the first one. Again, the double concussion from the grenades caused tree canopies to dump their snow, creating yet another chance for Heinz and Adolf to run.

  Heinz lost the race just as a sudden crescendo of Sten Guns rang out behind them, then stopped as suddenly as it had started. Adolf had covered 25 meters when he heard a familiar female voice yell in perfect Hebrew “Sheket! Sheket!!”. Adolf turned and ran towards the voice, then came to an abrupt stop in front of a person with a Finnish combat parka, face shrouded by a fur hood.

  Then their rescuer pushed back the hood of roughly tanned furs, and Adolf stood gazing across the silent battlefield at his wife.

  CHAPTER 18

  It was a while before Adolf remembered to breathe.

  Adrenaline and shadows can confuse the eye, he told himself as the woman checked on Adolf’s companions, methodically seeking signs of life—or useful information. It can’t really be…

  “This one’s alive,” she said, kneeling over Gerik’s still form. It was Ilsa’s voice. “Come on, Adolf, let’s move! There’ll be time for catching up later!” Adolf’s training as a partisan took over, and he hurried to Gerik’s side, his mind still whirling.

  Together, they carried the injured man for what appeared to be forever. Shadowy figures moved cautiously ahead. Meanwhile, Ilsa and Adolf spoke together for the first time in three years.

  “That was a full platoon that tried to ambush you,” she said

  “It was more than that. Heydrich was there.”

  “Heydrich? Damn. We found about a dozen bodies back where you hit them. The radio was destroyed by a hand grenade, so they didn’t get word out. I’d guess about another half dozen or so escaped our running into them. That means Heydrich got out alive.” Ilsa and Adolf dropped into silence as they considered possible implications.

  At the edge of the forest, they reached a marsh. A short distance across the marsh stood alone cabin, so well camouflaged Adolf would have missed it without a guide. His practiced eye did, however, notice the guard on the roof, and the one behind the screen of tall grass.

  Inside, about a dozen fur clad partisans huddled around a nearly smokeless fire. As Adolf and Ilsa entered with Gerik, conversation stopped. A babble of different languages asked and answered questions, and Gerik was borne away by whatever passed for medical personnel in this place. Ilsa barked an order to the radio operator, “To all bases: stay close to home. The Reich is starting to take us seriously.” A typical day at a typical partisan base, thought Adolf—except for the woman in charge.

  She had shed her outer garments, and Adolf got his first good look at his wife since their wedding night. She was thinner and darker than the last time he’d seen her. The sun that had tanned her once creamy skin had bleached her blonde hair to near silver. Her face was seamed by a long and frightening scar, but none of it could mar her beauty in Adolf’s eyes.

  “I’m glad you came, Adolf,” she said, as if they’d been apart three days, rather than three years. “Sorry about the welcoming committee.”

  “I’m used to it,” Adolf said. “To what do I owe the honor of a summons from the Valkyrie?” Adolf asked.

  A smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “I would prefer a more Jewish title, but there don’t seem to be many where women are concerned.”

  “Still, there’s a lot to be said for the glory of irony,” said Adolf. “The Party that once denied your humanity now has to hear you described by the greatest title awarded any Aryan woman.”

  Ilsa chuckled. Adolf grinned at the sound. It was happy! Nothing at all like her brittle laughter those years ago in Berlin. “It’s finally time for us to work together, Adolf. You interested?”

  Adolf glanced at an imaginary wristwatch. “Well, I am rather busy just now, but maybe I could pencil you in for some time next year…” He swept her into his arms and planted a wet kiss on her mouth. To his great delight she not only responded eagerly, but no one shot him. In fact, judging by the wh
istles and cheers of those around them, her unit was happy to see them together like this. He wondered how much she had told them of her personal life, and what, if anything, these people knew about him.

  “You’ve all heard of Rabbi Adolf,” she said, addressing the group. “Well, here he is. And for those of you who speculated, but knew better than to ask,” some of the old fierceness was back, but even it was softened, “yes, he’s also my husband.”

  The freezing, half starved partisans broke into a new round of cheering and applauding, though Adolf could detect at least a few sighs of disappointment from some of the men. He was surprised at how good Ilsa’s public acknowledgement of their union made him feel.

  “Rabbi, we have need of your wisdom,” Ilsa said formally, and now, Adolf could sense the urgency behind her mask of calm authority.

  “I am at your service,” he said, equally formally.

  Ilsa gestured to someone in the back of the room, and a young Aryan woman, unremarkable but for a broken nose that had never properly healed, stepped forward.

  “This is Berta. She’s the leader of a cell which recently disbanded. You need to hear her story.”

  Berta looked at Adolf with the same awe that was becoming uncomfortably familiar. She seemed to have trouble finding her voice. When she finally did, it was steadily enough. “You are familiar, are you not Rabbi, with the celebration known as Passover?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Adolf. He guided Berta to a rough bench against the wall, and drew up a camp stool for himself so he could sit directly across from her. “I celebrated it last year in Belgium.”

  “But not this year?” Berta’s eyes held a strange intensity.

  “I’m afraid not. We managed to figure out when it would be, but unfortunately, we were busy, ah, putting out fires at the time.”

  “We tried it this year,” Berta said. “Last month. We had a Rabbi and three haggadahs—each in a different language. Most people in the cell couldn’t read anyway, but there were pictures showing how the table should look, and everyone liked the part about drinking four glasses of wine.” Berta blew a stray hair out of her face and took a deep breath.