Night of Flames: A Novel of World War II

by Douglas W. Jacobson

  “Jan, wake up!”

  Jan snapped awake. Peracki was leaning over him, shaking his shoulder.

  “You were dreaming again,” Peracki grumbled and returned to his bunk.

  Jan sat up and swung his legs over the side of the narrow bunk. He was drenched in sweat. He sat for a few minutes listening to the sounds of the other men sleeping then fumbled around for his pack of cigarettes, pulled on his boots and walked to the door.

  The chill breeze blasted his wet body like a thousand icy daggers, and his hands trembled as he struck the match. He knew it was no use trying to go back to sleep after the dream. He’d had the same one half a dozen times since Stefan was killed in the field outside Laski.

  Jan followed a dirt pathway between crude wooden barracks to the perimeter of the camp. He walked alongside a flimsy barbed wire fence and took a drag on the cigarette, recalling the Hungarian border guards who had welcomed them when what was left of his regiment trudged out of the forest the day before. He smiled as he remembered the conversation with the young officer who had explained that it was his duty to take their weapons and confine them to the camp. “I can assure you, Major, your men will be well fed and any sick or wounded attended to,” the officer had said in a confusing mixture of Polish and Hungarian.

  “Where is your commanding officer?” Jan demanded.

  The young officer became flustered and said something about his commander being away on an inspection trip of the border.

  Jan had remained on his horse, one of the few still able to carry a rider, looking down on the officer and the group of nervous border guards in their snappy, clean uniforms. His regiment was down to less than a hundred men and, though they were battle-weary and hungry, he knew they could have overwhelmed the Hungarians in a few minutes had he given the order.

  Now, walking along the fence line in the moonlight, Jan looked around at the poorly constructed, haphazardly guarded internment camp, still feeling confident that they could break out if they had to. He approached the main gate and spotted two guards sitting on a wooden bench, their rifles propped against the fence. He stubbed out his cigarette, walked a few steps closer and coughed to get their attention. The guards scrambled to their feet and stared at him. Jan joined them and said in Polish, “Couldn’t sleep.”

  The guards looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” Jan asked.

  The taller of the two nodded, and Jan repeated what he had said in German.

  The guard laughed and explained to his partner in Hungarian. He turned back to Jan and, speaking passable German, asked, “Have you been to Warsaw?”

  Jan nodded.

  “Was it bad?”

  “We arrived just before the end,” Jan said. “The city was in ruins, thousands of civilians dead.”

  The German-speaking guard translated for his partner. The partner said something in Hungarian and they both nodded.

  “What did he say?” Jan asked.

  “He wonders who’ll kill us first, the Germans or the Russians.”

  The next day Jan was summoned to the camp commander’s office. When he entered the small cabin, a lanky officer with slick black hair and a pencil-thin mustache stepped around from behind a desk and extended his hand. Speaking Polish, the officer said, “Welcome, Major Kopernik. I am Colonel Sebastian Tolnai, commanding officer of the Second Hungarian Hussars.”

  Jan shook his hand.

  The Hungarian colonel smiled. “Please, Major Kopernik, have a seat. I have heard about your brigade. You fought in the battle of the Bzura River, if I recall correctly, and then you went on to Warsaw?”

  “That’s right,” Jan replied.

  Colonel Tolnai offered him a cigarette and lit it for him. “Please, tell me what happened.”

  Jan leaned forward, looking down at the floor. The vision of Stefan caught in the open field flashed through his mind. He wouldn’t talk about that. “The last few days around Warsaw were completely chaotic,” he said. “The bombardments were nonstop, and it was impossible to keep the brigade together. We were practically out of ammunition, and completely out of food and water.” He leaned back in the chair, wiping perspiration from his forehead. “The city was a mess, fires everywhere, no running water, thousands of corpses…women…children…”

  Jan stopped and ground out the cigarette in the ashtray. He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the rows of wooden barracks. “Just before the city capitulated, we received orders to get our units out of the area. We were ordered to head for Hungary or Romania and then to France.”

  Colonel Tolnai picked up a document and glanced at it. “Have you heard that the Polish government-in-exile has moved on to Paris? General Sikorski is now in charge.”

  Jan shook his head. “I didn’t know. But Sikorski’s a good man.”

  The colonel motioned to the chair, and Jan sat down again. “So, Major, as you headed south how did you manage to avoid capture by the Russians?”

  “I guess we were lucky,” Jan said. “We traveled mostly at night, tried to keep off the main roads. We’d lay low during the day and send out a few men at a time to scrounge for food. The cold and the rain in the mountains were the worst part.”

  “You are the senior officer?”

  “Yes. Our brigade commander, General Abraham was wounded and taken to a hospital. The deputy commander, Colonel Romanofski, was killed by a sniper.”

  Colonel Tolnai leaned forward, his hands folded on the desk. “As a fellow officer, you have my admiration, Major Kopernik.” He hesitated a moment, then cleared his throat and continued. “You understand, of course, that my government’s official position in this conflict is one of neutrality. I am under orders to hold you and your men in confinement. Your men will be well taken care of. They will be in no danger.”

  Jan looked into the colonel’s eyes. “And I’m sure you understand, Colonel Tolnai, that I, too, have orders. Those orders are to get my men to France.”

  Colonel Tolnai stood up and walked around the desk. “This is a temporary border camp. Polish troops have been arriving for the past week. We have sent most of them on to the permanent camp at Putnok.” He extended his hand. “Perhaps, Major Kopernik, you and your men could remain here for a while. I can make no promises but, for the time being, accept our hospitality, such as it is.”

  Jan stood and took the colonel’s hand. “My men are tired. They need food and rest. For the time being, Colonel, we accept your hospitality. But I have my orders.”

  Chapter 16

  THADDEUS WASN’T SURPRISED when it was announced that the beginning of the fall term at Jagiellonian University was being postponed. The heel of the conqueror had come down hard as the German Wehrmacht pulled out and the SS moved in. Bombardments gave way to executions. Villages were burned to the ground. The borders were sealed. Newspapers and radio stations were shut down. Hitler’s destruction of Polish society had begun, and Thaddeus could only imagine what must be happening in the Russian-controlled regions.

  He was in his office, going through the morning’s mail, when a brown envelope caught his eye. Leaping out from the upper left-hand corner was the eagle and swastika. The envelope was addressed to Dr. Thaddeus T. Piekarski, Professor of Law, Jagiellonian University. He held it in his hand for several minutes, turning it over, considering the possibilities of its contents. Finally, he slit it open and inside found a card from the Office of the Governor. He read the card in astonishment. It was an invitation. He was asked to attend a seminar on The Philosophy of the German Reich toward the Sciences. He reread the incredible document. The seminar was being held next week, right here at the university—the university the Nazis were threatening to close.

  Baffled by the implausible piece of mail, Thaddeus walked down the hall to Bujak’s office. His colleague was on the telephone so Thaddeus stood in the doorway impatiently until Bujak finally hung up. Thaddeus held out the invitation. “Did you receive one of these?”

  “Yes,
incredible isn’t it?” Bujak replied.

  “What do you suppose it’s all about?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Perhaps they want to convince us that they’re not complete barbarians.”

  “Like hell,” Thaddeus snapped. “They’ll probably bring in some phony Nazi scientists and try to ‘educate’ us about the superiority of the Teutonic race. Are you going?”

  “Our attendance is mandatory.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “From the Rector himself. He told me about an hour ago. Anyone who gets this is required to be there. I’m sure you’ll hear from him yourself.”

  “Do you know who got these?” Thaddeus was thinking about Anna.

  “According to the Rector, only full professors, department heads, and ‘others of special standing’ received them.”

  “‘Others of special standing’? What does that mean?”

  Bujak shrugged.

  “Well,” Thaddeus said, with some relief, “they probably didn’t invite Anna. She’ll be spared the problem of refusing to attend.”

  Thaddeus spent the rest of the day trying to keep busy with paperwork, but the bizarre invitation continually crept back into his mind. A little after three o’clock in the afternoon he looked up to see Anna standing in the doorway of his office. Her eyes conveyed a need to talk. He finished filling out a requisition form for new textbooks—as if he would actually need them—and they left the building together. It was a damp, chilly October afternoon, and the sun was already low in the western sky as they walked in the direction of Anna’s apartment.

  “Irene called me about an hour ago,” Anna said when they were alone on the sidewalk. “She’s beside herself.”

  “What happened?”

  “Two Krakow policemen and a German SS officer came into the Ginsberg’s pharmacy today and shut it down.”

  “What?”

  “That’s only the beginning.”

  Thaddeus stopped and looked at her.

  “They demanded to see Irene’s ID card,” Anna said, “Mr. Ginsberg’s also. He was the only other one in the store at the time. She said they stamped a large black J on the front of each card and threw them on the counter. She…” Anna stopped and took a deep breath. “She said the SS officer told her to carry the card with her at all times. If she was ever caught without it or if she tried to alter it she would be shot.”

  “For the love of God,” Thaddeus said, running a hand through his white hair.

  “Irene said they were ordered out—couldn’t even get their coats. They told Mr. Ginsberg that if he tried to come back he’d be shot.”

  They started walking in silence. After several minutes Thaddeus said, “I think Irene and Justyn should move into the house with me.”

  “What?”

  “I’m serious. Things will be very difficult for her now. For one thing, she’s just lost her livelihood. She probably won’t be able to keep her apartment. But, more important, if they’re shutting down Jewish businesses there’s no telling what may happen next. They’ll be safer staying with me.”

  “Papa, are you sure?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I’ve got plenty of room, and Janina would love to have them around. Irene can be a big help.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean,” Anna said, looking around. She lowered her voice. “It could be dangerous for you.”

  “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them they work for me; they’re housekeepers.”

  She looked at him, skeptically.

  “There’s no other choice. Let’s go get them.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, right now.”

  That evening Janina prepared a simple meal of beef stew for the new extended family. Afterward, Thaddeus sat at the table, drinking coffee with Anna. Justyn had gone upstairs to do his schoolwork, and Irene was in the kitchen helping Janina with the dishes. Thaddeus handed the seminar invitation to Anna. She read it then looked up, frowning. “A seminar? What’s this all about?”

  “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  Irene came in from the kitchen. “What is it?” she asked. Anna handed her the card. Irene read it and shook her head. “I don’t understand…the philosophy of the German Reich toward the sciences? Are they serious?”

  Anna pushed her coffee cup aside. “I don’t understand either. Papa, who else got this?”

  Thaddeus shrugged. “Apparently all professors and department heads at the university. Other than that, I don’t know.”

  Irene pulled out a chair and sat down. “Certainly you’re not thinking of going, are you?”

  Thaddeus glanced at her. “Word came down from the Rector that attendance is mandatory.”

  Anna and Irene stared at each other.

  “I’m sure he wasn’t given a choice,” Thaddeus said.

  Anna gripped her father’s arm. “Papa, I have a bad feeling about this. I really don’t think you should go.”

  “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. My guess is they want a captive audience so they can strut around and impress us with how advanced they are and tell us how lucky we are to have them taking over. What else could it possibly be?”

  Anna shook her head. “God only knows. I don’t trust them. Just sitting in the same room with the vile creatures would make my skin crawl.”

  “That’s probably why they didn’t invite you.”

  “Don’t joke about it,” she exclaimed. “They’re up to something.”

  Thaddeus took his daughter’s hand. “No, it’s not a joke. It’s tragic. It’s tragic that we have to go and listen to them lecture us about their magnificent new society while they’re murdering our countrymen.” He glanced at Irene. “It’s tragic that they’re here at all. But that’s what’s happened.”

  Irene leaned across the table, her eyes wide. “Thaddeus, Anna’s right. You can’t—”

  “I have no choice,” he interrupted. “The Rector made that quite clear. I’m certain that the SS or the Gestapo, or whoever the hell is organizing this told him that they expect a full turnout. And I’m not going to put him in jeopardy.”

  Thaddeus could see the frustration in his daughter’s eyes as Anna got up and carried her empty cup to the kitchen. He glanced at Irene who slumped back in the chair, shaking her head.

  Anna returned to the dining room and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re right, Papa…the whole thing is an absolute tragedy. I’m going home to bed.”

  At 7:45 on the night of the seminar, Thaddeus, Bujak and Fryderyk Wawrzyn walked up the tree-lined pathway leading to the Collegium Novum, the main building of Jagiellonian University. At each of the five archways framing the entrance of the neo-Gothic structure, black-uniformed SS troopers stood at attention. Thaddeus followed his colleagues up the steps and into the building. They proceeded across the atrium and entered the Lectures Hall. He was not surprised to see the large red flag, with the now all too familiar white circle and black swastika, hanging from the stage.

  As they made their way down the left aisle, Thaddeus looked around the auditorium, recognizing many of his colleagues from the university as well as a number of professors from other colleges in the area. He spotted the headmasters from some of the local vocational schools and several bankers, doctors, business-owners and lawyers. He guessed there were close to two hundred in all, most of them looking around the room nodding and smiling but not saying much.

  As they took their seats, Wawrzyn leaned over and whispered, “Rather a subdued group, wouldn’t you say?”

  Thaddeus nodded. “That goddamn flag will do it.”

  “Perhaps they should have provided champagne,” Bujak said, a little louder than necessary. The comment drew some smiles and nods from the men seated in front of them.

  At exactly eight o’clock, the house lights dimmed and a spotlight shown on the podium in the center of the stage. An SS officer stepped briskly across the stage to the podium.

  “Hun efficiency, right on time,” Bujak whispered.

  The offic
er looked over the crowd and began speaking in German. “Guten Abend, ich bin SS-Sturmbannfuhrer Mueller. I represent the German Reich, which has rescued the Polish people by overthrowing their corrupt and warmongering government.”

  A murmur rippled through the crowd. Dozens of men translated for those who didn’t speak German.

  Sturmbannfuhrer Mueller continued, “Under the enlightened guidance of the Reich, the New Poland will be transformed into a model society of workers freed from this yoke of oppression.”

  Bujak nudged Thaddeus with his elbow. “What the hell is this garbage?”

  Mueller paused and looked over the audience, his bearing erect and deliberate. Then he thumped his hand on the podium. “For many years, this university and other institutions within the city of Krakow have been guilty of subversion and anti-German activity. This treasonous behavior will no longer be tolerated.”

  The murmuring grew louder. A knot formed in Thaddeus’s stomach.

  At the podium, Mueller looked up and glanced at the back of the room. He nodded.

  Thaddeus jumped in his seat as the doors at the back of the room banged open. The house lights brightened, and two columns of SS troopers carrying submachine guns stomped into the auditorium. The black-clad troopers marched up the aisles, did an abrupt turn and stood facing the stunned audience.

  Mueller declared, “You are all under arrest!”

  The audience erupted. Dozens of men leaped from their seats shouting at the SS officer.

  “You can’t do that!”

  “We’ve done nothing wrong!”

  “It’s against the law!”

  A man sitting behind Thaddeus leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder. “What did he say? I can’t understand.”

  Thaddeus was about to translate for him when Mueller screamed from the podium, “Ruhe jetzt! Silence!”

  The room instantly fell silent.

  “Setzen Sie!” he shouted. The SS troopers leaned into the rows, pointing submachine guns at a few shaken men still standing. They slumped into their seats.

  “You are prisoners of the German Reich,” Mueller said, his tone of voice lower but cold and menacing. “Do exactly as you are told and no harm will come to you. Anyone who tries to escape will be shot!”