The Enemy Above

by Michael P. Spradlin

  The men picked up the milk cans and took off through the woods again. Sergeant Eberhardt looked at him, motioning to see if he wanted to grab the two men now. Von Duesen shook his head. He waved the men forward. These two would lead him to an entire group of hidden Jews. He would wait and capture them all.

  For another fifteen minutes, they followed the men through the forest, listening to the milk cans clank against each other as they traversed the rough terrain. When the forest thinned out, Von Duesen gave his men the hand signal to stop again. They had reached a meadow and would need to be extra cautious crossing the open ground. All it would take for the Nazis to be exposed was one of the Jews glancing behind. He motioned his men together.

  “Sergeant, stay with me,” he whispered. “You two, stick to the tree line. One of you go left, the other right. Circle around them. And make sure you are not spotted.”

  The two privates moved off through the trees. Von Duesen and Eberhardt watched the two Juden cross the meadow. They appeared completely unaware that they were being followed. When they’d gotten about a half a kilometer away, the meadow dipped. The Jews strolled down a hill and disappeared from sight.

  Von Duesen touched Eberhardt on the arm. He raised a finger to his own lips, then motioned forward. “Schnell,” he whispered. Hurry, but be quiet. The major and the sergeant carried their machine guns at the ready. As quickly and quietly as they could, they sped forward. But as they approached the crest of the hill, Von Duesen stopped.

  “Herr Major?” Eberhardt said, wondering why his commander had stopped so suddenly.

  Karl Von Duesen was a believer. He believed in the Reich, the master race, that Jews were inferior in every way. It was inevitable that one day Germany would control the entire European continent. But he was also not stupid. He knew there were Jewish militias about. Armed militias. They lived deep in the forests and they raided German army posts, ambushed patrols, and even sent snipers to kill soldiers of the Reich. Their attempts were foolhardy and doomed to fail. But they did exist.

  Major Karl Von Duesen would not walk blindly into a trap.

  “Listen, Sergeant,” he said.

  Eberhardt concentrated, even cupping a hand to his right ear. He shook his head.

  “I hear nothing, mein major,” he whispered.

  “Exactly,” Von Duesen explained. “Where is the sound of the clanking milk cans?”

  “Perhaps they are resting,” the sergeant suggested.

  “Perhaps,” Von Duesen answered. “But perhaps they discovered we are following them and are waiting for us to show ourselves. We will not be ambushed.”

  “They did not appear to be carrying weapons, Herr Major,” Eberhardt said.

  “Appearances can get you killed, Sergeant. Never forget that. Spread out. We will approach the hilltop with twenty meters between us. If they are waiting, they will still expect us to be together. Move out,” he said.

  Sergeant Eberhardt dutifully moved off to his left. When he was in position, they started forward. Von Duesen pulled back the slide on his machine gun, readying the weapon to fire. Quietly, they approached the hilltop. He took deep, regular breaths to steady his nerves.

  The hill was really the edge of an old lake that had long ago dried up. The large depression in the ground was several hundred meters across and shaped roughly like a kidney. The bottom of the depression was littered with large boulders, shrubs, and a few small scrub trees that had barely managed to conquer the rocky soil.

  Von Duesen and Eberhardt dropped to one knee at the top of the hill, as they had been trained, to make themselves the smallest targets possible. But as Major Von Duesen scanned the ground below, he saw no sign of the two Jews. Were they hiding among the rocks and bushes? Across the lake bed, something caught his eye and he raised his weapon. But it was only the two privates he had sent to the tree line. Clearly, they had not encountered the Jews, which meant they had to be close. They must be hiding down below, among the rocks and shrubs.

  But where?

  It did not take long to free Anton. Daniel had returned with some of the older boys and several of the women, including the one named Rina whom Bubbe seemed to know. The passageway was narrow, but they managed to squeeze in and form a line. They wiggled and pulled at the rocks until they were loose enough to move, then passed them like a bucket brigade to get them out of Anton’s way. One of the boys was named George and he worked like a demon, scrambling into the small spaces and clawing away at the rocks and mud. Within a few minutes, the last of the boulders had been pushed away and Anton could finally stand. Daniel helped him to feet.

  “Ow!” Anton winced and grabbed his sides.

  Rina took him by the shoulders. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. My ribs ache. But only when I breathe,” he said.

  Rina took the flashlight Daniel had brought and shone it on Anton. He was covered from head to toe in mud and could not stand up completely straight.

  “Help me get his coat off,” Rina said to Daniel. As they carefully removed Anton’s jacket, he groaned in pain.

  “Show me where it hurts?” Rina asked.

  Anton pointed to the spot on his right side and Rina’s fingers probed the area.

  “Ahh!” he groaned as her fingers continued running back and forth over his ribs. His eyes watered, but he did not cry out again.

  “I do not think your ribs are broken, so that is good news. But they must be bruised quite badly. Can you walk?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he said.

  Rina undid the long scarf—called a babushka—that concealed her hair, which was long and brown and reached the middle of her back.

  “To be safe, let’s wrap your ribs. It will keep them from moving too much. When we return to the cavern, we can examine you more closely and make sure nothing is actually broken.”

  Anton nodded. Rina and a woman named Miriam wrapped the babushka snugly around his chest. When they tightened it, tying it into a knot, he thought he might pass out. He took a deep breath and held it until they had finished. When he let it out he found himself able to take only shallow breaths, but his ribs did not hurt as much.

  “We should go now,” Rina said.

  The rest of the group turned away, ready to return to the cavern.

  “Wait!” Anton said. “Daniel, the light, please?”

  Daniel handed him the flashlight. Anton pointed it up to the ceiling. About a half meter over their heads, he saw the spot he had touched just before the rocks collapsed on him. He peered at a small hole in the ceiling that hadn’t been there before.

  Anton switched off the flashlight. It took a moment for everyone’s eyes to adjust, but soon they could see the starlit skies above them. And the hole wasn’t actually as small as it had first seemed. It was just big enough for a child to climb through. Flipping the light back on, Anton spied a rock the size of a watermelon sticking out of the side of the hole. Small beads of water ran down its sides and dripped into the passageway.

  He tried to reach his hands over his head to grasp the rock, but the pain in his side was too great to continue. “Daniel, help me,” he gasped.

  “What are you doing?” Daniel asked.

  “Uncle Dmitri wanted us to find another way out of the cave. If we widen this hole, and stack up some of these fallen rocks, we will have our exit,” Anton said.

  “We can do that later,” Rina said. “Right now, you should be resting.”

  “But we can’t know when we might need it,” Anton said. “If we can just get this one rock out of the way, then stack up some of the stones like steps, we will be able to climb out at a moment’s notice. Please. We are already here. We should finish the job.” Anton looked at Daniel and Rina, his eyes pleading.

  The two of them looked at each other, then shrugged. Anton watched as they grabbed hold of the large rock and pulled. It would not budge. They dug at the dirt surrounding it and tried again. It was wet and slippery, making it difficult for them to get a go
od grip.

  They scraped at the dirt some more. “Be careful,” Anton cautioned them. “Don’t let it fall on you. Be ready.”

  Rina and Daniel kept digging until, without warning, the rock came loose from the soil holding it in place and crashed to the ground. Daniel and Rina lurched out of the way. It landed on the floor of the passageway with a thud. Anton flashed the light on the hole above them. It was now big enough for an adult to crawl through.

  “Well done!” he said. “Now if we stack some of these rocks against the wall, like a staircase leading up—”

  “We?” Daniel interrupted. “There is no we here, friend. There is us doing all the work and you giving us directions.” His breath came in ragged gasps, but he was smiling.

  Anton chuckled. “True, but at least I do not creep down the passageways like a frightened squirrel.”

  Daniel playfully punched him on the shoulder. It made Anton wince, but he was glad of it. Daniel had been so quiet and reserved since they’d arrived at the cave. It was good to see him smiling.

  The group went to work. The women and boys formed another line in the narrow passageway and returned the fallen rocks that had trapped Anton one by one to Rina and Daniel. Carefully, the two of them stacked the stones against the wall. They scooped mud from the tunnel floor to help support the rocks, and soon they had a makeshift stairway. It would take some careful climbing to reach the hole above, but it was better than nothing.

  When they were finished, Anton inspected their work. “Excellent. Now we will be able to reach the surface if we need to. Uncle Dmitri will be pleased. Perhaps they will find a ladder on one of their night missions, and we can it bring here. Until then, this will work well.”

  Rina and Daniel smiled. The group finally headed back down the passageway, with Daniel in the lead, lighting the way with his flashlight. They were tired and dirty. Anton winced with each step. But he was happy to have done what his uncle had asked of him. Even if it hadn’t gone exactly the way he had planned.

  Now if the gestapo comes we will be ready for them, he thought to himself as he limped along.

  We will be ready.

  Major Von Duesen and his men waited at the edge of the depression for several minutes. They strained to hear the two men they’d been following. Had they stopped to rest or to catch a field mouse for supper? Von Duesen had no idea. Only the sound of his own ragged breathing disturbed the silence. Where were they? The dried pond was not that big and the moon was bright. He should be able to see them!

  Sergeant Eberhardt returned to his side.

  “Mein major?” he asked.

  “Sie müssen Geister sein, Sergeant,” Von Duesen said. They must be ghosts.

  He studied the terrain. In truth, there were many places for two men to hide. Perhaps they had realized they were being followed and hidden among the rocks and bushes. Motioning to his men on the opposite side, Von Duesen gestured for them to go down into the depression and search for their quarry.

  “Forward, Sergeant,” he said. “We will comb the area. The Juden are here. I am certain of it. But be careful. They could be armed.”

  The two men crept slowly down the incline, their machine guns held at the waist, ready to fire. If the fugitives tried anything, they would be cut down like a scythe slashing through wheat. The Germans moved cautiously and quietly.

  Working as a team, they investigated each rock and tree, each cluster of bushes and copse of trees. But so far the men were nowhere to be found. It was as if they had turned to mist and faded away. Von Duesen watched his two privates working their way toward him. They moved in concert, just as he and Eberhardt did, making sure each possible hiding place was clear before moving on.

  Several more minutes passed. Periodically, Von Duesen would signal the squad to halt, so they could listen for the rustling of clothing, the gasp of a breath, the beat of a heart. But he heard nothing. Von Duesen was baffled.

  One hundred meters remained between the major and his two privates. The ground was rocky, the boulders that littered it large. If the Juden were still here, this would be where they were hiding.

  “Be ready, Sergeant,” he whispered.

  “Ja,” Eberhardt answered.

  A boulder nearly the size of an automobile stood directly ahead of them. Von Duesen went left and Eberhardt to the right. They leapt around the boulder, guns at the ready. But the Jews were not there. Behind them they heard a rustle in the bushes. Von Duesen turned quickly, prepared to fire. But before he could pull the trigger, a large hare bolted from the underbrush and darted away.

  Von Duesen took a breath to calm his nerves. Silently, he cursed himself. A soldier of the Reich did not jump in fear at the appearance of a rabbit. A gestapo major was not afraid of two Jewish peasants. This was ridiculous. He needed to remain calm. And to find what he was looking for.

  He waved his gun, motioning Eberhardt forward. Another large boulder lay ahead of them, and they repeated their crawl around it. Von Duesen peered around the opposite side of the boulder expecting to find two huddling Jews. But that was not what awaited him.

  Sitting on the ground were two milk cans. The very ones the two Juden had been carrying. Von Duesen kicked one of them as hard as he could. Water spilled out and ran through the dirt in tiny rivulets. Just as he feared, his squad had been discovered.

  But where had the Jews gone? They had to be somewhere.

  His men joined him at the giant boulder. They looked at the milk cans and then at the major with disbelief on their faces.

  “Did you see anything?” Von Duesen demanded.

  “No, mein major,” they answered in unison.

  Von Duesen paced back and forth. Somehow, he had been outwitted. He had figured out where the fugitives were, yet they still managed to elude him. When he finally caught them he would make them wish they had never been born. They would tell him everything. Everything. They would reveal the location of every Jew in the entire area.

  “Tomorrow,” Von Duesen said. “Tomorrow, we come back during the morning hours. We will bring additional men and search every stone and shrub in this area. We will find out how these Juden managed to escape the gestapo. Is that understood?”

  “Ja, mein major,” his squad answered.

  “Heil Hitler!” Von Duesen said, giving the Nazi salute, which his men returned.

  Von Duesen clenched his fists, turned, and retreated, his men struggling to keep up with their superior. The empty milk cans watched them go.

  Bubbe’s long, bony fingers probed Anton’s side. He tried not to flinch, but a sharp intake of breath gave him away.

  “Ach,” his grandmother said. “They do not feel broken, but Rina was right. They are badly bruised. You will need to keep them wrapped while they heal. And you must try to rest. No running off with Daniel.” She dipped a cloth in a pail of water, wrung it out, then dabbed at his face.

  “Please, Bubbe,” he said. “I can do it myself.” He took the cloth and wiped the mud from his face. He was filthy, but there was not enough water in the camp for him to take a bath. So he’d just have to make do.

  The peace in the cavern was soon disturbed when Uncle Dmitri and one of the other men came barreling in. The man’s name was on the tip of Anton’s tongue. He had not gotten to know everyone yet. He searched his memory. Slava. The man’s name was Slava. Sweat dripped from his brow, and both he and Uncle Dmitri were breathless.

  His uncle stopped, bent over, and placed his hands on his knees.

  “Dmitri, my son,” Bubbe said. “What is wrong?” Bubbe was the eldest in the cave, and since they had arrived, she had done her best to keep the group calm and busy. But now, Anton could hear that her voice was filled with worry, though she was trying not to show it.

  “We were followed from the stream,” Dmitri said. “Somehow, the gestapo discovered our water source. Four of them followed us. We lost them among the boulders. But it was close. They know we are somewhere nearby. They will either wait us out, or they will return with mo
re men to search for our hiding place.”

  “What shall we do?” Bubbe asked.

  “We dare not go out again tonight. If they left a man behind to stand guard, we will be captured. It is only a few hours to daylight. And we must not venture out then, either,” Dmitri said.

  Everyone was quiet. The silence in the cave unnerved Anton. He had felt safe here, and now he felt anything but.

  Dmitri straightened up. “We will block the entrance. Try to camouflage it somehow so they will overlook it. We will have to cut down on rations while we wait to see if they give up the search. Anton, did you find another exit?”

  “Yes, Uncle,” Anton said. “The way is marked.” He explained to Dmitri what they had discovered. Dmitri smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. The pain from his ribs nearly brought Anton to his knees.

  “Well done, lad. We may need to use it. Everyone gather up a bag of essentials. Have it near you and ready to go. If the gestapo comes for us they will force their way through this entrance.”

  “Why don’t we just leave now? Go out the back way?” Anton asked.

  Dmitri shook his head. “What if they are still out there? We do not know exactly where your exit will let us out. No, for now we will wait. They will begin their search at the spot where Slava and I disappeared. If they find the entrance to this cave, they will storm it. Then we will slip out the back, where they are not looking.”

  Anton thought about the plan. They would wait and see. It made sense.

  The German army had a way of popping up unexpectedly.

  The entrance to the cave had been well camouflaged. The gestapo did not show up the next day. Or the one after that. Yet Dmitri and the other men refused to leave the cave. Water had to be rationed. In another day or so they would run completely out and would have no choice but to go in search of more.