The Enemy Above

by Michael P. Spradlin

  While they waited, they worked on their exit strategy. Anton led Uncle Dmitri, Sergei, and Slava to the primitive staircase in the tunnel. The men improved the base and constructed a ladder from some lumber they had salvaged on one of their nighttime runs. Now everyone would be able to quickly climb out if they needed to escape.

  The rest of the time, the group rested. They had to conserve both food and energy. It was boring, but it did wonders for Anton’s ribs. His sides still hurt when he laughed or coughed, but soon he could breathe and move freely.

  The monotony only seemed to make everyone else more nervous. The men took turns guarding the narrow opening that led to the cave entrance. Each hour they waited, the tension grew. Anton let himself believe the danger was past. On the third night, when they were nearly out of water, Uncle Dmitri decided they needed to risk venturing out of the cave.

  They split up into three teams of two men. Two of the teams would go to the river—one upstream, the other down. The third team would travel farther, to a small spring about three kilometers north of the cave.

  “Dmitri, this is not a good plan,” Bubbe said. “What if the gestapo is watching? Even if they did not find our cave, they could still be waiting nearby to ambush us.”

  Dmitri shook his head. “Mama, we can wait no longer. The children are thirsty. We need water to cook. There is no other option.”

  The men readied themselves for the mission, putting on their warm coats and gloves. They all wore dark clothes and covered their faces in mud. No one wanted to be given away by moonlight. Each man grabbed a tin milk can, and they steeled themselves for the night ahead.

  But before they could leave, a small metal cylinder clattered down the rock-lined entrance to the cave. Anton heard an earsplitting pop. Smoke began to pour out of the cylinder, filling the chamber.

  “Grenade!” Dmitri yelled. “Everyone! To the tunnel! Take only what you can car—” His words were cut off by the sound of machine-gun fire. Bullets flew, ricocheting off the stone walls.

  “Hurry!” Dmitri pleaded. The cave became a flurry of activity as everyone scattered about, gathering up their meager possessions.

  “To the tunnel!” he said.

  Anton grabbed his bag and glanced around for Bubbe. Uncle Dmitri had made her his responsibility if someone should uncover their hiding place. She stood near the entrance of the cave, her walking stick in hand. Looking over his shoulder, Anton saw that most of the group was disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel. Daniel waved for him to follow, but Anton had to get to Bubbe.

  Only she isn’t moving, he thought. Why isn’t she moving? If we don’t get out of here, the gestapo is going to get us, and all of this will have been for nothing!

  But suddenly, he realized what she was doing. If Bubbe remained behind, the Nazis would have to deal with her, which would give everyone else time to get away.

  Anton lunged forward and grabbed her arm. “Bubbe, come! We must hurry.”

  The gunshots had stopped, but the echo of boots and the shouts of “Schnell” and “Halten” were coming closer.

  “No, Anton,” she said. “You must go. Help your uncle lead the others to the Priest’s Grotto. I am old and weak, and I will only slow the group down.”

  “But, Bubbe,” Anton said, his eyes filling with tears. “You will be taken to the camps, or—”

  The footsteps were drawing nearer. By now, the cavern was empty except for Rina and her small son, David, who appeared too frightened to move. He grabbed a small pillar of rock and hugged it tightly as she pulled at his arms and pleaded with him to come with her.

  “Bubbe. Please!” Anton begged.

  “Listen to your bubbe. Run. Help the others.”

  “No, Bubbe! I won’t leave you!” Anton did not know what to do. Seconds ticked by, each one measured by the pounding of his heart.

  “They are coming, Anton. Hide! God will watch over me.” She pushed him away. The soldiers were in the entrance tunnel now. There was not enough time for Anton to run. He looked around wildly. A small, dark depression in the wall a few meters away caught his eye. A wooden table one of the men had constructed stood in front of it, masking the opening in shadow. Anton ran to it and crawled inside, making himself as small as possible. Rina had managed to pry her son away from the column, but she had no chance to race to the tunnel before a squad of German soldiers entered the chamber.

  It was easy to recognize their gestapo uniforms. All of them carried machine guns, except for the lead officer, who pointed a Luger—a large and powerful pistol—right at Bubbe. Anton nearly lunged from his hiding place. He wanted desperately to put himself between Bubbe and the barrel of the gun. As if she were reading his mind, she tapped the ground twice with her walking stick, reminding him and everyone else who might hear it to be quiet and pay attention.

  The officer squinted at her cane. He was very young. As Anton studied him, he memorized the man’s features. His chin was sharp, almost pointed. His nose was slightly small for his face. Blond hair peeked out from beneath his uniform cap, and even at this distance, the icy blueness of his eyes shone in the flickering light of the lanterns. His uniform was immaculate except for a bit of mud on his boots. Uncle Dmitri had taught Anton to recognize the ranks of German officers. Major’s braids adorned his collar. Anton felt a fluttering of fear in his stomach. How could one so young rise to such a rank? It must be because he was ruthless and cruel.

  The major stared at Bubbe. She stared back at him unflinchingly. If he thought he could win a staring contest with her, Herr Major was in for a rude awakening. Though she was old and bent by the harshness of her life, there remained steel in her. She had needed it to survive and raise her sons when Anton’s grandfather passed. Her face showed no fear—only resolve. The officer looked away first, his gaze jumping all around the chamber before settling on Rina and her child. The major barked an order.

  Anton understood some German and believed he’d told one of his men to take Rina away.

  “Nein,” Bubbe said. No.

  The officer looked at the old woman standing in front of him, his face a mixture of anger and bemusement.

  “Nein?” he asked, laughing.

  Bubbe nodded. “Nein. We are living here in peace. We bother no one. You have no right to take us anywhere.”

  “I have every right,” the major said. “The führer has annexed this land and declared it Judenfrei. It is the law.”

  “Annexed? Don’t you mean conquered?” Bubbe threw back her head and laughed. “What have you conquered, exactly? From all we hear, the mighty German army could not take a single city in Russia. In fact, the word is your military is retreating from the eastern front. And what exactly have you conquered here? An old woman, a mother, and her baby?”

  Anger flashed in the major’s eyes and Anton wished she would not antagonize a man holding a gun. But he also knew that every moment she kept the soldiers here in the cave bought time for the others to escape. Please, Bubbe, he prayed. Please be careful.

  “You are under arrest. You will be taken into custody and transported to Borta, where you will be processed. You will come peacefully or—if you wish—we can force you. The führer does not care how the Juden are taken, only that they are.”

  “Ah. Yes, your mighty führer,” Bubbe said. “What is he so afraid of? His war cannot be won unless he captures farmers and cobblers and blacksmiths? Do these simple people cause the mighty Reich to cower in fear?”

  The major’s hand snapped out like a snake and struck Bubbe across the face. Even as he did so, she tapped her walking stick twice on the chamber floor. She knew Anton was watching and wanted him to remain hidden. She took the slap stoically, refusing to acknowledge the humiliation … or the pain.

  “I see the Reich is very good at teaching the gestapo how to beat up old women,” she said. “If you would like, I can take you to all the nearby houses with defenseless, elderly women so you can slap them around as well.”

  The major raised his han
d again, but this time something made him stop. She was goading him. “You will find that righteous attitude and sharp tongue will be of little use to you in the camps,” he said.

  “You are very brave, Herr Major. Tell me, what type of medal do you get for capturing an old woman?”

  The major ignored her insult. He turned to his men. “Take them,” he said. “The rest of you search this chamber. There must be more of them hidden here somewhere.”

  Anton wanted to cry out. He wished more than anything that he were older and stronger. If he were, he would dive from his hiding place, grab the major’s gun, and shoot all the Germans dead. He would move like lightning, killing them all before they had a chance to react.

  But Anton was just a boy. So instead, he watched in horror as the soldiers grabbed Bubbe roughly by the arms and dragged her toward the entrance to the cave. Rina clasped her sobbing, terrified son to her chest, but the men did not care. One of them roughly pushed her forward, and she stumbled and nearly fell.

  “Schnell! Schnell!” he hollered at her. Another soldier ripped David from her arms. The small boy screamed in terror, his tiny arms reaching out for his mother.

  “No! Please, no!” Rina cried. Another one of the soldiers drove the butt of his rifle into her stomach. She gasped in agony, and would have collapsed to the ground if he had not caught her and dragged her along.

  Anton cowered in the darkness until they disappeared from sight. He felt ashamed that he had not rushed to their aid. But now all he could do was pray that the remaining soldiers would not find him here in the darkness. If he managed to elude them, he was not sure what would come next. Should he try to catch up with the others on their way to the Priest’s Grotto? No, he could not leave Bubbe in the hands of the Nazis. It was a horrible feeling, not knowing what to do.

  He could only hope that God would give him the chance to escape the cave … and to rescue his grandmother.

  Anton waited until the cavern was empty.

  Watching the major and four of his men take Bubbe, Rina, and David away had been excruciating. He wondered if the gestapo had a vehicle on the surface to carry Bubbe away or if they would make her take the long walk to the nearest road. The other soldiers split up into groups of two and disappeared, heading in every direction to search the cavern’s many tunnels. He hoped they wouldn’t spot the markers he and Daniel had drawn.

  After a few long minutes, Anton crawled out from his hiding place as quietly as he could. He strung his blanket bag over his shoulder and crept silently to the tunnel entrance. He did not dare use a lantern or flashlight. Pausing, he listened for the sound of retreating soldiers.

  When he was certain he was alone, he scurried up the tunnel to the cave’s entrance. The starlight was a welcome sight. But he couldn’t dally here. He had to find Bubbe. The view in front of him was pockmarked with boulders and far too rocky for a vehicle to get close. But off to the east, toward the river, he heard the sound of an engine. He studied the surrounding terrain. There were no soldiers in sight.

  As quickly as he could, he darted in the direction of the revving engine, using the boulders for cover. Several meters away, he spotted a half-track idling along the riverbank. In the distance he could see Bubbe and Rina being loaded roughly into the back of the gray metal military vehicle, the giant black swastika painted on its side a grim reminder of the monsters who controlled their fate.

  The half-track pulled away and traveled slowly along the river. Anton broke into a run. They would not be able to drive at full speed until they reached the nearest road. He should be able to keep up with them. Perhaps if he could get ahead of them, he could find a way to stop the vehicle. If he could get the Germans to abandon it and force them to walk, he’d have a better chance of freeing Bubbe. It was risky. And it wasn’t even a plan. Not really. But it was the only thing he could think of. He wished Uncle Dmitri were with him. He would know what to do.

  The major had said the prisoners were being taken to Borta to be interrogated. Borta was many kilometers from the cave. He would need to stop them before they reached it.

  Taking one last look to be sure no other gestapo were about, Anton sprinted from the cover of the rocks and followed the half-track into the night. His ribs were still sore, and each step sent a little jolt of pain through his side. But he pushed it from his mind. He would follow them and find a way to get Bubbe back. Rina and her son, too. He would get them all back.

  As he ran along, he wondered what had happened to the rest of the group. How would they get to the Priest’s Grotto? If his half-a-plan was successful, how would they catch up?

  One thing at a time, Anton, he told himself.

  The ground was rough and he stumbled several times as he ran, but he managed to keep the half-track in sight. He wished he could use the flashlight he’d stashed in his bag, but he couldn’t risk it. He tripped over a rock and fell headlong onto the hard ground, scraping his hands and knees. It felt as if a knife had been driven into his ribs. He wanted to cry out in pain, but would not allow himself. He took a moment to catch his breath, then clambered to his feet and got back to running after the half-track.

  They had now reached the potato fields that ran along the river bottom. Soon, the half-track would reach the road. When that happened he would no longer be able to keep up. But he had an idea.

  They would have to drive north on the road until it joined a larger one that led directly to Borta. If he cut across the field, he could intercept them. Anton turned and ran, keeping the half-track on his left. His breath caught as it disappeared behind some trees. So he pushed himself harder, cutting diagonally across the field. As the half-track emerged from behind the trees, it slowed. A bright searchlight from its roof cut through the night.

  Anton assumed they might be looking for other members of his party. The half-track crawled slowly along the road now. This was his chance. He knew that the searchlight could find him, so he sped up, charging through the field as fast as his legs would carry him. He had no idea how he would stop them, but he had to try.

  When he reached the edge of the field, he noticed a small shed. The potato farmer who owned it would keep his equipment there. If Anton could get inside, he might find something he could use to stop the half-track. But when he ran around the small shed to the door, his heart sank. It was padlocked shut.

  Anton examined the lock. It was old and rusty. He dropped to his hands and knees and felt around until he found a rock the size of his fist. He worried about the noise he was about to make. But there was no time to dwell on it. He smashed the rock against the lock. It held. Again he swung, and again the lock would not budge. The third time, he raised his arm high over his head and brought the rock down on the lock. It broke open!

  Scrambling inside the shed, he pulled the door closed, grabbed the flashlight from his pack, and flicked it on. He’d found a treasure trove. There were shovels and hoes and scythes. The walls were lined with hammers and wrenches. But he couldn’t see anything that might help him stop the half-track.

  Shining the light into all corners of the windowless shed, he saw a shelf on the back wall that held several cans. He pulled each one off and examined the contents. They held nuts and bolts and other small hardware. The last can was the biggest. It was heavy, and when he looked inside he nearly leapt for joy. It was full of rusty nails—hundreds of them. And they gave him a very good idea.

  He tucked the can under his arm, raced out of the shed, and headed for the road.

  Major Von Duesen could not have been happier. He had found where the Juden were hiding! He was returning with prisoners and he had no doubt his men would collect more. He had rooted them out, and now the Jews were cowering like rats.

  He looked at the old woman sitting on the floor of the half-track’s bed. She had done her best to insult him, to belittle the führer. He looked forward to her interrogation. They would see how proud she was then. Her foolish resistance would not stand against the might of the gestapo. The other woman was
young and strong, and would likely be sent to one of the Reich’s factories. She would work long hours sewing uniforms or operating machines to build bombs or bullets. When she had been worked to exhaustion, they would send her to one of the camps. He had no idea what would happen to her child, nor did he care.

  But he did care about reaching the road. The half-track bumped over the rocky ground, turning the major’s stomach. They traveled slowly through the fields until finally they reached the road, where the ride smoothed out. When the engine quieted, he could hear the old woman muttering curses under her breath. He kicked her hard in the leg.

  “What is the matter, Jude?” he snarled. “Do you have nothing to say now that you are a prisoner? Now that you are the property of the Reich?”

  The old woman spat at him. Spittle flew from her mouth and landed on his boots. He raised his hand to strike her, but stopped when he saw that she was not afraid and stared at him with complete defiance. That was what she wanted. She would take the beatings if it meant distracting him from learning about the rest of the hidden Juden. He would not give her that satisfaction. Yet. But eventually she would fold. Everyone had a breaking point.

  “Curse all you want, old woman,” he said. “Pray to your God. Nothing is going to help you now.” To his surprise, the old woman studied him for what seemed like several minutes. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed before she finally spoke.

  “You can’t hide it,” she told him. The expression on her face changed from one of concentration to a derisive sneer.

  “Hide what?”

  “Your fear.”

  Von Duesen threw back his head and laughed. The old woman glared as she reached over to the young woman and her child and placed her arm around them.

  “My fear?” he said. “You believe I am afraid of two women and a child? Are you insane?”