The boy repeated after Yanek, word for word. His lips trembled, and his body twitched. In the end he was forced to add, “There is a God in heaven, and He will judge me when the time comes.”
“Now get out of here. Don’t be seen again.”
Not until he reached the tree did he realize that a lot of blood was flowing from his shoulder. He took off his shirt, wiped the clotted blood, and spread iodine on the wound.
Grandpa Sergei didn’t leave his side.
“How much blood did you lose?” asked Grandpa Sergei.
“My shirt’s a little red.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“In any case you have to rest for at least a day, to drink water, and to eat well.”
“I wanted to cook mushrooms.”
“You’ll cook them in the evening, not now. A real soldier knows he has to rest when he’s wounded. Rest is no less important than effort. Don’t think, clear your head of thoughts, concentrate on getting better, because that’s the main thing now.”
Grandpa Sergei’s words had an immediate effect. Yanek closed his eyes and fell asleep. His sleep was deep. Again he saw Christina standing in front of the class, summoning her classmates to leave the room and go out into the schoolyard to protest against Yanek’s expulsion from school. The boys giggled and didn’t move from their seats. Christina raised her voice. She didn’t stop screaming even when the teacher came into the room. The teacher called the school nurse and the janitor, and they took Christina out of the classroom. She continued to shout in the corridor. No wonder she got sick, and now she’s hospitalized in a sanatorium.
While he was dreaming, the booming of cannons shook his ears, and he woke up.
Grandpa Sergei was awake and asked, “Do you feel better?”
“Much better.”
That night they heard shouts of pain. Boys had attacked one of the wanderers and stolen from him. Grandpa Sergei wouldn’t allow Yanek to go down. “You’re wounded, and your wound has to heal. A soldier is a warrior, but he’s not suicidal,” Grandpa Sergei spoke like a commander.
After sipping tea and puffing on his pipe, he showed Yanek how to take the pistol apart and reassemble it. He showed him twice. Yanek observed every detail and tried to do it the way Grandpa did. He didn’t succeed the first time, but the second time he was precise and did it right.
“Take the pistol with the holster and put it on. Start getting used to it. It has to be with you day and night.”
“Thank you, Grandpa Sergei,” he said with emotion. That night Grandpa Sergei’s spirit was relaxed, and he told Yanek more about his village, about his parents, and about his sister Irena. His parents were peasants in every respect, except they were different in one way: they didn’t slaughter animals or eat their meat. Because of that they were labeled “vegetarians,” a way of indicating that they had strayed from the ways of the majority.
His father was an honest man, severe with himself, giving alms to the poor and condemning hypocrites and cheaters. Because of these traits, his family wasn’t popular in the village. Though some families did like them, most people called them “the vegetarians” and never invited them to their homes.
“Did you suffer from that, Grandpa Sergei?” asked Yanek.
“I suffered. But I didn’t let that insult darken my spirit. Anyone who made fun of me and called me a ‘vegetarian’ got a smack from me. Gradually they stopped pestering me.”
“Did you want to be a combat soldier even when you were young?”
“No. I wanted to be a priest. Our priest liked my father and mother. He was a tall, strong man who chopped wood and fixed gutters, and if a roof collapsed under the snow, he would rebuild it with his own hands. No one dared to flout him. Everyone respected him, even when he ordered them to take in wanderers during the winter and give them a hot meal.”
“Did you want to be like him?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I was drafted, and the army won my heart. Fortunately, I was sent to the special unit, which was sent on rescue missions both for the army and for the civilian population. I saw a lot of sorrow and pain during my service, but I also saw a lot of moments of exaltation. When a head suddenly peers out at you from a house that has collapsed, and you can save someone – that’s the moment to act decisively. Everything depends on your movements. A careless movement, and you won’t forgive yourself all your life.”
Meanwhile Prince had disappeared. Yanek went out to look for him and wandered among the houses for a long time.
“What can we do?” he asked Grandpa Sergei.
“Maybe our Prince went back to his original home. Our food apparently wasn’t nourishing enough for him.”
“Will he come back to us?”
“We’ll wait and see.”
When Grandpa Sergei says “wait and see” in his special tone, Yanek feels that he’s relating to life as to a secret whose ways we can’t always figure out.
Yanek was sad, and a tear fell from his eye. When Prince was with them, he brought warmth and love. What could be done? It was hard for wanderers to take care of pets.
“Will he come back to us?” Yanek couldn’t restrain himself.
Yanek forgot that Grandpa Sergei never answers the same question twice.
35
The next day Yanek had a lot of work on his hands. The wanderers on the dirt road to the monastery of Saint Mary were prey to boys who hit them and stole from them. Yanek would leap out like a young panther, fall upon one of them, and give him a drubbing. The wanderers crossed themselves at the sight of their young savior.
One of them stopped him and asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Grandpa Sergei’s grandson.”
“May God bless you.”
One of them handed him a warm coat and said, “Better it should belong to you than to the robbers.”
Yanek refused it. “I’m not helping for the sake of money or an expensive garment.”
“So why do you do it?”
“Because God commanded us to aid the helpless.”
“And that’s what you do?”
“Only that,” Yanek said and went on his way.
Grandpa Sergei taught Yanek how to be silent, but he also taught him to say a word or two with clear content.
While the struggle continued, it began to rain. Yanek covered the packs and bundles with the big tarpaulin and took out Grandpa Sergei’s raincoat for him, the coat that was left to him from his military service. He wrapped himself in the small tarpaulin. It rained hard, but Grandpa Sergei didn’t lose his presence of mind. He spoke to a peasant who was running home and asked, “Is there an inn here?”
“No.”
“So where can we find shelter?”
“There’s an abandoned house not far from here. I think it still has a roof.”
“Thanks for the advice, may God bless you.”
Without delay, Yanek went out to look for the abandoned house. It still had a roof, but no doors or windows. Yanek returned to Grandpa Sergei and reported on what he had found. They immediately gathered up their bundles and packs and set out.
Luckily for them the fireplace in the abandoned house was whole. Yanek ran to the woods to bring branches, lit the fire, and, amazingly, the chimney drew well, and the fireplace gave them light and heat.
“There are miracles,” said Grandpa Sergei.
Yanek wasn’t idle. He went out and came back with two piles of twigs. “Now we’ll also have couches to lie on,” Yanek said happily. Then he cooked cornmeal porridge, added some cheese, and put sacks down on the twigs, spread a cloth for the meal, and they sat down to eat.
That night loud thundering was heard on the horizon. Grandpa Sergei’s senses told him that the Germans were retreating, and in a few days the Red Army would appear.
“Will my parents and grandparents come back?” asked Yanek.
“Let’s pray that they will.”
The rain kept falling, and Yane
k went out to see whether there were any wanderers on the road. No wanderers were to be seen, but several covered and ornate wagons full of respectable pilgrims were slowly advancing. Yanek went back and told Grandpa Sergei what he had seen.
Grandpa Sergei said, “The world stands upon those who suffer and who are in pain, not on those who are satisfied and arrogant.”
“What do you mean by ‘the world stands?’” asked Yanek.
“Those who suffer and are in pain know what a miracle is. They don’t take anything as self-evident. They always cry out to God, and for that reason they are close to Him. People who are satisfied and arrogant have nothing in their world except themselves. Even if they go to church, they’re far from God.”
Meanwhile the fireplace was warming them. Even though the abandoned house was open to the winds, it wasn’t cold. Yanek looked at the fire and felt that his father and mother were standing by him, and his heart twinged with longing.
Then Grandpa Sergei asked Yanek whether there was a mezuza on the doorpost.
“What’s a mezuza?” asked Yanek.
“It’s a tube with some verses from the Bible written on parchment, and Jewish people put them in a slot on their doorposts. Your house had one. You just don’t remember. Check if there’s a thick slot on the doorpost.”
“There is, Grandpa.”
Grandpa Sergei responded quickly: “They banished the Jews from here, too.”
Yanek wanted to ask for more information, but he didn’t. Grandpa Sergei’s silence was sometimes so solid, that he couldn’t bring himself to disturb him. Once Grandpa Sergei said to him that it’s best to be silent about things about which we have nothing to say.
Every hour or so Yanek went out to see whether there were wanderers on the roads. Suddenly he heard the sound of bitter weeping. A wanderer was sitting under a tree, completely wet. His backpack and bundle were also wet.
“What’s the matter?” asked Yanek.
“I’m in despair. I hoped to get to Saint Mary and pray for forgiveness. In the end I’m stuck here, completely wet, and my bundles are also wet, and it’s hard for me to pick them up. This is the end of me.”
“Come to us. We’re also wanderers. We found shelter in an abandoned house with a roof,” Yanek offered.
“I won’t go into an abandoned house. It belonged to Jews.”
“Why not?”
“Ghosts and evil spirits lie there. Once I went in and they bit me. I swore I’d never go into an abandoned Jewish house again.”
“We’ve been living there for a week.”
“That makes no difference. They bit me.”
Yanek didn’t know what to say. Talking about the Jews, ghosts, and evil spirits put life in the wanderer’s face. “That’s what the Jews left for us,” he added. “People shouldn’t be allowed to go near those abandoned houses.”
That miserable man, who had been crying bitterly a few minutes before, now spoke with self-confidence.
Yanek went back and told Grandpa Sergei what had happened to him.
Grandpa responded, “There’s no limit to superstition. For now the abandoned house is protecting us. The fireplace, burning day and night, gives off pleasant heat, and the mildew on the walls no longer gives off such an unpleasant smell.”
Outside it was cold and wet. Had it not been for the abandoned house, they would have been dragged to the monastery of Saint Mary with the wanderers.
Yanek practices taking the pistol apart and putting it back together every day, and he shoots at targets only late at night, so that he’ll be ready when the fateful day comes.
Grandpa Sergei keeps repeating: “Not to shoot, except in an emergency. And then, only in the air. If you shoot and hit someone, we’ll arouse the whole village against us.”
Yanek understands these instructions very well, and he hopes that his hands will stand him in good stead, and he won’t need the pistol. It’s too bad that his hidden strength only comes out of hiding in times of danger. During the day, sometimes weakness afflicts him, and he wonders: how can I overcome five or six opponents? They’re my height, older than me, and no less strong.
At night the voices speak to him again: “Don’t be afraid, Yanek. God is with you. God gives a lot of strength to those who fight the wicked. Quantity won’t determine the outcome. You mustn’t underestimate the strength of the loyal and dedicated few. They can do the impossible. And you, Yanek, will be among them.”
Yanek woke up. The darkness outside was thick, but the fireplace glowed and gave off light and heat. Grandpa Sergei was sleeping in his clothes, like a soldier. Yanek sat on the twig couch, and the voices that had spoke in him still murmured in his head. He was at full strength, but after drinking a cup of tea he saw his mother before him, and she said to him: “My dear, it’s good that I’m seeing you, and you, me.”
He grew stronger immediately.
36
Meanwhile the thundering in the sky grows stronger. Grandpa Sergei asked a peasant whether the Germans were retreating.
“So they say.”
“And are there signs of it?”
“The railroad station is full of wounded soldiers being returned to the rear.”
“God bless you.”
Grandpa won’t skip washing his face and upper body in the stream. This is a habit from his army days. Though the water is cold, washing is necessary to be alert and clean. Yanek does as he does. A dirty body isn’t ready for the struggle.
From day to day there are more wanderers on the roads. Sometimes, in great irritation and with frazzled nerves, a wanderer attacks a companion walking at his side, and they fight with each other till they’re bleeding. Yanek separates them and says, “Wanderers shouldn’t fight. You’re sons of God. You have to behave patiently. Help each other in these difficult times.”
They are so given over to the heat of the fight that Yanek’s words only incite their anger, and in the end, having no choice, Yanek draws the pistol and threatens: “If you don’t stop this fight immediately, I’ll shoot.” They’re astonished by his determined look and by the pistol. They shoulder their packs and flee from him.
In the evening Yanek wanted to say that the struggle was discouraging. But he restrained himself and didn’t say it. He knows that the word “discouraging” was distasteful to Grandpa Sergei. So he said, “The wanderers and the helpless people don’t know how to defend themselves. In the end they fight with each other.”
Grandpa Sergei listened, heard his sentence, and said, “Those poor people have been so humiliated, they’re so helpless, in so much pain, that they’ve forgotten that God created them in His image. They have to do their utmost just to stand on their feet, to curse, and to fight.”
“What must I do?” asked Yanek.
“Awaken human pride and the divine spark in them.”
“Will that help?”
“Even if it doesn’t help, we have to do it.”
They were running out of food. Yanek took a woolen scarf out of his pack and said to Grandpa Sergei, “I’ll go buy food in the grocery store.”
“What will you give them?”
“I have a new woolen scarf.”
“Take my scarf. I have two.”
“Sorry, Grandpa, you’re older than me and you need to preserve your body heat.”
“But you’re a warrior, and you’re exposed to strong winds.”
Yanek found a compromise: “This time I’ll take mine, and the next time I’ll take yours.” Grandpa chuckled: “A true Jewish soul.”
Yanek ran to the grocery store. He showed the scarf to the owner of the store right away and asked her, “What will you give me for it?”
“A loaf of bread and a piece of fresh butter.”
“What about potatoes, too?”
“I’ll give you some, but no more than a kilogram.”
While standing at the door of the shop, he saw her picking up the scarf and whispering, “New.” When he heard her say “new,” Yanek’s heart twinged. His mot
her knit it for him a month before he left the house.
Yanek woke early and saw Prince before his eyes. In the few days the dog was with him, his heart had become attached to the sweet creature. He showered him with affection so he’d eat something. He turned up his nose at cornmeal porridge, refused to touch fruit or potatoes, and just tasted some cheese. He was apparently hungry and ran away to the peasants. With them there was always meat.
“In the army they say ‘an army marches on its stomach,’” Grandpa Sergei tried to amuse Yanek, but this time his words didn’t console him. More and more he felt that part of him had left with Prince. He kept looking for him in vain.
For a while the abandoned house protected them, but evil voices had begun to surround them in the past few days. At night Grandpa Sergei woke up and heard someone’s steps. The intruders didn’t speak, but it was clear they were plotting to kick them out or beat them.
That very night Grandpa Sergei decided that the next day they’d leave the abandoned house and get moving. They ate breakfast, Grandpa drank tea and puffed on his pipe. When Yanek asked to go down to help one of the wanderers, Grandpa Sergei wouldn’t allow it: “We have to be on the alert.”
In the afternoon Yanek filled the backpacks and wrapped the bundles, and they parted from the abandoned house. Before going out, Grandpa Sergei said, “Yanek, go to the doorpost and kiss the mezuza. That’s what the Jews do before they leave home.” Yanek walked over to the mezuza and kissed it. For a moment they stood at the door of the abandoned house with their packs, and then they set out.
“The abandoned house was good. It preserved us for quite a few days,” said Grandpa Sergei.
Yanek knew that Grandpa Sergei felt closeness to plants and animals. Now he felt that he also conversed with inanimate things. But when they were at a distance from the abandoned house Yanek felt that his lips, which had kissed the slot in the doorpost, had linked him to some riddle. What it was, he didn’t know. He wanted to ask Grandpa Sergei, but didn’t. Maybe it would become clear to him as they walked. Maybe he would ask at their next camp.
Grandpa Sergei said, “Every journey is a new encounter with yourself. Among other things, you see what you saw, you hear what you heard, and if you have a friend like Yanek, who tells you everything he sees — your life expands, and you’re glad you’re not detached from the world.”
Long Summer Nights Page 11
