The Grayling

by Cheryl Freier

  “You must be quiet and you must hide”, he quickly responded in an almost harsh tone of voice, and he grabbed her by the arm. She tugged with him for several minutes and pushed him away. She ran to her family. He called to her, “come back” with frightening thoughts palpating in his heart. She ran swiftly and was soon out of sight.

  Sam stopped in his tracks, knowing the dangers. After a few minutes, he bowed down his head. Thoughts rushing through his mind, he knew, nevertheless, to follow his instincts. He ran to hide under a bramble bush. Through the thickness of entangled vines, he heard the sound of three shots—identifying death. He cried like a baby–stopping only when his breathing had became belabored.

  Nighttime fell with a deep chill, and he knew that the darkness would give him a better chance for escape. His mind turned to prayers–reciting what he could remember of the evening prayers. He dried his tears and was about to stand up when he heard the sound of leaves cracking, and the “woof, woof” sound of a dog.

  Shaking with fright, he crawled deeper into the bramble bush, his posture in a fetal position. Torn by the thorns of the brush, he suddenly remembered that if he crushed the berries, his scent would be gone; he quickly rubbed the berries into the fabric of his clothes. He rubbed the crushed berries on his hair.

  The ominous sound of the crackling leaves got louder. A dog barked. “Is it one dog or two dogs?” Sam asked himself. He shuddered and prayed, saying the words, “help me God,” over and over. The sound of the dog’s bark came closer to the bramble bush. Determining that it was only one dog, he sighed with relief. The dog sniffed in the air and stopped for a second and then he charged with front legs leaping forward–-catching the scent of a white, brown-spotted rabbit.

  The soldiers, running quickly, jutted up and down, the flaps of fat on their midriffs bouncing with a rhythm, up and down and then again. In no time the tune of their boots changed pace to almost a stop, as they were tugged down by the pull of the muddy surface—the hands of the ‘dead’ reaching and stretching to pull them into the ground with the help of the wind.

  Sam never looked back. He had only a little more to go when the back of his legs throbbed with aching pain. He felt alone in a conquered wilderness, silhouetted by the disappearing moon, a glow in the dark, the only light. Bending his head while rubbing the back of his legs, thoughts rushing to his mind like, “could he have saved her”, threw him down to his knees. He cried out for his friend, Sara. He cried out, “I have grown to love her”. His heart was raced. He lay prostrate, attached to the ground. An owl perched high up in one of the surrounding trees, began to hoot. The opera continued through the night.

  Martin had heard the quick, piercing sound of the gunshots–shooting arrows–—flying high in the distant wind, whizzing by. They were like arrows from the warring tribes of the Bible. Peering through spaces between branches on a pine tree, he spotted Sam. He walked slowly through the unshorn, tall grasses, hearing the opera of the night.

  Sam was lying prostrate, his form crushing the tall grasses beneath him. Martin reached for Sam’s arm and helped him get up. Sam began to cry. “Save your tears brother, until we are safe”, Martin cautioned him. Sam, out of anger, pushed Martin away. They struggled for a few minutes, and Sam fell, saying, “I have nothing to live for”, and he covered his face with his hands. The night grew even darker as Martin tugged at Sam’s arm and helped him get up. Martin prompted him, “Come on. Come on brother. Let us get out of here!”

  Sam grunted and walked at a slow pace. “Let me be”, Sam called out. Martin answered firmly, “No. Never give in to the Nazis”. “They are everywhere”, Sam said as he leaned his head backwards. Martin, squeezed his eyes shut, stepped backwards a few paces and he held his lips tightly together. He said firmly a soft tone of voice, “Hashem will deal with the Nazis. You will see! You must have faith.”

  “Oh, will they, he laughed loudly. Saliva collected in his mouth and he bent forward and spit out. He watched the spit water seeping in the ground. He saw a flash of light. Faces started to come forward. Whole bodies walked out of the muddy earth. The bare bodies gathered and huddled together, men and women and children; they danced, holding outstretched hands and they turned round and round and round. Stopping for a minute, they swayed from side to side and then clapped their hands and tapped their feet to the melody of the music that was in their minds.

  Smoke appeared, coming from small pipes that were installed in the ground. Slowly, the smoke inched up to the tops of their heads and then covered them. In a moment, the music that was in their minds stopped, and they were all falling to the ground. Sam’s vision blurred so he could not see where the bodies were.

  Sam closed his eyes, afraid to open them. Martin shook him, as Sam’s head and shoulders went back and forth, and then back and forth again, and he cried, “Come on, come on. Wake up brother.” Sam opened his eyes, and he blurted, “ I just do not know why they were all killed by the Nazis”. While lifting up his arms, he called out, “help me God. Help me brother”. Tears fell from Martin’s eyes, as he gulped, barely able to mutter the words, “yes”. He bent down and reached for Sam’s hands.

  Sam staggered as Martin walked by his side. The distance to their bunker home was not far, but it seemed like an eternity. Martin broke the silence, as he spotted the opening of the underground bunker. “It is tragic, but you must go on.” And he said firmly, “But you must go on, because you are a Jew”. Choked up with tears, Sam muttered, “yes, I am a Jew”, and then, shuddering, he held his head down and wept bitterly. Sam cried out, “She was a Jew, too!”

  Sam, his legs weakened, and his knees throbbing, beckoned Martin, “Can we sit a little bit?” Martin shook his head for a moment, clearly expressing “No”. “You know the story. The longer we sit and talk, the longer we set ourselves up as targets”. Sam nodded his head up and down in approval and said, with a murmur in the tone of his voice, “she was so young. She was so beautiful”. He sobbed, “I loved her. Brother, I loved her.” Martin answered him, as he crouched down and sat on the sandy ground, “you must remember that you are a Jew and that there is a purpose for you on this earth. You will remember her.”

  “Oh, a purpose?” Sam asked with an agitated tone in his voice. “Yes, God is always with us even though it seems like he has abandoned us”, Martin told him. Sam got up to his feet and questioned, “tell me, what did Sarah ever do that was wrong?” Martin spoke in a firm tone of voice, “God is good and God is merciful…. The Germans killed Sarah and her family and the Germans are certainly not Jews”. Sam smiled a small smirk, as he said, “no, I guess not, and then he said, in a more serious tone of voice, “They are Germans, devils”. “Yes, they are, and our God has quite a job on his hands saving his people from the throes of the devil,” Martin answered. The brothers walked on, side-by-side.

  After at least a half hour had gone by, Martin paused and said, in a calm tone of voice said, “his messengers just cannot be everywhere in the same time”. Sam was calmer now, but was exhausted and said, “okay, but I think I need to rest”. Martin replied quickly, “Come with me, my brother and let us live; let us escape to our hideout, and let us live to see the day when the devil is completely subdued by God and his angels. Sam muttered, “I say Amen to that”, and Martin put his hand on the top of Sam’s shoulder, and they walked together towards the hideout. Sam was almost like an inanimate stick, propelled by a physical force of motion at first. Then thoughts raced to Sam’s mind about Sarah. He called out, “Martin, she could have become my wife. She could have borne my children. We could have walked together to the temple; she could have sat on the other side of the curtain.”

  “Yes, that is true”, Martin said, as he wondered if Sam was able to go any further. “We will rest for a minute, and we will talk, but only for a minute,” he cautioned Sam. Martin thought and then spoke, “I cannot answer your question, even though I agree with your thoughts”. He paused and then
he said, “Think– back to the beginning of our history— that has been handed down from generation to generation–Jacob entered the ‘promised land’ after much strife.” “What does that all mean?” Sam questioned, as he looked up to Martin. “It means that there are bad people and that there are good people and this is the way that it has been for centuries”, Martin said. “Do you think that the curse will end?” Sam questioned. Martin looked up to the stars and paused for a moment, and he sighed, “I think that God wants the hatred to stop, but has not figured out how to make people want to love. Of one thing I am certain–God chose us as his chosen people. We are a people whom are loved by God.” He paused and then smiled as he said with a comforting sound in his voice, “I know that one day there will be peace”, and Martin cried softly to himself. Martin blew his nose and wiped the tears from his eyes with his cotton handkerchief and announced, “hopefully the forces of good will subdue the forces of evil soon”, and he paused and then said, “I would like to sing, maybe even be a cantor, and maybe even write a book”. Sam asked, “but what would you write a book on?” “Oh, that is simple,” he paused and nodded his head in affirmation of his thoughts, “why I would write a book about us brothers and our mother and father and sister”. Sam asked, “Would it be about the war?” Martin answered, “Oh, yes”.

  Sam chuckled as he said, “I would like to be a jeweler”. I would like to see the glitter and glow of gems.” “Well, there you have the idea—we will live through this horrible war if we keep our wits together. We will survive. Let us go now brother, please,” Martin said to Sam.

  They had the hideout in sight, when Sam faltered and fell to the ground. Martin coaxed him, “come on brother, like mom always says, ‘the camps, the camps’. Sam we got to live, we have to fight for survival, because otherwise we will end up in the concentration camp, the camps.”

  “Will we ever live a life without fear?” Sam asked, as he closed his eyes for a minute. Martin answered, “You and I have to hope”.

  Sam said, “Martin, sing something to me.” “You got to be kidding—in the middle of the woods with Germans creeping and crawling around, no thanks,” Martin puffed the words out of his mouth.

  Sam stopped cold and cried, “Brother, I need you to sing the song about the Messiah coming”. Martin paused and pursed his lips and said, “I will sing it softly”, and he chanted the words, “the Messiah is coming. We will all be free”. He sang the words over and over again.

  Thoughts rushed through Sam’s mind, however, and he cried, while shaking his hands in the air, “I have to go back to bury them. I just have to”. “Hold on, brother, we are here to be together, to survive together”, Martin said with kindness and understanding with a soft expression and concern in his voice. “I must go back, I must go back”, Sam protested.

  “You will go back when we tell you it is safe to go back, and you will not go alone!” Martin said in an adamant tone of voice, and he asked, “Do you understand that?” Sam continued to cry. He would not move.

  Martin said, “Stay here and don’t move”. Martin ran to the hideout and tapped the signal, five taps on the opening. Joseph heard the signal, and he tapped one time back. Martin went back to Sam and waited with him. He knew that his father would find them soon. Sam gave in to his weary body and fell asleep. Martin sat down beside him and waited.

  After a short while, Martin heard a strange rustling noise through the grasses; he looked up and spotted his father walking around them. He knew to wait quietly. Shortly, Joseph appeared in front of them suddenly, at first like a shadow in the back of a dark curtain. His finger was pointing to his mouth, and Martin shook his head, and nodded “Yes”. Joseph and Martin grabbed Sam by the arm and walked with him; they pulled him down into the hideout. Martin sighed a large sigh of relief, when he bolted down the hideout door.

  Sam slumped to the floor, despondent, his face colored ruddy red. He lied for two days, hardly moving his body; it was his own form of hibernation from life. On the third day, he opened his eyes; he looked around the room as though in a daze, and cried out, “I am hungry.” Everyone stood by his side and smiled at him.

  Anna brought him a wooden bowl filled with broth, which she had made from the roots of nearby plants and had cooked a wild bird in it. She made sure that Sam sipped it all as she sat with him.

  Joseph told her, “Bernard, and Martin, and I will find the bodies and bury them when it is safe”. He paused, and shook his head, trying to overcome the sadness.

  Sam muttered in his sleep, “I loved her, I loved her”. The rain came in torrents the next night, and Joseph said to Bernard and Sam, “the Nazis will not be roaming through the woods in the height of the storm. Besides,” he pointed out, “Martin will be the watchman while Bernard and I dig the graves”. “Won’t the ground be rather hard in late October?” Anna queried, while she sat arched in her chair. Her eyes glazed with fright as her eyes opened wider. Joseph answered her, “I think the rain will protect us and will soften the ground”. And he paused and then said, “anyway, we don’t expect to be there very long!”

  They exited the hideout one by one, each waiting a few minutes until they were sure they were not being watched. They walked separately, with a good distance between themselves. They had rehearsed the way so that they knew exactly where they were going, in case one of them got lost. They had a signal, the sound of a bird cawing, if they spotted any trouble, and they knew to lie down and hide.

  It was not until two hours later that the three men came upon the fallen bodies. The bodies appeared lifelike, lying in the rain with their swollen eyes wide open. The blood from their wounds had washed away in the rain. Joseph and his sons knew their task was gruesome, but it had to be done. Joseph used a large branch like a shovel and he started digging one large grave for the family. Martin positioned himself on the top of a nearby ledge and crouched down. Bernard stood next to his father and watched as the earth was slowly moved and the grave opened into a wide, deep pit. Joseph was nearly done when he felt something metal-like under his shovel. He said to Bernard, “You dig now and find out what is buried here!” Bernard dug around the metal object and then went into the large crevice and wiped the dust off of a large metal box. Bernard lifted the metal box by himself and placed it on the ground on the top of the crevice.

  The box had rusted slightly on each of the side corners, but it stood solid. Bernard spoke with a sense of anticipation, “I wonder what is in this box?” Joseph replied with excitement rushing through his veins, “Well, open up the box and let us find out!” A gush of air rushed at them as the lid was quickly removed. They peered in and both expressed a sense of ‘awe’ at the same time, “why, it is cans of food and jars of cookies, and there is some money!” Bernard smiled and looked at Joseph and asked, “what should we do?” “I will tell you in one sentence” Joseph responded with a tone of decision and said, “Leave the box where it is, while we will bury the family”.

  When the ground was covered with a top layer of crumbled earth, and they had finished the prayers that they were able to remember, Joseph made the sound that was the signal. Martin knew to come over quickly. “Look, it is a shame to leave this food. The food will only rot or the Germans will find it and have a feast on it” Joseph said, and he continued, “stuff your pockets, stuff your bandanas. Hide the tin box, and let us get out of this place!”

  They ran at first from the scene of death, never looking back. When they had reached the woods, they slowed down the pace and walked single file. The trail had guided them along their way through circuitous, but parallel perimeters, inundated with overgrown brush. All three carried somber expressions on their faces. Their eyes, dazed with fright, were aimed straight and sometimes looked up to the sky for guidance.

  They were more aware than ever that they were alive. Silently, they renewed their prayers to survive and to be free. Almost home, Joseph muttered to himself, “tragic waste of life
”. He collected his thoughts and squatted with an arched back, as he said to his sons, “I want you to tell Sam that we buried the family in the best way we could”.

  Bernard asked, “Should we tell about the food that we found?” “Tell no one nothing. Tell no one!” Joseph said in an adamant voice. His sons bowed their heads simultaneously and replied, softly, “yes”. They reached the entrance of the hideout, but lingered for a while in the nearby woods. When they were certain that they had not been followed, they descended into the safety of the bowels of the ark.

  Anna swept her feet across the hardened ground, crying, as she said in a garbled, anxious voice, and she held out her hands, “come and have some hot chocolate.” All three men nodded their heads in an upward motion, and they sat down with somber expressions on their faces at the wooden kitchen table.

  A new day began after a restless night. Just before the rising of the dawn, blasts of cannon roared their fierce, explosive force in the distance. Joseph, and Martin, and Bernard awoke with a shudder. Sam rolled over in his bed, snoring, adding to the noise of the cannons.

  Anna started to cry. Edith sat on the ground next to her mother—not even an inch separated her body from Anna’s, as Anna held her tightly. Joseph sat in his chair, staring at the opening of the cave. They all stayed where they were for at least two hours.

  Through a crevice in the wall, a rat nervously ran out of its hiding place and ran nervously towards them. Edith screamed. Joseph and Martin ran around the room after it, cornering it as it neared the opening. Martin stepped on the rat with a fierce stomp, and the rat was silenced.

  Joseph climbed up the short distance to the opening. He opened up the hatch and threw the dead rat in the distance. Pink lines in the sky caught his eyes and gray-colored blasting smoke filled his nostrils. The sound of the blasts was deafening and frightening, making his body shake. The sound of bombs bursting, and rifles shooting, and the echo sounds of the wounded made Joseph say to himself, “no good, the war must be closer than I thought,” and he closed the hatch door and came down the ladder.