Joseph said to his family, “pick up whatever you can. We must leave this hideout. We must leave now”, and he started to pack whatever food he could find. There was no discussion about what was going on. Everyone knew that they must follow what Joseph said. With heads bowed down, and expressionless faces, and with eyes half-closed, they each packed whatever food there was and rolled it in their knapsacks, which were hand-sewn from discarded jackets and pants. Not much time passed when Joseph demanded, “let us go!” and they all followed behind him. One by one they emerged from the opening in the earth, as though the dead had risen from their coffins. When they were all standing firmly on the outside, Martin mentioned to Joseph in a soft tone of voice, “pop, lift up the cover of the hatch and take out the Bible”. Instinctively Joseph nodded his head in affirmation and pulled out the Bible, saying “I will carry the Bible in my knapsack. Certainly do not want the Germans to find it”.
They kneeled down for silent prayer and Joseph quickly pointed to some black-barked colored trees, which were standing guard five yards away and they headed that way. They, the five men and the two women blended into the forest, as though they were shadows of trees moving with the wind. Fallen leaves lie rustling with the wind and crackled from the weight of their footsteps. Owls peered at them with rotating corneas from high up in the trees. Squirrels paused from their staccato paces and with arched-up hind legs, paused to look at them; rabbits paused to shake their puffy cottontails as they continued on their trek for some foliage in October. Mice scampered at a faster pace under the rustling leaves, nervously running towards a camouflaged hole, which was well hidden by underbrush. Chipmunks stopped to peer at them with anxious rotating dark black eyes; they waved their little furry tails as they dodged quickly over a rotted fallen tree and scurried along to their hideout hole.
The seven of them forged on, forgetting hunger, forgetting thirst, but remembering that dawn turns into dusk. After over eight hours of trekking through the circuitous prophetic trees, and up steep hills and rocks, and deep ravines, Joseph whispered through his many puffs of breath, “Look over there”. Their eyes followed the pathway of his pointing right finger. They saw an opening in a cave. Joseph breathed in and out easier as he said in a soft-tone of voice, “this will be our new home”, and they all followed him into the entrance of the cave. Sam was the last to go in. Martin held him by his hand and nudged him to come in.
The cave was dark, alluding to the fact that it was nighttime. They lay down their shattered belongings. One by one they fell down and lay on the cold damp floor, oblivious to outside world’s cruelties and in a deep sleep. They emerged from their hibernation slowly the next morning. Light had opened up the day and had filtered through the opening of the cave. Instinctively they opened up their knapsacks and munched on their kernels of raw corn, and sour berries, and dried-out morsels of bread. They shared one jug of water. Sam did not speak. He stared at the wall of he cave most of the day. Martin coughed at times.
Light quickly turned to darkness. In the dusk, a deafening, resounding sound rang out. More shots of sounds rang out. Bombs exploded, instantly shattering trees in their path. Bursts of fire shooting out in demonic arches colored the fallen trees with tepid red and yellow colors. Smoke rose from the ground and obscured the vision of the naturally scenic distance. “My God,” Joseph cried out, “the war has come to our old hideout”.
And in the months that followed, Joseph led his family to find foods and water; he built with his sons a hidden entrance to the cave; he set up a stove in the back of the cave and camouflaged the exit hole for the smoke. Anna resumed the day-to-day life of survival, helping as much as she could with washing clothes, cleaning, and preparing food, and talking with her family. She cried silently for the dead she had known. Sam no longer ventured out into the woods alone. He spoke very little. He stared at the walls of the caves for long periods of time.
On one sunny March morning, Henry came running up the hill and sounded the birdcall, and they all listened for more warnings. As he ran, he panted for breath, his feet hardly making it up the end of the hill. Joseph ran to meet him. Joseph held his son by his shoulders and asked, “Who is coming?” Henry breathed in a large breath and then said, a hunter is coming!” in an excited tone of voice. “Run, quickly, and hide”, he said to Henry. Joseph walked away from the hill and came from behind the hunter. Joseph called to the hunter, “you, there, hello”, in a friendly voice. The hunter turned around and said in a surprised tone of voice, “I did not know that anyone else was living in these parts. “Well,” Joseph replied, “just like you, I like the woods”. “Oh,” said the hunter and he took a deep puff from his self-rolled cigarette, and he laughed as the cigarette burned out while he held it in his hand. “Nobody could survive that bombing.” He sighed, “Some of the dead are still laying there”. “I am sorry to hear that”, Joseph said in a kind tone of voice”. “Well, I am on my way to the town, which is yonder”, said the hunter. “Have a safe trip”, Joseph said to the hunter.
Waiting to see that the hunter was no longer in sight, he headed for the cave. “The news is that there are dead German soldiers lying on the ground”. Sam looked up, and said, “Maybe we will survive this war yet”, and he went for a walk in the woods.
…….fill in.
Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the silence of the guns told the story of the ending of the war. Thankfully, it was not the ending of the world and not the ending of our people. We waited for two weeks. It was already April; it was time for the Passover celebration. My father climbed out of our underground bunker. He stood up and stretched his legs and back. He moved his hands outwards and inwards as though he was talking with an angel, in his own way pleading that the war really be over. There were moments when I felt that we were the only people left alive in all of Czechoslovakia.
Joseph said, “We must prepare for the Sabbath”. Sam replied, “Yes, Pop, it helps to think about prayers”. “Yes, always remember that God is with you”, Joseph said with a sense of honor, “and tomorrow we will hunt in the woods for food.” We will look for mushrooms and berries that Anna can grind and then she can make a bread”.
Joseph said with all of his strength, “come let us pray together”. They had one prayer book for all of them. Sam smiled for he knew to say, “Pop, when we get back to Micholovce, we shall dig up the Bibles and prayer books that we buried in the back yard.” Joseph smiled, and he said with strong conviction, “let us pray”. Joseph held the prayer book. Together they sounded like one voice–a family together with one melody. They were a family together before the war. Their religion and faith in God was the thread that tied them together. Now it was the war and the Nazi horror machine that bound them together. Martin sang with his family. When he sang, his voice was so powerful that the walls echoed all through the cave’s chambers; and out through the hidden smoke channel, dissipating with the winds and blowing from one stone to another, and never stopping until the sound reached the sky.
When they were finished singing, they looked at each other and nodded their heads in approval. They all hugged Martin. Joseph thought to himself, “it feels like the spirit of Judaism; this reminds me of the kiddush on Friday nights–taking the small sips of wine from the finest bottles of wine and passing a little of the wine to everyone at the table: the togetherness, the spirit of Judaism amongst us”. He paused and sighed and squinted his eyes, and thought, “How the fresh baked bread tasted after we took that first bite before talking and before eating the meal. This is the spirit of life that we used to have before the Nazis with their tall boots marched into our towns; before they threw us wantonly into the lime pits, before they took us in crowded trains to the gas chambers; before our children lay dead on the streets from starvation”. Joseph’s hands began to shake and he gritted his teeth. Martin saw that his father was upset and asked him, “Pop, do you need me?” Joseph cleared his throat, and he said, “son, you know what I wa
s thinking about”. Martin said in a soft voice, “I know”. Joseph left the room.
Joseph lay in the bed that he had hewn out of wood and had stuffed with tall grasses. The bedroom was big enough for a large bed and was in the back of the cave. In the cold months of the winter, he and Anna covered themselves at nighttime with the bear rug that a hunter had given them. It was warm in the chamber most of the time for the kitchen was attached to the bedroom. Martin, Sam, and the others slept in the other bedroom that was on the other side of the kitchen.
Old and dark green colored pine trees surrounded the top of the bunker for miles. The cones from the trees oozed with seeds–food for the family to store when the grounds were covered with many inches of snow and ice. The smoke from the kitchen stove blended in with the mists that always surrounded the tall and very old pine trees. The top of the kitchen vent was concealed by a screen, which was made from twigs. Joseph had built three large beds for his children so that they could sleep above the hard ground. Sam slept in the same bed with Martin; Henry slept in the same bed with Bernard. Edith had a bed to herself. They covered themselves with old quilts, which were made from old coats.
Joseph’s devoted friend, his foreman, had secretly carried the blankets and coats in a wagon late one evening. When the foreman’s horse would not go into the deep woods, he himself made a stretcher from wood and he put the coats and blankets on the top of it, and pulled it along until he came to the hideout.
Sam was tired from the long walk home, and he could not sleep. His thoughts were about the beautiful ‘maiden’ that he had met in the woods. He laughed, as he muttered to himself, “I do not even know her name”, and he fiddled with his mind, guessing to himself, saying, “is it Sarah, could the name be Miriam?” He put his hand across his mouth and muttered, “I hope that she is real”. He yawned and turned over on his side, but he still could not sleep. He started to think about the bombed out house of their neighbor who lived next to them in Micholovce. He began to sweat and breathe heavily. He knew he had to get up and walk around; otherwise, he was going to throw up. He stayed outside the bunker, but near to the entrance. He could see flashes of light going in scattered directions in the distance. He lay on the ground and pounded the ground with his fists. Tears flowed from his eyes in a steady stream, making it hard for him to see, but he knew where he was. He puffed out some breath quickly and said to himself, “good to be safe from those monsters”.
A creature darted out from behind the rock that was behind him. “Oh, let it live”, he said to himself instinctively. He stood up and wiped the tears from his cheeks with his bare hands. He said to himself, “if a small creature like that can scamper around and want to live, then why can’t I?” And then he felt an inner sense of peace from all of the torment. He sighed. He let go of his thoughts and fell asleep.
The sun rose and shined through the tall branches of the surrounding trees. Sam was dazed when he woke up. He squinted his eyes and questioned his surroundings at first, but then remembered that he had gone out of the bunker. His clothes were soaked with sweat. “Well”, he said to himself, “this will not do”, and he walked to the nearby stream. He waded into the water and shivered from the cold. His thoughts came back to the bombing that he had seen the night before and he reflected about the large room that he had had to himself in his house. He wondered if his house was still standing. He wondered if he would ever see his home again. Keeping his head above the water, he immersed himself into the water. With his arms he pushed the ripples of water away as he kicked his feet with all of his strength. When he grew tired and hungry, he came out of the water. He said to himself, “I know better than to stay out all night”. He reflected about the young woman that he had met in the woods, and he smiled. He asked himself the question, “do you think that I will see her again?” He cried out the answer, “yes, yes, I will”, and he went to the hideout.
Anna was in the kitchen. She was busy frying mushrooms for breakfast. He said, “mom, you are okay”, and she smiled and looked up at him with admiration. He sat down and slurped the mushrooms into his mouth and drank some hot cocoa, “thinking this cocoa is good even if it does not have sugar. When he had finished eating his food and drinking his cocoa, he felt better and announced to Anna, “I am going to look for berries and mushrooms”. She looked up at him with admiration. She hesitated for a minute and said, “okay son”, and she continued to stir her fruit mixture for the next meal.
Sam headed for the lake. He walked briskly, but he stopped to look and listen for anything that might mean danger. He thought about the shrubs and tall trees that encompassed the lake. As he went his way, he laughed as he thought, “Just uphill to get there and downhill to come back–that is the secret”.
A raccoon with tiny little hands, whose belly bulged, and whose eyes had a natural black mask, darted out in front of him. Her young ones followed. They chattered softly and moved their little legs in an awkward way, as they struggled to keep up with their mother. Sam called after them, “come back let me see you again”.
A mist hovered over the trunks and branches of the trees, making it hard to see, but Sam knew his way. “There are always clusters of trees”, he muttered to himself, and he remembered what Joseph had taught him, “walk closely to the trees”. He felt like a shadow–traveling amongst the trees, moving cautiously and in step with all the creatures, who knew that the woods were their only habitat.
A thorn from a wild rose bush gnawed at his right shoe’s shoelace, and pulled at the lace, and untied it. He bent down to tie it and when he looked up, he saw her–in the distance, reigning supreme amongst the creatures of the woods. His excitement was beating the blood into his heart at a fast pace; he felt hot, but did not take off his coat.
The weather was still a little damp, but the ground was warmed by the bright sunshine of a late October day. His thoughts were composed mainly about ‘her’. He asked himself the question, “should I rush over to her?” Then he realized that it was best to play hard to get. He thought quickly, “have to have a reason for being here”, and he knew that his answer was the cluster of dead trees by the side of the lake. “I will say that I came here for the firewood”, he said as he wobbled his head in affirmation. He bent down and started to gather the twigs, but could not gather two many, because the larger branches stuck to the smaller ones.
He broke off a few of the taller branches. “All right”, he said, “trees die too”. He began to deftly put together a raft with the wood, putting the branches together and tying them with strong weeds for twine; in his mind he visualized the raft as a magical raft, which could take him and his family far out to sea to an Island where there was prayer all day–and everyone could practice his religion, and where there was not the day-to-day searching for food. His thoughts were interrupted–for she came over to him.
Trying not to notice her, he continued to tear off the branches of the trees. She moved closer to him. He backed up from where he was standing, while tugging with a branch that was hard to tear off. He turned around quickly and said to her, “I almost fell on you”. She looked at him for a brief moment and said, “I just wanted to say hello”. He smiled and chuckled. He said, “Okay, hello to you too”. She smiled. He bent down and picked up some of the branches. She hesitated and stood watching, but after a few minutes, she bent down to pick up some twigs. He said, “thank you. That is very nice of you to help me”.
“Well, I guess your family will be warm with the firewood”, she said. Sam replied, “ Yes, this will help them a lot”. He put the branches in a single pile, forgetting about making a raft. She threw some more dead twigs onto the pile. Sweat poured from Sam’s brow. He wiped his forehead with the corner of his jacket. Squatting and bending his knees quickly to the front of him, he sat down on the cold, damp, fertile ground. She stood by his side as though she were a shadow. He coaxed her, saying, “sit down”, and she did. She stared for a minute at his face and then sm
iled. He said to her, “I have a story to tell you”. She sat demurely and answered, “yes”. He hesitated and stuttered, and practically spit out the first word, “my father has kept us alive”. He hesitated and then said, “He has taught us to escape from the Nazis at whatever the cost”. His lips tightened on him as an autonomous function of the body.
“Where are you from?” she asked. He replied, stuttering, “I am from Micholovce”. “Oh, that is a nice place, and do you attend school there?” “Well, I did until the Nazis banned us from attending school”, he answered.
He, calming down, and breathing in and out, asked her, “What have you been doing with yourself?” She answered with a princess-like demeanor, almost doing an arabesque with her hands, and arms, and legs. With an assured tone in her voice, “I have a private nanny who tutors me”.
“So you do!” the words sprung out spontaneously. He shook his head and said, “I am sorry, I should not have asked you that question”. She shrugged her shoulders. She cleared her voice, while she held her nose a little bit in the air, and said, “it doesn’t matter to me what you think about rich people”.
His thoughts scattered all over. First to his own home, which was a mansion; he remembered the large size of his own bedroom; He gripped his thoughts and remembered something that Martin had once told him, “We must show humility to God, no matter what”, and he felt a sense of assurance returning to his thoughts. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, I am not picking on rich people”.
The Grayling Page 12
