The Grayling

by Cheryl Freier

  Sam and Sara had agreed to meet once a week; and it worked out nicely for both of them. Then there would be the Sabbath to look forward to. So the boredom and the fears did not eat away at his conscious self. Another six months of the war had gone by.

  In the morning of this next day, Sam said to his mother, “I must go fishing today”, and he trekked through the woods, fully clothed with a warm jacket and pants. Anna did not question herself, “why” she only wondered when Sam would bring Sara over to his own family’s bunker and introduce her to his family. She could not help feeling that she had a feeling, a strange feeling in, a shaking feeling within her that something was going to happen; most of the time she dismissed these feelings. But this time, she called Martin and said, “See if you can follow your brother” and as she hesitated, she said, “in case he needs you”. Martin followed Sam through all of the trails through all of the pine woods and beech woods and did not lose him even though he stayed far behind Sam.

  Sam headed straight to the lake. The wind blew on his back and he said, “Wind, wind blow at me some more and faster, and he ran faster, while looking for Sara from a distance. Sarah was sitting on a log, waiting for him at the lake, at the usual spot, beyond the clearing. Puffing and huffing, his cheeks almost red like a red-colored apple, he walked up to her and said, “How are you?” She turned her head and said, “I am okay” in a soft, sad-sounding voice. They sat for a while. She gave him three left over sugar cookies; and while biting on one, he put the others in his jacket pocket and patted the outside of the pocket in an automatic response.

  He fished and she sat next to him and together they watched the string at the end of the pole. She saw the water move in circles with the circles floating farther away from the center circle. As she watched, she began to see glimpses of her life–living in her home–running up and down the twenty-five steps on the stairway, inviting her friends over to do their homework together, going together as a family every Saturday to the temple, coming home from the temple and having a discussion on the part of the Bible that the Rabbi discussed. Her thoughts were interrupted as Sam suddenly called out, “wow, this is a big fish. He tugged at the line and tried to pull it in. Sarah watched, her eyes bulging, as she jumped up and down in excitement. She said, “This time, you have really caught a big one. You have caught a salmon”. “Yes”. He answered back. “My idea of tying four big worms to an old shell surely worked. He got up and danced. He held her and they danced. They were happy.

  At a hill a short distance away, which was well hidden from the pathway that had been formed by the people, hunters, and people who were hiding, who trekked through this terrain, Martin watched. He smiled and looked in amazement and thought, “my brother Sam has found a girlfriend, and I think that it is going to grow into a serious relationship–-and of all places–in the middle of the woods. Contented that he had solved the riddle of who this captivating maiden was, Martin headed home to the hideout, on guard always for Nazis or collaborators.

  His mother greeted him with swelled excitement, saying, “So what happened, so what happened?” Martin blurted out with one quick breath, “Sam has found a girlfriend and I think that it is serious”. “No, but I will tell you that I knew that he found a friend but I did not know that it would be serious. You know Sam, he is always clowning around, no?” Anna questioned. “Yes,” Martin answered, and Anna stepped backwards and sat down on one of the wooden living room chairs and took out a cloth handkerchief and blew her nose, and for a while she sat and stared into space, but she was smiling. Martin broke the silence by saying, “It will be all right.” She looked up at him, and she nodded, “yes”, but there were tears in her eyes.

  Not far from the lake, and close to some large boulders from the magnificent Carpathian Mountains; and only a short distance from their hideout in the woods, Sara’s sister had begun taking sunbaths, just to pass the time of day. She had fashioned foil paper around a large piece of cardboard, and while she sat in a wooden chair, she held the cardboard under her chin. She closed her eyes, and she supped in the warmth of the sun. Sarah’s sister had somehow forgotten that a horrible war was raging.

  The sun’s reflection bounced from the cardboard to the nearby boulders of the mountain many times during the day, then up into the ridges of the mountains many times just like the sound of an echo. As the sun got hotter, the reflection bounced off from one rock to the other more and more. She was completely unaware of the danger she was putting herself in. Per chance, the sun’s rays announced the family’s presence, signaling telegraphically, “We are here.”

  Unknown to most of the local people and known only to the loyal collaborators with the local Nazi organization and with the Czech Priest who befriended Hitler, Father Tiso, the Nazis were looking over the terrain; they were looking for partisans who might be hiding; they were looking for Russian soldiers who might be regrouping; and they were looking for American soldiers who might be thinking of liberating Czechoslovakia and the Germans were always fearful of losing their power in Czechoslovakia; it meant a loss of some of the richest natural resources in the world: the forest alone produced invaluable pine wood and beech wood; the country was wealthier than most other European countries–—its ownership of solid gold bullion was a staggering amount! And strategically, Czechoslovakia was not a good country to lose because it was land-locked and bordered six other countries, including Poland. The country of Poland was of super military strategic value to the Germans because logistically it was a route to conquering Russia, a goal that they demanded within themselves to achieve.

  On that same afternoon, a handful group of Nazi soldiers, five soldiers, were on patrol, surveying the top of the mountain and every once and a while they used their binoculars to look at different directions of the Carpathian Mountains. While they descended the mountain, one of the soldiers spotted the reflection of the sun shining off and on onto one of the boulders like it was a signal.

  “What is that?” He yelled out loudly as he pointed to the reflection. His lieutenant quickly peered through his binoculars. He said in a bitter-sounding voice, “Cannot see exactly where it is coming from, but we must find out from where!” He yelled to his men, “Could be a signal from a Russian or a partisan, or a Yid!” He quickly ordered everyone to search. He led the way, with his hand nesting on an open holster, and his mindset was ready to shoot, no matter what.

  The clouds had grown gray and Molly, noticing that the weather had changed, she thought, “Must be going home.” She folded the sun board, and brushed off her clothes. As she walked, she stopped to pick wild purple flowers, and she thought; “I will bring these home for my mother.” She was unsure what to do with the sun board. She hid it in one of the nearby bushes, but left the wooden chair. She started to walk home. She was half way there when, the Germans discovered the chair. They searched the bushes and then they found the sun board. They thought of the sun board as a signal board and were immediately on the alert for a fugitive. They saw her footprints and they followed them. They followed her and reached her before she had reached her house.

  A shot from one of their shotguns whizzed out. It pierced her head. Stunned, she stood still, shaking—her body grew instantly colder. The soldiers ran down the pathway so quickly, reaching her, crushing tiny white flowers with the weight of their big, ferocious boots. Five tall, green-clad soldiers surrounded her, each soldier aiming his rifle at her head.

  “Where are you from?” the German lieutenant shouted. She stood and stared at the soldiers, not believing what she saw. Cold and shaking, her lips changed to a shade of purple from blue. “Where are you from?” the lieutenant shouted again and before she could muster up the strength to answer, the lieutenant walked up to her and slapped her in the face. His impatience grew and he slapped her two more times.

  She fell to the ground. Her hand accidentally brushed against his rifle. Acting only on animal instinct, one of the soldiers fired his gun a
t her. She lay on the ground where she fell, lifeless.

  “Why did you do that?” the lieutenant shouted at the soldier. The soldier stood at attention and answered, “These Jews are not that smart”. The lieutenant stared at the soldier and then laughed. He shouted, “We will find her hideout. Make it quick”, as his eyes automatically surveyed the surrounding area and he left with one of the soldiers for high ground.

  The three German soldiers followed the pathway, walking on the fallen grasses and leaves. The wooden house, squelched between tall, thick pine trees, slowly was discovered through the spaces in-between the briars which deftly covered it. Smoke was obvious from its chimney. The sharp eyes of one of the German soldiers spotted it. The soldiers banged down the wooden door on the front of the house. Their rifle butts loosened the door instantly and bore large and misshaped gores and chips into the skilled craftsmanship of the door; unable to resist their unnatural force, the door crashed to the floor, and once the door was opened, the opened space revealed both Sara’s mother and father. The two shivering figures hovered together as fear was written on their protruding eyes. Their heart beats could be heat a distance away.

  The soldier in charge shouted, “let us finish this disgusting job today. Shoot them!” Two lifeless figures fell. They lay cold on the creaking wooden planks of the living room floor; they remained an imprint in time, testifying to the German soldiers’ vulgarity and cruelty. I am certain that their last words expounded that they were innocent of any wrong doings and that they questioned, “Why are you doing this to me?”

  From the distance, Sarah and Sam heard the rifle shots; at first dazed by the meaning of the shots, and unable to discern its full impact and meaning. Sam grasped the reality, though, a few minutes later, and he bit his lips. He grabbed Sara by the hand and held her tightly. “Do not go,” he yelled, while his head moved in every direction, trying to sense if the Germans were coming near them. She struggled with him, pulling her hand away, until she broke from his grip. She cried out, “I must go to my family,” while tears clouded her eyes.

  “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 some thick brush. Through the thickness of entangled vines, he heard the sound of three shots—identifying death, loss of life, loss of his beloved; he realized that the Germans had killed her. He realized that they were all gone. He cried like a baby–stopping only when his breathing had became belabored. He knew that he had to escape. He did not want to be their fifth victim. He knew that they had the guns and that he was outnumbered. He cried to himself, “Why didn’t she listen to me?”

  Nighttime fell with a deep cold 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 another patch of thicker brush, and there were some wild berries, scratching his body innumerable times with wounds bleeding, but he knew that he had to hide; he lay quietly for at least an hour; his posture in a fetal position. Torn by the thorns of the brush, he suddenly remembered that if he crushed some 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. He rubbed the berries all over his feet and all over his hands.

  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 brush. 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 after the dog, 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 disappearing glow in the dark, his only light. Bending his head while rubbing the back of his legs, thoughts rushing to his mind like, “could he have saved her”, he threw himself down to his knees. He cried out for his friend, Sara. He cried out, “I have grown to love her”. His heart was racing. He lay prostrate, attached to the ground, as though he belonged to the ground too. An owl perched high up in one of the surrounding trees, began to hoot. The composition of the music of the night opera of the deep woods continued throughout the night.

  Martin thought he had heard the quick, piercing sound of the bullets finding its unfortunate marks–like small shooting arrows on fire, flying high in the distant wind, whizzing by at such an incredible speed. The bullets were like the fierce, well-aimed arrows from the warring tribes when the story of the Bible was being written. Following the sound of the hooting owl, and peering through open spaces between branches between the pine trees, he sighed out of relief when he finally spotted Sam. He walked slowly through the few unshorn, tall grasses, and knelt down beside his brother, while listening to the sounds of the music from 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 in a soft tone of voice, “Our Lord will deal with the Nazis. You will see! You must have faith.”

  “Oh, will he? He laughed loudly, as though he was inebriated. Saliva collected in his mouth and he bent forward and spit out. He watched the saliva seep into the ground. He saw a flash of light coming toward the two of them suddenly. Martin was unsure whether to hide or not. He was unsure whether the light was real or unreal. 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 the night. Slowly the light faded. He gathered his courage. He said to Sam, “Come on brother, let us get out of this place”.

  Smoke appeared, coming from small pipes that were installed into the conduit on ground on the other side of the cave. Slowly, the smoke inched up to the tops of their heads and then covered them. In a moment, the music of the night that was in their minds, stopped, and they were all falling to the ground. Sam’s vision blurred because he had so many tears. But he wiped away the tears and carried
his brother on his shoulder; they were on their way home.

  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 was able to walk by himself now.

  Sam staggered as Martin walked by his side. The distance to their bunker home was not far, but it seemed like every moment was an hour. 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’s leg’s weakened, and his knees throbbed, and he 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.”