Joseph and Anna watched them, and said nothing. When they had finished eating, they said, “By the way, you can have the rest”. Joseph and Anna said, “Okay”. There were a few cobs of fresh corn left for the Freier family. The soldiers continued to travel to the nearby farm and they gave Joseph and Anna the few pieces that remained. By the second month, the roar of cannons in the distance could be heard more and more times during the day and during the night.
The two deserters started to quarrel between themselves. They didn’t know what to do. One wanted to visit the friend, the farmer and the other one wanted to stay inside and hide. They compromised. One stayed in. The other one went out, but he always took his rifle with him. When he was outside, he always looked over the terrain, and he always came back with stories that the farmer had told him about the armies moving closer nearby. By the third month of their visit with us, we knew that the war was really getting closer to us.
Joseph told Anna and the children, “We must leave here and soon. I just do not feel that it is safe any more. Anna agreed. Martin asked about the two soldiers, while one of them was sleeping, and Joseph said, “We will just leave him here”.
They were to leave in two days. They needed the two days to plan where they were going and to plan for food and water. Most of all, they had to plan for water. Water was the key to survival and it always was in many ways. First of all, they followed the streams for directions; they were always able to find their way when they followed the streams; fish were abundant in the waters so they had a ready-made fresh food supply; bushes of berries and the smaller fruit trees like the quince trees needed the water nearby for their roots to absorb the water into their root systems.
Night came quickly these last two days, and it was a blessing. The cold weather was getting much colder. But their togetherness as a family helped them to overcome the chills from the coldness and the fears from the darkness and they were able to sleep soundly.
The deserter with the gun brought back corn most of the time, and just a few times some bread. It had gotten too dangerous for Josef’s foreman to come to the woods to bring the usual drop of food so they appreciated whatever the deserter brought for them. This time the tall deserted brought a jug of home-made whiskey. The temptation and the lure of the taste of the whiskey drew the two deserters to drink to their heart’s content on this night. The two deserters, they swooned back and forth. They crooned like coyotes.
Josef and Anna and their children were all huffing and puffing while this was going on. They prayed that no one nearby would hear the snoring or the soldier’s sudden outbursts during their deep sleep. The sound reverberated so frequently. We were about to close our eyes, all of us out of sheer weakness, when the taller deserter started to snore even louder; his snoring had a sonata, a high-pitched rhythm all of its own; first a staccato beat and then two pangs on the drum, and the pang was not only high-pitched but it was lengthy.
On that particular night the sounds of the shooting from riflemen from the ground patrols, and the airplanes from high up above were coming closer to the woods where we were. We heard the sounds of the rotating wheels, grinding hard over the rocks and fallen trees and fallen buildings, from large tanks. The wheels of the tanks groaned just once in a while as they faltered, stalling just momentarily over the terrain, but then rejuvenated with a renewed power for destruction, just by the switch of the starter mechanism again. The Germans directed that their equipment and soldiers to: blast, and bombard, and destroy until they conquered and reached their destination.
Then the shouting, there were actual voices that were heard, we understood what they were saying; they were German soldiers and the officer in charge was giving his soldiers orders how to proceed against the Slovakian partisans who had joined Russian soldiers in the battle against the Germans, “Over here, shoot over here”, he yelled out, and he yelled, “on the left of the hill”. We heard cries for help in Slovakian, and in Russian, and in German. Anna and Josef understood all three languages. The two deserters continued to sleep through all of the noise.
Whenever we heard fast movements, fast footsteps, we were sure it was the Germans, and we dare not make a sound. From the tops of trees fires ignited as the smaller leaves caught fire. The fires spread from tree to tree as though passing from candlestick to candlestick, only a lot more serious. Branches charred and fell to the ground rapidly, igniting the ground beneath them and sometimes falling on an innocent soldier on the ground. The bodies of men who had died in the conflict burned too in the conflagration, turning the top of the ground into a bitter cold, hard, ground. Metals of destroyed tanks burned. The fumes and the piercing, acrid odors were impossible to escape. The deserters slept on. The moonshine was that effective. Anna and Josef and the children sat motionless in their chairs, expecting the worst. Josef told Anna, “If the snoring gets any louder, I will have to cover their mouths. I just do not know what else to do.” Anna nodded her approval. Josef told her, “I will try to explain to them first what is happening and try to help them go into one of the back rooms. One thing is certain, if the soldiers are on the top of this bunker, and they are snoring, we have to do something!”
The battle continued. Running and running and shouting and shouting, and then stillness as some sharpshooters hid behind an embankment and shot, bullet after bullet, exhausting the rhythms of the guns. Slovaks could be heard for their voices were clear. The Slovaks were the ones who were the sharpshooters. They were close to our hidden bunker. Josef said to Anna, “If anyone could find us, it is the Slovaks. I wonder if that is good or bad.”
Their thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of air craft flying overhead. The shocking sound of whistling bombs falling with their explosives to the ground could be heard—and we had to cover our ears or suffer from the reverberating echo. We prayed like never before that the bombs would stop. We prayed like never before that the war would finally stop.
I tried to think about the Bible. I tried to think about the battles between the Israelites and the early oppressors like Og, the Biblical character, who fought against the Israelites after they had just settled in the promised land. Battles were fierce and monumental–mostly hand-to-hand combat in those days, and there were: spear throwers and archers.
But the meaning behind the battle was the same as if I was riding the horse and had my sword drawn–-riding faster and faster, and yet faster until I could see the eyes of the man who would either kill me or I would kill him. At least I would see the feelings of a soldier in his eyes. I could feel that his heart was in the right place and that he was defending a cause. There were no eyes of real soldiers to be seen in this war and there certainly were no righteously causes.
Our hearts beat doubly fast as we had a telescope to see what flag was hung above us. Then maybe we could breathe easier. We listened with our ears as our hearts pounded, following the sad, sad ballad of battle sounds. There was smoke, so much smoke–it filtered into our cave. But our real vision of thought was not obscured.
But the protagonists, the Nazis vision of thought was obscured long ago as the arch protagonists drew their warring strategic maps and plans across fields and plains of magnificent mountains and valleys like ours in our country, Czechoslovakia, and other monumental countries like England, France, Poland, just to name a few. Czechoslovakia would never be the same; this history was indelible in fact and in our minds. What about its people? Will they survive? Will they have freedom? Will we as Jews have the freedom to pray our prayers as we had done for two millenniums, two thousand years of our prayers that is what it amounts to–-reaching out to do what the angels will approve of. I want to cry out, “Stop the Nazis.” Stop them now. Kill them before they kill us.” We want another 2,000 years of prayers to our G-d. We want another 2,000 years of heritage and devotion to our God. My head shakes back and forth, back and forth from the pressure of when this will all stop.
There is a unity o
f thought amongst us: a singing of souls and sad songs; there is a unity of commission for our people: we want our people to survive and we want to be part of a thriving Jewish community once again. There is our unity of hope and that is undying. We dare not stand up, at this moment to express our thoughts. We might be heard. Life, causes, values all seem value less. To the victor belong the vanquished. If the Germans win, how many of the German people will enjoy the spoils of the war? Very few will enjoy any of the spoils. Only the despots will reap the harvest from the pools of blood from the innocent and the unaware. A life has no value these war-torn days and life will be meaningless in days to follow also.
When there are no prayers and the laws and commandments of God to follow, there is no reverence for life. G-d did not allow Abraham to slay his son, Issac for the most important reason: he wanted a reverence for life and for the living; he wanted a song for the living; he wanted a Ten Commandments for the living to follow. What will there be of the worship to G-d then.
I think that we as Jews will never allow ourselves to lose our G-d. I think that we will live through this battle, and whatever battles come. Others who will die for our cause, which is basically the cause for freedom are angels who are put here on earth; who are the soldiers of God’s armada, and who will ultimately in time defeat the Nazi devils, and destroy them completely; and when they feel they have accomplished their goal and reinforced the warmth of their heartfelt endeavors for another set of generations and generations; they will then relay a report to the master himself and request permission for time off for a job well-done for they have done well at God’s instructions and bidding.
Josef poked the taller deserter gently with a twig at the top of his shoulder every time he began to snore; and instinctively, the tall deserter would gently push Josef’s hand away. We began to hear more and more footsteps coming closer and closer; then running, running closer and closer––-it was at first hard to determine if they were in the front or the middle or the back of the bunker. One thing was certain, the war had come to us—there were soldiers who were running, then shouting, then rifles were shooting; then we heard the sound of grenades popping. The very strong pine boulders and the beech tree wood inserts which were constructed in a fashion to build a solid underground bunker held fast, except for an occasional minor crack in the ceiling.
Joseph motioned for Anna to sit next to the shorter deserter and he sat next to the taller deserter; the children fell asleep where they were sitting, all covered in blankets. The cannons roared like lions, who had been deprived of food for a day and were on the prowl and were going to eat at whatever the cost; all night the bombs fell.
Human voices, shouts of pain, unconscionable woe from seeping wounds, could be heard throughout the night––absolutely the worst opera to listen to. It was at least a day and one-half later before the noise of the opera music of this sadistic war ended. And when the silence began, the music of hopeful defeat of the oppressor began and we opened our eyes; it was hard to believe that the conflict had stopped; the silence was for a few minutes a deafening sound, but only for a few moments. My father and mother were now able to sleep for a few hours and Sam and I took over watching the two deserters. We took over the same roles and hoped that we could control their snoring. As more and more of the hours passed, and more and more days went by, we began to hear the natural sounds of the forest: the sound of the wolf, the sound of the woodpecker, the hooting sound of the owl, and there could have been no greater, or more talented sounds than these sounds; they were my symphony of music, the finest symphony in the world. Now five had passed and all is quite and my father and I will go outside for some food. We will be cautious. We will need some food. We will take the fishing pole and go to the stream. We are all hankering for some a good fish dinner–it could be raw—we like it wet and raw, eaten with fresh wild mushroom and wild onions.
At the prompting of the shorter deserter, Joseph said it was all right to open up the hatch of the bunker. The three men, the smaller deserter, Josef, and Martin emerged from the hidden bowels of the earth and carefully closed the hatch to their survivor unit. Smoke with the odors of burnt woods, gun powder residue filters flew through the air, the ground was heated with singeing small fires here and there; bodies of men who once lived lay in forever stillness on the blackened ashes of the earth; their words and thoughts for peace would never be known. Better they should have toiled in hardship all the days of their lives and to have held their heads in righteous affirmation. Bless God for his thoughts of peace and for his blessings.
Joseph stumbled and blew on his handkerchief, and said to Martin, “Go tell your mother that we are leaving this place now. “Pick up whatever you can. We must leave this hideout. We must leave now. It is no longer safe to be here. They will be back to bury their dead. And they will fight again here. The war is not over yet. There are safer places higher up in the mountains–-let us just follow the streams”.
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, and sadness in their hearts, they each packed whatever food there was and rolled it in their knapsacks.
Very little 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, but not quite. They had not died. They had faced life in many of the toughest situations possible.
When they were all standing firmly on the outside, Martin mentioned to Joseph in a soft tone of voice, “Pop, I remembered to take the Bible”. Instinctively Joseph nodded his head in affirmation, “Good, you did the right thing. I am proud of you. We certainly do not want the Germans to find it”.
They knelt down for silent prayer, and Joseph quickly pointed to some black, bark colored trees, which were standing straight, as though they were guards for the innocent fleeing people; most of the branches of the trees seem to point their branches towards the west–—Josef told his family, “We must follow the natural signs and the streams; let us go five yards to the left and head west and then follow the stream all the west; I will tell everyone when to stop; and they headed deep into nascent, pristine, peaceful country; a family of five men and two women blended into the forest, as though they were shadows of trees moving with the wind toward their destination: a life of wholeness and fulfillment and peace.
Fallen leaves rustled with the wind and crackled from the weight of their footsteps. Owls peered at them with rotating corneas from high up in the branches of the trees. Squirrels paused from their staccato paces and with arched-up hind legs, paused to look at them with their large bleating, black rotating eyes; rabbits paused to shake their forward leaning ears to hear our footsteps, as they continued on their trek for some tasty, choice, green foliage. 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; as they waved their little furry tails, but dodged quickly over a rotted fallen tree and scurried along to their hideout hole.
The seven of them forged on, further and further, deeper and deeper into the woods: forgetting hunger; forgetting thirst; but remembering that dawn turns into dusk; and that hope and prayers light up the heavens. After half of a day of walking through the pristine unknown area of the woods, Josef whispered a breath, “look over there”. The eyes of each one was following the pathway of his pointing right finger. They saw an opening in a natural cave that looked like it was easy to get to.
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, even if they had to drag their legs, 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 darker than the first cave
, alluding to the idea that there were no natural openings. They lay down their shattered belongings and their weary selves. They lay down on the cold damp floor, oblivious to outside world’s cruelties and in deep sleep.
Emerging from their hibernation very slowly the next morning, as the light opened up the day and filtered through the opening of the cave. Instinctively, they opened up their knapsacks and munched on kernels of raw corn, and sour berries, and dried-out morsels of bread. They shared one jug of water. Sam did not speak at first but started to speak about how beautiful the trees were around the cave a little bit later. Martin coughed at times, but when Josef asked who was willing to go with him to the woods to catch some fish, there was a quick response from Martin and from Sam. They both responded simultaneously “yes”, and they walked out of the cave proudly with Josef with their thoughts focused on catching the grayling and enjoying eating it for supper.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cheryl Freier can hop on the train and be in Boston in 20 minutes. It is the culture of the Boston City that has inspired her to maintain optimum literacy and to become a published author. She has been a preschool teacher. She has two grown daughters.
The Grayling Page 17
