On 2nd October, the sixty-third day of fighting, when the defenders had no more ammunition left, Warsaw broadcast its last appeal to the people of the world: ‘Without help this struggle has become hopeless. God is righteous, and in His omnipotence He will punish all those responsible for this terrible injury to the Polish nation.’
Too late to save the gallant defenders, Stalin changed his plans and ordered the Russians to march. By January 1945 the Nazis had gone and Warsaw was in Russian hands.
Because of the fighting, Ruth and Bronia had put off their return to the city till as late as possible. They had left it till winter had already set in and cold and hunger drove them and the other families from the woods.
A rude shock awaited them. The Warsaw they had known and lived in all their lives had vanished. The Old Town had been wiped out, and there were no streets left. Food was shorter than it had ever been – only a little flour, fat, and sugar, no milk at all. Luckily, there was water. Though the mains had been damaged, fresh wells had been dug.
Somehow they found their way to the cellar that had been their home for two years. There were signs that it had been occupied during the summer, then abandoned.
The chairs and beds had gone – probably used as firewood – and the table was broken. There was a dark hole at one end, which Ruth found to be the beginning of a tunnel. It led under the street, joining up with other cellars, other homes. Because of the firing and bombing, nobody had used the streets unless they had to. With the help of this clever network of tunnels the brave defenders had kept the struggle going all autumn.
Patiently and without despair Ruth set to work to repair the damage. They had no beds, but they still had the blankets they had brought with them from the woods. Friends provided them with sacks to sleep on. Some boys in Ruth’s class mended the table and made chairs from boxes.
When all was as straight as she could make it, Ruth started up her school again. Some sixteen children were squeezed into the cellar – lessons were always under cover now.
One day something happened which was to change the whole course of her life, and to give hope to her flagging spirit.
It was a sunny day, and for once there was no firing.
The children were out of doors playing a game called ‘Air-Raid Alert’. One of them would cry ‘Alert!’ and count up to fifty while the others ran for shelter before he shouted ‘Stop!’ Anyone who had not found a hiding place by then had to lie down and pretend to be dead.
Suddenly Bronia, who was very proud because she had never been dead yet, came running down to Ruth in the cellar.
‘There’s a boy lying down outside and he won’t get up,’ she cried.
‘Tickle his ribs,’ said Ruth.
‘I don’t think he can get up,’ said Bronia.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s not one of the class. I’ve never seen him before.’
Ruth went out to investigate. Lying on a heap of rubble she saw a ragged boy who might have been any age between nine and thirteen. His cheeks were thin and pale, and his eyes were closed. A mangy cock, with more bone than feather, stood by his head and squawked at anyone who went near him.
Ruth chased the cock away and knelt down beside the boy. ‘Does anyone know who he is?’ she asked the ring of children round her.
Nobody did.
‘He looks ill and starved,’ said Ruth. ‘Yankel, will you help me lift him down to the cellar? And, Eva, please find something for him to eat, some soup if you can get it.’
They carried him down to the cellar and laid him gently on the sacks. After a little while he opened his eyes.
‘Where’s Jimpy?’ he said.
‘We’ll find Jimpy later,’ said Ruth. ‘I think you must have fainted. You’ll be all right in a minute.’
‘I want Jimpy,’ said the boy.
‘Perhaps Jimpy’s the name of the cock,’ said Bronia.
‘Yankel, go and fetch the cock,’ said Ruth.
‘No fear! He’s bitten me twice,’ said Yankel.
Ruth was going to fetch it herself, when the cock appeared suddenly in the hole in the wall, squawked, flapped its dusty wings, and jumped down beside the boy.
‘Jimpy, Jimpy!’ said the boy, and he reached out his arms towards the mangy creature.
‘He’s a fine cock and he’s got a fine name,’ said Ruth. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Shan’t tell you,’ snapped the boy.
‘Look, Eva’s brought some soup for you,’ said Ruth. ‘You’ll feel better in a minute. Sit up and drink it.’
‘He won’t tell us his name,’ Bronia confided to the crowd at the door.
A girl pushed through the crowd and went over to Ruth. She had something in her hand.
‘I found this in the street where he was lying,’ she said. ‘I think it must be his.’
It was a small wooden box.
Bronia seized it.
‘It’s heavy and it rattles. He must be rich,’ she cried. ‘Ruth, may we undo the string?’
‘Give the box to him,’ said Ruth. ‘Nobody shall touch it without asking him.’
The boy took the wooden box and smiled. Everyone wanted to look inside, but he wouldn’t undo it. However, he told them his name. It was Jan.
9
The Russian Sentry
FOR SOME DAYS Jan was too ill to leave. What he needed was rest, warmth, and good solid food. The children scrounged what food they could – it was easier to get now the Russians had come – and left the nursing to Ruth. Jan had wrapped his wooden box in a piece of sacking, which he used as a pillow, and lay on the floor quite contented. Jimpy the cock stood over him as bodyguard, and Ruth was the only person it would allow near him.
By the time Jan was better, he didn’t want to go. So he made his home with Ruth and Bronia and became one of the family. Bronia was very curious to know what was in the wooden box, but Jan never opened it. There was no chance for anyone else to open it either, for he carried it about with him wherever he went.
Several streets away there had appeared a brand new hut, which was a Russian control post. One afternoon Ruth called there.
‘Don’t stand there staring at me, little girl,’ said the burly sentry who was on duty.
‘I’m not a little girl. I’ll be eighteen next week,’ said Ruth. ‘And I want to see your officer.’
‘The whole of Warsaw wants to see my officer. Run away and play.’
‘It’s very important.’
‘Run away.’
Ruth was angry. ‘It’s all right for you. You’ve got plenty to eat and drink and warm clothes, too, and a bed to sleep in. Didn’t you come here to set us free? You must let me see your officer.’
The sentry grinned. ‘Well, seeing it’s your birthday next week, I might stretch a point. But I don’t hold out much hope that he’ll see you.’
He disappeared inside the post.
A moment later he came out.
‘The lieutenant says come back the year after next,’ said the sentry.
But before he realized what had happened, Ruth had pushed past him and into the post.
A worried-looking lieutenant was sitting at a desk, typing.
‘Hey, you young hussy, come out!’ cried the sentry.
‘Leave her to me, Ivan,’ said the lieutenant, and Ivan went out, swearing under his breath.
‘You’re a determined young lady,’ said the lieutenant.
‘I’m not a little girl, anyway,’ said Ruth.
‘What is it you want?’
‘I want food and clothes and blankets, pencils and as much paper as you can spare. I’ve got sixteen children—’
The lieutenant gasped and nearly fell into the wastepaper basket.
‘Seventeen, if you count the one that’s lost. He really is mine – he’s my brother, Edek. So is my sister, Bronia. The others are just my school. They’re all half starving and they’re keen to learn and they’ve got nothing to write on. And I want you to help me to find Edek. He
’s been lost over a year.’
‘Anything else you’d like me to do?’ said the lieutenant. He waved a thick pad of papers. ‘See this file? It’s full of missing people, about ten to each page. All Warsaw’s missing. Hopeless.’
‘One more name won’t make a lot of difference,’ said Ruth.
‘I might as well burn the lot for all the good it is.’
‘Oh, don’t do that,’ said Ruth. ‘I see the writing’s only on one side. Give me the papers, and we can use the blank sides in school for writing on.’
The lieutenant laughed, and Ruth laughed too. ‘Sit down,’ he said, ‘and I’ll take your particulars. But I warn you, nothing will come of it.’
Before going, she was told to call back the next day.
She called – and found a pound of sugar, a pound of flour, and six blankets waiting for her.
‘It’s more than you deserve, you little hussy,’ said Ivan. ‘Sign here. And your address.’
She wrote ‘Bombed cellar’ and told him where it was.
A week later, with the help of the sugar and flour, a wood fire and a biscuit tin for an oven, she was preparing a birthday tea. Most of the children had been invited. Suddenly she heard the sounds of a scuffle outside.
She ran out and saw a soldier being attacked by a boy. There was a flash of a knife near the soldier’s neck, and Jimpy the cock was squawking and pecking at his ankles.
‘Jan, drop that knife at once!’ she cried. ‘Drop it – d’you hear me?’
She flung herself into the struggle. They all rolled over in a heap, but she had caught Jan by the wrist and knocked the knife out of his hand.
‘That’s a pretty welcome, I must say,’ said Ivan the sentry, as he picked up his cap and knocked the dust off. He tried to put it on his head, but the cock jumped on his shoulder and pecked his ear.
Ruth drove it away, then picked up the fallen knife.
‘Don’t you understand, Jan, they’re our friends?’ said Ruth.
‘They’re soldiers,’ said Jan sulkily.
‘They’re Russian soldiers, not Nazis. They’ve come to set us free and look after us.’
‘I hate soldiers. They’re all the same,’ said Jan. ‘I hate them.’
‘I’m sorry about him, Ivan,’ said Ruth. ‘His manners are as bad as Jimpy’s. Come inside. We’re going to have a party. Come in, Jan.’
Everyone went in except Jan, who stayed outside, sulking.
‘So I chose the right day to call, little gir— young lady,’ said Ivan. ‘My word, a birthday! Too old to have them myself.’
‘You shall have the seat of honour, Ivan,’ said Ruth. And she gave him a box to sit on.
Ivan sat down – and got up rather quickly, rubbing his seat.
‘Two inches of rusty nail! That’s not the sort of honour I appreciate,’ he said. ‘Did nobody ever teach you how to use a hammer?’
‘I haven’t got a hammer. I used half a brick,’ said Ruth. And picking up a piece of brick from the floor, she flattened the offending nail so that Ivan could sit down without further injury.
‘Brought a present for you,’ said Ivan, when he had settled comfortably. ‘Nothing much. But my kids at home are fond of it. Bar of chocolate.’
‘What’s chocolate?’ said Bronia, while Ruth thanked him.
She wasn’t the only one who wanted to know what chocolate was. There were fifteen in the cellar. Ruth divided it into fifteen.
‘Just about a crumb each. They won’t tell from that. Wish I’d brought some more,’ said Ivan. ‘But I didn’t come here to bring chocolate. I’ve got news for you, little gir— young lady. We’ve traced your brother Edek. He’s in a transit camp at Posen.’
Ruth threw her arms round his neck.
‘What would the wife say if she could see me now?’ said Ivan, and he planted a loud kiss on Ruth’s cheek. Then he returned to the business in hand. ‘Of course, I had to handle the matter myself. If the lieutenant had done it, nothing would have come of it.’ He handed her a slip of paper, on which the name of the camp was written. ‘And here’s something else might come in handy.’ He gave her a large packet of typewriting paper and a bundle of pencils.
Bronia clapped her hands for joy. ‘I’ll draw lots of pictures of you, Ivan – rolling on the floor, and having your ear pecked, and sitting on the nail,’ she said, then added, ‘Did you pay for this all by yourself?’
‘That’s not the way we do things in the army,’ said Ivan.
‘I hope you didn’t steal it,’ said Ruth.
‘And that’s not the word we use for it,’ said Ivan. ‘Just tidied it up, you might say. It’s a help to you, and it’s a help to the lieutenant because he can’t wear himself out typing any more.’
‘Don’t tell Jan,’ said Ruth. ‘He’s a dreadful thief, and it will only make him worse.’
At that moment she saw Jan standing in the doorway. He was sobbing.
‘Cheer up, son. I’ve forgiven you, even if you did want to cut off my head for a souvenir,’ said Ivan.
But there was something for which Jan had not forgiven him. He held out his little wooden box. It was in pieces. ‘You rolled on it, you great brute, and broke it,’ he said.
‘I’ll mend it for you,’ said Ivan.
Jan shook his head fiercely.
‘Jan, can’t you stop hating for one moment?’ said Ruth.
As Jan clutched the broken pieces to his chest, something fell to the ground. It was the silver sword that Joseph had given him more than two years before.
Ruth picked it up and looked at it very closely. It was vaguely familiar – that dragon on the brass hilt – where had she seen it before? Then suddenly she recognized it as the birthday present her father had given her mother the last year before the war. Then she, too, began sobbing.
‘Waterworks!’ said Ivan, puzzled and embarrassed. ‘First it was “kill me”, then it was “kiss me”, and now it’s the waterworks. Pardon me if I step outside and fetch my umbrella.’
And he went back to his control post, wondering what to make of it all.
10
More Help from Ivan
WHILE BRONIA SLEPT, Ruth and Jan sat up late that night, talking. There was much she wanted to know about her father, and Jan told her the little that he remembered. Why had the boy not spoken earlier about him? Surely he had been told the children’s names? But Jan had forgotten them. War does strange things to young people. Months of strain had blotted from his memory many of the details of his meeting with Joseph. But he remembered two things – the determination on Joseph’s face, and the name of the country he was bound for, Switzerland.
Long after Jan fell asleep, Ruth lay awake, thinking. Edek had been traced. Her father had escaped from prison and had been seen alive and free. How different must their future be now! But it was confusing – so much had happened so quickly.
By morning she had sorted things out and knew what she must do. She explained the situation to Bronia.
‘We must leave Warsaw for good and go and find Father,’ she said.
‘Find Mother too?’
‘Yes, Mother too. We must go to Switzerland.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Millions of miles away,’ said Jan. ‘And you’ll have to walk, without any shoes.’
‘We’ll have to walk some of the way,’ said Ruth. ‘But Ivan will give us shoes and we’ll get lifts on lorries and trains as well. It won’t be so bad now that spring’s coming, and in summer it will be lovely sleeping out under the stars. We’ll go to Posen first. It’s not much out of our way, and it’s only two hundred miles. We can beg for food, as we do now.’
‘I’ll steal it,’ said Jan. ‘You leave that to me.’
‘I’m glad you want to come with us, Jan,’ said Ruth. ‘We need you to protect us.’
‘I’ve got my knife,’ said Jan.
‘That will be very useful if you use it for what it’s meant for,’ said Ruth.
She went to see Ivan to explain mat
ters and to ask him for shoes.
‘I’ll bring you anything I can,’ he said, ‘but tie up that cock next time I call.’
He called the following week with shoes for each of them. They saw him coming, and Ruth told Jan to tie up Jimpy. He didn’t like doing it, but he obeyed.
‘Hello, you starving ragamuffins,’ said Ivan. ‘You’ve not grown much fatter. Why don’t you put him in the pot?’
‘Put who in the pot?’ said Ruth.
Ivan jerked a thumb at Jimpy the cock, who was nearly strangling himself to break free of the string.
‘He’s my friend,’ said Jan indignantly. ‘I don’t eat my friends.’
Ivan grunted. ‘I admit he’s a bit stringy. Not much gravy from him. If you put a flea through the mangle, you’d get more juice.’
Jan’s fingers ran to his knife.
Ivan noticed, and he said quickly, ‘Quite right, Jan. We don’t put our friends in the pot, however hungry we are. You and I are friends, aren’t we? And you wouldn’t think of putting me in the pot. Here’s some chocolate to make you fat, like me.’
He put his hand in his pocket, but there was nothing there. Then he saw that Jan was already eating the chocolate.
‘Oh, it’s like that, is it?’ said Ivan. ‘I’d brought you something else as well, made it myself. But I’ve changed my mind. I’ll keep it.’
‘I’ve got it,’ said Jan.
From under his seat he produced a wooden treasure box, trim and neat, with the letters JAN burnt into the top.
Ivan looked so astonished that Ruth couldn’t help laughing. But she was angry with Jan.
‘If you don’t say thank you, I’ll break it,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ snapped Jan.
‘You little animal,’ said Ruth. ‘It seems we shall have to leave you behind,’
‘Can’t stop me coming,’ said Jan.
The Silver Sword Page 4
