Last Stork Summer (7 page)

The route they’ve traveled for centuries has remained fixed because of the geographical location of the seas. Storks rely on soaring during migration. Storks glide on convection thermals from high altitudes of 480 to 1600 meters.

Turkey remained neutral until February of 1945 when it declared war against Germany.

For the most part, the storks continue their yearly migrations unimpeded by war.

Both parents bring food to the nest until the young fledge is eight to nine weeks of age
.

The word deserve can mean to triumph, merit or succeed. You may have an opportunity to triumph at something, receive merit for an accomplishment, or succeed at acquiring what you deserve. The Nazis tried to justify taking a country they didn’t deserve. Being triumphant doesn’t necessarily mean you deserve what you’ve taken. I felt the Nazis didn’t deserve our country. They could not take our country’s soul by destroying its body. I knew the storks understood that instinctively because of what they gave Poland, not by what they took. Our holidays, culture, traditions and festivals were built around these birds. Our seasons were noted by their migration patterns. Our farms flourished because they helped keep the agricultural ecosystems in check by eating grasshoppers, insects and mice. A long relationship, built on certainty and trust, existed between the birds and the people.

* * *

The soldiers told me I deserved this job, but there was no trust or certainty. I searched my memory for the expression on the young guard’s face. There must be some clue about the special job they had in store for me; something I would be good at. Over the years I’d tried to learn what the soldiers’ different expressions meant. Like books in a library, some of the guards were easier to read than others. I’d learned that if a soldier sounded strict and stern, yet his eyes revealed sadness or softness, I would probably be
safe. That phrasing, “deserve,” rolled around in my head as I tried to attach it to something I could understand.

I couldn’t read this man’s face though, and the older one wouldn’t make eye contact with me, which was never a good sign. His face was like stone, cold and hard, unaffected. A shiver went down my spine and I told myself to breathe – then I heard the familiar swishing sound of the storks’ large wings.

I paused and looked up just as one flew over and quickly disappeared from view, hidden by the rows and rows of barracks. It was so beautiful in the morning light of early spring. Its white feathers looked far whiter than I ever remembered them, and the early morning sunlight made its shadowed parts appear purple. The dark wing tips looked beautiful against the white feathers. I knew where it was headed, to the barns and churches just beyond the camp, to the same nest that it had used year after year.

Our culture was so enchanted by our beloved
bociek
that we had folk sayings about them.

“If storks arrive on St. Joseph’s Day, the snows will soon melt away. If they arrive on Annunciation Day, a stork will be in its nest to stay, and if they arrive on St. Wojciech’s Day, the stork an egg will lay.”

We even had a saying for when the stork leaves Poland and heads back to Africa. “On St. Bartholomew’s Day, the stork prepares to be on its way.”

The male stork is the first to arrive. His job is to fix and repair the nest and make sure it will hold up for the new family that will be arriving soon. The nests are constructed of branches and sticks and lined with grasses, twigs, and anything the stork can find to line it with. The male also needs to locate the food sources in the area. Storks are carnivores. They dine on frogs, fish, insects, small rodents, lizards, and worms. The female arrives a few days later. The female usually lays three to five eggs, and both parents help keep the eggs warm for a month until they
hatch.

Every town in Poland celebrates the arrival of the storks. Even though I was walking forward into a situation that was unfamiliar, I knew I would be alright. I’d seen a stork, the first stork of spring, so a blessing and a measure of good luck was upon my head now. A pang of longing touched my heart as my grandfather’s face slid into my memory. I was thanking grandpa in my mind when we abruptly stopped.

The sound of gates being unlocked and opened brought me back to reality. I was ushered into an area that looked like a prisoner compound with extra rows of fencing. I had never seen this part of the camp before. Inmates were only allowed in certain areas of the camp. This place was behind so many rows of wire fencing and buildings that it had definitely been off limits, and had escaped my awareness. It was farther away from the barracks that housed the children and the regular guards. The older man called out some orders in German. A door at the end of the building immediately opened and several young recruits, expressions locked in attentiveness, ran out of the building with what looked like young German Shepherd dogs, a few years old. I was stunned. Not only were the dogs young but the soldiers handling them appeared to be quite young also. I had no idea that so many dog teams were housed here.

I’d only seen the same two dogs in our barrack day in and day out. I’d seen very few other canines, and only at a distance while they were on sentry duty, or accompanying us to and from our work sites. The officer informed the soldiers that I would be tending their dogs. He commanded the dog handlers to walk them to their houses and release them. The dogs were very obedient and lay calmly in their houses.

I often felt sorry for the dogs that had sentry duty. It was nothing like watching the herding work our dogs performed. Our German Shepherds looked energized, like they were having fun. These sentry dogs looked bored, like their handlers; like I felt
when working in the factory. My curiosity was getting to me.
What was I doing here? What could they possibly want from me?
I figured they wanted me to clean their kennels, but it didn’t make sense that they wanted me to interact with the dogs. Most animals bonded with their caretakers, especially dogs. A German Shepherd by nature is wary of strangers, but once they accept the stranger, they are friends for life. These dogs are very social and love human companionship. They are playful as well as fierce protectors. I didn’t think they wanted their dogs to bond with me, though. Did they even know what they were risking?

This situation presented itself with such an unusual set of circumstances. I loved dogs but was terrified of the soldiers. When I’d rescued Anna in the barracks I hadn’t had time to think about what I was doing, but now I was confronted with a new job involving soldiers and dogs. If I interacted with the dogs, would they sense the fear I felt for their handlers? I wasn’t sure what they wanted from me so I reminded myself to act cautiously.

The older man spoke in German to the soldiers, telling them that I would be responsible for cleaning the kennels, cleaning the dogs and caring for them, but I was not to feed them. The young men still had that duty. I wondered about my new responsibilities. Would the dogs listen to me? Would they respond to what I expected of them? What would the soldiers think if they saw their dogs interacting with a Polish girl? After all, we were a people that their country’s leader viewed as inferior and worthy of destruction. This camp was full of children that hadn’t qualified for the Germanization process. We were actually lower in their eyes than the dogs.

It had been so many years since I’d handled a dog. I wondered if I was up to the task. Was it even possible for me to remember everything my papa and grandfather had taught me about caring for dogs? It felt like a lifetime ago since I’d helped on our farm. I had never cared for a dog used in sentry duty before, only
herding dogs. Even though I could speak German fluently, I secretly cautioned myself to measure my words carefully when speaking to the dogs. I reminded myself not to become too comfortable with this job. Dogs could usually be trusted once you knew them, but German soldiers never could. I knew if I slipped up and spoke Polish I would be beaten if overheard by a soldier.

One thing about this job quickened the pace of my heart. Just a few yards beyond the kennel fence was a forest. A slight breeze carried the earthy, sweet scent of trees to my nose. I could smell the Christmassy scent of the Norway spruce. I could actually hear the wind whispering through the tops of the trees, a sound I’d longed for since arriving here. I eyed the clouds moving over the trees. Heavy and dark, they looked as if rain was about to spill out of them like a bucket dumping water. The tree branches bent and swayed in the wind as if taunting me to come play. I closed my eyes and took a big deep breath; sighing, I opened my eyes. You could say I was in my element…well, almost.

The young sentry, rigid with soldier-like posture, brought me back to the task at hand. He was quickly explaining all the details of the job he wanted me to perform. I was having trouble listening because I couldn’t get my mind off the forest that stood only a few yards away. I was here to clean the kennel, replace the straw in the dog houses, give them fresh water, clean the water trough, groom and exercise the dogs. He showed me where the tools and supplies were kept. I was reminded not to feed the dogs. That job was still the responsibility of the soldiers.

“Ewa, do you have any questions?”

I shook my head back and forth.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Ok, I’ll leave you to the job, then. I will come back later and check on you.”

He grabbed my chin with his gloved hand and squeezed it between his fingers and thumb, using vice-like pressure, forcing
me to look at him.

His eyes were bluish gray. With a low, menacing growl he spit out his warning.

“You will keep this job if you strictly obey. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes,” I replied as water leaked out of the rims of my eyes.

My face felt bruised where the soldier’s intimidating grip had pinched it. Opening my mouth and stretching my jaw relieved some of the soreness he’d left behind. The marks, if visible, would leave in time. The memory, though, would last a lifetime.

The gate slammed shut, the chains were locked and he quickly left. Breathing a sigh of relief, I looked around. I stood in the middle of an elongated enclosure. Looking from one end of the kennel to the other, the dog houses lined one side of the rectangular area. There was a lengthy trough half full of water that needed to be cleaned and changed. Green scum floated on the top reminding me of our pond back home. Most of the dogs were lying in their houses, eyeing me. I knew to move slowly while acting confident and calm. I began to hum as I moved toward the row of crate-like houses.

I walked over to the closest dog house. I stood about five feet away and held out my hand so the dog could sniff it. She timidly left her house, approaching me cautiously as I spoke to her in a low, soothing voice, assuring her that I wasn’t there to hurt her. I was going to have to work for this dog’s trust. She was very shy, almost to the point of cowering. After letting her sniff my hand, she allowed me to pet her gently. I kept talking in a serene voice. She seemed stressed; she was panting heavily, and I wanted her to know I wouldn’t hurt her. I wondered how long she’d been in this camp. She looked young even though she was a good size. After she became comfortable with me, in a few days, I would look at her teeth and see if I could get an idea of her age. I looked at her collar. Her name was Mitzi.

“Hi Mitzi, how are you today? My name is Ewa.”

She cocked her head to the side and looked at me calmly, wagging her tail slightly. Her panting slowed down…good, one dog down, fifteen more to go. Perhaps some of the dogs would be more trusting than Mitzi. It was going to take time to get to know them individually. I started thinking about how long I would be doing this job. I was sure it would be longer than just today, after all, the Red Cross visit was quickly approaching. Wouldn’t the Commander want the kennel as well as the dogs to look as good as the rest of the camp? I hoped I could work here until liberation. I recalled the guard’s warning about keeping the job. I looked at the forest.

“I’ll be there soon,” I whispered. “They can’t keep me away forever.”

The tree branches bowed in the breeze, acknowledging my remark.

Fear no longer hung like a shiny necklace from my neck. It began to be replaced with calmness and familiarity. I could do this job with my eyes closed. There wasn’t a Nazi standing over me screaming “work faster.” There was only me, and the dogs, and the forest just outside the fence. Not only was I outside where I could look for storks, I was working with dogs, by myself, with a beautiful green forest a few yards away.
How was this possible?
I started working. This was a job I enjoyed.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Gratitude filled my heart as papa’s face filled my mind.

The storks eat a wide variety of prey items including insects
,
frogs, toads, fish, rodents, snakes, lizards, earthworms, and other prey found on the ground
.

Judgment is an interesting word. It can cause someone to exercise restraint, control or fear. The strength in a balanced judgment is that it can result in justice, balance, and fairness.

My father never sold a dog to a farmer until he’d watched him work his sheep. He wanted to match up the personality traits of the dogs and the farmers so they would become a successful team. Successful teams meant farmers would return to him for more dogs. I hadn’t realized how many of his training techniques had rubbed off on me. It seemed natural for me to notice the personalities and interactions of the dogs and handlers. The timid dogs needed someone more patient and kind. It seemed as though these teams hadn’t been properly matched, but that wasn’t my concern. I was only here to clean the kennel and tend the dogs. The less the Germans knew about my abilities the better. I liked working with the dogs because it took me back to a better time in my life. It seemed like a lifetime ago – an era before the war. When I was working in the dog kennel, at least for a little while each day, I could pretend I was back on our farm.

I preferred watching my papa put the dogs through their training exercises instead of attending school. School, so completely different from our land and the forest, was not my favorite place to be. School was so measured, regulated, controlled, while the forest was magical with its endless variety and curiosities. I felt so alive in the forest and so restricted in
school.

Those thoughts and memories hadn’t visited me in a long time. I’m glad they returned; like snowflakes falling slowly from the sky, piling up in a mound, waiting for me to dig in and lessen the feelings of seclusion and sadness in my heart. I hated the thought I was helping Germany, but every job in the camp was supporting Germany in some way. I felt selfish because I had a job I actually liked. There was so much misery here. How was it possible that I took pleasure in anything? Somehow, working with the dogs made me feel human again. Until now, feelings of joy and love rarely came to me during daylight. Usually, happiness only visited in my dreams at night. Often I would daydream to feel safe; any feelings other than the constant loneliness and fear I felt were unexpected and wonderful. Somehow my memories sustained me even though I was finding less and less time to daydream.

After years of living here I was nothing more than a skeleton, doing physical labor and following strict orders. Now, working with the dogs I could willingly slip into my memories and feel some comfort if only for a limited time each day. Maybe it was simply the fact that the dogs had no choice in the matter either. I felt almost as much compassion for them as I did for the children that were in the camp. I knew that when the war ended the dogs would possibly be destroyed. It would be difficult but not impossible to retrain them for something other than sentry duty. What would happen to the children? Even though they wouldn’t face the same outcome as the dogs, would they have homes and families to return to? Would they be able to resume their lives or would they be forever changed and unable to take up where their previous lives had ended? What would life after the camp and barbed wire fence hold for them – justice, balance, fairness?

How devastated would they be with their country, their culture and possibly many family members gone? These questions were not easily answered because there were too many
possibilities. Other questions came to mind. Would Poland ever recover? How would family members be reunited? It tired me to think so about the future, and not have answers to these really significant questions.

I wanted justice for myself as well as my country. I longed for someone to step in and hold the Nazis accountable for their actions. I would just have to trust that everything would come full circle, like the seasons of the year and the habits of the storks. Life as we once knew it would return, changed, but familiar. Maybe that’s why God gave us nature, so we would remember that spring follows winter and storms don’t last forever.

* * *

For now I needed to clean and put fresh straw in the dog kennels. As I replaced old straw I couldn’t help wishing we were as fortunate. We slept on rough boards with thin, lice-infested, straw mats and rags for blankets, huddling together for warmth while these dogs had plenty of room with clean, fresh straw that smelled so earthy. It looked as though it was very comfortable to lie down on. I found myself tempted to crawl into one of the dog houses and take a nap. The thought of curling up in the late morning sun on fresh straw with a warm, furry dog was so tempting, if only for a minute, but did I dare take such a chance? If I was caught, I would lose my job and probably be beaten. I looked at all the dogs. This was one job I wanted to keep.

I still needed to bring fresh water, haul out all the waste to the dump pit, and brush each dog. I needed to pace myself. I continued going down the line letting each dog smell my hand and gradually feel comfortable with me. It would take some time for them to trust me, and feel secure with me.

After loading the waste, I stepped outside the gate pulling the heavy wagon behind me. I stopped for a second to catch my breath. Going outside the camp fence alone felt so odd. I’d never
been out by myself before. I knew I was being watched by the lookout guard, but it still felt like I was on my own. I was so tempted to walk into the forest. It was only a few yards from the dumping pit. Trees reached out their boughs encouraging me to enter their shade and shelter. Chills went down my spine at the very thought of trying to venture out. Even if I was successful in getting away undetected, what would I do on my own in the forest and how would I get back home? I wasn’t even sure how far this forest reached; perhaps it was only a narrow patch of trees. I had no plan, and I couldn’t afford to be impulsive about this. I believed liberation was coming, possibly within the next few weeks or months. Besides that, I still had Anna to think about. What would happen to her if I didn’t look out for her? I cautioned myself to forget any thought of escape and just finish my work. I could feel the lookout’s steady gaze on my back. It was almost as if he’d read my thoughts. His eyes burned a hole in my back as I finished emptying the wooden wagon of used straw and dog waste. I headed back to the gate under the suspicious glare of the guard. I still needed to brush and exercise the dogs, as well as haul water from the pump to fill the trough. That would take quite a while, one bucket at a time. Nothing was easy or convenient here; everything was done in the simplest way possible, which only made more work for us.

I was anxious to return to the other side of the compound, and find out what everyone had seen or heard today while working on the cleanup program. Usually we were too exhausted to talk at night. However, the new look of the camp along with the extra meal and milk had given us more energy and we often whispered about anything we’d heard during the day, before drifting off to sleep. It was amazing to watch the girls in my barrack have more energy and become excited at the prospect of the war ending soon. I wasn’t the only one assigned to a new job. Many of us were given jobs we had never performed before. Along with the increased food, the new jobs put an end to the monotonous
routines we lived by and helped us forge ahead even though our future was unpredictable.

Despite the fact that I had only been working in the dog kennel for a few hours, I knew all of the dogs by name. I also noticed which ones were more dominant and which ones were timid. I checked their ears to determine which ones needed cleaning to keep them free of mites. I also checked their feet for injured pads. Sometimes the dogs’ feet would become sore and tender if they’d walked on a lot of cement or rocks, much like people trying to walk on blistered feet. After this last inspection I still needed to brush them, but I had to make sure I didn’t run out of time.

I started to become especially attached to one male in particular. He reminded me so much of Basil. He had the same calm, intelligent demeanor as Basil. His size was even similar, though his markings weren’t. He had one ear tip that flopped over slightly and refused to stand at attention like most German Shepherds’ ears. He was the first one to take an interest in me. He followed me wherever I was working in the kennel, and when I left to haul water or dump waste he sat attentively by the gate, as if he was patiently awaiting my return.

His name was Hardy, and although I knew it would not be a benefit for either of us to bond, I could not help myself. German Shepherds are genuinely loyal dogs and extremely intelligent. If he showed any favoritism towards me while on sentry duty it could cost one or both of us our lives. His behaviors, however, drew me irresistibly to him. He reminded me so much of Basil, I couldn’t keep myself from becoming captivated. His eagerness to engage me in play, his attentiveness and interest in me held me captive and made me feel special. Once again, I longed to feel the warmth and love of what I’d left behind, my family, home and Basil. Despite my concerns about connecting to Hardy, I became very attached to him. Working with him brought back emotions I had not felt for a long time. These weren’t feelings based on
memory; these were brought on by interacting with my physical world. A world that until now, I had loathed and tried to avoid as much as possible.

I was showing restraint in so many areas of my life – daily routines, following orders – but now those walls were crashing down, and I was frightened. If an aspect of judgment is showing restraint, I was doing the opposite where Hardy and Anna were concerned. I was so captivated by them. This was just the right mix of companionship, devotion and attraction; giving me back some of what I’d left in Kostrzyn, and I couldn’t walk away. I knew if it came down to choosing them or walking away…I would choose them. Anna told me very little about her family. I didn’t know if she had a family to return to. Hardy would be abandoned, shot or retrained. I couldn’t leave either of them to an unknown fate. When I left this camp, it wouldn’t be by myself.