Last Stork Summer (9 page)

Before the summer is over, the fledgling storks join their parents at the feeding grounds, which are usually near wet or marshy areas
.

While heading over to the dog kennels, I started thinking about how to steal food for Anna. My coat pockets would be too obvious and the first place I’d be searched if anyone became suspicious. Hardy was patiently waiting for me by the gate. When he spotted me he put his paws on the fence and wagged his tail. His behavior was a welcome distraction for the worry I carried for Anna. I couldn’t help break into a smile; he looked so playful and happy to see me.

“Hi Hardy, how are you? Have you been waiting long?”

My heart melted from the kind look of recognition in his eyes. The other dogs just lay in the sun, barely even noticing I had arrived. A few of the dogs lifted their head to see who was coming in the gate, but were feeling lazy, from relaxing in the sun. Hardy immediately bounded over and began poking me with his nose to tell me, “stop and have a conversation.” I rubbed his ear; the hair on it was especially soft and silky. He mouthed my coat sleeve, gently holding my arm between his teeth. He wasn’t trying to bite me. He only wanted my attention in a gentle way.

“Hardy, enough!” I spoke firmly even though I didn’t really need to.

He obediently released my sleeve. The fabric was threadbare and weak and one of Hardy’s canine teeth tore a small hole in the fabric, exposing the lining underneath.

“Hardy, I think you just answered a prayer!”

I looked into the hole in my coat sleeve. I could probably store about a cup of food in the lining of my sleeve. I was beyond excited but I still needed to complete all of my chores and appear calm so I wouldn’t arouse the guard’s suspicions. I didn’t want to give them any reason to suspect me. This food could mean the difference between Anna making it to the end of the war or not.

“Come on, Hardy, let’s get started, shall we?”

I climbed into the first dog house. The smell of the straw reminded me of tending the nesting boxes in our hen house. I removed the day-old straw with my bare hands. This dog had a small supply of food in one corner buried under some straw. I wondered if a mouse had put the food there or if the dog had. I put several pieces through the hole in my sleeve. They fell down to the underside of my sleeve.

Hardy playfully nudged me, and I said, “Shhh, you mustn’t give me away.”

He sat and cocked his head sideways as if he understood my plea. He watched as I grabbed the wooden wagon and raked up the straw. He followed me from house to house as I repeated the process for every dog house in the kennel. As the weather grew warmer, many of the dogs scratched the straw out of their houses, which just made my job easier. I loved the smell of the clean, fresh straw that I pulled apart and put inside each house. Next, I emptied the metal watering tank, one bucket at a time. Thank goodness the weather was warm today. I was grateful I didn’t have to do this every day! After what seemed like hours, I grabbed the stiff bristle brush and began scrubbing the green slime which had built up over the week. The warmer the weather, the faster it built up on the sides of the water trough. Hardy grabbed the small metal bucket that I had used for emptying the trough. He tilted it up as if to drain it and at the same time released it from his mouth. It landed perfectly on top of his head! He couldn’t see where he was going and I had to stop cleaning the trough and pull the bucket off his head.

“Hardy, how am I going to get all of my work done, if you don’t stop clowning around?”

As usual he cocked his head sideways, innocently looking at me as if to say, “Let’s play.”

I finally finished all of my chores and started hauling waste out to the camp dumping pit. Again I wondered what life would be like if I was able to escape. I eyed the forest. It seemed so close and yet so far and untouchable. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I listened for the sounds of the forest. I breathed the smell of pine needles and wood. A memory of Basil and I running down a forest path filled my mind, but it felt like lifetimes ago, not the few years it had actually been. Was I losing touch with my past, and who I had been in my life before arriving here? My eyes filled with tears and I realized I was tired, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. I was drained. I wanted an end to this war, this camp and my captivity. For the first time I wondered if I would survive this war. I felt weak and dizzy as the ground suddenly spun up to meet my face.

I woke to someone shaking me and asking me if I was ok. It was Hardy’s handler. Earlier I’d seen him from a distance.

“Yes,” I answered in a daze. “What happened? I feel so tired, and my arms feel too heavy to lift.”

“I think you fainted.” He looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Here, let me help you up. You should try and drink some water.”

Before I’d even thought about it, I’d allowed him to help me. Standing there, reeling from queasiness and fatigue, I realized a German soldier had just helped me. He could get in a lot of trouble for that act of kindness. He watched as I turned the wagon around and headed back to the kennel through the camp gate. My knees were weak and I was light headed. Still confused by the soldier’s compassion, I started brushing the dogs. Perhaps later I could make sense of what had just happened.

In my weakened condition it took me more time than usual to
brush the dogs. Hardy followed me from dog to dog and sat patiently as I brushed each one. Finally, it was Hardy’s turn. I spent extra time with him, because he was the last dog I groomed, and I hated to leave him. I reflected on the earlier events from the day. Maybe Hardy’s handler had been in the forest, seen me faint and come to check on me. Perhaps he was just out for a walk and I hadn’t noticed him. I had rarely seen him working in the camp, so only recently did I realize he was paired with Hardy. I wondered if he was the soldier who’d spoken about escaping. I hadn’t seen but only heard the soldiers’ quiet conversation. He seemed very kind…no wonder Hardy was so friendly.

Hardy was so much more willing to play with me than the other dogs. He really liked me. Maybe I reminded him of a girl who had cared for him as a puppy. I would never find out why he liked me so much, but I was glad he did.

Hardy was a constant reminder of Basil. They were so similar in temperament, playful yet obedient. Both followed me everywhere, looked over me, and engaged me in play. I wondered if Hardy had come from Germany? What did it matter really? Maybe these comparisons, these memories, were just a cruel joke.

Look around, Ewa, look at your surroundings
. I was tired of hoping and praying that my family and dog were still alive…I wanted proof, I wanted something more than hopes and dreams. My memories were starting to lose weight, they were becoming as thin as the watered down soup we ate day after day.
Please God, let me live to see my family and dog again. I know they’re still alive, I can feel it. I just want to go home
. Those images were my world. They were all I arrived here with. I was afraid. My feelings were getting away from me. Hardy and Anna were taking the place of my family, diluting my memories and consuming my thoughts with concern. They were on my mind more and more every day. I felt like a traitor. I put the tools and
wagon away, waited for the gate to be unlocked and headed back to the barrack following the armed soldier, like an animal weakened by exhaustion.

I was sure Anna’s day of kitchen duty hadn’t been as enjoyable as my day with the dogs. I’d been able to salvage about half a cup of dog food for her. I’d hidden it between the lining and outer fabric on my coat sleeve. I kept my hand in my pocket because I didn’t want the dog food to come spilling out. I assumed she’d been able to steal some potato peels for herself to supplement the camp rations. I was feeling a bit stronger now as I headed through camp to our barrack. Dinner might make me feel better, even if it was only a bowl of soup; the nourishment would help. I was anxious to find out how Anna was feeling and how her day had been.

I looked up at a few clouds dotting the sky. The weather was doing its part to hurry spring along. Just as the land surrounding us was slowly changing from brown to green, Poland was slowly and steadily changing from Nazi occupation to taking back control. It wasn’t as obvious as leaves forming on branches, but it was occurring. The subtle signs were there.

The fact that children were now being recruited to help in the kitchen was another indication that things were changing with the current war situation. Perhaps the usual kitchen help had been assigned to some temporary camp beautification project, or maybe sent to another war front. We’d never hear the truth from the Nazis. Honesty about their situation in the war wasn’t a quality they exhibited.

Suddenly the sirens sounded – an air raid! Children began running toward their barracks for cover. There was no sound except the siren and the pounding of running feet.
Where was Anna?
Panic enveloped me. I ran into our barrack.

“Anna,” I whispered loudly.

A small hand shot out from under our bunk and waved at me. Relief washed over me like water. I climbed under the bed and
lay next to Anna. Shivering, she buried her face in my coat. I hugged her to my chest and whispered, “It’s ok, we’re ok.”

She may have thought my words were for her, but they were really for me.

Storks’ wings are built in a way that allows them to take advantage of streams of upward moving air. Their wings are long and very wide. The black wing feathers are highlighted with a sheen of purple and green iridescence
.

Victory isn’t just conquering. It can also be the capacity to overcome something, or see things through to completion. I made a pact with myself that day. I would leave this place and I would take Anna and Hardy with me…
that
would be my victory. I would return home, and no matter what I found, at least I would have them by my side.

* * *

After the all-clear from the sirens and evening roll call, we lined up for our soup. It was starting to rain. I shivered and pulled my coat closer. Anna waited for me so we could eat together.

“Did you eat anything today?” I asked.

She looked around before nodding her head,
yes
. My mind flooded with relief. I knew if she was sneaking food to eat, she still had a will to live.

Anna said, “Once before the war my grandmother was baking berry pies. My cousin and I stole some of the leftover pie dough and ran outside. Our dirty hands made the buttery crust brown but we didn’t care. We picked some berries and made a little pie out of the dough. We wanted to cook the pie so we built a small fire. Just as we were about to put the pie on the fire, my aunt found us and Jarek got in so much trouble, but he never let me take any of the blame. You remind me of him, Ewa. You always
look out for me.”

“Where is he now, Anna? Do you know?”

She closed her eyes as tears ran down her cheek. “He’s gone.”

I gripped her hand more firmly and realized, as day gradually changed into night, that we all had wounds that might never heal.

“Anna,” I whispered, “I got some food for you today.”

She smiled slightly and wiped her nose with her sleeve. As usual, her smile melted my heart and made me feel happy.

“I’ll give it to you tonight when we go to bed.”

“But Ewa, how will we keep the others from knowing about it?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait until they fall asleep.”

We made our plans and finished our soup. Most of the girls in our barrack could be trusted but we didn’t want to tempt them. Hunger could make people do things they would never do if they weren’t so desperate for food. I felt tempted to do things I would never have done before coming here. I would not have stolen food, told lies or planned escapes. That innocence was gone. I fully understood that I had changed. The war had taken my innocence, and turned me into someone who thought only of survival. My choices weren’t based on meanness or mischievousness. I had not crossed that line; like most of the children here, I just wanted to survive long enough to go home.

Our lives followed the predictable pattern of roll call, eat, work, roll call, eat, sleep…

There were occasional changes because of new children arriving or leaving for other camps. The harshness of our lives was predictable, but it wasn’t the harshness that made me emotional, it was the occasional kindness. I expected meanness out of almost everyone around me, but I didn’t expect kindness, and the few times I experienced it, I cried. I’d learned early on to face my captors with a stone face. I didn’t want them to see how afraid I really was. Perhaps it was that stubborn streak that my
father teased me about as a child, but my stubbornness worked for me here, keeping me from showing anyone my true feelings.

Anna and Hardy were getting to me and I couldn’t help myself. I found their small, but meaningful, kindnesses touched me in places I hadn’t felt for so long. I felt as though I’d lost so much in life already, that I couldn’t bear the thought of losing either one of them. I would do whatever it took to keep them in my life…whatever it took.

* * *

The following morning Anna and I went through our usual routine before work was assigned. I headed over to the kennel with a happy heart in anticipation of seeing Hardy. The sky was blue, yesterday’s rain was gone and it was a beautiful spring day with a light breeze that smelled faintly like honeysuckle.

The potted flowers lining the central area of camp made me think about my mother’s flower garden back home. Which bulbs would be popping up about now putting on their lovely spring show? She enjoyed her garden, and I loved seeing the happiness on her face as she arranged the flowers in a canning jar and placed them on our table. She said she always felt peaceful when she worked in her garden, because there was something calming about digging in the soil and tending the small green plants. The magic came from lending a hand to creation, growing something that could be useful. She had strong hands; hands that were sturdy and work calloused, hands that seemed just as comfortable working in the garden, or the kitchen while kneading bread dough. I realized how much I missed my mother. I hadn’t thought about her for a while now because I’d been so concerned about Anna, the Red Cross visit and Hardy. Now, however, as I thought of her in the garden working on her flowers, I felt hopeful that she was still alive and I would be able to find her after the war. I also felt bitter that the Germans had
taken her away from me for the past few years. I couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on my bitterness, though, because it might make me distracted and I really needed to pay attention to my behavior. The Germans were very intolerant of any defiance, but submissive behavior usually kept us safe. I just kept telling myself to think about the future.
Think how good life will be when the war is over
.

When the war is over
…how many times had I thought about that? It seemed to be constantly on my mind. It was an image that hung in the air like sheets on a clothesline. We were all waiting for the war to be over so we could resume our lives and take up where we left off. I felt that even some of the German soldiers were waiting for the war to end, also. They were no longer eager to conquer the world. They just wanted to return home.

Hardy brought me back to reality. As usual he was waiting by the kennel gate wagging his tail, dancing slightly and barking with delight at seeing me. I waited at the gate for someone from the barrack to come out and unlock it. I reached my hand through the gate and rubbed Hardy’s head. I wanted him to calm down because drawing attention to either of us was not good.

A young man approached and quickly unlocked the gate. I walked through and stood facing Hardy.

“He likes you better than he likes me,” he said, closing the gate and hooking the lock through the wire. He didn’t say it in an accusatory way, just as a statement, but still I didn’t turn around. I was afraid of what I would see in his eyes. “It’s ok, though…I’m glad he has you.”

I peeked over my shoulder at the young man. Tall, thin, blond hair, blue eyes, his characteristics represented the perfect Aryan qualities.

“Just promise me that when your release comes from this place, you’ll take him with you. There shouldn’t be anyone around to stop you from taking him.”

I nodded my head to let him know that I would.

“I’ll leave him inside the barrack so you can reach him without coming into the kennel.”

I nodded my head again and quickly looked away. He didn’t seem to possess the fortress of Nazi superiority that most of the guards displayed; bravado oozing out of their pores like sweat. There was a quiet kindness about him. He seemed to care about Hardy enough to arrange care for him after the war ended.

I knelt down and hugged Hardy. He bowed his head and rested it on my shoulder, his front paw on the other. He greeted me like this every day now, like he was hugging me. Basil used to hug me like that also. When I looked up again, the young soldier was gone. Stunned by his remarks, I questioned how someone’s looks could be so deceiving. “Oh Hardy, you’re such a goof. Come on, let’s get started.”

I was curious about what I’d just been told by the soldier. He must care about Hardy. He wanted him to be taken from this place and not left behind. But why wouldn’t he take him? Maybe he saw how much Hardy cared for me, or perhaps he didn’t want to be slowed down when he was trying to escape.

For the first time since coming here I realized that the Polish children weren’t the only ones who hated being here. Maybe, just maybe, some of the young soldiers really did hate being here as well. I tried to imagine them having homes and families, but it was so difficult because they were always so stern and mean. How could it even be possible that they grew up in a loving home and yet behaved so hatefully? How did they end up here, following the orders of a mad man, making so many children suffer and live as slaves? It didn’t make any sense to me. Maybe the main difference between the young guards and the children were the uniforms…some of them were slaves too; just a different kind. Victory could go so wrong when it was attained by hatred, and achieved at the expense of human life.