PART TWO
28
Late August 1941.
Sleep eluded me. I thrashed around on my slats, swatting away bark beetles, willing morning to arrive, but time dragged.
It was Monday, and Kommendant Ivanov cancelled all the work today. It felt odd. Yesterday had felt even more odd. Never, in a year and a half, could I remember anything like this happening. The piece of paper, nailed to the community centre door, had been attracting speculating crowds all day and well into the evening. Stefan and I kept strolling past to see if it was still there, wondering if the wording might have changed, but it hadn’t. There it hung, and people hung around it, so it had to be something serious. Like many people here, I could speak but not read Russian, and now wished I’d taken the time to learn the Cyrillic alphabet.
According to those who could, the message was simple; everyone was to assemble outside the Admin office at 10.00 a.m. when Kommendant Ivanov would address us.
Stefan and his family were already there when we arrived, and I waved. He came over, slipped his arm around my waist and kissed my forehead. ‘Let’s hope this isn’t someone’s sick joke.’
I smiled at him. I so wanted whatever it was, to be pleasant news for us, but knew well in this hellhole of life versus death; the outcome might be dire. There was no point speculating, but the murmuring crowd was restless with anxious looks on many faces.
Kommendant Ivanov appeared on the step and waited for the crowd to settle. He held a piece of paper from which he read.
‘In a pre-dawn offensive, on the 22nd June, Hitler’s troops invaded the USSR and the Soviet Union is now at war with Germany.
As a result, your Prime Minister, Wladyslaw Sikorski, has been in negotiations with Ivan Mayski, the Soviet Ambassador to the United Kingdom. I can now report that we will free all Poles to join a new Polish army, which will form in the southern states of the Soviet Union. Or you can enter the Soviet Army if you prefer.
Therefore, Comrade Stalin has granted amnesty to all Poles as of 12th August 1941. All work ceases as of today, and you are all free to leave.’
Following a momentary silence, an enormous cheer erupted. People started hugging and kissing. Stefan and I were laughing and crying in disbelief. Giddy with joy and excitement, I flung my arms around his neck, and we kissed and kissed. We were free!
The furore continued until Smirnov fired a shot in the air and restored order.
‘Identity papers,’ Kommendant Ivanov continued, ‘which will serve as a family travel document – I stress – a family travel document – and a one-way travel permit to a destination of your choice will be issued to heads of families as soon as we receive them.
‘I ask you to be patient. However, there is to be no return to your former homeland. I repeat, return to Eastern Poland is not allowed under any circumstances. You will be free to leave as soon as you wish. No one will stand in your way. If you require help, Vice Kommendant Smirnov will do all he can to assist. However, it is your responsibility to cover the cost of your train fares and provide yourselves with food.’
The crowd sent up a collective howl, some shouting, ‘How do you expect us to do that? We can’t afford the food here!’
‘You can always reapply for your old jobs as Polish Free Workers, until your papers arrive,’ the Kommendant suggested.
A woman shouted, ‘Where shall we get the money if we are travelling instead of working? None of us have savings. We can’t do both! We’ll starve before we reach this new army.’
He ignored her question, saying instead, ‘Food rations will be available for you to buy as usual from the cantina or the settlement shop for as long as stocks last.’ A nano-second elapsed, there were no further questions, and he vanished inside. Announcement over.
‘He’s weaselled out of all responsibility for us.’ Karol shook his head in disgust. ‘These Soviets are just a shower of shit.’
‘It’ll be alright. We shall manage.’ Tatta squeezed my shoulder, ‘Didn’t I tell you always to have hope, child?’ He lifted my chin and gazed into my eyes. ‘Well?’
I laid my head against his chest and hugged him. ‘I know, Tatta, I should have believed you.’
Karol was looking despondent. Perhaps he was thinking about Natasha. Had she waited six months longer, and stood up to her mother, they would be free to leave together.
Stefan gazed at me in disbelief. ‘Hey, why the glum face? We have a future. We can marry, live a normal life anywhere we please – well, apart from Poland.’
He was right, but there were obstacles. Why wasn’t life straightforward? ‘Stefan, how can we marry? You heard him; first, we have to join the army and fight to save Stalin’s miserable skin.’
‘Then we shall fight. Our families will travel together, and we shall enlist together. It will be alright. Don’t worry.’
I took a deep breath of freedom. Even the walk back to our shack felt different without the yoke of slavery hanging over us. Jumbled thoughts of what lay ahead demanded answers: what would it mean to enlist? What would they expect us to do? Could Stefan and I stay together in this newly formed Polish Army? Where would we fight? I hadn’t a clue what went on in armies, and my ignorance alarmed me.
Father was thinking ahead too. ‘If we have to stump up the rail fare, we had better sell off what we have left.’
Mother agreed. ‘We’ll sell it all, my sewing machine, the pots and pans. The lot! What’s the point of lumbering ourselves with possessions?’
Lodzia looked pensive. ‘Gerhard and I have nothing left. All we have is what he earns, apart from my wristwatch; but it was his wedding present to me, and I cherish it. The Soviets have reduced us to vagrants.’
‘Then take my embroidered tablecloth,’ Mother said. ‘You could sell it.’
I said, ‘No Mama, please don’t part with that. It’s priceless; I love it. It took you so long to make.’
‘Ahh, it’s only worth what someone will pay for it; and the Ukrainians will give us next to nothing.’
‘Then keep it, Mama, please. It’s all we have left to remind us of home. Instead, why don’t we nail a notice to the Community Centre door advertising Tatta’s boot-making service for those in need? Look, some people have bound their feet in rags.’
‘Only if they provide the cloth,’ Father insisted, then added, ‘They won’t be waterproof; I’ve no more hogs’ hair nor tar, but I don’t suppose it stops me making ordinary boots. There’s plenty of tree bark for insoles. Not that I’ll be making many as we’ll be out of here the moment my documents arrive.’
‘So that means we can’t get rid of the pans or the sewing machine yet,’ Lodzia said.
A week passed, and the entire camp was still waiting for their family travel documents to arrive. Little by little frustration replaced euphoria.
Two weeks passed, and I was growing impatient. ‘Tatta, when do you think our papers will arrive? I want to get out of here.’
‘Soon. They’ll be here soon.’
‘Yes, but how soon? Why’s it taking so long?’ I hated this lack of control over our situation, annoyed and frustrated by the lack of progress. We were free, for goodness sakes.