But one time I went to pay my folks a visit in the night. The journey went well. It was quiet and deserted, there wasn’t a soul about, the houses were all asleep and not even any dogs barked. It was kind of like in the old days, when I’d often be coming back home from some young lady at that hour. You almost felt like asking the sky, So where’s this war I hear about?
I was almost halfway through the village, I just had to pass Dereń’s place and Maszczyk’s and it was our house. Then all at once, out of the darkness, from only a few yards away I heard in German: “Halt!” And a flashlight gets shined in my eyes. Without a second thought I dodged sideways into Oryszka’s yard, I knew every lane around here. There were shots and a clatter of boots. I vaulted the fence into Niezgódka’s farm. Niezgódka’s dog started woofing furiously. Behind me, again I heard: “Halt, halt!” More shots rang out. From Niezgódka’s I ran behind Kwiecień’s barn. Luckily Kwiecień’s dog didn’t have time to wake up, or maybe it was just too lazy, in any case it never even barked. Then I crossed Gawil’s farm and took the hollow behind the firehouse to Barański’s. I thought about maybe climbing into Barański’s wagon house and waiting things out there. Barański’s place was set back a bit from the road and he was well off, maybe they wouldn’t go looking for me there. Plus there was a German lieutenant that had been seeing Irka Barańska, maybe he still was. Except I forgot that the Barańskis had a devil of a dog. The moment I squeezed between the lilac and jasmine around the edge of their place, the dog starts up like a fury and comes at me from way the other end of the yard. On top of that it was dragging its chain over some wire, and the wire and the chain made a barking noise along with the dog, like they were mad too. Over on the road, right away there was the stomp of boots. Halt! Halt! And a burst of gunfire from the orchards in the other direction.
Things weren’t looking good. I decided to try and make it down to the river, it wasn’t far and maybe I could beat them to it. I crept around the backs of the fenced yards to Siudak’s smithy. I squatted there for a moment, listening whether I couldn’t hear any suspicious noises, then I snuck over to the other side of the road. I slipped into the passage between żmuda’s place and Gabryś’s. Then I followed the edge of the pond through the alder thicket and came out behind Zdun’s barn. I thought I was safe already, because from Zdun’s place the river is just across a meadow, and over the river there’s a slope then woodland, and they could kiss my ass. I even sat down a moment to catch my breath. Then all of a sudden there’s a rustling in the bushes, I reach for my pistol, and this tiny little mongrel pops out like a sprite and starts sniffing at me. I felt all warm inside, I thought to myself there’s dogs and dogs. So I tried to stroke him, and the damn thing bites me on the hand and starts yapping. So that’s the kind of dog you are, you little bastard! I kicked him away, he gave a yelp and barked even louder. I thought, there’s nothing for it, I’ll try and be nice. I wanted to appeal to his doggy logic, make him calm down:
“Good dog, good, good dog. You’re not silly like the other dogs. Come on now, cut it out. You hear those shots? It’s me they’re shooting at. You’ll have plenty of time to bark once the war’s over. After the war we’ll all have it easier, people and dogs both. Are you a dog or a bitch? Something tells me you’re a dog. A bitch wouldn’t yap so much. A bitch would have puppies, she’d be lying with her puppies. Who do you belong to, the Zduns? Do they at least feed you decently? Cause they’re sneaky ones, they’d take food from each other and never give it to the dog. You’d have it better at Jamróz’s or Stajuda’s. Stajuda trades in pigs. And the Jamrózes are always praying for God to give them a baby. What’s your name now? Maybe Rattles? Come here, Rattles, let me pet you, just stop yapping for chrissakes. The Zduns don’t give you any affection because they don’t give their own children any, they just send them out to work. Come on, come here.”
But he was having none of it, he was barking away as if what I was saying made him even madder.
“Are you a Polish dog or a Kraut dog? They’re after me, goddammit, how can I get it through to you? Am I not talking plain Polish? Are you trying to give me away? Do you know what they do to dogs that do that? The same thing they do to people. A bullet in the head. A Polish dog wouldn’t bark at a Pole like that. You must be a mix, or a stray. Go on, get the hell out of here, you dumb piece of shit.”
I got up, and the dog must have decided I was a burglar, it started biting my boots and yapping louder and louder. Suddenly, over the yapping I heard someone running across the field, more than one man. Over the river there was the glint of a flashlight beam, then another.
“See what you’ve done, you little bastard? Now I’m surrounded.”
At this point the only way out was through the upper fields. But to get there I had to circle the entire village so as not to cross the road, because they were probably lying in wait there. I set off through the willows down the path that led to the mill. The dog stuck to me like a burr, it came right after me yapping its head off. Wait, goddammit. There wasn’t a moment to lose, but still I bent down and grabbed the creature by the head. Normally I’d never have hurt a dog, a cat sooner than a dog. When I was a kid I even used to think dogs came from people. It bit me and scratched and yelped. I held it to the ground and smashed my heel down on its head till there was a crunching sound. Right at that moment, from a dozen yards away I heard: “Halt!” A burst of gunfire whistled right overhead.
I dashed into Jamróz’s orchard. The branches whipped at my face, my eyes. Bullets struck against the leaves like hail. They must have hit apples too. One knocked my cap off. I tripped over a stump and fell. I stumbled into Mikus’s field. As if out of spite, Mikus happened to have sowed alfalfa. And it had grown well, it was up over my knees. It took all my strength to lift my feet up at each step. It was like in a dream, I was all in a rush, and here my feet were being held in place, and the guys chasing me seemed on the brink of catching up. I felt my strength beginning to fail. I fell again. For a split second I thought about not getting back up. Let them capture me and shoot me, let the whole dream finally come to an end. But I jumped up, and a dozen or so steps later I came to the end of the alfalfa. In a couple of leaps I was at the ravine, and to make my trail harder to follow I scrambled up the side. Then I made a big loop around Karwacki’s farm so I wouldn’t attract his dog’s attention. At the statue of Saint Florian I turned toward the Prażuchs’ house, since the cutting to the upper fields happened to lead that way.
I even slowed my pace a bit. I looked in at the Prażuchs’ windows, but without any hatred, and I just thought normally, the way you do about people in the night, that they were probably in there snoring away. The night had lightened a little, and a good many stars had disappeared from the sky. Suddenly, from across the way I heard a muffled jabbering. I moved quickly behind the corner of the Prażuchs’ house. I poked my head out, and at the place where the cutting dropped downward, I saw three figures coming out of the darkness. They were moving slowly, but I could tell they were coming in my direction, because they were getting bigger and bigger and their chatter was growing clearer. It was too late to run back into the night, with the growing light I would have been in plain sight. But there wasn’t anywhere to hide there either. The Prażuchs didn’t have a fence, there weren’t any trees or bushes. The house and barn and cattle shed were virtually in the middle of open ground. The worst thing was that at any moment their dog might smell me. I was even surprised it wasn’t already barking. They had a dog, after all. Maybe it had gone looking for bitches? Either way, it’d be back any minute now, and when it came, everything would be over.