Then a thunderous bang echoed off the brick walls.
The rope went slack. Voices shouted and shrieked.
“Grenade!” shouted Bobcat from his position at the rear of the line.
Another bang, and the tunnel filled with smoke.
“Get moving!” Rabbit shouted. “The fuckin’ Krauts are throwin’ grenades down here! Get moving!”
The line jerked forward, and Natalia stumbled, scraping her knee on the concrete floor. Hammer reached back and grabbed her elbow until she regained her footing. Choking on the acrid smoke, she clung desperately to the rope as the line surged forward.
The group staggered on through the narrow, tube-like tunnel for what seemed like an eternity. Hunched over, her back aching, her knees bruised and bleeding, Natalia thought about Adam, about Berta, about her job on the railway—anything to push away the paralyzing dread that the roof would collapse, that this is where it would end, here in the sealed tomb of a sewer tunnel.
Finally, they turned right and climbed down into a larger tunnel, the shadows from Rabbit’s lantern flickering on greasy, oval-shaped walls. Up and down the rope line, the commandos fell quiet now as fatigue settled in. This tunnel had higher ceilings—even Hammer could straighten up—but they were back to flowing wastewater and dozens of corpses lying in the sticky, ankle-deep muck. Natalia had lost any concept of time but was certain that hours had passed. Rabbit’s voice became hoarse and weary as he called out their locations.
Progress slowed as they passed under Warsaw University. The area above their heads crawled with SS troopers and Panzer brigades. Overhead, the crunching sounds of tank treads, clattering machine guns and exploding artillery shells hammered Natalia’s eardrums until she thought her head would split open.
The fearsome screeching of dive-bombing Stukas signaled that dawn had come, and the rope went slack whenever the group neared a manhole. Rabbit doused the lantern and crept forward searching for any crack of daylight and the ambush that might be waiting.
They slogged southward under Nowy Swiat, and had just passed the intersection with Jerusalem Avenue when Natalia heard the metallic clank of a manhole cover being pried off behind her.
A sudden burst of daylight illuminated the tunnel.
“Run!” Bobcat shouted from the rear. “Run! Run! Get mov—!”
A blinding flash! An instant later a searing wave of heat from a flamethrower knocked Natalia face down into the muck. She scrambled to her knees, struggling to grab the rope, but her feet slipped sideways on the greasy floor.
The rope jerked wildly. The tunnel echoed with agonized wails from those at the back of the line.
Rabbit stood frozen at the head, staring back into the tunnel, the eerie glow of the lantern reflecting the horror in the boy’s eyes. Then he turned away.
The rope surged forward. The man behind Natalia clawed frantically at her back, screaming for her to get moving. Hammer reached back and found her arm; his massive hand gripped her wrist like a vise and pulled her along.
The group stumbled forward into the darkness, slipping and sliding in the muck. The rope continued to jerk back and forth as the injured commandos at the rear lost their balance, and others tried desperately to hold them up.
Gradually the wails receded into painful moans, and there was less resistance on the rope as those not able to continue fell away. Natalia plodded on, placing one foot after the other, tears streaming down her grimy face, her heart wrenching in agony for Bobcat and the others who’d been lost. Then her mind went numb.
Time passed. The sounds from overhead became muted and less frequent. Apparently too tired to call out locations, Rabbit had fallen silent. Natalia had no idea where they were. Her legs tingled, her ankles had swollen and every bone in her body ached. Her temples throbbed, her throat was raw from the caustic fumes and her hands were so blistered from clutching the rope that she feared she wouldn’t be able to hold on for another second.
And just as she was certain she would pass out, a draft of fresh air suddenly washed over her. It became a breeze, a miraculous cooling breeze from up ahead.
“Thank God!” someone behind her shouted.
The line surged forward for a moment, then went slack, and Natalia slammed into Hammer, as she slipped on the greasy floor.
“Quiet down!” Rabbit hissed. The group fell silent.
Hammer turned back toward Natalia and whispered, “It could be a trap. We don’t know who’s up there.”
Rabbit doused the lantern. Natalia could hear him moving forward, slowly and cautiously, sloshing through the fetid water.
There was a loud clank and a heavy scraping sound as the manhole cover was dragged away. Then shouts from above—in Polish—and the commandos in the tunnel surged forward again, yelling loudly, pumping fists and clapping each other’s back. Natalia grabbed hold of Hammer’s belt and hung on to avoid getting knocked down in the rush.
Rabbit shouted for order. “One at a time! Slow down, Goddamn it! One at a time!”
Hammer took hold of Natalia’s shoulders, and an instant later she was on the climbing irons, staring up through the open manhole at the outstretched hand of an AK commando.
A half hour later, the commandos who crawled out of the sewer stood shivering around a bonfire in the middle of a wide street that ran alongside an abandoned canning plant. The building’s windows were broken out, and its roof caved in on one end. A sign hung from a rusting chain-link fence indicating that the property was for sale. Across the street stood an enormous, three-story paint factory. Natalia feared it was likely to erupt into a blazing inferno if the shelling came any closer to this area at the south end of the City Center.
But the area seemed secure for the moment. There were barricades at every intersection, and two PIAT anti-tank guns were positioned near the paint factory along with a German Panther tank that the AK commandos had somehow managed to commandeer. To the north, the sky was ablaze where the fires in Old Town raged out of control.
Fortified from a cup of bitter coffee and a thick slice of black bread that had miraculously appeared on a table near the bonfire, Natalia spotted Rabbit, sitting alone on the steps of the canning plant. She sat down next to him.
“Did you get something to eat?” she asked.
The boy shook his head.
She held out a chunk of the bread. “Here, take some. You certainly earned it.”
He glanced at her, then looked away. His eyes were red, his grimy face streaked from tears.
She laid a hand on his thin shoulder. “I’m sorry about Bobcat.”
Rabbit didn’t respond.
“I know that he was your—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rabbit snapped. He spit on the ground and turned away from her. A moment later he hunched forward, gripping his knees, his back arching up and down as the sobs wracked his skinny frame.
Natalia moved closer and wrapped her arm around him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Rabbit leaned against her, then slowly laid his head in her lap, covering his face with his hands.
A few minutes later, he straightened up and wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. “Do you believe in God?” he asked.
Natalia was startled by the unexpected question, and it took her a moment to respond. “Yes. I do. Do you?”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. If there was a God, why would he let the fuckin’ Krauts kill Bobcat? Why would he want any of this to happen?”
“I don’t think God wants this to happen, Rabbit. And I’m sure he didn’t want your friend to get killed.”
“Then why the hell doesn’t he stop it?” the boy croaked. He turned to look at her, his dirty face streaked where tears had slid down his cheek.