Magda felt her numb feet breaking through the crust of ice in the bottom of the ditch and the muddy water rushing into the cracked soles of her boots. She barely had time to step behind an oak tree before the car rounded a bend in the road.
It was going slowly, and she listened to the engine sound with dread, leaning her cheek against the cold bark of the tree. Cars meant that something would be done to someone. It was a black Grosser Mercedes. The roof of the car still held the shine of layers of wax, and the mud splashed halfway up the sides didn’t conceal all of the polished finish.
Two soldiers in front. Two in the backseat. The flash of black and silver. Worse and worse. An SS officer. And—Magda stared but couldn’t see the other person clearly. Just a shape.
The car struggled slowly but steadily over the ruts. The motor never faltered. It went on down the road in a left-to-right motion, trying to avoid the deepest holes. Then it was gone and the sound turned into a low hum until the silence of the forest fell upon Magda and the children again.
“We have papers. Why do we hide, Magda?” Hansel knocked the snow off his chest.
“Cars mean people who cause trouble. If they don’t see us, then we have no trouble.”
“There was a woman.” Gretel stared after the car. “And an SS.” Gretel looked steadily at Magda. She didn’t want to frighten Hansel. “Not like the Major. Not army, Magda.”
The girl was sharp. But so was everyone else in Poland by now. SS. The skull worn proudly to show that they defied death and were not frightened by it. But to the Poles the SS were the Angels of Death, the winged skeleton who comes for your bones and drags them out of you while you squeal like a hog being butchered.
“The woman may be his wife. Perhaps it’s just a trip to see the country.” Magda looked at Gretel and saw the child was not fooled. Germans didn’t leave the comforts of the city in the winter to visit a muddy Polish village where they had to eat black bread with sawdust in it.
“I’m cold.” Hansel shivered and clung to Gretel.
“Come on. Feliks was right. Snow’s coming. A lot of it. I can smell it.” Magda sniffed deeply and breathed in the almost metallic scent that had been growing stronger all day. Snow was good. It slowed them all down. Things were postponed during the hard snow. The war almost stopped.
And that was too bad in a way. The Russians had been killing the Germans, and now they would have to stop. Magda smiled when she thought of the springtime and the way that the Russians would rise up like animals shaking the snow off, killing again when the armies moved.
“The Russians,” she said. “They’re bastards and can’t be trusted, but the Germans have made a mistake with the Russians.”
“What do you mean?” Gretel carried the basket and the flour and tried to hold Hansel’s hand too so he would walk faster and not fall behind.
“It’s like a woodcutter who meets a wolf in the forest, and the man’s too proud to run, so he grabs the wolf by the ears.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing for a while. There they stand. The wolf waits and the woodcutter doesn’t dare turn loose of his ears. But sooner or later the woodcutter tires and his hands slip. Then the wolf eats him up.” Magda laughed. “Come on. I can’t get sick. I want to live long enough to see the Germans turn loose of the Russians’ ears.” The first flurry of snow was covering their heads when they saw the hut ahead of them.
Major Frankel was sweating. He wiped his forehead with a gloved hand and cursed. There was a streak on the whiteness of the glove now. The SS cared about these things. It had been a miracle that he had found a pair of white gloves. Who the hell cared about white gloves?
“Wiktor. You Polish piece of shit!”
“Major!” Wiktor stood at attention behind the desk. He looked terrible.
“You Polish monkey! Straighten your desk.” The Major always screamed at Wiktor in
It was going slowly, and she listened to the engine sound with dread, leaning her cheek against the cold bark of the tree. Cars meant that something would be done to someone. It was a black Grosser Mercedes. The roof of the car still held the shine of layers of wax, and the mud splashed halfway up the sides didn’t conceal all of the polished finish.
Two soldiers in front. Two in the backseat. The flash of black and silver. Worse and worse. An SS officer. And—Magda stared but couldn’t see the other person clearly. Just a shape.
The car struggled slowly but steadily over the ruts. The motor never faltered. It went on down the road in a left-to-right motion, trying to avoid the deepest holes. Then it was gone and the sound turned into a low hum until the silence of the forest fell upon Magda and the children again.
“We have papers. Why do we hide, Magda?” Hansel knocked the snow off his chest.
“Cars mean people who cause trouble. If they don’t see us, then we have no trouble.”
“There was a woman.” Gretel stared after the car. “And an SS.” Gretel looked steadily at Magda. She didn’t want to frighten Hansel. “Not like the Major. Not army, Magda.”
The girl was sharp. But so was everyone else in Poland by now. SS. The skull worn proudly to show that they defied death and were not frightened by it. But to the Poles the SS were the Angels of Death, the winged skeleton who comes for your bones and drags them out of you while you squeal like a hog being butchered.
“The woman may be his wife. Perhaps it’s just a trip to see the country.” Magda looked at Gretel and saw the child was not fooled. Germans didn’t leave the comforts of the city in the winter to visit a muddy Polish village where they had to eat black bread with sawdust in it.
“I’m cold.” Hansel shivered and clung to Gretel.
“Come on. Feliks was right. Snow’s coming. A lot of it. I can smell it.” Magda sniffed deeply and breathed in the almost metallic scent that had been growing stronger all day. Snow was good. It slowed them all down. Things were postponed during the hard snow. The war almost stopped.
And that was too bad in a way. The Russians had been killing the Germans, and now they would have to stop. Magda smiled when she thought of the springtime and the way that the Russians would rise up like animals shaking the snow off, killing again when the armies moved.
“The Russians,” she said. “They’re bastards and can’t be trusted, but the Germans have made a mistake with the Russians.”
“What do you mean?” Gretel carried the basket and the flour and tried to hold Hansel’s hand too so he would walk faster and not fall behind.
“It’s like a woodcutter who meets a wolf in the forest, and the man’s too proud to run, so he grabs the wolf by the ears.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing for a while. There they stand. The wolf waits and the woodcutter doesn’t dare turn loose of his ears. But sooner or later the woodcutter tires and his hands slip. Then the wolf eats him up.” Magda laughed. “Come on. I can’t get sick. I want to live long enough to see the Germans turn loose of the Russians’ ears.” The first flurry of snow was covering their heads when they saw the hut ahead of them.
Major Frankel was sweating. He wiped his forehead with a gloved hand and cursed. There was a streak on the whiteness of the glove now. The SS cared about these things. It had been a miracle that he had found a pair of white gloves. Who the hell cared about white gloves?
“Wiktor. You Polish piece of shit!”
“Major!” Wiktor stood at attention behind the desk. He looked terrible.
“You Polish monkey! Straighten your desk.” The Major always screamed at Wiktor in
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