The Silver Sword (9 page)

Most big towns had their UNRRA food kitchens, and these were always welcome. But best of all were the transit camps. It was the time when camp commandants used to send soldiers round with guns to seize stores. They ransacked warehouses, factories, shops, even garrets and barns, for the peasants had hidden plenty away and the slave workers that swelled the camps often knew the hiding places. One such camp had a Polish section, where a school had been started. Had the family stayed here — and they were pressed to do so — they would have received all the food and schooling and medical attention that they needed. Edek was very tired when they arrived, and Ruth was ready to stay as long as he needed rest. But he recovered after a few days and was eager to be off. Whenever he was tempted to linger, one peep at the silver sword was enough to spur him on again.

All day long the sun smiled down upon them; upon toilers in the fields where the fresh crops were springing; upon towns littered with the debris of war; upon a people numbed by defeat, living from day to day, with no thought for the future; upon women standing in bread queues or wheeling barrows of wood they had collected in the forest for their kitchen fires; upon wounded soldiers sitting on hospital balconies, basking in the sun’s heat. Some of the soldiers waved to the family as they passed by, and the family waved back.

So they came to the edge of the Russian zone.

In the early days of peace there were many places where it was not difficult to slip unobserved from one zone to the next. They crossed the frontier somewhere in the Thuringian forest, without realizing that they had done so, and it was only the unfamiliar uniforms of the soldiers and the strange language of the notices that told them they had now reached the American zone.

It was the middle of June. In spite of the long spell of unbroken weather, Edek was no better. At night, as they lay under the bright stars, his cough would keep Ruth awake and she could not throw off her anxiety. Each day his walking became slower and more painful. This was partly because his feet were sore, for his shoes had worn out and the substitute pair he had plaited from reeds had not lasted long. Ruth decided he must lie up for a week.

They found a pleasant site in a meadow by a millstream. They planned to camp here till she and Jan had earned enough money to buy Edek a new pair of shoes. Ruth took a cleaning job at the local school, while Jan went hay-making. And Edek rested under the trees, with Bronia to look after him. All day he lay in the shade, for the sun was scorching hot. At night a chill wind blew; but he was warm, for they had lit a fire for him, and he lay beside it, looking up at the stars that peeped between the willow branches, till he was lulled to sleep by the gentle music of the stream.

So he rested well — and ate well too, for there was no shortage of food. Several times Jan came home from work with a bag full of such food as they had never tasted before — chicken, lobster, salted pork and luncheon meat. When Ruth asked where it came from, he said, “From the farmer. He’s a generous man.” But her suspicions were not quietened, for it was all in tins and labelled in a strange language.

“I know he’s stealing it,” she told Edek. “It’s American food, and I think he must get it from the depot. Yet I don’t know — the depot is closely guarded, and I’ve never seen him anywhere near. If he’s thieving, he’ll get caught. The Americans don’t miss much. There’s a hall next to the school, and a military court trying cases all day long.”

“He brought nothing back yesterday, or the day before,” said Edek. “Perhaps the source has dried up.”

“He says the farmer has promised him more tomorrow,” said Ruth.

Edek was determined to clear up the mystery. Without saying a word to Ruth, the next afternoon he went alone to the farm where Jan worked and hid behind a hedge. He saw Jan leave the hay-making before the day’s work was over. Instead of returning to camp, he hurried off in the opposite direction, straight through the town.

Edek followed him to a level-crossing outside the town. Suddenly a ragged youth sprang out of a bush by the roadside and beckoned to Jan. The meeting seemed to have been arranged, for Jan showed no surprise and slipped down from the road to join the youth.

Edek crept as close as he could without making his presence known and waited. He waited so long that he began to wonder if they had given him the slip.

Then suddenly Jan broke out of the cover and ran half-doubled up along one side of the railway line in the direction of the signal ramp. The youth had disappeared.

Edek climbed into a tree which gave a good view of the line. From here he saw Jan swarm up the side of the signal ramp — it extended right across the track — and lie down flat and motionless on top, above the line. What was he up to now? As far as Edek knew, train-wrecking was not one of Jan’s pastimes, for in spite of his twisted sense of values he was not deliberately destructive.

“I must go and find out,” thought Edek. And, jumping down from the tree, he walked along beside the track till he came to the foot of the ramp.

“What’s the game, Jan?” he called.

Jan was startled, for he was still lying flat and hardly visible and had not noticed him. He swore at Edek and told him to go away.

With a clank and rattle of loose metal that took them both by surprise, the signal on the “up” line changed to green.

“Go away, you fool, go away!” Jan screamed at him. And, flinging himself at the signal, he began to tug at it.

Edek was really agitated now, for he could hear the distant rumble of an approaching train. He shouted to Jan to come down, but the boy was working furiously with a spanner and what looked like a pair of wire-cutters and paid no heed.

The noise of the train grew louder. Puffs of dirty smoke rose above the trees.

With the thought of some dreadful accident impending, Edek sprang up the side of the ramp and started to climb.

It was not an exercise for which he was well fitted. He had already spent most of his small reserves of strength, and his muscles were too flabby to give him much grip. The ramp, too, had been badly damaged and hastily and inexpertly repaired. An iron stanchion broke away under his foot. Gasping and coughing, with a great effort he hung on with his hands — and somehow hauled himself up.

When his head appeared over the top, he saw that the signal had changed to red. Jan was slithering backwards like an eel in a frantic hurry. His feet scraped past Edek’s face, nearly knocking him off. As he passed him, his eyes were blazing, his face purple with fury. But because of the din of the train Edek could not hear what he said.

With no thought in his head but to prevent an accident, Edek groped his way along the top of the ramp. As the train — it was a goods train — approached, laboriously chugging, with an endless winding line of trucks, he tottered upright and waved. He need not have done so, for the signal was at red where Jan had put it and the engine had already started to jam the brakes on.

With a great clanking from truck to truck as the bumpers collided, the train screeched to a standstill. A hiss of steam. A long shrill whistling. A dark cloud and a great swallowing of filthy smoke.

When he had finished coughing and wiped the smoke from his eyes, he caught sight of someone shouting at him from below. It was not Jan — he had vanished. An American military policeman was pointing a revolver at him.

Captain Greenwood of the American Army of Occupation, aged 42, and already grey at the temples, was a lawyer in his home town. His experience fitted him well for his present role of trying petty cases. He went to great trouble to be just. This was seldom easy, as nothing was straightforward in this foreign country, and the need for using interpreters made the hearing of evidence a slow business.

The boy before him was a strange case — Edek Balicki, sixteen, a Pole, of no address, caught interfering with train signals. The prosecutor, Lieutenant James, claimed that he was one of a gang of train robbers and had been seen halting a train. The boy admitted having halted the train, but denied the rest of the charge. As nobody else had been caught and the suspected attempt to rob the train had been abandoned, the whole case could not be proved. The attempt to connect him with a previous train robbery had broken down for lack of evidence. Pressed to give some reason for this action, Edek replied that it was a prank.

Captain Greenwood was puzzled. The boy was obviously ill and did not look the sort to delight in pranks of that nature. Moreover, his refusal to have anyone to defend him did not make matters any easier.

There was a sudden stir at the back of the court, and a corporal came forward with a message for the judge. After a few moments of whispered conversation Captain Greenwood said, “Sure — if they can help us. Show them in.”

Ruth, Jan and Bronia were shown in and made to stand beside Edek. Bronia was holding Ruth’s hand and grinning happily. Jan was biting his lip. His eyes were defiant.

“There’s been a mistake and I’ve come to explain,” said Ruth in Polish. “This is Jan. It’s all his fault. I want to speak for him.”

The interpreter translated.

“Who is the other child?” said Captain Greenwood.

“My sister Bronia,” said Ruth. “She has nothing to do with this, but I had to bring her along as I’ve nowhere to leave her. We’re on our way to Switzerland and are camping by the millstream.”

“I see. What’s the boy’s full name?” said Captain Greenwood.

“Only Jan — that’s the only name of his we know,” said Ruth.

“Jan, have you any parents?” said Captain Greenwood.

“The grey cat and Jimpy, but they’re dead, and Ruth’s my mother now,” said Jan, sullenly.

Captain Greenwood could make nothing of this. Ruth did her best to explain a situation she did not fully understand herself.

“We take it then that you have no parents, but that this young lady, Ruth Balicki, aged eighteen, sister of Edek Balicki, is your guardian,” said Captain Greenwood. “You claim that Edek Balicki is wrongly accused. Lieutenant James here will read the charge and it will be translated for you. Listen carefully, Jan, and then answer our questions.”

The charge of halting the train and attempted robbery were read and the prisoner was asked, “Guilty or not guilty?”

Jan’s answer was to make a bolt for a door, where two guards seized him and brought him back, kicking and biting.

The judge spoke severely, but without effect. He turned to Ruth. “Have you any control over the boy?”

“He’s scared of the soldiers,” said Ruth. “If you’d kindly send those guards outside, sir, I think he’d behave himself.”

Captain Greenwood gasped. This was not a request that he had met with before. But one glance at the struggle in front of him convinced him that extraordinary measures were justifiable. He told the guards to release the prisoner and wait outside the door. Jan collapsed on the floor, panting and angry, his eyes flashing.

Captain Greenwood waited for him to calm down, then asked him to stand up. To his surprise the boy obeyed.

“We are here to know the truth,” he said, abandoning all formality. “Now, Jan, will you tell us in your own words what happened?”

Jan looked round the court suspiciously. Except for the lieutenant and the judge, there were no soldiers there — only the interpreter (a civilian), Edek, Bronia and Ruth. This gave him some of the confidence he needed. He looked at Ruth.

She smiled at him — but if her smile was an encouragement to him to speak out, her words were a warning.

“Jan, no hanky-panky,” she said. “If you try that, you know what you’ll get.”

Jan tried to see what she was holding behind her back, but he had to guess. With lowered eyes he addressed the judge. “It’s not Edek’s fault. I changed the signal and he came to stop me. I ran away and he was caught. He needn’t have been caught, but he’s very stupid for a boy of his age. He makes a mess of everything.”

“What made you want to stop the train?” said Captain Greenwood.

“The food trucks.”

“You were going to raid them yourself?”

“No.”

“You were one of a gang?”

“Yes.”

“Was Edek Balicki a member?”

“No. He had nothing to do with the business.”

“Who are the others?”

“You mean the train robbers? I never met any of them and I don’t know anything about them. If I did, I wouldn’t tell. Those soldiers outside can go and sniff them out.”

Ruth produced a stick from behind her back and gave Jan a good clout with it on the rear. “That’s for being rude,” she said.

The clout had the desired effect and he apologized.

Captain Greenwood asked Lieutenant James, who had been prosecuting Edek, if he wished to cross-examine Jan.

With a self-important flourish of his papers, the lieutenant said that he did. He clearly thought that Captain Greenwood was taking too much upon himself. He had never cared for his superior’s informal ways. Clearing his throat a trifle too loudly, he leaned towards Jan. “What did this gang pay you for your services?”

“Nothing.”

“You ask me to believe that you undertook this dangerous task for nothing?”

“Of course. There was nothing to give me. The train wasn’t robbed. But the other times—”

Jan bit his lip. In his unusual role of honesty he had let his tongue run away with him.

“Would you explain what you mean by “the other times”?” said Lieutenant James.

“They gave me a share of the food they took. And jolly good stuff it was.”

“Except for that fat ham,” put in Bronia. “That made us all sick … Ow!” she cried, as Ruth rapped her over the knuckles.

Lieutenant James ignored the interruption. “I see. They gave you some of the loot. But you said just now that you had never met any of them. How could they give you food without your seeing them?”

“They’re a lot smarter than you think, Lieutenant,” said Jan. “They left it for me in a hiding-place in the wood.”

“How many times did this happen?”

“Twice.”

At this point Captain Greenwood intervened. “You are going beyond the terms of the charge, Lieutenant James. Nothing will be gained by pursuing this line any further now.”