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Book: The Remnant - Stories of the Jewish Resistance in WWII by Othniel J. Seiden
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Authors: Othniel J. Seiden
Tags: WWII Fiction
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fence. It took about fifteen seconds for the lights to make a complete sweep. Too short a period for me to dig under a wire, run across the alley between and dig under the second, he thought.
He moved on.
At about fifty meters beyond the building materials, Yorgi came to a sudden stop and fell to his stomach. He was among some sleeping prisoners. Something had caught his eye. He had to check it further. He watched a sweep of light between the towers at this area. He watched a second and third time. "Damn!" he mouthed.
Each light swept the area between it and the next tower to its left, but the light at the tower directly in front of him didn't make a complete sweep. It swept out to the next tower, but when the beam came back, it was three meters short of where the light from the tower to its right reached.
Yorgi watched through several more sweeps. In each sweep, there was an area of at least three meters which was never illuminated. He crawled to the area on his stomach. When he got to the spot he dug at the earth under the first fence. It was loose, sandy dust. It came away easily. Before he realized what he had done, there was an opening under the wire large enough to pass his body through.
In a completely unplanned and spontaneous move, Yorgi slid his body under the first line of fencing. He was in the alley between the two fences, looking up at the base of the guard tower. In a few seconds he knew he would either be dead or free.
The two searchlights were converging on him, one from the right, the other from the left. He held his breath. They stopped at the end of their sweep, leaving Yorgi still in darkness. He bounded across to the second fence. The ground was loose there, too. He dug in a panic now. Two more sweeps of the lights came and went-and a third. Yorgi remained in the darkness. And then he was out.
He ran. His heart pounded feverishly, his chest a kettledrum. Finally, in the protection of some woods he fell to the ground. It was a miracle! He was out almost by accident; when he realized, he was still barefoot. He got up on his bare feet and ran some more. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and Darnitsa as he could before morning.
All night Yorgi forced a rapid march on himself. He first headed due north until he reached another suburb of Kiev, Sotsgorodok. Keeping in the outskirts of that district, he turned northwest to the Dnieper River. Reaching the eastern bank of the river, he headed back south in search of a crossing.
In a short distance, he found a road with a bridge. It was guarded by two Germans. A sign near the bridge disclosed that this was not yet the Dnieper, but the Kesenka, a tributary that paralleled it. The water was low at this time and to avoid the guards on the bridge, Yorgi crossed the tributary in its shallows, keeping to sand bars. He stayed in the water to the edges of the sand isles so as not to leave footprints or scent that could be followed by men with dogs.
He crossed the narrow land strip between the Kesenka and the Dnieper and found himself due east of another subdivision of Kiev, a district called Kurenevka. Now he had the Dnieper to cross. There were no narrows or shallows on the Dnieper and all the bridges crossing were sure to be heavily guarded against saboteurs and contraband traffic.
Yorgi hoped he might find a deserted boat along the bank, but there wasn't one. For awhile he contemplated swimming, but decided the risk was too great. He continued his search upriver, taking him several kilometers above the city. No solution offered itself on the bank.
It will be dawn in less than two hours. I've got to put this river between Darnitsa and me. If the Germans search for me in the morning, it will be east of the rivers. He was about to change his mind and make a swim for his life when he came across a log floating with the current of the river. His decision was almost a reflex. He plunged after it, fearing the rapid current might carry the big log
He moved on.
At about fifty meters beyond the building materials, Yorgi came to a sudden stop and fell to his stomach. He was among some sleeping prisoners. Something had caught his eye. He had to check it further. He watched a sweep of light between the towers at this area. He watched a second and third time. "Damn!" he mouthed.
Each light swept the area between it and the next tower to its left, but the light at the tower directly in front of him didn't make a complete sweep. It swept out to the next tower, but when the beam came back, it was three meters short of where the light from the tower to its right reached.
Yorgi watched through several more sweeps. In each sweep, there was an area of at least three meters which was never illuminated. He crawled to the area on his stomach. When he got to the spot he dug at the earth under the first fence. It was loose, sandy dust. It came away easily. Before he realized what he had done, there was an opening under the wire large enough to pass his body through.
In a completely unplanned and spontaneous move, Yorgi slid his body under the first line of fencing. He was in the alley between the two fences, looking up at the base of the guard tower. In a few seconds he knew he would either be dead or free.
The two searchlights were converging on him, one from the right, the other from the left. He held his breath. They stopped at the end of their sweep, leaving Yorgi still in darkness. He bounded across to the second fence. The ground was loose there, too. He dug in a panic now. Two more sweeps of the lights came and went-and a third. Yorgi remained in the darkness. And then he was out.
He ran. His heart pounded feverishly, his chest a kettledrum. Finally, in the protection of some woods he fell to the ground. It was a miracle! He was out almost by accident; when he realized, he was still barefoot. He got up on his bare feet and ran some more. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and Darnitsa as he could before morning.
All night Yorgi forced a rapid march on himself. He first headed due north until he reached another suburb of Kiev, Sotsgorodok. Keeping in the outskirts of that district, he turned northwest to the Dnieper River. Reaching the eastern bank of the river, he headed back south in search of a crossing.
In a short distance, he found a road with a bridge. It was guarded by two Germans. A sign near the bridge disclosed that this was not yet the Dnieper, but the Kesenka, a tributary that paralleled it. The water was low at this time and to avoid the guards on the bridge, Yorgi crossed the tributary in its shallows, keeping to sand bars. He stayed in the water to the edges of the sand isles so as not to leave footprints or scent that could be followed by men with dogs.
He crossed the narrow land strip between the Kesenka and the Dnieper and found himself due east of another subdivision of Kiev, a district called Kurenevka. Now he had the Dnieper to cross. There were no narrows or shallows on the Dnieper and all the bridges crossing were sure to be heavily guarded against saboteurs and contraband traffic.
Yorgi hoped he might find a deserted boat along the bank, but there wasn't one. For awhile he contemplated swimming, but decided the risk was too great. He continued his search upriver, taking him several kilometers above the city. No solution offered itself on the bank.
It will be dawn in less than two hours. I've got to put this river between Darnitsa and me. If the Germans search for me in the morning, it will be east of the rivers. He was about to change his mind and make a swim for his life when he came across a log floating with the current of the river. His decision was almost a reflex. He plunged after it, fearing the rapid current might carry the big log
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