Read Online The Silver Sword by Ian Serraillier - Free Book Online
Authors: Ian Serraillier
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they sent me back to Germany to slave on the land,” he said. “The farm was near Guben and the slaves came from all parts of Europe, women mostly and boys of my age. In winter we cut peat to manure the soil. We were at it all day from dawn to dark. In spring we did the sowing — cabbage crop, mostly. At harvest time we packed the plump white cabbage heads in crates and sent them into town. We lived on the outer leaves — they tasted bitter. I tried to run away, but they always fetched me back. Last winter, when the war turned against the Nazis and the muddles began, I succeeded. I hid under a train, under a cattle wagon, and lay on top of the axle with my arms and legs stretched out.”
“When the train started, you fell off,” said Jan.
“Afterwards I sometimes wished I had,” said Edek, “that is, until I found Ruth and Bronia again. Somehow I managed to cling on and I got a free ride back to Poland.”
Jan laughed scornfully. “Why don’t you travel that way here? It would leave the rest of us more room.”
“I could never do that again,” said Edek.
“No,” said Jan, and he looked with contempt at Edek’s thin arms and bony wrists. “You’re making it all up. There’s no room to lie under a truck. Nothing to hold on to.”
Edek seized him by the ear and pulled him to his feet. “Have you ever looked under a truck?” he said, and he described the underside in such convincing detail that nobody but Jan would have questioned his accuracy. The boys were coming to blows, when the printer pulled Jan to the floor and there were cries of, “Let him get on with his story!”
“You would have been shaken off,” Jan shouted above the din, “like a rotten plum!”
“That’s what anyone would expect,” Edek shouted back. “But if you’ll shut up and listen, I’ll tell you why I wasn’t”. When the noise had died down, he went on. “Lying on my stomach, I found the view rather monotonous. It made me dizzy too. I had to shut my eyes. And the bumping! Compared with that, the boards of this truck are like a feather bed. Then the train ran through a puddle. More than a puddle — it must have been a flood, for I was splashed and soaked right through. But that water saved me. After that I couldn’t let go, even if I’d wanted to.”
“Why not?” said Jan, impressed.
“The water froze on me. It made an icicle of me. When at last the train drew into a station, I was encased in ice from head to foot. I could hear Polish voices on the platform. I knew we must have crossed the frontier. My voice was the only part of me that wasn’t frozen, so I shouted. The station-master came and chopped me down with an axe. He wrapped me in blankets and carried me to the boiler-house to thaw out. Took me hours to thaw out.”
“You don’t look properly thawed out yet,” said the printer, and he threw him a crust of bread.
Other voices joined in. “Give him a blanket.” “A tall story, but he’s earned a bed by the stove.” “Another story, somebody! One to make us forget.” “Put some romance in it.”
The stories petered out after a while. When all was quiet, and the refugees, packed like sardines on the floor of the truck, lay sleeping under the cold stars, Ruth whispered to Edek, “Was it really true?”
“Yes, it was true,” said Edek.
“Nothing like that must ever happen to you again,” said Ruth.
She reached for his hand — it was cold, although he was close to the stove — and she clasped it tight, as if she meant never to let go of it again.
Chapter 14
City of the Lost
It was the end of May when the train reached Berlin — after nine days of stopping and starting, of lying up in sidings, of crawling along the battered track.
The station was a shambles, but everyone was glad to escape from their cramped quarters. They swarmed out of the trucks and over the lines, some of them disappearing at once into the dusty ruins of Berlin. Most of them hung about or sat down on their
“When the train started, you fell off,” said Jan.
“Afterwards I sometimes wished I had,” said Edek, “that is, until I found Ruth and Bronia again. Somehow I managed to cling on and I got a free ride back to Poland.”
Jan laughed scornfully. “Why don’t you travel that way here? It would leave the rest of us more room.”
“I could never do that again,” said Edek.
“No,” said Jan, and he looked with contempt at Edek’s thin arms and bony wrists. “You’re making it all up. There’s no room to lie under a truck. Nothing to hold on to.”
Edek seized him by the ear and pulled him to his feet. “Have you ever looked under a truck?” he said, and he described the underside in such convincing detail that nobody but Jan would have questioned his accuracy. The boys were coming to blows, when the printer pulled Jan to the floor and there were cries of, “Let him get on with his story!”
“You would have been shaken off,” Jan shouted above the din, “like a rotten plum!”
“That’s what anyone would expect,” Edek shouted back. “But if you’ll shut up and listen, I’ll tell you why I wasn’t”. When the noise had died down, he went on. “Lying on my stomach, I found the view rather monotonous. It made me dizzy too. I had to shut my eyes. And the bumping! Compared with that, the boards of this truck are like a feather bed. Then the train ran through a puddle. More than a puddle — it must have been a flood, for I was splashed and soaked right through. But that water saved me. After that I couldn’t let go, even if I’d wanted to.”
“Why not?” said Jan, impressed.
“The water froze on me. It made an icicle of me. When at last the train drew into a station, I was encased in ice from head to foot. I could hear Polish voices on the platform. I knew we must have crossed the frontier. My voice was the only part of me that wasn’t frozen, so I shouted. The station-master came and chopped me down with an axe. He wrapped me in blankets and carried me to the boiler-house to thaw out. Took me hours to thaw out.”
“You don’t look properly thawed out yet,” said the printer, and he threw him a crust of bread.
Other voices joined in. “Give him a blanket.” “A tall story, but he’s earned a bed by the stove.” “Another story, somebody! One to make us forget.” “Put some romance in it.”
The stories petered out after a while. When all was quiet, and the refugees, packed like sardines on the floor of the truck, lay sleeping under the cold stars, Ruth whispered to Edek, “Was it really true?”
“Yes, it was true,” said Edek.
“Nothing like that must ever happen to you again,” said Ruth.
She reached for his hand — it was cold, although he was close to the stove — and she clasped it tight, as if she meant never to let go of it again.
Chapter 14
City of the Lost
It was the end of May when the train reached Berlin — after nine days of stopping and starting, of lying up in sidings, of crawling along the battered track.
The station was a shambles, but everyone was glad to escape from their cramped quarters. They swarmed out of the trucks and over the lines, some of them disappearing at once into the dusty ruins of Berlin. Most of them hung about or sat down on their
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