“Well, she made it this far, I’m sure she can make it the rest of the way. We don’t want her in our group, Joana. The others just aren’t brave enough to tell you.”
The Polish girl looked to me from the back of the cart. I wanted to give the annoying woman a piece of my mind. The nurse stepped in front of me.
“All right, Eva. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that the horse is mine? I’ll take Emilia on horseback and ride ahead on my own. You can all pull the cart yourselves.”
The nurse girl was even prettier when she was stubborn.
“Joana, please don’t leave us. Please,” begged the blind girl.
The small boy clutched the maimed rabbit and began to cry.
“Really, Eva, at this point it makes no difference,” said the shoe poet. “We’ll reach the ice soon and—”
The blind girl threw her hand in the air. The arguing ceased. Noise, voices, and other sounds slowly emerged through the trees.
Someone was on the road.
I darted through the snow and peered out from behind a tree. A massive procession of people and carts created a long column, as far as the eye could see.
So it had happened.
Evacuation orders had been issued. Germany was finally telling people what they should have said months ago.
Run for your lives.
alfred
Hello, my Lore,
I woke this winter morning with memories of sweeping your sidewalk at springtime. Perhaps you noticed the vigor I applied toward your walk in particular? I smile and must bite my lip when I think of how often I overexerted myself on your behalf.
I’m really much too busy to be writing such a letter today, but I know you are probably thinking of me. You see, Hannelore, I am generous with my spirit, not only my broom. Your father could have used a good man like me at his furniture factory. I believe I once mentioned that to him, but he ignored me. No matter, I haven’t time to dwell on such inconsequence.
The port, you see, is in imminent danger of attack by Allied planes. Evacuation orders were posted last night and millions of people in this region of East Prussia will now flee to me for help. The refugees will line up at the port and I will assign them to a ship that will take them to safety. Yes, it’s a very important task, but I am supremely capable. You might recall my keen evaluation ability. I am the cat who contemplates both the mouse and the cheese. I know instantly which one will satisfy the craving.
These months mark the longest we have ever been separated. Perhaps you are marking each day on a calendar with a large red X? I see you on the front step, waiting and longing for my letters. I express myself to you as I express myself to no one. Perhaps through these letters we might share our secrets. After all, war births litters of them. I suppose it is no secret, however, that my private thoughts of you soften the clutch of combat.
Sadly, Heidelberg feels quite far away now. To bring you closer, I picture the dark evenings in my mind. I see the warm, honey glow behind your bedroom curtain, your shadow dancing on the wall as you gently fold your red sweater and bend to lacquer the small nails on your toes.
Yes, the nights at home were dark and still. It was in that darkness that duty called and I made my decision. But really, my sweet, what choice did I have?
joana
Where had they all come from? This endless stream of humanity clogging the small field road—did they suddenly crawl out of a hole? Had they been waiting in the forests as we had? Young women, elderly grandparents, and too many children to count. They dragged sleds, drove carts with mules, and walked with belongings slung over their backs in sheets.
A little boy and his sister straddled an ox, gripping a frayed piece of rope tied around the animal’s neck. “Please, Magnus, hurry!” coaxed the little boy, thumping his heels into the ox. His sister’s thin ankles were exposed and black with frostbite.
“Let me help you,” I called to them, but they didn’t hear me. He slapped the ox and trotted away. A few carts, with well-rested horses, clucked by us quickly, leaving only a glimpse of the prominent family name painted across the back of the carriage. Some people were tired, despondent, others panicked and full of terror. An old man with a wooden leg thumped back and forth across the road, clutching his temples and announcing to everyone who passed, “They shot my cow.”
Eva lumbered through the crowds, badgering people for information and updates. “Which way did you come from? What have you heard?”
Reports were that Germany was buckling. Although they had finally allowed people to evacuate, for many it was too late.
“Joana!” Eva called out to me. “This one here is Lithuanian.”
I made my way through the mass of people to the old woman.
“Labas,” I said. “Where are you from?”
“Kaunas,” she said. “And you?”
“Bir?ai, originally. I’ve been gone for four years. But my cousins are from Kaunas. How are things there?”