Bitter Tears

Chapter 1 April 1945, Poland Artillery shells exploded through the air. Shouts, both in Russian and in German, echoed in the eerie silence between explosions. Katrina Zdanek huddled inside the small farmhouse, trying in vain to chase away the fear. She longed for a time when life wasn’t so violent or scary. The fighting between the Red Army and the German Wehrmacht had been getting more intense over the last few weeks. At the normally quiet and peaceful lake only a stone’s throw from the farm, both armies had reached an impasse after their sluggish efforts to overtake one another locked them into a stalemate. Mrs. Jaworski huddled beside her, breathing heavily and pressing a rosary to her heart, the beads moving between her fingers as she recited Hail Marys uncountable times. Katrina looked at the older woman, who’d kindly sheltered her and Richard, her boyfriend, on her farm after the Nazis had burnt down the Zdanek farm. “Don’t you think we should leave this place?” Katrina asked for the umpteenth time. “Never. I was born on this soil and I will die on it,” Mrs. Jaworski stubbornly replied. Die you will, if we don’t get out of the line of fire, Katrina murmured to herself. Since the front line had reached their village weeks ago, the world around them had become a living hell. Far from the quick liberation everyone had hoped for, they’d been stuck in a perpetual battleground like innocent prisoners caught in the crossfire of a futile war. The opposing armies were fighting tooth and nail for the strategic advantage of having the protection of the lake on their side. With the world erupting in flames, most everyone had abandoned their homes and fled to less embattled areas. A shell exploded outside, the reverberations shaking Katrina’s bones. She ducked her head even deeper, trying to become one with the stone wall that protected her body from the deadly impact. Half a minute later, the smoke from the explosion wafted through the shattered window and made her gag. Her heart constricted with fear over Richard’s safety. Her boyfriend, a German Wehrmacht deserter, had been out at night, foraging the woods for something to eat. Now, heavily under attack, she worried not only for her own life, but also for his. Where on earth is he? Please, God… let him be alive and unharmed. Although he’d shed his uniform almost a year ago and taken on a fake identity as a Polish civilian, he was still in constant danger of being shot on the spot by either the Germans or the Russians should his real identity be revealed. During a lull in the fighting, she held her breath, listening intently. An eerie silence cloaked her surroundings until she heard the telltale cuckoo call, and a burden fell from her shoulders. Richard was alive! Moments later the skirmish continued in full force and Katrina pressed her bony back against the wall, holding her hands over her ears and closing her eyes. Hours passed and finally the battle noises subsided. Katrina dared to peer out the window, the picture of utter destruction grabbing her heart with an icy hand. She’d lost her own home… watched it burn to the ground, unable to do anything as the Nazis had rejoiced in adding fuel to the fire. For the past eight months she and Richard had found a second home with Mrs. Jaworski, the mother of a dear friend. Katrina wondered what had become of her friend, Bartosz. He had fought alongside her brothers, Stan and Jarek, with the Polish partisans. Almost a year ago the Nazi pigs had tortured Jarek to death, leaving herself and his twin Stan with an empty space in their hearts. Stan and Bartosz had stayed with the partisans, and none of them had the time to mourn a brother and a good friend. Not during this god-awful war, not when people were dying like flies all round. Her heart grew heavy and she willed the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time to dwell upon grief. No, now was the time to fight for survival. She got up and shook the dust from her skirt and blouse, before she held out a hand to help up Mrs. Jaworski. She had to give the old woman credit. Despite being pale as a ghost and shaking like aspen leaves, she resumed her tasks without uttering a complaint and started to sweep the floor. Minutes later, Richard strolled into the house, his blond hair tousled, his beard badly shaved and his clothes covered in mud and thistle, but a huge grin softened his expression. God, how she loved this man who never stopped looking at the bright side of life. Despite having served two winters on the Eastern Front, deep in the Russian tundra, he refused to succumb to the dire straits of war, and somehow found a reason to flash his adorable boyish smile every day. “Look what I found,” he said, and held up a bloodied, half torn-apart rabbit. The poor thing must have been hit. But now it would give them a delicious, hearty meal. Food had been scarce since the front line had reached their area and they were running low on everything except water. “Goodness.” Katrina stepped forward to take the rabbit and pressed a kiss on Richard’s rough lips. She didn’t tell him how worried she’d been and she didn’t say a word about how bad today had been at the house. Some things were better left unsaid. “It looks like both armies have entrenched themselves, waiting for reinforcements. It’s only gonna get worse and we should get out of here while we’re still alive,” he said, holding Katrina by her shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere,” Mrs. Jaworski said. “If I leave now, what will there be to return to once the war ends? Nothing, I tell you. I won’t have my farm and no place to live.” She took the rabbit from Katrina’s hand and skinned it. “I’ll get water from the lake.” Katrina grabbed two buckets on a stick that she placed across her shoulders. “Let me help you.” Richard picked up a pail and hurried to follow her. They walked the half a mile down to the lake in silence, before Richard finally said, “We need to convince her to leave, or we’ll all die.” “I know,” Katrina said. They’d had this conversation countless times. “But we can’t leave her here by herself. She’s been so kind all these months.” Richard nodded. “She’s persisting in the hopes at least one of her three sons will return and find her at the farm.” His voice became dreary. Katrina squeezed his hand. Without saying a word, she understood his feelings. After deserting the Wehrmacht a year ago he hadn’t heard from his family and had no idea whether they were still alive or not. “The uncertainty is bad,” she said. She hadn’t heard anything from her own brother, Stan, for months. And she’d all but given up hope of seeing her oldest brother, Piotr, ever again. He’d been missing since Hitler’s invasion in 1939. “It is.” They washed at the lake, accompanied by incessant battle noises. Then they filled their buckets, before Richard wrapped his arms around her and said, “Relax. It’ll all be over soon.” “Let’s hope so,” she answered, pressing her body against his thin but muscular one. In his arms she always felt protected, and soon enough, his nearness dissolved the tension in her body and she sagged against him. “That’s better.” He gave her a long, passionate kiss on her lips, before he broke away. “We better get going. I don’t like leaving Mrs. Jaworski alone for long.” “Me, either.”