Bitter Tears

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Two days had passed since their flight from the farm, and the savage fighting raged on. The forest wasn’t a great place to live, although it was safer than the ravaged villages. Richard held Katrina close, shivering in his damp clothes. As much as nature needed the life-giving moisture, he sure could do without the constant drizzle raining down on them.

Katrina moved in his arms and opened her eyes, looking at him. “What has you so worried?”

“Hmm …let’s see.” He tried a crooked grin. “Right now, I can’t think of anything to worry about.”

As he had intended, she laughed out loud and snuggled tighter into his arms. As long as they had each other, he’d never lose faith in a better future. His stomach growled, reminding him they hadn’t eating anything remotely filling for the last two days.

“We could see whether we can return to the village,” Katrina suggested.

It wasn’t a good idea, actually it was an awful idea, but there wasn’t much else they could do. If they hid out in the forest with the constant rain and cold and without food or shelter, they wouldn’t last much longer.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he said after a slight pause.

“You hate it.”

“I do, but since there’s nothing else…” He didn’t bother to finish his sentence.

When they arrived at the edge of the hill overlooking the village with Mrs. Jaworski’s farm, only rubble greeted them. Piles of stones strewn across the landscape. Scorched earth where fields had lain. Only the big green lake looked as still and peaceful as ever.

“What now?” Katrina tried to sound brave, but he knew her too well to miss the unshed tears in her voice.

“We can’t stay here.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking… I have extended family near Breslau – a cousin of my mother,” Katrina said.

“Breslau? That’s in Germany.”

“Not anymore.”

“What does this mean?” Richard stared at Katrina. These days accurate information was hard to come by, and without a radio at the farm they had been confined to the irregular newspaper and gossip in the village.

“About a month ago the state national council, Krajowa Rada Narodowa, with the backing of Stalin, announced that all German possessions east of the Oder-Neisse Line have been vacated and abandoned. Two weeks later they announced the foundation of the voivodeships Upper Silesia, Lower Silesia and a few more.”

Richard balled his hands into fists. How dare the communist puppets tell those lies and annex big parts of Germany? “You never told me.”

“I must have forgotten.”

A shudder ripped through him at the magnitude of that lie. He c****d his head, grinding his teeth. “And the real reason?”

She gave a little sigh. “I knew you’d have a fit of rage and would mope around for days. Look, I don’t like what’s happening either, but there’s nothing we can do. And I don’t have to remind you that it was your country that started this war.”

“Hmm.” He stubbornly stared into the distance for a while, then said, “I’m not going there.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it’s too dangerous.” His personal feelings aside, there was no real reason why he resisted her suggestion. They couldn’t keep hiding out in the woods, and one place was as good as the next one.

“It’s in fact much safer with my relatives than on our own.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Having the protection of friendly locals would help him to remain undiscovered. Mrs. Jaworski had known his true identity, and had dodged the nosy questions of the other villagers by introducing him as a distant, and grumpy, cousin from up North. He’d never ventured into the village and never talked to anyone.

But arriving as newcomers in another village would pique the curiosity of people and they’d ask all kinds of questions. Once they did, he’d be found out in no time at all, despite his passable Polish skills and forged papers.

“Are you sure we can stay with them?”

“If they are still alive, yes. If they aren’t, we can seek a place to live in Breslau itself. Your chances to blend in are much better in a big city.”

Again, she was right. “Hmm. Maybe. But it’s too far away.”

“It’s not that far, about seventy miles southwest.”

“And how do you suggest we get there? Call a taxi?”

Katrina laughed out loud. “I would like to do that, but I doubt there’s a single taxi left within a thousand miles.”

“See, it’s impossible!” he insisted, his stomach churning at the idea of living in a place that had been German for so long and now suddenly belonged to another nation. He didn’t want to see all the German citizens who, no doubt, would now be harassed in one form or another by the new Polish government.

“It’s not impossible and you’re being stubborn. Do you have a better idea?”

Richard scratched his beard while he pondered it, but nothing sprang to mind. Hiding out in the woods would only draw suspicion to him when they’d inevitably be found by the new occupying army. And the Russians didn’t take fondly to Wehrmacht soldiers trying to evade captivity.

If he wanted to stick to his disguise as a Polish farmer, he had to do what a Pole would do. He had to go and live with Katrina’s relatives, even if they lived in the heartland of German cultural heritage.

“Alright, you win. Let’s start walking. We have quite a journey ahead of us.”

It might end up being a crazy undertaking, destined to fail, but it was the only viable option they had. They walked for endless hours, and with each step, his hunger increased. Suddenly Katrina stopped and bent down to pick a green stalk.

“What’s that?” he asked, eying the plant suspiciously. He’d still not gotten used to her feeding him with whatever edible thing she found on the path.

“Water mint. Chew it carefully and the oil will help suppress the hunger,” she said, picking a few leaves from the stem and holding them out to him.

Instinctively he backed away, unsure whether he wanted to put the leaves in his mouth. “Are you sure this isn’t poisonous?”

“Richard,” she laughed out loud. “I learned the subject of herbs and medicine from my parents, who were healers. And water mint is one of the stock plants of herbal medicine. We used to have it in the garden on our farm. So, yes, I’m sure it’s not poisonous.”

With defiance in his gaze he took the leaves and shoved them into his mouth.

“Don’t swallow them. You have to chew several minutes to free up the oil. Normally, I would crush it finely in a mortar or use boiling water to make an infusion, but since we’re short on kitchen gear, our teeth will have to do the work,” she said, laughing.

The water mint tasted surprisingly good and after a while the fresh, tangy aroma fooled him into thinking his stomach was full. When night broke, they found a forlorn hut with an intact fireplace. Gathering up wood from the surroundings they made a fire and settled on the floor in front of it.

Katrina poured the last water from her bottle into the only pot they’d rescued from the destroyed farmhouse and heated it on the fire, putting several leaves inside.

“I’d rather not ask what this is,” Richard teased her when she handed him a cup of the liquid.

“Tea.”

It tasted slightly bitter, but mostly it was hot and warmed his tired bones from the inside. Minutes after drinking their tea, they both fell into an exhausted sleep. Right before drifting off, he thought about finding real food lest they end up starving to death.

The next morning he woke with the dawn, cold, stiff and sore. Katrina was cuddled into his arms, her small body pressed against his, sharing his warmth. They’d untied the shawl-backpack and used it as a blanket, but it hadn’t been nearly enough to keep out the chills of early spring.

He was reminded of his days fighting at the Eastern Front, deep in the Russian tundra. Some nights they’d frozen to the ground in the trenches and many a day he’d joked with his comrades that his entire being would melt into a puddle should the harsh winter ever cease – and should he still be alive.

Two years later and he was still here. Most of his comrades hadn’t shared the same fate. Those who hadn’t fallen had been marched away into Russian captivity and Karl… his best friend… had died on him just before Katrina had given him a second chance at life.

Richard brushed a strand of hair from her face. He’d been captivated by her warrior spirit from the first moment he’d seen her, during the raid in Baluty, fighting him like a lioness. She hadn’t known he wanted to help, had assumed the worst.

Katrina moved in his arms and his heart flowed over with love. He owed her everything. Weeks after that incident, she’d saved him from the partisans who’d planned to hang him from a lamppost. Then she’d hidden him on her farm, nursing him back to health.

A hand caressed his bearded cheek and a sleepy voice said, “Don’t worry so much. We’ve made it until now, so we’ll somehow survive this awful war.”

“I wish you were right, my darling.”

They didn’t talk much, gathered their things, tied them into the shawl and took off toward Breslau again. He still doubted the wisdom of going there, but what else could they do?

For a moment he considered turning himself in to the Russian authorities, then Katrina might not be bothered. But as it did every German soldier, the Russenschreck, the Russian terror, scared him too much to actually pursue that idea.

Around noon, trudging along the only road leading west, they saw pillars of smoke billowing in the sky. Distant artillery fire vibrated through the air. A short time later they came upon a column of dirty, dejected and depleted German soldiers, looking like lambs being led to the slaughter.

Instinctively, he moved away from the road, his gaze glued to the earth in front of his shoes. Katrina took his hand in hers as if she sensed his fright. Any moment now, the Russian captors could demand his papers, and God only knew whether they’d believe he was an innocent Pole.

Thankfully, the Russian soldiers were too busy herding the captured men forward to pay attention to a couple dressed in rags. Since fleeing Mrs. Jaworski’s ruined farm, they hadn’t been able to pick up any information about the current state of war. He itched to know what news the captured men had, but didn’t dare ask.

Katrina, though, wasn’t as scrupulous as he was and when one of the soldiers fell, she approached the column, helping him up. Moments later one of the guards appeared by her side, cursing her in Russian and telling her to back off.

When the column of prisoners was out of sight, Richard said, “You shouldn’t endanger yourself like that.”

“I had to. The German soldier told me they’ve been fighting a few miles away from Breslau. The entire region is in Russian hands, save for the city itself. Fortress Breslau, as he called it, has been under siege by the Red Army for weeks. Hitler has given the order to defend it at all cost.”

“Hitler is fond of these suicide missions defending whatever point he deems strategic, sacrificing thousands of men in the process,” Richard said with a bitter tone. He’d been on the receiving side of those ludicrous orders many a time.

She sighed. “We may not be able to get to my relatives.”

“I thought they lived in a village nearby, not in the city itself?”

“They do. Or at least they did last time I heard from them, but the only road to go there is through Breslau, which we can’t do at the moment.” They continued to walk in silence for quite a while before Katrina raised her voice again. “What do we do now?”

“We need to eat.”

“I know.”

About an hour later they came upon an isolated farm that seemed unaffected by the fighting and he said, “We could ask to work in exchange for food. This farm looks like they might need helping hands.”

“We can try, but you let me do the talking,” she said as they approached the farmhouse.

Richard knocked at the door and when an ancient man came outside, Katrina said, “Mister, we’re seeking to reunite with family in Breslau—”

“It’s under siege. No way to get in or out,” the old man answered.

“We heard, so now we don’t know where to go and were wondering if you’d allow us to work in exchange for food and shelter for the night? We both know about farm work and aren’t lazy.”

The old man cast a suspicious glance at her and Richard before he nodded. “In fact, I have a lot more work than these old hands can do. See that pile of wood over there? Chop and stack it and my wife will bring you dinner at night. You can sleep over there in the shed.”

“Dziękuję!” Richard thanked him with a hoarse voice to hide his accent, before he turned on his heels and started chopping the wood, while Katrina stacked it neatly.

Hours later, his stomach growling louder than an approaching tank, he said, ”Let’s hope dinner is worth it.”

When they finished just after darkness settled over the land, the farmer’s wife arrived with a steaming pot and two wooden spoons. “We don’t have much, but that should fill your stomachs.”

“Thank you,” Katrina said, before they hurriedly spooned the hot stew into their mouths. It was mostly hot water, but contained pieces of potato and carrot and some meager chicken bones. After finishing their meal they returned the dishes to the farmhouse and the lady gave them two thick blankets to make a bed in the shed. After wrapping themselves in the blankets, it was surprisingly warm inside the shed, even though fierce winds howled outside.

“We could stay here for a while,” Richard suggested, reaching for Katrina. “At least until we can find a way to get to your relatives.”

Katrina leaned against him. The warmth of her soft body chased away his exhaustion and he proceeded to undress her and make sweet love to her.