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33
17thJanuary 1945
Almost a month later, the Germans still hadn’t capitulated to the immense force of the Red Army.Jan and his fellow basement dwellers were growing sick and tired of living in a hole beneath the ground.
They hadn’t felt the sun on their faces in so long, it seemed like a previous lifetime.Lately, Jan had been venturing out of the basement every night to give himself something to do.He fairly itched with the need to move, to use his muscles, to run and to fight.
Give him someone to fight, anyone.He’d take it.It was the sitting around, the waiting, the nothingness that ate at him like a rat at a carcass.They’d found weapons on their nightly scavenger hunts and had taught themselves to fashion handmade grenades.Whenever they’d encountered a German patrol, they’d managed to fight them off so far.
“Are you going out tonight?”Walter asked, sidling up to him at the base of the staircase.Jan stood looking up, his gun slung over one shoulder, waiting for the last light of sunset to dim through the windows on the ground level.
“Yep,” Jan replied.
“I’m coming too.”
“Fine with me.”
“We should find food and water.We’re a little low, and the tap is only dripping.The bombing must’ve hit the pipes nearby.”
“Agreed,” said Jan.“I thought I might go a little deeper into the city tonight.See what’s out there.The Germans haven’t been close lately.The fighting seems to have shifted to the west.”
“The light has gone.Let’s get moving.”Walter shifted the weight of the rifle over his shoulder.
The two men climbed the staircase with caution, listening for any sounds that might betray the presence of the enemy.But there was nothing—no footsteps, no buzz of engines, no rat-a-tat of machine guns.Other than the occasional shot in the distance, the world around them was unusually quiet.
It wasn’t entirely dark yet, but the sun had drifted beyond the horizon, and orange streaks lit up the cold sky.Jan could see his breath in front of his face as he walked.The scarf around his neck was ragged and his coat was too small, but he was warm enough once they got moving more quickly.
They hadn’t gone far when they had to circumnavigate a crater in the road.Debris had fallen over the crater, making it unstable to walk on, and Jan had skirted his way around it enough times to know where to step and how quickly to move.But this time he thought he heard something beneath the rubble.
“What was that?”he whispered.
Walter leapt to the edge of the crater and almost overbalanced, then righted himself.“What?”
“Shhhh…listen.”
They stopped still and waited.The sound of voices drifted up to them.Whispering and a cough.
“…from today, we will have half a cup of barley a day because we don't know how long this will last, and we haven't much food left.”The voice stopped.
Jan lifted a piece of debris with both hands and found himself staring into a large crater in the tarmac filled with around fifteen people.They stared up at him in fright, eyes wide.The Jewish families were all skin and bones, pale and gaunt.
“Hello,” Jan said.
“Who are you?”one of the men asked.
“I’m Jan Kostanski.This is Walter Cykiert.”
A woman reached towards Jan.“We’re so hungry.”
“And thirsty,” added the man.
Jan and Walter exchanged a look.How long had these people lived under the rubble in the street without sustenance?
“One or two of you can come with us.We’re going hunting for food now.We can help you get water as well.”
“But the Germans are out there,” said the woman.
“They won’t see us if we’re careful.You can’t stay down there forever without food.Come on.”Walter beckoned.Two of the men climbed out of the crater and followed Jan and Walter.They were dressed in rags, and their bones protruded from beneath their sallow flesh.
