Read Gertruda's Oath: A Child, a Promise, and a Heroic Escape During World War II Online

Authors: Ram Oren

Tags: #History, #Non-Fiction, #War, #Biography

Gertruda's Oath: A Child, a Promise, and a Heroic Escape During World War II (5 page)

BOOK: Gertruda's Oath: A Child, a Promise, and a Heroic Escape During World War II
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When evening fell and everyone prepared to return to the house, they discovered that Martha had disappeared. Lydia and Jacob were frightened. Martha was extremely punctual and was never late or absent without a reason. Jacob waited a little while and when she didn’t return, he gathered a group of riders and went out to search for her. They found her some way off, among the trees of the forest, lying on the ground, groaning in pain. The horse she had been riding was lying next to her with a broken leg. “He stumbled on a rock,” she muttered. The servants improvised a stretcher of blankets and hunting rifles and carried her to the summerhouse.

The Stolowitzky family was devastated. Martha wasn’t only a nanny; she had quickly become a beloved and appreciated member of the family. Michael sobbed and Lydia called Emil to take the injured woman to the hospital in Warsaw. She herself went with them. An initial examination revealed a bad break in her left knee and hemorrhages in her arms. The doctors were concerned. “Unfortunately,” said one of them, “it will take a lot of time for her to recover.”

Lydia didn’t return to the summerhouse. Martha’s condition depressed her so much that Lydia stayed for several hours at Martha’s bedside, trying to relieve her pains and cheer her up. Never had she been so close to human distress, to grief and disaster. She felt Martha’s pains and prayed for her recovery.

2.
 

It was supposed to be a happy day, a milestone in the life of Gertruda Babilinska. She and her family had been waiting for this day, and Gertruda was thrilled when it came at last.

In their small house in Starogard, near Danzig, three hours from Warsaw by train, the excited family dressed in their wedding clothes and set off for the church, where Gertruda was to be married. She was the oldest child, the only daughter.

Gertruda was charming, nineteen years old, tall and fair, a teacher in the local school. Her students and colleagues loved and admired her, and at the end of every school year, her students’ parents showed their appreciation with an expensive gift. She planned to go on teaching even after she was married, at least until she had her first child.

Many good men had courted Gertruda, but she was in no hurry to accept them. She examined each of them carefully and ended the relationship when the suitor failed to touch her heart. She wasn’t interested in marriage for money or status. She believed in love. She met Zygmunt Komorowski in the home of mutual friends. He worked in an import-export office in Warsaw, was a handsome and well-groomed man ten years older than her, and he liked Gertruda the moment he met her. He was impressed with her broad education, her expertise in German, and her pleasant ways, and he lavished compliments on her that made her blush.

Zygmunt was a man of the world, an experienced urbanite, who won her heart with his courtesy and his stories about the big city and the global business he was engaged in. After a few months of courtship, one evening, in the best restaurant in Starogard, Zygmunt proposed marriage. Gertruda, who believed that she had at long last found the love of her life, gladly accepted. He promised to take her to Warsaw, buy them a big apartment, support her in style, and give her lots of love.

The couple decided to get married in the local church of Starogard and to hold a reception afterward in the home of the bride’s parents. Her mother and her relatives worked day and night
preparing food for the party and walked, in a big group of family and friends, to the church in the town square. Gertruda, excited and tense, wore a white wedding gown she had bought in Danzig.

Family and close friends gathered in the church, and the bride’s students stood outside and applauded her as she approached. Flushed, Gertruda clutched a small bouquet of violets and, in a trembling voice, thanked everyone for their good wishes.

In the church, everything was ready for the ceremony. An old man sat waiting at the organ. The priest smoothed his robe and Gertruda’s parents shook hands warmly with the last guests. Everyone was waiting for the groom, who was about to arrive with his parents and sisters, but Zygmunt was late. A long time had passed when a messenger appeared in the church door with a short letter for Gertruda. In it, the man of her dreams told her that for unspecified reasons, he couldn’t go through with the wedding. He concluded with an apology for the grief he had caused her and wished her good health and happiness. Gertruda burst into tears, ran home, and locked herself in her room.

For three days she lay on her bed in her wedding gown, didn’t eat, didn’t see anyone, and didn’t stop sobbing. When she finally came out of the room with her eyes red and her face pale as a ghost, she told her parents quietly that she had decided, because of the disgrace, that she could no longer stay in the town. Her parents, still stunned by what had happened, didn’t even try to change her mind and only asked what she intended to do.

“I’ll go to Warsaw. I’ll find work. I’ll try to get over it. Nobody knows me there,” she said.

“Just promise me that you’ll come back,” said her mother.

It was hard for Gertruda to promise. “How can I know what will happen to me?” she replied. “Maybe I’ll find a new bridegroom there.”

She went to the school to announce her resignation. The principal
expressed his profound disappointment. He tried to convince her to stay. He said that her students were waiting eagerly for her, that the wounds would heal in time, and that the big city where she was heading generally didn’t welcome strangers from remote towns. She paid no attention to his words and asked for a letter of recommendation. The principal gave her a warm letter and said an emotional farewell. She returned home, packed her few things in a small suitcase, hugged her parents, collected her little bit of savings, and boarded the train to Warsaw.

With the help of an acquaintance, Gertruda found a job as a nanny for two young daughters of a well-to-do family. She worked there for a number of years until the family left the city. Gertruda returned to her hometown but never managed to adjust to her old surroundings. After a few years of struggling, she again packed up her belongings and set out for Warsaw to find a new job.

The capital city greeted her with a downpour. She wandered through the streets, frozen, vainly seeking shelter beneath her umbrella. The wind swirled the raindrops and blew the umbrella out of her hands; she got soaked to the skin. She ran back to the railroad station, where she sat in the heated waiting room until her clothes dried. When the rain stopped, she left the station and began combing through the nearby alleys until she saw a sign in the door of one of the houses with peeling plaster announcing an apartment for rent. The staircase reeked of cooking smells, the landlady was coarse, but the rent was low enough to persuade her to take the apartment. Gertruda put her clothes away in the shabby wardrobe and looked out the window at Warsaw in the dark. The first lights came on in the windows of the city and suddenly the idea that she would stay there for an indefinite period of time made her afraid
that she would encounter only more disappointment. Nevertheless, she had no choice. She felt she couldn’t go back home again. She had to make every effort to fit in.

Her meager savings would last only a few weeks if she was frugal, and she knew she had to find work soon. She was also sure she couldn’t bear to be idle for long, couldn’t endure the days without people around her, and she knew she had to make a living.

The rain began again. Gertruda stretched out on her bed and fell into a nightmare sleep. When she woke up early in the morning, she hurried to a small café, drank a cup of coffee, and scanned the want ads in the morning paper. There were ads for shopgirls, cooks, and clerks. She ignored those and went on looking until one of the ads caught her attention. She read it over and over:

HONORABLE FAMILY IN WARSAW URGENTLY SEEKS A DEVOTED NANNY, NO HOUSEWORK, FOR A TWO-YEAR-OLD CHILD. LODGING AND A GOOD SALARY ARE GUARANTEED. PLEASE CONTACT THE STOLOWITZKY FAMILY, UJAZDOWSKA AVENUE 9
.

 

The job was just what she was looking for. She loved children, could help them when they needed it, could listen to them. If the working conditions were good, she decided, she would take the job.

Gertruda left the café and set off for the address in the newspaper. The city stirred around her for another day of bustling activity. The sky was gray, stores opened one after another, and people hurrying to work filled the trolleys.

Her heart beat with excitement when she came to Ujazdowska Avenue. She loved the splendid houses where rich people and government leaders of the city lived and the shining cars that glided out through the cast-iron gates. There were no such houses in Starogard.

She rang the gold-plated doorbell of number 9. There was a long minute of silence until an elderly maid stood in the entrance.

“I came about the ad,” said Gertruda.

Impassively, the woman scanned her from head to foot.

“Come in,” she said. Gertruda stepped hesitantly into the vestibule. Around her, everything—every statute, every picture on the wall, the grand staircase to the second floor, the bouquets of flowers filling gigantic vases—radiated wealth she had never known. She had never heard the name Stolowitzky.

The maid took her coat and led her into a small room whose windows looked out onto a garden.

“I’ll tell Mrs. Stolowitzky you’ve come,” she said and left.

Gertruda sat down on the edge of the velvet sofa, careful not to dirty the expensive upholstery. She was afraid the mistress of the house would be a harsh and arrogant woman, like those wicked rich people she had read about in novels. She hoped the lady wouldn’t be contemptuous of her simple clothes and wouldn’t set demands she couldn’t meet. Furtively she straightened her dress and tried in vain to hide her hands, which seemed too clumsy. Well, she said to herself, I really don’t belong here; they must be expecting a nanny with experience taking care of rich and spoiled children, while I have only taught schoolchildren in a poor town. The longer she sat there, the surer she became that she had no chance.

The door opened and she saw a beautiful woman, elegantly dressed, who looked at her warmly. Gertruda got up, embarrassed.

“Sit down,” said the woman softly. “Will you have some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

The woman held out a delicate hand. “My name is Lydia. What’s yours?”

“Gertruda.”

“Thank you for coming,” said the lady of the house. “You’re very quick. We put the ad in only this morning and no one has come but you. Where are you from?”

Gertruda answered briefly.

“Do you have experience?”

“Yes, I do,” Gertruda said. She gave the woman a letter of recommendation from the father of the household where she worked before.

Lydia Stolowitzky scanned it.

“He writes very good things about you,” she commented.

Gertruda blushed.

“Are you married?” asked the woman.

“No.”

“Tell me about your family.”

Gertruda did.

The woman looked at her for a long time. “I assume you’re not Jewish,” she said.

“I’m Catholic.”

Lydia Stolowitzky surprised her. “We’re Jews,” she said.

Gertruda looked at her in amazement mixed with fear. Jews? She didn’t expect to work for people like that. In her town there were no Jews. Once a family of Jewish merchants did try to settle in the town, but various residents made their life so miserable that they were forced to leave. She had heard horror stories about Christian children murdered by Jews on Passover so that their blood could be used for the holiday ritual. There were other wicked rumors, half-truths and harsh libels about the Jews, and she was sure she couldn’t stay in that house.

“I … I don’t know if that would suit me,” she said sadly.

“Why?” Lydia Stolowitzky wondered.

“Because you’re Jews and I’m Catholic,” she replied frankly.

The woman smiled. “Our previous nanny was also Catholic. That didn’t bother her or us.”

Gertruda stood up. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“So am I,” replied Lydia.

“I hope you find a suitable nanny,” said Gertruda. “I’m sorry for taking your time.”

She turned to the door.

“Before you go,” said Lydia, “I want you to know that I like you. If you should decide nevertheless to take the job, come back to me. I’ll be glad to talk with you again.”

Gertruda went outside and a cold wind from the river, mixed with tiny raindrops, struck her face. She couldn’t decide whether she had acted properly in turning down the offer, but she doubted she’d find a better one.

3.
 

For a whole day, she wandered around, helpless. More than anything she now needed somebody who would understand her and tell her what to do, but in the big, strange city, there wasn’t anyone who could do so. Only one person, far from here, could come to her aid and she decided to go to him. With a heavy heart, Gertruda boarded the train at the Warsaw railroad station and went home. Cityscapes changed to green fields and farmers working their land. The smell of plowed earth, mixed with the bitter smoke from the locomotive, whirled in her nostrils when she stood at the open window in the passenger car. The smells and sights brought her back home, to where she was born, grew up, went to school, and made a living. She became depressed as the train slowed down and stopped
at the small station of Starogard. Even though she had been gone only a couple of days, it was only now that she understood how much she missed her parents.

From the railroad station, she went straight to the small church in the middle of town and entered the open door to the empty hall. Candles were lit on the small platform and the statue of the crucified Jesus with a gilded crown of thorns looked at her. She knelt, dropped her head, and said a silent prayer.

Quiet footsteps passed by her and somebody called her name. She raised her eyes to the priest standing next to her, smiling.

“Gertruda, my child,” he said quietly. “Welcome. I thought you left here and wouldn’t return for a long time.”

BOOK: Gertruda's Oath: A Child, a Promise, and a Heroic Escape During World War II
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