Jakob the Liar (14 page)

J
acob goes to work with a light heart. Anyone observing his posture and his brisk walk and drawing comparisons with yesterday or the last few days is struck by the change: there goes a man of poise. With a light heart, for the hours in bed had been rich in important decisions; contact with the outer world has been restored. The radio had been on half the night, right after Lina had been shaken off it went on and stayed on until sleep came unbidden, and by that time his ear had picked up a number of reports, and not to be sneezed at either. With a light heart, for the little flame of expectation must not go out. Thus Jacob’s resolve; he had spent half the night looking for wood and kindling to keep it going. He has succeeded in achieving a substantial advance, he and the Russians; he has quietly let them win a great battle on the banks of a little river, the Rudna, which, although it doesn’t babble along right outside the front door, is gratifyingly closer than the town of Bezanika.

In reviewing the news items supplied thus far, Jacob noticed that, when looked at more closely, these had consisted only of extended trifles; except for the very first item about Bezanika, nothing substantial. He had turned every little idea into a tremendous story, often transparent and lacking in credibility. Doubts had so far not arisen merely because hope had made the people blind and stupid. But during the night before the battle of the Rudna an insight was gained: Jacob has at last discovered the source of his difficulties. In other words, hardly had he turned out the light when it came to him in a flash why his inventions had become so laborious and eventually failed him almost entirely. He was too modest, he suspected; he had always tried to keep his news items within a sphere that at some later date, after life resumed its normal course, cannot be verified. With each news item some inhibition had stood in his way, some pang of conscience; the lies had come stumbling reluctantly from his lips, as if looking for a hiding place they could crawl away to in a hurry before anyone took a closer look at them.

But this procedure was fundamentally wrong, as he came to realize last night; a liar with pangs of conscience will always remain a bungler. In this type of activity, restraint and false modesty are inappropriate; you must go the whole hog, you must exude conviction, you must act the part of a person who is already aware of what they are going to hear from you the very next moment. You must throw out figures and names and dates right and left; the battle of the Rudna is merely a modest beginning. It will never go down in history, but in our history it will be given a place of honor. And when all these tribulations are over, when anyone who is interested can look up the true events of the war in books, he will be free to come and ask: “Hey you, what kind of nonsense did you tell us back in those days? When was there ever a battle of the Rudna?” “Wasn’t there?” will be your surprised answer. “Let’s have a look at that book…. You’re right, there never was. It’s not in here. So I suppose I must have misheard at the time, I’m sorry.” They will probably forgive you, at worst they’ll shrug and walk off, and perhaps there will even be some among them who will thank you for the error.

As regards the progress of the fighting, Jacob has done some preliminary work, and for this his local knowledge has come in very handy. The battle of the Rudna and its aftermath are to suffice for the next three days; we mustn’t go overboard, for the crossing of the river isn’t altogether without its problems. We’re not going to make it that easy for the Russians: the Germans have blown up the only bridge, Jacob has thought it all out. Before the advance can be continued, a temporary pontoon bridge has to be built, and this will take three or four days. When that’s been taken care of, the Russians will march on the little town of Tobolin, which the Germans have turned into a kind of fortress. Tobolin, in turn, resists for three days; it is surrounded, softened up by the artillery, and stormed by the infantry. In a hopeless situation Major Karthäuser, a splendid name with a credible rank, signs the document of surrender: Tobolin is liberated. Incidentally that will please Mischa — he has an aunt living there who, it is hoped, will live to see this victory. The aunt, Lea Malamut, owned a haberdashery and, when Mischa was a boy, always used to send him a little box of colored buttons and threads for his birthday. But let’s not linger in Tobolin, it’s a long way from there to the district town of Pry, the next town in our direction. Some forty miles; they have already been planned in rough outline but aren’t yet ready in every detail. That will be Jacob’s night work for a while. As far as Tobolin everything is clear, and today at the freight yard the result of the glorious battle of the Rudna will be announced.

With a light heart Jacob goes off to work, and a little added touch occurs to him that he could apply to the events at the Rudna. Might not secret German plans have fallen into Russian hands, thus revealing all the enemy’s actions on this front for weeks to come and rendering them ineffectual? That would be a few raisins in Jacob’s cake, but immediately doubts arise in terms of probability, for would secret plans be kept in such an insecure place? After all, the Germans are no fools. Neither are the Russians: even if they did capture plans of that kind, they’re not going to broadcast the fact to the world over the radio. They’ll keep it carefully to themselves and discreetly make their preparations. So we’ll dispense with the added touch. What we already have is enough to give the Jews a bit of the poise with which Jacob continues on his way to work, with a light heart.

At the corner of Tismenizer-Strasse he sees Kowalski waiting for him, nothing special about that, Kowalski often waits for him here, he lives here. As he approaches, though, it turns out that Kowalski is not alone; with him is a young man, which
is
somewhat unusual, especially since Jacob has never seen the young man before.

From some way off, Kowalski points at Jacob; the young stranger follows the finger with his eyes, as if Kowalski were explaining, That’s the man, the one in the dark gray jacket.

Jacob comes up to them, they shake hands, and all three walk on; there have been no introductions yet. “You’re late today,” Kowalski says. “We’ve been waiting quite a while for you.”

“Had we arranged to meet?” Jacob asks. He looks out of the corner of his eye at the young man, who doesn’t say a word and seems a bit awkward and embarrassed, staring straight ahead. A blind man would be aware that there is some special significance to his presence. Kowalski has said, “We’ve been waiting,” so the young man is not here by chance. Kowalski has a hand in this; he must have told him to come.

“Won’t you introduce us?” says Jacob.

“You’ve never met?” asks Kowalski with a show of surprise.

“This is Josef Neidorf.” 

“I’m Jacob Heym.”

“I know,” says the shy young man. So his name is Neidorf. His first words convey nothing.

“You don’t work at the freight yard?” asks Jacob.

“No.”

“Where, then?” 

“At the tool factory.”

“But then you’re heading the wrong way. You should be going in exactly the opposite direction.”

“We start later than you do,” Neidorf says, and it is obvious that he is not comfortable with his explanation.

“I see. And since you have some time to spare, you choose to accompany us all the way to the freight yard. Stands to reason.”

Neidorf suddenly stops, the way one does before running away; he looks haunted and says in a low voice to Kowalski, “Can’t you really manage without me? You see, I don’t want to have anything to do with this whole business. I’m scared, you see.”

“Oh, don’t start that again! Didn’t I already explain it all to you till I was blue in the face?” Kowalski says impatiently, taking him by the arm before he can get away. “Can’t you get it into your head? He won’t say a word,
I
won’t say a word, and
you
won’t say a word. Apart from us three, not a soul will ever find out about it. So what can happen?”

Neidorf still looks most unhappy, but he stays when Kowalski cautiously lets go of him.

“What won’t I say a word about?” asks Jacob, who by now has become curious.

Kowalski gestures to him to be patient. The gesture means many things: that you can see what a state the boy’s in, that we must allow him a moment or two to come to terms with himself and his fear, for Kowalski’s gestures can be highly expressive. He gives Neidorf an encouraging wink, which with his swollen eyes isn’t easy, and says, “Now you can tell him what you are.”

Neidorf still hesitates. Jacob is quite intrigued, a surprise early in the morning that makes a young man afraid and about which they must — although so far for unknown reasons — keep silent: Kowalski can’t bring off one like that every day.

“Actually I’m a radio repairman,” Neidorf finally says in an agonized voice.

A radio repairman.

There is no chair waiting for Jacob: looks fly back and forth, pleased ones and withering ones. An insane rage toward Kowalski almost chokes Jacob. Trying to play God, this cretin of a friend arranges for repairs without the vaguest idea of their extent and, what’s more, undoubtedly expects you to feel grateful to him for his enterprising efforts. It couldn’t have been easy, after all, in a single short evening that is already over by eight o’clock, to dig up someone who knows something about radios, but not too difficult for a friend like Kowalski. There he stands, beaming expectantly: Haven’t I done a good job? Magnificent of course. Any more help like that and you might as well go and hang yourself right away. And it is for him that you have just helped to win the battle of the Rudna; you’re tempted to burn the radio after all. Right after they parted yesterday evening, he must have dashed off and driven the whole ghetto frantic. He hadn’t known this Neidorf before, you would have known if he had, for unfortunately Kowalski’s friends are also your own. He must have sidled up to one person after another, asking confidently in his penetrating voice, “Do you happen to know anybody who can repair a radio?” “A radio? Why on earth do you need someone to repair a radio?” “Why do you think?”

Someone or other must have then put him on to this poor fellow Neidorf, who has more intelligence in his little finger than Kowalski has in his whole head; the boy’s fear is the best proof. Kowalski has told him God knows what to reassure him, then dragged him here and contrived this highly embarrassing situation, and now you’re confronted with a radio repairman in the flesh.

“What a splendid profession!” says Jacob.

“Yes, isn’t it?”

Kowalski is as pleased as Punch. There is simply no end to his deeds of friendship — the other day the miraculous rescue from the outhouse, today the second noble deed. He dares anyone to match it, in a place where there is so little room for kind actions. But he’s not looking for any special gratitude; among true friends such things are taken for granted: they don’t waste much time on talk, they act. And because time is getting on, and because so far no visible signs of joy or comprehension are noticeable in Jacob, Kowalski explains to him: “He’s going to fix your radio, you see. And don’t worry, the lad’s trustworthy.”

“I’m glad to know that,” says Jacob.

“Of course, I can’t guarantee anything,” Neidorf says with modest eagerness. “If, say, a tube’s gone, there’s nothing I can do about it. I have no spare parts — I told Mr. Kowalski that right away.”

“Just go there and have a look at it,” says Kowalski.

Jacob has only minutes to find a way out; one would imagine that it gets easier from one time to the next, seeing that practice makes perfect, but actually it always remains just as difficult. Ruefully he remembers all the decisions he reached last night, more easily made than carried out when obstacles of this kind show up, but Jacob pulls himself together. Happy news requires a happy face, but Jacob can’t manage one: the sight of Kowalski the demon helper precludes all possibility of a smile. With a great effort, Jacob stretches his lips from side to side and forces a look of grim affability into his eyes as he tries to convey that something of immense importance has just occurred to him.

“Of course, you couldn’t know!” he says. “You’ve gone to all that trouble for nothing. The radio is working again!”

“You don’t say!”

“But I appreciate your efforts all the same.”

“How did it happen? Did you fix it yourself?” Kowalski asks, and it’s impossible to tell whether he is genuinely glad or whether he is disappointed at his helpfulness having gone for nothing.

“It’s working again. Isn’t that enough?”

“But how?” asks Kowalski. “A radio can’t repair itself, can it?”

If Neidorf weren’t with them, Jacob could tell Kowalski anything — a tube had come loose, or he had banged it a few times with his fist and it came on again — Kowalski knows as little about radios as he does. But unfortunately this Neidorf with his expert knowledge is still there; not only does he look relieved because his help isn’t needed after all, but there is also a gleam of professional interest in his eye. And now it’s up to you to improvise a suitable explanation that will satisfy nitwit and expert alike. You must know, after all, how you repaired your radio: tell them quickly and look cheerful about it.

“It was one of the wires in the electrical cord. I just shortened it a bit.”

So everything has worked out splendidly, Jacob is quite proud of himself, all three parties are satisfied. As he leaves, Neidorf shakes hands with Jacob, many thanks again for your trouble, he walks off in the direction of the tool factory and doesn’t have to be scared anymore.

Kowalski and Jacob continue on their way to the freight yard: Jacob is thinking up a revenge for the ruined morning that had started out so well, namely, the battle of the Rudna will be withheld from Kowalski; let others bring him the joyful news. Friends who never miss a chance to torture a person nearly to death don’t deserve battles won during sleepless nights of torment. Even if no harm was intended. What Kowalski has inflicted on you today, the difficulties he lands you in with no harm intended, are getting alarmingly out of hand; you can’t stand idly by watching this trend. Two days ago Kowalski forced him to cope with Lina, today with Neidorf, and among all the questioners Kowalski is the most tireless, so the countermeasure of a single suppressed battle is surely appropriate.