The Cowards (8 page)

‘Well, so we’ve got our freedom back again, huh?’ I said.

‘No, now, be serious. You make a joke out of everything, Danny,’ said Irena.

‘No, I don’t.’

‘You do.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Go on, I know you.’

‘Think so?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Well, I’m not so sure.’

‘Oh yes I do.’

Irena was a grown-up young lady. She’d gone through puberty but not very far beyond. Breasts and periods and a whole way of thinking. So she knows me, does she? That was good, too.

‘Well, that’s tough,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘That you know me so well.’

‘Why’s it tough?’

‘Well – since you know me so well I can’t have any secrets from you, can I?’

Irena laughed.

‘I don’t know you all that well, Danny. You don’t need to worry.’

‘But you know me pretty well, right?’

‘Oh – pretty well, I think.’

‘And what do you know?’

‘Hmmm?’

‘What do you know that’s so special about me anyway?’

‘Special? Well, you’re awfully conceited, for one thing.’

‘Aw, go on.’

‘You are, Danny.’

I acted like this had really sobered me up, then I looked into her eyes.

‘No, Irena. I’m not conceited. Not at all.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I still think you’re pretty conceited, Danny.’

‘I’m not, though.’

‘And I say you are, though.’

‘No. And I’ll tell you why you’re wrong, Irena. Because there just so happens to be something I don’t think is true about you, and you know very well that it’s true about me.’

‘Yes? What?’ she said. Her eyes lit up when I switched to this other tone. We’d just been kidding around before, but now I’d struck a deeper chord. Now I’d touched on something that lay beneath all that kidding which was serious. At least that’s what her biological feelers told her. Her fine little biological-psychological-acoustical feelers. I didn’t contradict her.

‘What is it?’ I said slowly, and moved towards the wall. I lifted my arms and leaned up against the wall under Irena’s window.

‘You know, Irena,’ I said.

She smiled wisely, the smile she kept handy for such occasions. It was a tender smile. Then she reached out and gently caressed the back of my hand.

‘You know very well, Irena,’ I repeated. ‘I’m in love with you.’

She stroked my hand again. Then she whispered, ‘I know.’

I held on to her fingers.

‘Irena, I’m terribly in love with you. Everything I do is just for you.’

‘I know, Danny.’

‘Look, this whole war and the liberation and everything won’t really have any sense for me if you …’

I stopped right there and, instead of talking, squeezed her hand.

‘I know, Danny.’

‘Irena, couldn’t you …’

She pressed my hand, ‘No, Danny. Shh! Don’t let’s talk about it.’

‘Well, why not, Irena?’

‘You know I – it’s simply impossible.’

‘I know it is, Irena. But it’s … awful.’

‘Danny.’

‘All right, I won’t say any more about it.’

‘But don’t be angry with me.’

‘I’m not angry with you. How could I be angry with you?’

‘In matters like this, a person’s simply helpless, you know that.’

‘I know, Irena.’

‘I think an awful lot of you, Danny, really. But –’

‘You’re in love with Zdenek.’

She looked straight at me. Now it was getting very serious. Now she was going to make me face up to the facts, for about the sixth or seventh time.

‘Yes,’ she said.

I squeezed her hand and gulped. I gulped so my Adam’s apple would wobble and I made the corners of my eyelids twitch. I bowed my head slightly to one side and tears came to my eyes. I squeezed her hand.

‘Okay, Irena, I know. Not much I can do about it, is there?’

‘But you’re not angry, are you?’

‘No.’

‘You mustn’t be angry.’

‘I’m not. I’m something else, though.’

‘What?’

‘I’m in love with you,’ I said.

She drew back her hand and her smile changed. ‘You …’ she said.

‘Terribly in love with you.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘I love you and I worship you and I want you.’

Irena started to laugh. Then she spoke in a changed tone.

‘Save some of your energy, Danny. Maybe you’ll need it for something else.’

I could see right through her. I could tell it made her feel
good. Oh, I knew her. It flattered her, hearing all that over and over. It must be a nice feeling to know somebody’s in love with you. But to be in love was also nice, which was why I was.

‘Look,’ said Irena all of a sudden.

‘What is it?’ I said, and looked up at her. She was looking out over my head towards the square. I turned around. The sun stood blazing above the castle, flooding the square with its white light. The church cast a dark shadow on the cobblestones and as the crowd eddied around it, the women’s dresses flashed as they moved out of the shadow into the sun. But that wasn’t it. Something was going on. People were milling around on both sides of the church. They were running away from the square behind the church and jamming the streets on either side of the square. Something was going on behind the church but you couldn’t see what. Clusters of people had stopped in front of the post office to stare. All I could see was the backs of people’s heads, tilted hats, and dishevelled hairdos. Soon it was almost deserted on both sides of the church. I watched Mrs Salacova, the lame seamstress, swinging along fast on her crutches. My curiosity was aroused. From around the left side of the church a soldier emerged with fixed bayonet and the square grew silent. The soldier advanced slowly in his grey helmet and jackboots, an ominous figure. A second one came out close behind him. Then from behind the other side of the church more soldiers appeared. They moved forward, fanning out around the church. Some held submachine guns, others rifles with fixed bayonets. They came on quietly, slowly, steadily. Behind them, the square was empty. The crowd silently pressed back into side streets and doorways. Mrs Salacova hurried along frantically on her crutches. I watched her go. Her body swung in frenzied arcs like a pendulum or as if she was doing calisthenics on the parallel bars. She was going as fast as she could, but not fast enough to escape the soldiers. The fan slowed down behind her. I could see that the soldier who was driving her on didn’t know what to do. He was embarrassed. He didn’t know whether to pass her and let her go on behind him or wait until she’d hobbled into some doorway. He slowed down and soon the whole column came to a standstill. The
soldiers on the other side of the square were nearly half-way across it now. Officers with drawn revolvers moved up behind the soldiers. I heard them yelling something at the people who still hadn’t managed to find a place to duck into. I looked over at Mrs Salacova again. She was nearly home. She had a little store in one of the houses on the left side of the square. The soldier with the submachine gun slowly trailed her. He looked like a Boy Scout doing a good deed, as if the gun was hers and he was just carrying it home for her. It was quiet, except for the officers yelling on the other side of the square and, in the distance, the squeak of Mrs Salacova’s crutches. They were a couple of steps away from her shop. She made three more lurches and vanished inside. The soldier turned and hurried along the row of houses to the end of the street. Behind him came an officer brandishing a revolver in his gloved hand. The two advancing columns had already circled the church and joined up in a single row. The end men stopped at the corners where the side streets entered the square while the centre fanned out swiftly. The last remnants of the crowd dashed past me behind the post office towards the old ghetto and shoved through the doors into City Hall. It was quiet. Behind the soldiers the square was completely empty. Apparently they’d come from the emergency hospital behind the church where part of the Kostelec garrison was stationed. The rejoicing of the crowds had probably made them mad. The officers, anyway. My impression was that all the soldiers really cared about was clearing out before the Russians arrived. These last days anyway. They couldn’t get out fast enough. But the officers wouldn’t budge. Discipline to the bitter end. No matter how pointless – order and discipline right up to the end. And the soldiers obeyed. That much had been drilled into them. More soldiers appeared in the empty half of the square. They advanced in dead silence. They were sullen and ready for combat. Ammunition belts bounced against their chests and hand grenades jutted out of their boot tops.

‘Danny!’ said Irena nervously. I could tell right away she was scared.

‘What?’ I said without turning around.

‘Danny, come inside!’

‘Wait a while.’

‘Danny, please come inside. You can’t kid around with them.’

‘Don’t worry.’

‘Don’t be crazy, Danny.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, Irena. If I just stand here, they won’t even notice me.’

‘Danny, please. Don’t be silly.’

I turned slowly and looked her in the eye. She was really scared. For me. I could tell she was scared, but on the other hand this was something I couldn’t understand. I’d never been scared for anybody else. Just for myself. I didn’t know what it was to feel that way. I couldn’t understand how anybody could care that much about somebody else. Whether something was going to happen to somebody else, I mean. If somebody else was in a bad spot, I felt bad too, but I didn’t know what it was to be scared for them. What’s the sense in being scared, anyway? After all, nothing can happen except what happens to me. And you can stand everything else. I felt completely alone. I wouldn’t have been scared for Irena. Why should I ever be scared for her? I wasn’t really in love with her anyway. Or rather, I was in love with her because there wasn’t anything better. When it came to things to be in love with, there was always a chronic shortage. And so I was in love with Irena. She wasn’t in love with me and I loved her, but it didn’t really matter that much to me. I looked straight at her.

‘Are you scared?’

‘Danny, please, don’t put on an act.’

‘Are you?’

She looked over my head and there was fear in her eyes.

‘Danny, come inside. This is no joke!’

‘Are you scared?’

‘Yes, sure I am.’

‘On account of me?’

‘Oh, please, Danny, you know I am.’

‘But you don’t love me?’

‘Danny, please come inside.’

‘But you don’t love me, do you?’ I said slowly.

Her eyes looked terrified. I was hamming it up. See, Irena, nothing matters to me. Let ’em shoot me for all I care, if you don’t love me. Let ’em hang me, see? I gazed at her fixedly. All of a sudden her eyes started following something that was very close behind me. I could feel there was something behind me. And I knew what it was. I got the feeling again that I had a bullet in my back. And I also had the feeling that I’d put on a wonderful act for Irena, that I’d given a great performance. Irena’s eyes followed whatever it was with terrified attention, her mouth half open. I turned, leaned back against the post office and stuck my hands in my pockets. I felt like the whole world was watching me. There in front of me, quite close now, stood a soldier aiming his submachine gun straight at me.

‘
Also los
,’ he said, but he didn’t move. He had a broad, beefy face and grey stubble on his chin. He had a gas mask slung over his shoulder and the grey head of a German bazooka stuck up above his ear. He was an old guy. A hand grenade was stuck in each boot and he looked as if he didn’t know what to do. I gave him a friendly, cocky grin. He stepped up close. There was fear and bewilderment in his eyes. He was scared. He was scared of what was going to happen today or within the next few days. But he was also scared of the officers behind him. He stepped up to me and said in a confidential tone,
‘Schauen Sie, es hat doch keinen Zweck. Gehen Sie weg bitte.’

Suddenly I felt sorry for him. He kind of trusted me. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d yelled at me, but he had so much trust in me I didn’t want to disappoint him.

‘All right,’ I said and took my hands out of my pocket. He stood there in front of me, waiting. I buttoned my jacket and figured I’d set off, slow but sure, around the corner.

‘Well, so long, Irena, I’ll be back,’ I said, and started off.

But as I turned towards the side street which led past the post office, I bumped into another soldier. He was wearing an Iron Cross ribbon in his buttonhole. An officer. I raised my head and looked him right in the eye. He had narrow, cold, Germanic eyes. He looked as if he’d never had a human feeling in his life.

‘Was ist hier los?’
he said menacingly. ‘Haben Sie nicht
gehört?’

That made me mad. I knew these guys were done for. I didn’t feel scared at all. Just that it was all over. The finale. I made a face.

‘Shut up!’ I said and squinted at him. I hadn’t meant to say it in English. It just slipped out. Funny. I always reacted in English to all that German bellowing. Even when I was working at the factory, only then I said it under my breath. This time I’d said it out loud.

‘Was?’
howled the officer.

‘Shut up,’ I said quite logically. I stood opposite him with my hands in my pockets again.

‘Na warte, du Schwein, du!’
screamed the officer, and grabbed hold of my jacket with his left hand. He was holding a pistol in his right hand. I grabbed for it. He jerked me to one side. He was awfully damn strong. I tried to get my footing but couldn’t. He shook me back and forth. A mess. A real mess. I must have looked pretty silly. And Irena was watching. I braced myself once again but had to spread my feet wide apart and let my knees sag. I looked ridiculous and what made it worse was that it all had to happen right in front of Irena. The officer gave me one more sharp jerk and let go. I lost my balance and fell over. I could feel I was blushing. Oh, God. Damn it. What a mess. I lay there on the ground. They’d caught me. Like a farmer catching a little kid stealing pears. It was anything but fun. Damn it, it wasn’t fun at all. I blushed with shame. I thought about getting up and jumping that officer, but quickly dropped the idea. He was awfully strong. He’d just throw me again. Maybe he’d knock me around and that would be even more humiliating. Oh, I’d really messed things up. I looked up. The officer was standing over me and brandishing a pistol in front of my face.