Run, Boy, Run(28)

"Jurek Staniak."

"Are you a Jew?"

"No."

The German gave him a slap.

"Where do you live?"

"Wherever there's work."

"Where are your parents?"

"They were killed when the war broke out."

"How?"

Jurek told his story.

"And since then you've been on your own?"

"No. At first a couple took me to their village. But the husband got drunk and beat me, and I ran away. I don't stick around if I'm beaten."

"How old are you?"

"About nine."

"And when were you last beaten?"

"Just now. By you."

The German laughed.

"I don't mean just one slap."

"A month ago."

"Why?"

"Because the cows got into the carrots."

"And you ran away?"

"Yes. To the forest, with my dog."

"You had a dog?"

"Yes."

"Where is it?"

"Some farmers killed it because a mad dog bit it." Jurek wiped his nose. "How?"

"They shot it."

"They did?" The German raised his brows. "Where was that?"

Jurek shrugged.

"I don't know. In the forest."

"Are you a Jew?"

"No."

"Can you cross yourself?"

He crossed himself.

"Can you pray?"

Jurek said the prayers he had learned.

"I'm afraid I don't believe you," the German said. "Take off your clothes."

Jurek undressed, covering his private parts with his hands. The German rapped his hands with a ruler. Jurek dropped them and the German said:

"What's this?"

"I was operated on because of an infection."

"No, you weren't. Only Jews have that."

The German slapped him hard.

"I'm not a Jew," Jurek insisted.

"All right, get dressed," the officer said.

Jurek dressed.

"You're a smart kid," said the German. "It's too bad you're Jewish. Come with me."

The officer led him through the door and into the yard. He walked up and down there with Jurek at his side. Pulling out a gold case, he took a cigarette and offered one to Jurek.

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

The German lit the cigarette. They resumed walking up and down in silence. From time to time the German puffed on his cigarette and blew out smoke. Jurek saw his right hand steal toward the pistol in his holster. Like an arrow from a bow, he took off for the back of the wooden shack. But he hadn't understood the woman in the kitchen. Although there was a path to the forest, it was on the other side of the fence. Jurek didn't slow down when he reached the fence. He just kept running right up it, scaling it like a wild animal. The first two shots rang out when he had reached the top. One whistled past his ear. The other grazed his shoulder. He vaulted the barbed wire, fell to the ground on the other side, and got to his feet and ran some more. There were three more shots. He heard a motorcycle and the barking of dogs. Turning around to look, he saw a cycle bumping over the field. Two Germans on horseback, dogs loping at their sides, were closer to him.

He was already in the forest, pumping his long legs as fast as they would go. From somewhere came a swampy smell. He ran toward it, remembering what his father had told him. Suddenly his legs were sinking into mud. He ran on until he could no longer pull them out of it. Then he grabbed hold of a low-hanging branch and lay down flat. He could feel his body sinking slowly into quicksand. Soon only his head and his hands gripping the branch were above the surface.

The dogs reached the swamp. They stopped at the edge of it and went off in another direction. After them came the two soldiers on horseback. Jurek could tell from their shouts and curses that their horses were deep in mud too. For a long time afterward, he heard them calling to the dogs.

He pulled himself up by the branch. It creaked and he was afraid it would break. Slowly he managed to extricate himself. Then he crawled forward on his stomach, holding on to the bushes.





11. Ration Tickets


Jurek spent the next few weeks in the forest. One day he left it, walked to a village, and sneaked into a farmyard in the hope of finding some cheese or a chicken. A farmer stepping out of his outhouse caught hold of Jurek with one hand while the other was still buttoning his pants.

"What are you doing here?"

Jurek kept his wits about him.

"I'm looking for work."

"Good," the farmer said. "My oldest son has a job in town and the little ones are too small. I need a cowherd."

Jurek liked the looks of the man. He liked his wife too, a fat, smiling woman. After a few days his new employer asked him to come with him to the mayor of the village.

"The times are hard," he said. "The Germans confiscate everything. What they allow you to keep depends on the number of heads in the family. And you," he said, laughing, "have a head."