"Come with me to the village," he said, pointing at some nearby houses.
Jurek conducted the negotiations. He struck a deal to swap sugar for a chicken. He and Sasha walked happily back to their camp and invited the medic to join them for some baked mud chicken.
"How about a game of checkers?" the medic said to Jurek when they had eaten.
Jurek won.
It was his first victory. His joy knew no bounds. The medic rose, handed him the checkerboard and the pieces, and said they were his.
"Take it and teach Sasha how to play," he said. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
He shook Jurek's hand warmly.
Jurek stayed with Sasha and his crew through the autumn and into the winter. By then he could speak enough Russian to be the unit's interpreter. Sasha took him along to the villages to barter.
When the ground frosted over, their unit moved to a village. Sasha's crew was billeted in a big hayloft that belonged to the Cherka family. After a while Sasha began to bring Pani Cherka gifts of food. She accepted them suspiciously. She knew that all the soldiers had their eyes on her daughter Christina, whom she guarded like a watchdog. One day Sasha asked Jurek to write Christina a note in Polish.
Jurek was upset. He feared he was about to lose Sasha just as he had lost Grzegorz and Marina.
"I can't write," he said.
"Fine. Then go talk to her when she's alone in the sheep pen or the barn. Tell her..." Sasha hesitated. He wasn't sure how to put it. "Tell her that Sasha says she's beautiful. And when she asks, who's Sasha, you'll point me out. I'll be standing in front of the hayloft, all right?"
"All right."
He carried out his mission successfully. The braided girl really asked, "Who's Sasha?"
"I'll show him to you."
Sasha was standing in front of the hayloft.
"That's him," Jurek said.
Sasha grinned and took a bow. Christina blushed and ran back to the barn.
"Good boy," Sasha said, patting Jurek's shoulder. "Would you like to eat something different?" He took some American cheese from his pocket.
One night Jurek discovered that Sasha was missing from their blanket. In the morning he asked, "Where were you last night?"
"I'll tell you someday."
"When?"
"When we get the order to move."
"To move where?"
"On to Germany."
"What about me?" Jurek asked.
"I'll think of something for you. Don't worry."
"But I want to come with you."
"You've already seen enough fighting. Remember those three German prisoners?"
Jurek remembered.
When winter came, he took his shoes from his knapsack and tried putting them on. To his surprise, they no longer fit him. Sasha brought a pair of army boots, stuffed them with paper, and laced them for him. Jurek was thrilled. Although the boots weren't new, they were in good condition and had studded soles. And when it snowed, Sasha brought him long army underwear and a heavy greatcoat.
"It's the smallest size I could find," he apologized.
"I don't need underwear," Jurek said, regarding the gift dubiously.
"Wear it. It will keep you warm. You can roll the tops down if it's too big. And there's a drawstring, see? Try it."
"Later," Jurek said.
Sasha put the coat on him, marked it like a tailor, and took in the waist and both sleeves. He hesitated before shortening the right sleeve. Even before Jurek could say anything, though, he cut it to the same length as the left sleeve.
"You can stick the end into your pocket," he said.
Jurek tried on the coat.
"It looks good," Sasha said. "Now peek through the window of the farmhouse and tell me if the Cherkas are sitting down to eat."
Jurek took a peek.
"Not yet."
"Tell me when they do."
When it was the family's suppertime, Jurek called Sasha. Sasha had a bottle of vodka.
"Come with me," he said.
He knocked on the door and they entered. Christina looked flustered. Her parents didn't know what to make of it. Pan Cherka saw the vodka and invited Sasha and Jurek to join them for supper. After grace, they all crossed themselves. The two grown-up men clinked glasses to toast the war's end and Hitler's death. They began to eat. Christina, blushing, sat by Jurek. She tried to help him to cut his food. Sasha said, "There's no need for that, Christina. He can manage by himself."
The two parents exchanged glances.
Sasha refilled the glasses. Now they drank a toast to Stalin and Mother Russia. Sasha poured some vodka for Jurek, but Jurek didn't want any. He had tried it once and it had burned his throat.
"To a free Poland!"
For the fourth toast, Sasha lifted his glass and said, "To Christina, the most beautiful girl in the world!"