“Is the war ending?” Thomas asked with a trembling voice.
“The German army is in retreat, and the Russian army is approaching. But for the Jews, there’s no respite. They pursue every Jew who runs away. Where’s your hiding place?”
“In the treetop.”
“You’re smart children. Don’t go out in daylight.”
“Where are you going, Mr. Braverman?”
“I’m going to look for my wife and children. If you run into them, tell them you saw me. I’ll hide under a bush now, and at night I’ll go on my way.”
“If you meet our mothers, tell them we’re in a safe place,” Thomas said, overcoming his shyness.
“Of course. Hurry to your hiding place. You mustn’t be out in daylight.”
Everybody liked Mr. Braverman. He loved music, and he loved children. Everybody felt comfortable with him. He never failed a student. If somebody didn’t have a good ear, he would say, “But your eyesight is probably better than ours. Nature compensates. Sometimes nature is more generous than people.”
Mr. Braverman was a communist. He argued that property should be distributed justly. It was wrong for the rich to have everything, while the poor didn’t have a crust of bread. He suffered because of his opinions. The police used to come to the school and arrest him from time to time, and he would spend a few months in prison. After he signed a statement saying he wouldn’t spread his ideas anymore, they allowed him to teach music again. He would be careful not to express his opinions, but sometimes a hint would slip out — and they would immediately suspend him from the school.
“I like Mr. Braverman. I don’t have a good ear, and my eyesight is poor. Mr. Braverman consoled me by saying, ‘But you think well. Don’t worry. Everyone has his own area.’ A marvelous man,” said Thomas, near tears.
Chapter 21
The rain didn’t stop, and shooting sliced into the night and shook the nest. As soon as the rain let up, they went down to see whether the cow and calf were grazing in the meadow. They weren’t. But Mina had left two slices of bread and some cheese. This time they were wrapped in cardboard.
They climbed back into the nest, had their meal, and were happy. Miro was also excited and hopped from Adam’s feet to Thomas’s.
“Thomas, would you please write a little letter to Mina?”
“What should I write?” Thomas asked. “I can’t write ‘Dear Mina.’ No one may know that she has friends. I’ll simply write: ‘Thanks from A. and T.’”
“Maybe you should write, ‘Blessings and thanks from A. and T.,’” said Adam.
“I’ve never used the word ‘blessings,’” said Thomas.
“It’s a beautiful word,” said Adam.
“But not understandable. I’m not used to writing words that I don’t understand. I propose writing, ‘Thanks with all our hearts, from A. and T.’”
“Why are you so precise, Thomas?”
“What can I do? That’s the way I was raised.”
The nights were cold and not quiet. Sometimes it seemed to them that the teacher, Mr. Braverman, was still lying on the grass and groaning with pain. Every once in a while the steps of a man fleeing were heard as he looked for cover in the forest.
How can we help people? Adam asked himself. We have to help people.
Suddenly before his eyes he saw his mother, working in the communal kitchen in the ghetto, serving soup to thin, weak people. When they asked whether there was another crust of bread, she would narrow her shoulders and say, “I have none. Not a crumb is left.” At night she would return from the communal kitchen exhausted and fall onto her bed. Thomas’s parents believed in studying. They taught the Jewish children who had been suspended from school and made sure they did their homework. They said, “They can starve us, but they can’t take our humanity away from us.”
Thomas’s father not only taught the Jewish children who had been suspended from school. He also organized courses in history, literature, and even a class in drawing for adults. From time to time he raised his voice and said, “Barbarity won’t deter us.” Not everyone agreed with him. Some people made fun of him and called him strange names, but that didn’t stop him. Day and night he organized and taught, until he was seized for forced labor.
Chapter 22
Afterward the nights were quiet, and for a while it seemed there were no more fugitives. The bread and cheese nourished them and Miro. Between one rainstorm and another they would come down from the nest and sneak in to milk the cow.
Adam said, “God only knows how much Mina has been risking for our sake.”
Thomas answered, “I’ve also been thinking about that.”
“Are we worthy of her risk?” asked Adam.
“We’ll do our best to be worthy,” said Thomas with emotion.
“We underestimated her when she was with us in school,” said Adam.
“The conclusion: You mustn’t look down on people. Not on anyone,” said Thomas.
“And you have to repeat the words of Brother Peter, the religion teacher: ‘Every man bears a message in his heart,’” said Adam.
Again at night they heard the stumbling steps of someone fleeing and the running of his pursuers. From the treetop they saw the struggle between the weak and the strong, and their hearts were full of dread.
Adam said, “We can’t stand idly by. We have to help the fugitives.”
Thomas didn’t ignore Adam’s words. When he saw a man fleeing, carrying a baby in his arms, he stuck his head out of the nest and called out loudly, “Don’t be afraid, and don’t lose hope. The Red Army is on its way to us. In a little while, a day or two.”
The escaping man didn’t stop to see who was encouraging him but kept on running, out of breath, but the armed pursuers raised their heads. They heard Thomas’s shouts and shot at the nest.
“We have to get out of here,” said Adam.
“Sorry,” said Thomas. “I couldn’t control myself.”
“No matter. A word of encouragement is sometimes like a bandage.”
“Thanks,” said Thomas.
The thought flashed through Adam’s mind: Thomas minds his manners, even when he is tense. In the last darkness, they folded their blankets and the sheepskin coat, closed their backpacks, climbed down from the tree, and blazed a trail into the thick forest. In an hour they saw a tree with a round top. They immediately gathered twigs and branches, Adam climbed up, and Thomas handed him what they had collected. Now they were deep in the forest, far from the paths, and Thomas wondered whether they had gotten too far from the cow and calf and from the tree where Mina placed the food.
Adam said, “I know the forest and everything in it.”
Chapter 23
While they were curling up in the new nest, the rain started again. First slowly, then heavily. The sheepskin coat, which had absorbed a lot of rain, was heavy and cold now. If it hadn’t been for Miro, their situation would have been more serious. Miro not only gave off heat, but also happiness.
“I noticed that Miro is different from us but still similar to us,” said Thomas.
“I just love Miro the way he is,” said Adam.
Thomas was surprised once more by Adam’s direct way of thinking. He didn’t complain, didn’t argue, but just acted. There was a lot to be learned from him.
Meanwhile the thunder in the distance got louder. It was hard to know whether it was the thunder of a storm or the booming of cannons. The rain didn’t let up. A fugitive collapsed nearby, and his groaning rose to the treetop. Adam and Thomas took some iodine and bandages, climbed down from the tree, and approached the wounded man.