On Friday, Isidor prayed in a voice full of longing. A few of the survivors, only just rising from their sickbeds and realizing for the first time that they’d been rescued, cried like children. Somehow I had the sense that Grandma Tsirl was sitting with us, listening to the prayers with her eyes closed.
One of the communists, driven crazy by the praying, stood up and shouted, “Stop this blind ritual; let the joy of victory ring out in human language!” Fortunately, Karl intervened and asked him not to disrupt our camaraderie at this fateful hour. Who knows what lies before us.
After Karl’s intervention, things calmed down, and Kamil spoke about preparations: the sick and recuperating would be housed by the fortress wall, and the fighters would secure their positions. There were questions, and Kamil answered them quietly and deliberately. The question repeated ad nauseam was whether it was remotely possible, now of all times, with the German Army in retreat, that they would attack us. Instead of answering, Kamil displayed a military map that had fallen into our hands. The map marked all the villages where Jews lived. Even a village with one Jewish family was marked as a target.
MICHAEL HAS FALLEN ILL, and the entire base holds its breath. He burns with fever and doesn’t utter a sound; when he feels pain, he closes his eyes and bites his lip.
“What is it, dear fellow? Tell me what hurts,” says Maxie, getting down on his knees.
At first it seemed that Michael had caught a cold, but aspirin didn’t reduce his fever. He keeps burning up.
“Typhus,” declares Salo, his face going pale as he speaks. He suggests that Krinitski see to him, but Maxie refuses. “I have no faith in such a man.”
Michael is the light of our lives here. Sitting quietly on the crate, copying out passages from the Bible, solving math and geometry problems, he is a vivid reminder of the life we lived not long ago, as we sat reading, writing, preparing nervously for quizzes and exams.
Michael was torn away from his parents, but his parents are always present in his good manners and respect for his elders. He no longer talks or asks about them. He sometimes dreams about them and tells his dreams to Maxie. When we go out on raids or patrols, he stands there and watches us for a long while. As time went on, Michael learned not to ask too many questions. His politeness and quiet study endear him to everyone. When Maxie goes on a mission, Tsila and Miriam keep him company.
Now, as Michael lies on a bed of twigs and burns with fever, we gather by the infirmary tent, holding cups of tea and cigarettes, trying to reach out to him. If Isidor could lend us one of his prayers, we would stand there and pray. Because we have no prayers, we surround the infirmary tent and do not move from that place.