The door opened and Major Tesslov walked in. Without so much as a greeting or acknowledging the Captain’s presence he reached for the bottle, took a long swig and looked for a cot to lie down. A second later he started to snore.
“Let him sleep it off.” The Captain pulled Harold towards the door. “Come on; let me show you what this place is about.”
They were on the third floor of the castle and Pajari explained that the rooms along the long hallway were bedrooms for the visiting officers. They went down to the second floor which was reserved for the actual activities and in front of each room stood a line of soldiers waiting their ‘turn’, as the Captain called it.
“Do you want to join them? Go ahead it is free.” Pajari pointed to a short waiting line at the first of the rooms. Only four soldiers stood in front of it. When Harold didn’t answer right away, the Captain took it the wrong way. He thought that Harold didn’t want to wait.
“Step back, you animals. Let this boy go first.” He pushed the waiting soldiers back and started to bang on the door.
“No, no,” Harold stuttered in disgust. He freed himself from the Captain and took a few steps backward.
“What’s the matter with you?” Pajari was not sure what to make of the boy but stopped when he saw the dread in Harold’s face.
“I don’t understand you German youngsters. No fear of fighting or dying, but when it comes to the fun part of being a soldier you chicken out.” He kept on mumbling something in Russian and waved at Harold to follow him down the staircase.
It was now late in the evening and just as many soldiers were entering the building as were leaving. The Captain steered them towards some open rooms at the end of the great hall.
“How do you like this?” He pointed to a bicycle leaning against the wall. Right next to it were pieces of clothing, jewelry and all kind of ill-gotten gains. The soldiers milling around the room were busy trading whatever plunder they wanted to exchange.
At the entry to each of the rooms sat a junior officer who inspected each item the soldiers were carrying out. It seemed to Harold that he was issuing some kind of a certificate for the examined objects. The officer also entered a description of the articles in something like a notebook and collected a small tribute in return.
At first it made sense to him because it looked like an orderly procedure. That was until he noticed odd exceptions. Some of the soldiers made the clumsy attempt to conceal part of their booty and apparently got away with it.
“What are the rules that the officers let some of the items slide? I don’t see them issuing a piece of paper or entering it in their books.”
Pajari looked in the direction of the door guards. “But they always pay a fee?”
“I don’t know. Let me pay closer attention.” He observed another soldier leaving with a paper bag of goodies. “If I am not mistaken he paid a hefty fee for an uninspected item.” Harold was pretty sure that he was correct.
“Well, I am glad that you noticed. It shows me that you are very observant.” The Captain helped himself to a bottle of Vodka standing on one of the tables in the food area and turned back to the staircase. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow we will drive to Warsaw.”
“What about the items that are smuggled out?” Harold wanted to know.
“Nothing to worry about. They will get recovered. In the meantime it is one of the privileges of being an officer to collect fees from a stupid soldier.” Pajari climbed up the stairs.
“Don’t stand there with your mouth open. You will learn.”
Back in the room they saw that the Major was still snoring away. There were several cots in the room and Harold selected the one furthest from the door. His mind was still filled with the warm memory of the day and of his father when he finally fell asleep.
It must have been the middle of the night when the door squeaked. Harold pushed the piece of the blanket, which covered his eyes, to the side. There was some light coming from the window and he was about to shout and wake the officers when he had to blink twice to make sure that he was seeing right. Nobody came to harm them. Instead it looked like a soldier was carrying a heavy but only medium-sized case into the room. It was more than strange because he had never heard of intruders bringing presents. The soldier didn’t waste any time looking around and left as quietly as he had arrived.
Harold wanted to inspect the carton but decided to wait a few minutes just in case the soldier came back. It was a good decision. Nobody came back, but it looked as if the Captain had also been awakened. Harold saw him sliding from his bed and crawling over to the box. After several unsuccessful attempts to open the top the Captain gave up and returned to his cot. It was pretty obvious that he was disappointed because from time to time Harold could hear him cursing.
While he waited for the Captain to fall asleep he got drowsy and fell asleep himself.
“Time to get up.” Major Tesslov was getting dressed and roused his roommates. The mystery case was standing where the visitor had left it. It was still closed.
“Where did this come from?” Harold acted astonished.
“Special delivery from the Kommissar. We will take it with us.” Tesslov looked from Pajari to Harold. “I take it that you spent some time together. From now on we will only speak English and Russian to each other. If you don’t understand what we are talking about you need to tell us. We will clarify using either language. But, no more German.”
After a fast breakfast they took the box to the car that was still parked behind the hedge. Based upon their behavior it looked to Harold as if the officers were old friends. Tesslov was driving, following temporary Russian road signs to Berlin. It was not long before Harold realized that the Major had no idea where he was going. When they hit a familiar crossing for the third time he decided to speak up.
“We are essentially driving in circles. Any place you are looking for?” His English was still marginal and he had to repeat himself until the officers understood.
“I am searching for the fastest route leading east.” Tesslov was studying a road map while looking at the mess of Russian, German and English road signs.
“Why didn’t you ask me,” mumbled Harold in German, but loud enough to be understood by Tesslov. “I said ‘only English or Russian’. Now, where do I need to turn?”
Harold took over as a navigator until they ran out of German signs. Once they entered Poland they were at the mercy of the road map. However, most of the former highways had been pulverized by the tanks and there were no official thoroughfares.
It took them nearly two days until they reached Warsaw. Harold used the time to ask questions and while his Russian vocabulary increased, he had an awful time expressing himself coherently.
He also learned the meaning of the term ‘time for a break’. The Captain did his best to educate him in the ways of the soldiers while Tesslov helped with pertinent curses and phrases.
Harold enjoyed the friendly and helpful efforts of the officers. Maybe they were due to his relationship with Godunov or the Russians were less disciplined. They were in stark contrast to the German officers who had sometimes treated him like dirt.
In Warsaw they were met by another political Kommissar. The Major knew him and addressed him without any formality by his first name. “Sergio, my old friend. I did not expect to see you this soon.” He walked up to the Kommissar and embraced him but Harold noticed that it was not a heartfelt hug. The hugging seemed to be a regular Russian custom, similar to the hand shake in Germany, where no one hugged each other. Sergio had waited for the package. He was eager to inspect the contents and opened it without hesitation. Harold was surprised that it contained nothing but documents. He had expected jewelry or some other stolen goods and looked at Pajari for his reaction. At first it looked as if the Captain couldn’t care less. He seemed more interested in looking out the window.
However, as soon as the new Kommissar was done sorting through the papers, Pajari offered to place them back in the box. There was no obvious reason to do so because they were now neatly arranged in small stacks on the table with the exception of three documents which Sergio had placed in his briefcase.
“Yeah, try to keep them separated and in their present order. I will send my driver to pick them up.” Sergio nodded his consent and while he walked out of the door, Harold noted that Pajari had sticky fingers. Several papers stuck to them and found their way into the side pockets of the Captain’s uniform. The Major had followed Sergio to his car and Harold was alone with Pajari.
“Let me help you,” Harold offered, trying to catch a glimpse of the various letterheads. To his astonishment they were all in English and looked like British documents.
“That’s nothing of interest. Only lists of food deliveries the Americans still owe us.” The Captain was aware of Harold’s interest and closed the carton before Harold could read any of it.
That’s definitely not what it is, decided Harold. The documents were British and as far as he knew the British did not supply anyone with food or, for that matter, with anything else.
The next day they were ordered back to Berlin. This leg of the trip turned out to be more difficult than the first. There was total chaos on the highways and Harold could not help noticing that there were more troops standing still than were moving. It really looked to him as if none of the Belarusian regiments were going anywhere.
“What’s going on? I thought that the war is over. Why are all your tanks rolling westward?” He could not help himself from asking.
“They are rolling westward?” repeated Pajari instead of answering the question.
“Yeah, as far as I can see they are either just standing around or moving towards the sunset,” Harold insisted.
The Major who had followed the conversation said something unintelligible to Pajari and faced Harold.
“Why should this be strange?”
“I don’t know if I would call it strange, but you asked me to be observant and to ask questions. We have been told that the fighting troops are going home. Supposedly to be replaced by occupation troops.”
“And?” prompted the Major.
“I don’t see any troops going east, except for the trains with the POWs.”
“So, what is your conclusion?”
The Major knew now why Godunov had taken to the boy. He was no dummy. Perhaps a bit too young to understand the world of adults, but far brighter than most other boys his age. He wondered how Harold would answer.
“I don’t have a conclusion because I don’t know enough. But what I see is no different from what I saw when our army was getting ready for combat.”
The Major looked again at the Captain before he answered.
“And you remember this?”
Harold shrugged his shoulders. “What else is there to remember? There was no circus coming to town.”
Tesslov was taken aback. The boy was right and he had to answer in some kind of fashion.
“Maybe the military is planning on a maneuver with the western armies. I have no idea what the bigwig generals are planning.”
Harold was not convinced. He had no strategic training, however, a maneuver this soon after the war and between agitated forces that did not speak the same language was highly unlikely.
“Right. Now, if you would tell me that your tank drivers don’t know the difference between east and west I might believe it.”
Harold was not intimidated. He had been subdued when the officers laughed at his naïve question about women and sex but this here was different. He knew the difference between withdrawal and offensive formations. If Tesslov and Pajari refused to tell him he would ask Godunov. Some of the things he had seen didn’t add up.
Pajari enjoyed the gutsy answer and grinned from ear to ear. “I love our student. In a few years and with the right education he might be teaching us a thing or two.”
“Well, Harold, we don’t know the answer to your question,” the Major lied. “Why don’t we use the remainder of the trip to teach you how to drive?”
His divergence technique did not fool Harold who recognized the officer wanted to change the subject. It didn’t matter. He kept on observing the slow but steady flow of armored cars rolling westward. But, more than that, he enjoyed the opportunity to get behind the wheel of the car. The driving lesson turned into a real challenge because the Major decided to give all his instructions in Russian which slowed the actual driving way down. By the time they were back in Germany and reached an improvised bridge leading over the Oder River, Harold had also learned a new set of words. Not all of them were automotive terms; however, they were all related to his driving efforts.
“Turn right at the next intersection.” Tesslov was studying handwritten notes and an updated map he had received from their contact in Warsaw. “We should reach a small village and we will stay there overnight.”
The main feature of the community was a rather old but extensive German field hospital. It was now being used by the Soviets and the entire facility sheltered seriously wounded soldiers. Harold observed that all the injured were Russians and Mongolians and he wondered what might have happened to the wounded German soldiers.
He also noticed that there were hardly any doctors around. The entire complex was seemingly being served by a group of German and Polish nurses.
“Park the car next to the church.” Major Tesslov pointed down the street and left the car to enter the main facility.
“I better go with him. He might see a nurse and forget about us. It happens all the time.” Pajari went right behind him and in a way he was right. He saw the Major addressing several nurses who had completed their shift and were on their way out. He was asking for the nearest field kitchen but was met with blank stares.
“Let me ask them.” The Captain spoke Polish and repeated the question. He was immediately rewarded with an invitation to accompany the nurses to a mess hall down the street.
The officers beckoned Harold to join them and after a meal of soft boiled turnips and potatoes, Tesslov decided that he needed another ‘break’. After several unsuccessful attempts to make himself irresistible to one of the younger girls he gave up and instead found comfort with a bottle of Vodka. Harold and Pajari left him sitting at the table and walked out in search of some kind of sleeping quarters.
“You should always follow these signs,” the Captain enlightened Harold, pointing at a rude fence board featuring no letters but something like a symbol of a bed or cot.
“The whole occupation system is still in its infancy. We are used to sleeping when and where we can. However, now that the fighting is over we will need to establish some order.”
After searching through several occupied houses they found one with folding cots in the hallway and two empty unfurnished rooms.
“This is odd,” remarked Harold. “I have never seen an empty house without some kind of furnishings.”
“Oh, I am sure that the houses in this village had furniture. They were part of the loot the Tatars are allowed to take.”
“You mean to tell me that the Mongols emptied the houses?” Harold was stunned. He had seen the burned out German and Polish villages, but he had expected that the few unharmed and out of the way villages had been spared the ravages of war.
“No, not all of the homes. I think that they left the farm houses alone. But, if the home owners had more than just the bare necessities like chairs or beds they were subject to plunder. Don’t forget that most of the common Tatar soldiers had never seen a cabinet or dresser.” Pajari dragged a cot from the hallway into the room and motioned to Harold to follow his example.
“Should we get another one for the Major?” Harold looked at the hard bed without any coverings.
“No, he still might find a nurse to spend the night with. In any event, he will be at the car tomorrow morning. Sit down. I will get us some bedding from the hospital.”
When he came back he had several clean blankets and even two pillows in his hands. “It’s all there for the asking,” he proclaimed.
Harold’s head was still whirring from the driving lessons and all the new stuff he had learned. Sleep came fast, but not for long.
“Wake up, but be quiet. I need to listen.” Pajari was rattling Harold’s cot. He walked to the window and Harold could hear singing and yelling coming from further up the street. This was no cause to be awakened; the Russian’s always seemed to sing at the drop of a hat. He looked at the Captain and the officer’s demeanor gave him the feeling that something was not right. After a short minute of intense listening he stepped back from the window.
“Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Before Harold was fully awake, Pajari was gone.