May, 1945
Poland
Later that night their train crossed the Polish border. Their return to the first car had been met by stares of disbelief. No one spoke to them; they might as well have been carved out of stone.
“Do you think we should wash up and change?” Rachel asked. “We don’t exactly fit the roles.”
Stephen looked about the car. The short but vicious conflict had renewed his sense of self. It was but a small taste of what freedom offered, but he was exhilarated. He hated having to crawl back inside Ilya’s “war hero” persona. Stephen Hirschfeld wanted to live again. But he couldn’t; not yet, anyhow.
“What would Ilya and Lydia do?”
“Scrub themselves.”
They both took sink baths and changed, Stephen into a fresh uniform and Rachel into a dress. Their train continued without stopping to Kielce, where they would change trains to the border. Anticipation kept them both awake through the night and they were ready to get off the second they arrived.
Through the window they saw that the station was surrounded by hundreds of the local citizenry, all screaming and shaking their fists at the boxcars. As they stepped down to the platform they were able to make out what the mob was shouting: “NO JEWS! NO JEWS! BACK TO RUSSIA!”
Stephen took her arm. “Don’t worry. We’re almost home free.” They went into the station. They approached the customs inspection area and presented their papers. Behind them came a grey haired man who had been in their car.
“They’re Jews,” he said, pointing at them.
“He’s insane,” Stephen said. “I’m a decorated veteran.”
The inspector examined their papers and looked skeptically at the man.
“They’re Jews, I tell you. They got off the train to help the others.”
“I got off the train,” Stephen explained, “to help the conductor. This coward stayed behind.”
“What about her?” the man shook his finger at Rachel. “She was right along side him.”
“I wanted to make certain my husband was alright.”
By now the other passengers had come in. “She’s lying,” one of them shouted.
“See!” the grey haired one cried. “Get the engineer. He can tell you what they did.”
The inspector put their papers into his coat pocket. “Please step aside.”
They took seats on a bench and the other passengers filed past. Rachel watched them exit into the main hall just a few feet away. I’ll kill myself before I go back, she vowed.
After an interminable wait the engineer arrived. He gave Rachel a startled look of recognition.
“You know her?” the inspector asked.
“Yes.” He glanced from Rachel to Stephen.
“They claim they tried to assist you and the conductor.”
“She saved my life.” The engineer nodded at Rachel. “Now, if there is nothing else . . . .”
“People ought to be more careful with their tongues.” The inspector handed back their papers. “Good luck on your mission.”
Slowly, they walked out into the main waiting hall. Elated, she grasped his hand; but his face was pale, his lips almost white. “It’s too dangerous to stay here tonight. We better leave for Cracow.”
They bought tickets, and after several hours, passed in silence, they boarded the train. They were both lost in their own thoughts throughout the trip, arriving late that night. Skipping dinner, they went to a hotel. Exhausted, they lay down with their clothes on.
Rachel reached out and took Stephen’s hand. Grasping it, she let herself fall asleep.