The Oxford Book of Hebrew Short Stories by Glenda Abramson

Author:Glenda Abramson [Abramson, Glenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780192142061
Amazon: 0192142062
Published: 2018-07-10T14:44:05+00:00

Cold Spring I 205

strong for the naked eye. The horizon was a firm, solid blue. In the evening we returned and covered the bunker.

‘What did you see?’ asked Zeitel in the middle of the night, but we were tired and said, ‘Nothing.’ Then we fell asleep again.

In the morning we were in no hurry to remove the cover again.

The army band beat out thunderous rhythms above our heads, the music spiralled happily. and peasants yelled: ‘Hurray, the war is over!’

In the afternoon a company of Russian soldiers wandered over. ‘Do you know the war is over?’

‘Yes,’ answered Berel, ‘only we’re tired.’

We did not know where to go now that the war was over, so we sat at the entrance of the bunker, and when we grew thirsty we sucked the white snow that melted nicely between our fingers. Company after company of soldiers passed singing and whooping; their victory yells echoed and passed over us. The snow did not melt. In the evenings sparkling clouds of smoke piled up in the sky. Nights we no longer went out to the fields to search for potatoes, but slept huddled together in a circle. As we lay in hibernation, a heavy shudder ran through our limbs. We posted no watchmen to listen for strange noises, but Zeitel would rouse us at midnight. ‘Do you hear?’

Old Reb Isaac could not just sit and wait. The second day, he suddenly fled the bunker, going off into the snowy fields. I remember his hands flapping in the distance like wings.

‘Sonya,’ he called through the clear air. ‘Sonya.’ He did not return to the bunker. We were fast asleep and did not notice his absence.

Only Zeitel said from time to time, ‘Reb Isaac went out without his coat.’

After we had got used to the light, we would go out and watch the Russian soldiers march past singing. We did not go very far, just around the bunker. The idea occurred to none of us that the time had come to take to the road. We had food. The soldiers abandoned piles of bread and sausages and vodka, but we were not hungry: The bunker was full of food but none of us went near it. Zeitel would spread out her hands and say. ‘Maybe you’ll eat something.’ Berel grew fat, so heavy he could barely stand. Hershel, on the other hand, shot up tall, like a plant springing in the shade. Zeitel could not help saying, ‘Look at Hershel.’ And Berel said, ‘You have no appetite. Good.

I’ll eat all the more.’

Hershel sat apart from us, and fell into a brown study. Nobody went near him; it was clear that he was not one of us any more. He

206 I Aharon Appelfeld

was sailing off somewhere and there was no stopping him, for he could see what we could not.

At times a company of soldiers stopped to eat and rest with us.

They were flushed with victory and did not ask any questions. But they let us forage after them, and sometimes were amazed.

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