My Animated Life by Gross Yoram;

Author:Gross, Yoram;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brandl & Schlesinger
Published: 2014-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

16

The War went on and on. Local newspapers, however, began reporting that ‘the Nazi forces are withdrawing to prepared positions’. Like everyone else, I was supposed to be extraordinarily happy that the Nazis were losing. People said they ‘could already see the Russians’ legs’, and that it was all nearly over. But I was not as happy as I should have been, perhaps because this War which had lasted so long was tiring me out, and perhaps because even though it would supposedly end any day now, my situation remained unchanged: I had to conceal my identity and my real name, Jerzy Gross, and continue to be Marian Wisniewski. I had to conceal that I had a mother and a father whom I loved and who, dear God! were still in hiding.

So much strife; so many lies. I felt I had little strength left. Although I had many friends, both boys and girls, I could not disclose the truth to them. I had to invent such stupid stories: why I got no letters from my parents, who I said loved me so much, or where my brothers and sister, of whom I talked, actually were. What sort of friends were these if I could not be open with them, while they were always open with me?

Would all this deception really come to an end one day?

One day Jurek came back from Warsaw, where he had spent some time with Natan, with a surprise for me – and what a surprise! He had persuaded my brother to come to Otwock for the first time. There was joy and more joy, even more so because during the night while we were sound asleep, there was suddenly the scream of air-raid sirens, and bombs fell out of the sky amid the dreadful roar of planes. It was like the beginning of the War all over again, but this time they were not German planes but Russian Kukuruzniks, which flew extremely low and made a lot of noise.

Natan, Jurek and I ran out of the house and looked on happily. We thought these bombs would never kill us, which was curious. We must have subconsciously counted on the pilots aiming accurately, and only hitting Nazi positions. This is what happened: our house was not hit and nor were we, but they did bomb the electric train tracks between Warsaw and Otwock.

My dear brother Natan had arrived on the last train from Warsaw before the air-raid. There were no more trains, and the following day there was not a Nazi in sight. It appeared that the War was over.

The next morning the three of us went off to town, that is, to the one and only street in Otwock. There were already a few Russian soldiers standing in front of the liquor shop. They carried rifles at the ready, but showed no inclination to shoot anyone. They were too busy drinking vodka. There were perhaps six of these soldiers, and they were surrounded by locals and saying something in Russian, probably asking for some assistance.

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