Mila 18 - Leon Uris [56]
In the makeshift maternity ward, infants sucked at empty breasts and screamed angrily at what life had dealt them in their few hours on earth.
Chris led Deborah through the maze of corridors, threading his way among the sick and the dying. He went down another dozen steps into a long corridor storing medieval armor from other, less efficient wars. Here lay the amputees and here knelt their bereaved relatives. A nurse held a flashlight close to Paul Bronski’s face.
“Paul ...”
“He is under heavy sedation.”
“Paul ...”
A legless man next to Bronski spoke. “I was there when he did it. He had operated on about twenty or thirty of us ... he was working with a flashlight only ... then he got it ... direct hit ... he was the only doctor left alive. He was conscious the whole time, directing the soldiers how to take his arm off. ...”
“Paul ...”
Paul Bronski blinked his eyes open. They were glazed, but a small smile cornered his lips to say he knew she was there. She held his hand until he fell back into the drug induced sleep.
“You Mrs. Bronski?” a doctor asked.
She nodded.
“Lucky he is a doctor. There’s every chance he’ll get through without infection or serious complication. He’s out of shock. He’ll pull through all right.”
Deborah walked from the house of misery.
Chris waited at the main door of the museum. There were sudden flashes of light, like summer lightning, from the cannon fire on the horizon. The shells arched above them, plunging down on the workers’ shacks across the river.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking her arm to lead her to his car.
She jerked free of him.
“Come on, Deborah. We’ll talk about it at home. If one of those shells falls short we’ll be blown to kingdom come.”
“Get away from me,” she snarled.
The skyline lit up in quick, brilliant flashes and he saw her face. Her eyes were those of a madwoman. He grabbed her hand.
“I want to die!”
“Control yourself!”
“We did this to Paul!”
Chris shook her till her head bobbed. “We didn’t make this war!”
“God is punishing me! Murderers! We are murderers!” She tore herself out of his grip and ran off into the darkness.
Part Two
DUSK
Chapter One
Journal Entry—September 27, 1939, Warsaw surrendered.
POLAND HAS BEEN DIVIDED into three parts. Germany annexed western Poland to the pre-1918 borders. Soviet Russia has grabbed eastern Poland. The third part has been designated as the General Government Area, which the Germans are going to administrate. It appears this has been set up as a buffer zone against Russia.
The streets of Warsaw trembled beneath the treads of hundreds of tanks moving up Jerusalem Boulevard and the Third of May Boulevard in parade array. These were followed by tens of thousands of goose-stepping soldiers moving in absolute precision, and overhead, squadron after squadron of planes flew in elements at house-top level.
It was an awesome display. The curbs were lined with stunned people. A few German flags fluttered from the homes of ethnics or cowards.
I think that Andrei and I were the only two of Warsaw’s three hundred thousand Jews who watched. The rest sat behind drawn curtains and locked doors. I could not resist the temptation of seeing Adolf Hitler. He glowered at us from an open Mercedes. He looks just like his pictures.
I had to watch after Andrei. He was so enraged I was afraid he might try something foolish and get himself killed. He behaved.
Well, we’re in it now, brother.
ALEXANDER BRANDEL
Franz Koenig wiped the peak of his cap with his sleeve to enhance the shine. What a pity Herr Liedendorf was not here for this moment. Liedendorf, long the leader of Warsaw’s ethnics, had been caught shining lights during