Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [83]
Yossi returned to the brick factory just as the day came to an end. He drew a map in the dirt. “The Germans are deployed over the river both north and south of the city. They may well try to cross anyplace along a four-mile stretch. In fact, they may even come right over the top of as here.”
“So maybe we’d better head north,” Nathan said.
“No,” Yossi answered. “We’ve got excellent cover here. I say we get into the tunnel as far as we can and ride it out.”
“Suppose the Germans send a patrol in? If they see us, they’ll either shoot us or take us prisoner,” Nathan protested.
“I say we ride it out,” Yossi repeated.
Avni and Daniel supported Yossi. As the last words left their mouths, they heard the swish of an incoming artillery shell. A few seconds later it shattered just beyond them.
“Let’s move it!” Yossi commanded. They needed no further prodding as the air was suddenly racked with a barrage. The boys huddled together, cowering as the pounding above became murderous.
Nathan suddenly gagged with fear, wept softly, and curled up in a ball, his hands over his face. Throughout the darkness he felt the reassuring touch of Yossi Dubnow.
After three hours the bombardment seemed to advance beyond them. Yossi crawled from the tunnel, up the side of the pit, and tried to make sense of what had happened. Streaks of tracer bullets arched in the direction of the little village. Yossi strained to hear. Perhaps he actually did hear the sounds of men screaming as though they were charging. Perhaps it was an illusion. The bombardment had played tricks on his ears. During the next hours, the racket grew dimmer and seemed to move away from them.
Yossi staggered back down into the tunnel and risked lighting a candle. Nathan and the Finkel brothers were glassy-eyed and sat the rest of the night with their backs propped against the cold, dripping wall. They were too disoriented from the shelling to speak or take much more than a sip of water.
As the first slant of light probed a hill behind the factory, Yossi went up again and called for them to follow. A thick, low, still cloud wove through hillocks and gulleys over a windless field. The field was pocked with hundreds of craters created by the violent artillery fire, and the smell of it was like fireworks on the Czar’s birthday.
They lay on their bellies in a hole and remained still until they were sure no one was in the area.
“We’re luckier than hell,” Yossi said. He pointed down toward the river. “The Germans must have crossed over to the north. They swept right past us.”
“Look, the ridge is burning,” Avni said.
“They must have concentrated their attack on the ridge,” Yossi reckoned. “Yesterday there were Russians digging in a defense. It’s possible the battle may be past us.”
“On the other hand,” Daniel Finkel said, “German advance units may be pushing forward, but most of their troops are probably still on the other side of the river.”
“The question is, who now holds Siedlce?” Yossi said.
They looked from one to another in puzzlement. “We can’t all go marching into Siedlce,” Avni said.
“You guys stay here. I’ll go in and try to find Perchik,” Yossi said. “If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, you’re on your own in getting to Warsaw.”
With that, Yossi picked a route through the field of shellholcs and darted off as his frightened comrades watched.
SIEDLCE WAS in a state of anxiety, the townspeople not knowing if they had been benevolently liberated or brutally conquered. The Poles disliked the Germans and Russians equally and were equally despised by both sides.
Although Yossi didn’t look particularly Jewish, he was a stranger in town, speaking mostly Russian and therefore given a wide berth. He was mistaken for one of the Russian stragglers who had dumped their uniforms, sold their weapons, and retreated.
By listening keenly, Yossi was able to gather that the main Russian force had collapsed and was in full retreat. Siedlce had been officially