Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [84]
In late morning, a few people dared to go out into the streets and, seeing things peaceful, started doing their daily chores. Others soon followed. Refilling the larders was the first order of business. Stocks were close to bare because of the prolonged fighting and there was fear that fighting might break out again. Yossi worked carefully around the Jewish marketplace and finally selected a pushcart peddler to approach.
“So, where are you from?” the peddler asked.
“Kaunas.”
“That far?”
“I was running away to escape military service. The train dumped us without warning in the middle of the countryside.”
“Listen, this happens every day with the trains, now. It’s like we don’t already have enough mouths to feed. So, you’re looking for the shul. There’s a soup kitchen. The rabbi’s name is Bitterman.”
“I’m not looking for a rabbi,” Yossi answered in measured tones that afforded the two a quick eye-to-eye exchange.
“Sorry,” the peddler said.
“I’d like to see somebody from Poale Zion,” Yossi said.
“I don’t know any Zionist people,” the peddler snapped quickly and gave a motion that his hands were clean.
“Thanks anyhow,” Yossi said and turned away.
“Hey, boy, come back,” the peddler said. He studied Yossi up and down several times, then asked a number of questions in Yiddish that only a Jew could answer. Satisfied, he closed his stall and ordered Yossi to follow him at a distance.
LATE IN THE afternoon, Yossi Dubnow returned to the brick factory with the man called Perchik. Stubby and fiftyish, he had the deep markings of having been a lifelong worker. He was a single-minded Zionist, with his commitments dead centered.
“You boys can’t stay here long,” Perchik told them. “By tomorrow the Germans will have moved into the entire district in strength. They’ll have roadblocks up and they’ll be dragging the woods for stragglers and deserters.”
“Actually,” Nathan said, “we aren’t technically in violation of anything against the Germans.”
“Four Jewish boys on false documents,” Perchik responded. “Don’t be ridiculous. They don’t need to give any reason whatsoever to do anything they want with you.”
“Just what will they do?”
“Put you in a labor battalion,” Perchik answered. “Some survive, most don’t.”
“Well ...that’s plain enough,” Yossi Dubnow said.
“There’s only one choice. Get through the German lines as fast as you can, right now.”
“Gevalt,” Nathan mumbled.
The Finkel brothers, followers by nature, shrugged in reluctant assent.
Yossi nodded in agreement as Perchik spread a crude hand-drawn map and marked their location at the brickyard. “There’s a gap in the German lines south of the town. I can get you through if we hit the river right away. The rest of the way to Warsaw is fairly routine.”
“And when we get to Warsaw?”
“Trading the Russians for the Germans and Poles in Warsaw is no bargain, but at least in Warsaw we have thousands of our own people and plenty of options.”
Yossi looked to the Finkel brothers who nodded in the affirmative.
“Nathan?”
“Include me out,” Nathan replied.
They looked at him puzzled.
“Perchik,” Nathan said, “maybe you’ll find for me here a hiding place for a few days. Someplace where I can get maybe a piece of bread.”
“You mean you’re not coming with us?” Yossi asked.
“Look, we’re all only trying to survive the best we can. As soon as the Germans capture my home town, Wolkowysk, I’ll go back. Believe me, I will escape from service in a German labor battalion.”
“What about Palestine?” Avni asked.
“So, what about Palestine,” Nathan answered. “You think maybe God will mount you up on wings of eagles in the middle of a war and fly you to Palestine?”“I don’t believe this!” Yossi shouted.
“What’s not to believe?” Nathan retorted. “All we were trying to do was escape service in the Russian Army. Now is not the time for Palestine. Believe me, it will still be there when we’re ready.”
“Wait a minute!” Yossi cried. “You, Nathan Zadok, were my inspiration. You remember the Poale Zion Conference in Minsk? I, Yossi