It was a sleep I had not known since I left home: soft, downy, filled with bright visions. I saw my parents dressed in white summer clothes, standing at the bank of the River Prut, like every summer. I wanted to ask them where they are now, but the question got stuck in my mouth.
When we awaken, we are greeted with coffee and sliced bread slathered with jam. There is nothing like a cup of coffee and a slice of bread to banish nocturnal dreams and hunker down to reality. After a cup of coffee, the morning seems young and sharp. You’re ready to march, carry heavy gear, overcome obstacles of water and foliage. Before going out on a mission, the fighters need something more: a glass of vodka. There were days when everyone drank vodka, but now the supply has dwindled, and it is reserved for the fighters. No problem; this is not discrimination; all of us here depend on one another.
Once, when the child Milio fell ill with typhus, the fighters raided the home of the village pharmacist and took all the medicines he had on hand. This was a bold action: the pharmacist lived in the middle of the village, and there was a risk that the village youth would fight back. The raid passed without mishap, and we’ve had medicine and bandages ever since.
* * *
—
OUR COMMANDER, Kamil, is not like other people; he is head and shoulders taller: six feet four inches. He graduated with high honors from the architecture academy, and everyone predicted a brilliant career. But the war, and who knows what else, turned him into a daring commander.
It should be stated at the outset: Kamil is prone to mood swings. Sometimes he will retire to his tent for hours and leave the command to his deputy, Felix. This isn’t regarded as neglect but seclusion for the purpose of rethinking. Our war is complicated, and each day brings new dangers. Our enemy is filled with guile and tries to outflank and surprise us. Kamil is an artist in the warfare of the few against the many. Apparently the strain is not easy on him.
His face reflects his ascetic nature, and it’s clear that he takes a long view of our war. Sometimes he sits and lays out his thinking for us: not day-to-day needs but matters of the spirit. In his opinion, our war will not easily be won, and therefore, alongside the intensive military training, our spirit must be nourished as well.
Kamil did not earn his authority overnight. In the past, several of the best fighters had their doubts and suspicions. It was claimed that his monastic disposition could undermine his judgment. But before long, Kamil proved that he knew not only how to lead his fighters but also how to win battles in which we were sorely outnumbered.
Moreover, he knows the territory like the palm of his hand, and more than once, we eluded hostile gendarmes because he knew the area better than they did. From a young age he loved to hike, climb, and spend hours alone in the woods. Even then, unknowingly, he was preparing himself to be a commander. With him, it’s hard to distinguish between the commander training his soldiers strictly and a spiritual leader carefully weighing each word he utters.
To us, Kamil was at first an unknown quantity. He is without a doubt a mysterious person, but little by little we learned to appreciate his hidden powers. And once, in a moment of great darkness, he cried out, “Get rid of your sadness! A damaged people cannot afford such luxuries.” Back then we saw how he could lift the defeated camp in both of his hands and set it on its feet.
We became aware of Kamil’s unique strength during one of our daring raids. He stood in front of the fighters and read from the Book of Psalms. He read the psalm slowly, emphasizing each word. He was not a fluent reader of Hebrew, but he tried his best to capture the essence of the words. No one imagined that this tall man, planted in reality, who knew how to handle every obstacle and setback, would enlist the words of an ancient poem to accompany the fighters into battle. That’s Kamil: unpredictable.
His deputy, Felix, is very different: short and broad-shouldered, he walks with small steps but firmly holds his ground. His solid stance sometimes makes it seem that he carries more gear than the rest of us.
Felix is a superb fighter but never served in an army. He’s an engineer whose buildings resemble him, low and sturdy. I once heard him say, “A house without a garden is not a house.” He says little and explains little; it’s hard to get a complete sentence out of him. As opposed to Kamil, Felix inspires silence; he walks in the lead, and we all follow him with confidence. More than once, we were taken by surprise and found ourselves at a disadvantage. Felix is an expert in stressful situations. His ability to stand firm under fire, to execute an orderly retreat, are wonderful to behold. He does everything quietly, with sealed lips, never getting angry or casting blame. It’s not easy to follow his example, but the moment you obey his orders, you feel sure of yourself.
In the past there were differences of opinion between these two great commanders. Kamil tried to instill some of his beliefs in his deputy. Felix dislikes being preached to. He doesn’t talk about his views and beliefs. But one time he couldn’t contain himself, broke his silence, and declared, “In my opinion one must not mix matters of the spirit with deeds. A fighting organization cannot afford to deal with beliefs and opinions; these should be left until after the war.” Kamil, of course, disagrees with this way of thinking. Felix resigned his position, and Kamil realized that without Felix he could not lead us in battle. In the end they compromised, and it was decided that in matters of belief and opinion each person would abide by his own principles.
But don’t be misled by the differences between them. As I said, Felix also has opinions, perhaps not as fully formed as Kamil’s, but he, too, is sensitive to words and phrases. When he hears a false or exaggerated word, he winces. He seems to have derived his feelings from music. He began playing the cello as a boy, and once in a while we hear him quietly singing a Bach cantata. Felix is sometimes perceived as one-dimensional, which is a mistake. True, he can be silent for an entire day, but when he does express an opinion, you come to realize that he is precise and succinct, and no sight or sound escapes his attention.
4
I’ve gotten ahead of myself.
The first team to escape from the ghetto set for itself the goal of rescuing as many people as possible. In the first wave they were able to bring out another five, plus a boy of about two whom they found outside the ghetto, not far from the fences.
Kamil claimed the child would be the good luck charm who would inspire the group to perform wonders. The ghetto had not yet been destroyed, and the team led by Kamil and Felix tried to dig a tunnel into it. But, unfortunately, the watchtowers were manned day and night, and searchlights scanned every square foot. They were nevertheless able to smuggle out a few people who went out to work and a few who were standing at the train station. I, too, by luck or a miracle, joined them.
We are now forty-four in number. We are fighting for our lives, but we fear most of all for the child. After every drill or action, we gather around him, not as a child who doesn’t speak but as someone who can bless us when we go out and when we return. His very existence is a miracle. Most of the day his eyes are wide open; he never cries or asks for anything, but when you touch him, his shoulders recoil.