Douglas Jacobson - The Katyn Order

The rope surged forward. The man behind Natalia clawed frantically at her back, screaming for her to get moving. Hammer reached back and found her arm; his massive hand gripped her wrist like a vise and pulled her along.

The group stumbled forward into the darkness, slipping and sliding in the muck. The rope continued to jerk back and forth as the injured commandos at the rear lost their balance, and others tried desperately to hold them up.

Gradually the wails receded into painful moans, and there was less resistance on the rope as those not able to continue fell away. Natalia plodded on, placing one foot after the other, tears streaming down her grimy face, her heart wrenching in agony for Bobcat and the others who’d been lost. Then her mind went numb.

Time passed. The sounds from overhead became muted and less frequent. Apparently too tired to call out locations, Rabbit had fallen silent. Natalia had no idea where they were. Her legs tingled, her ankles had swollen and every bone in her body ached. Her temples throbbed, her throat was raw from the caustic fumes and her hands were so blistered from clutching the rope that she feared she wouldn’t be able to hold on for another second.

And just as she was certain she would pass out, a draft of fresh air suddenly washed over her. It became a breeze, a miraculous cooling breeze from up ahead.

“Thank God!” someone behind her shouted.

The line surged forward for a moment, then went slack, and Natalia slammed into Hammer, as she slipped on the greasy floor.

“Quiet down!” Rabbit hissed. The group fell silent.

Hammer turned back toward Natalia and whispered, “It could be a trap. We don’t know who’s up there.”

Rabbit doused the lantern. Natalia could hear him moving forward, slowly and cautiously, sloshing through the fetid water.

There was a loud clank and a heavy scraping sound as the manhole cover was dragged away. Then shouts from above—in Polish—and the commandos in the tunnel surged forward again, yelling loudly, pumping fists and clapping each other’s back. Natalia grabbed hold of Hammer’s belt and hung on to avoid getting knocked down in the rush.

Rabbit shouted for order. “One at a time! Slow down, Goddamn it! One at a time!”

Hammer took hold of Natalia’s shoulders, and an instant later she was on the climbing irons, staring up through the open manhole at the outstretched hand of an AK commando.

A half hour later, the commandos who crawled out of the sewer stood shivering around a bonfire in the middle of a wide street that ran alongside an abandoned canning plant. The building’s windows were broken out, and its roof caved in on one end. A sign hung from a rusting chain-link fence indicating that the property was for sale. Across the street stood an enormous, three-story paint factory. Natalia feared it was likely to erupt into a blazing inferno if the shelling came any closer to this area at the south end of the City Center.

But the area seemed secure for the moment. There were barricades at every intersection, and two PIAT anti-tank guns were positioned near the paint factory along with a German Panther tank that the AK commandos had somehow managed to commandeer. To the north, the sky was ablaze where the fires in Old Town raged out of control.

Fortified from a cup of bitter coffee and a thick slice of black bread that had miraculously appeared on a table near the bonfire, Natalia spotted Rabbit, sitting alone on the steps of the canning plant. She sat down next to him.

“Did you get something to eat?” she asked.

The boy shook his head.

She held out a chunk of the bread. “Here, take some. You certainly earned it.”

He glanced at her, then looked away. His eyes were red, his grimy face streaked from tears.

She laid a hand on his thin shoulder. “I’m sorry about Bobcat.”

Rabbit didn’t respond.

“I know that he was your—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rabbit snapped. He spit on the ground and turned away from her. A moment later he hunched forward, gripping his knees, his back arching up and down as the sobs wracked his skinny frame.

Natalia moved closer and wrapped her arm around him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Rabbit leaned against her, then slowly laid his head in her lap, covering his face with his hands.

A few minutes later, he straightened up and wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. “Do you believe in God?” he asked.

Natalia was startled by the unexpected question, and it took her a moment to respond. “Yes. I do. Do you?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. If there was a God, why would he let the fuckin’ Krauts kill Bobcat? Why would he want any of this to happen?”

“I don’t think God wants this to happen, Rabbit. And I’m sure he didn’t want your friend to get killed.”

“Then why the hell doesn’t he stop it?” the boy croaked. He turned to look at her, his dirty face streaked where tears had slid down his cheek.

“God doesn’t work that way,” she said. “He doesn’t interfere.” He just lets us slaughter each other. She paused for a moment and bit her lower lip, then put a hand on Rabbit’s shoulder. “I think God wants us to learn how to live together.”

“Hah! I’ll bet God didn’t have to live with the fuckin’ Nazis.”

Natalia smiled in spite of the irreverence of the boy’s remark. “Do you go to church, Rabbit?”

The boy shook his head. “Nah, not any more. My Ma made me and my brother go. But ever since they… you know, since then I never went again.” He was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at her. “Do you go to church?”

“I used to, when I lived in Krakow.”

“My Ma went to Krakow once. She said it was beautiful, with lots of big churches.”

Natalia nodded. “It is beautiful. And there are many, many churches.”

“Which one did you go to?”

“My favorite is the Mariacki Church. It’s on the Rynek Glowny, right in the heart of the city. It’s a basilica. And it has this magnificent vaulted nave. The walls are painted in blue and gold and decorated with elaborate friezes.”

“Friezes,” the boy repeated. “What are those?”

“Decorations on a wall, usually sculptures or paintings. Sometimes they tell a story.”

Rabbit spat on the ground again. “I’ll bet none of those stories are about fuckin’ Nazis burnin’ kids in a sewer.”

It took a moment for Natalia to reply. Then all she could manage was, “No… they aren’t.”

“Did you go there often?”

“Well, not on a regular basis, not every Sunday. But I would go sometimes during the week, especially if I was troubled by something, or just wanted to think.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Maybe someday you could go there with me.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’d go with you… but I wouldn’t talk to God.”

They sat for a long time, Natalia with her arm around the tough young warrior who’d just lost the only thing that mattered.

A tear trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it away.

She knew exactly how he felt.

BY THE FIRST OF OCTOBER, few buildings remained standing in the section of the City Center west of the canning plant. Natalia hobbled along a narrow cobblestone walkway and finally slumped down, exhausted, in the shadows between two of those buildings. She gingerly touched her swollen ankle, wincing in pain. She’d twisted it badly several hours earlier, running along Okrag Street looking for Rabbit and Hammer. They had vowed to stick together, but the constant artillery barrage over the last three days had created such chaos that she’d lost sight of her friends in the panicked crowds.

And now she was alone.