him. Not even bothering to see if anyone is watching, he crawls under and walks calmly away.
Forest provides him with cover from any patrolling Germans. As he walks deeper in he hears the sound of cannons and rifle fire. He doesn’t know whether to walk towards it or run the other way. During a brief ceasefire he hears the running of a stream. To reach it, he must get closer to the shooting, but he’s always had a good internal compass and that direction feels right. If it is the Russians, or even the Americans, on the other side of the stream, he will gladly surrender to them. As the daylight fades into evening he can see the flash of gunfire and cannons in the distance. Still, it is the water he wants to get to, and hopefully a bridge and a route away. When he gets there, a river confronts him rather than a stream. He looks across and listens to the cannon fire. It must be the Russians. I’m coming your way. Lowering himself into the water, Lale is shocked at the freezing cold. He swims slowly out into the river, careful not to disturb the water too much with his strokes in case he’s seen. Pausing, he raises his head and listens. The gunfire is closer. ‘Shit,’ he mutters. He stops swimming and lets the current carry him directly under the crossfire, just another log or dead body to be ignored. When he thinks he has safely cleared the warring armies, he swims frantically to the far bank. He hauls himself out and drags his drenched body into the trees, before collapsing in shivers and passing out.
Chapter 27
Lale wakes to the feeling of the sun on his face. His clothes have dried out a bit and he can hear the sound of the river running below him. He crawls on his belly through the trees that have hidden him overnight and reaches the crest of a road. Russian soldiers are walking along it. He watches for a few moments, fearing gunfire. But the soldiers are relaxed. He decides to accelerate his plan to get home.
Lale raises his hands and steps out onto the road, startling a group of soldiers. They raise their rifles immediately.
‘I am Slovakian. I have been in a concentration camp for three years.’
The soldiers exchange glances.
‘Fuck off,’ one of them says, and they resume their march, one of them shoving Lale as he goes by. He stands for several minutes as many more soldiers walk past, ignoring him. Accepting their indifference, he carries on, receiving only an occasional glance. He decides to walk in the opposite direction to them, reasoning that the Russians are probably heading to engage with the Germans, so getting as far away as possible makes sense.
Eventually a jeep pulls up alongside him and stops. An officer in the back eyeballs him. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I’m Slovakian. I have been a prisoner in Auschwitz for three years.’ He pulls up his left sleeve to reveal his tattooed number.
‘Never heard of it.’
Lale swallows. It is unimaginable to him that a place of such horror should not be known.
‘It’s in Poland. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘You speak perfect Russian,’ the soldier says. ‘Any other languages?’
‘Czech, German, French, Hungarian and Polish.’
The officer eyes him more carefully. ‘And where do you think you’re going?’
‘Home, back to Slovakia.’
‘No, you’re not. I have just the job for you. Get in.’
Lale wants to run, but he would have no chance, so he climbs into the passenger seat.
‘Turn around, back to headquarters,’ the officer instructs the driver.
The jeep bumps over potholes and ditches, heading back the way it has come. A few kilometres further on they pass through a small village and then turn up a dirt road towards a large chalet that sits on the top of a hill overlooking a beautiful valley. They enter a large circular driveway where several expensive-looking cars are parked. Two guards stand either side of an imposing main doorway. The jeep skids to a stop, the driver scrambles out and opens the door for the officer in the back.
‘Come with me,’ the officer says.
Lale scurries after him into the foyer of the chalet. He pauses, shocked by the opulence before him. A grand staircase, works of art – paintings and tapestries on every wall – and furniture of a quality he has never seen before. Lale has stepped into a world beyond his comprehension. After what he has known,