visit, I walked her to the entrance to the convent, then I hesitated.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Just do me one favor.” I drew in a deep breath, then said, “Please let me be the one to tell Roman.”
39
Roman
“When the city opens up properly, you should start looking for a job with a lawyer,” Mateusz told me, as we cleared an alleyway. It was November, and some days we were working in the sleet or the snow. “Now that the war is over, it is time for us all to get back to the lives we were supposed to live.”
“The war isn’t over,” I said impatiently. “We’ve just reached a new phase. The war won’t be over until the Red Army is gone.”
“They will install a Communist government, Roman,” he told me carefully. “And you need to be careful, speaking like that. Mokotów Prison is already full of those who have tried to dissent. You should lie low.”
“I will lie low when the streets are free again,” I vowed. “Until then, the fight isn’t over.”
I was trying to reconnect with the Resistance but having little luck with the city in such disarray. I knew that Truda and Mateusz were less than sympathetic to my frustration, but at dinner one night, I couldn’t help but vent.
“Most of the leaders of the AK died during the Uprising, and this was exactly the outcome the Soviets had hoped for. They stirred up the rebellion with promises of assistance, only to watch from a safe distance as the bloodbath took place. Did you know that the surviving AK leadership was instructed to register any fighter who returned to Warsaw? I was so lucky I stayed in Berlin with my friend and came back months later than the others, because otherwise I’d have been on that list, too. Almost every man registered has now been tortured or executed. The Soviets quashed the inevitable rebellion long before it could take shape. Are we really going to sit back and let them have Poland after that? It is madness!”
“We don’t have a choice,” Truda said matter-of-factly. “There is no path forward for a resistance. We are too scattered, and they already have too much power.”
I shook my head. “I will never stop fighting. Not until Poland is free. I don’t care what it costs me.”
“It is times like this I think Emilia is wise to hold you at arm’s length,” Truda muttered, shooting me a glare. “If she lets you back into her life, it won’t just be you who pays the price when you are arrested.”
“She will want to fight with me when she is well again.”
“You have not seen her,” Mateusz said quietly. “She is not the same girl she was.”
“She has always believed in what is right,” I insisted. “Perhaps working to free our homeland will be the thing that helps her feel herself again.”
“Or perhaps she is broken by years of fighting, as the rest of this country is,” Truda said impatiently. “Some of us want to choose peace. Some of us are ready to accept this new reality. As imperfect as it may be, it is still preferable to active conflict.”
I would not even entertain the thought. When their next visit to Emilia loomed, I poured my frustrations into a letter.
Dear Emilia,
If there is one thing I have learned, it is that you must guard your spirit. When a country is occupied, the invaders will always try to suppress that nation’s soul. After all, it is our souls that inspire us to fight, even when our bodies would have us cower. Why do you think the Germans destroyed so much of our culture in Warsaw? Our museums, our libraries, our landmarks? They knew it would demoralize us.
I hope there is still fight in you, Emilia. After everything you have been through, I hope your spirit is still ready to rebel.
The truth is I am scared for Poland. I feel no fight at all in Warsaw now, and Warsaw has always been a city that knew how to rebel. Even when the odds were stacked against us, we were conspiring, trying to regain our freedom.
They can crush us, but they cannot break us—not as long as we are willing to rise. I want you to know that I will keep fighting until the Polish people are sovereign once again. I will do this not only for our country, not only for myself, but for you.