Salt to the Sea (19 page)

Was I dreaming? Was the knight really walking toward me? I sat up quickly. His eyes immediately shifted to the baby.

“Yes, that's the beautiful girl,” Joana told him.

The knight stopped and raised his arms. “No pink hat? Where's your pink hat?” he asked.

I pointed to a heap of coats. The knight dug through and retrieved the knit cap. He then gently lifted the baby and tucked the hat over her like a blanket. She sat like a little crescent moon in the curve of his arm. He walked over to me.

He looked from the baby to me and then back to the baby.

“Hmm. Your eyes. Your nose. Pretty,” he said. He put his lips against the top of the baby's head and closed his eyes. He looked beautiful. Joana stared at the knight. She thought he was beautiful too.

He opened his eyes and whispered to me. “Kind of incredible. She is you, she is your mother, your father, your country.” He kissed her head and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“She is Poland.”

My arms lifted and reached for the child.

We left the Polish girl holding her baby. Joana followed me out of the maternity area, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. She grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a door.

“What just happened in there?” she whispered. “Who are you?”

I shrugged. “I like kids.” I lifted my pack onto my back. “But now I need that sailor to help me find a place to hide.”

“Why is he helping you?”

I tried to suppress a smile. “I told him he would get a medal.”

“No, you didn't,” said Joana.

“I did.”

“You're awful.” She laughed.

“I'm awful? Then why are you laughing?” I asked.

She laughed even harder. “I don't know. I shouldn't laugh.”

“So stop laughing.”

She laughed more, leaning against my shoulder. Her face smelled of soap.

“You look nice clean,” I said.

Her laughter eased and she smiled. “Thank you. And thank you for bringing my suitcase.” She stood on her toes, took my face in her hands, and kissed me.

My arms were around her. I kissed her back. And kissed her again.

“And thank you,” she whispered, looking into my eyes. “For Emilia.”

She slid from my arms and walked off.

The hallway narrowed and tightened with oncoming passengers. I turned the corner to the glass enclosure of the promenade deck. Frozen constellations of ice laced the edges of the window. I put my fingers on the chilled glass, staring out but not looking. I was supposed to be the smart girl. What was I doing? He was younger. I knew nothing about him. He was clearly involved in something deceitful. But if he could be so gentle with the baby, so kind to Emilia, could he really be a bad person?

I kissed him because of Emilia.

My conscience tapped at me from behind the glass.

Or maybe I kissed him because I wanted to.

And oh, my, it was nothing like chewing crackers.

I turned around and leaned against the window. January permeated the glass and my blouse. For the first time in a long time, my body felt warmer than the outside air.

Some passengers were visibly relieved and excited to be on board. Others appeared nervous, flittering around like caged birds. I was part of the relieved group. How lucky I was to be on such a large ship. I loved the hulking
Gustloff
with its thick steel walls and multiple levels. Dr. Richter had told me that the cruiser was only eight years old, but hadn't sailed in four
years. The lack of use had left everything in fine order. Once we left Gotenhafen, the voyage to Kiel would take only forty-eight hours. I would then board a train and finally reunite with Mother.

So much had changed since I left Lithuania. Mother said my father and brother were probably fighting in the woods. Could they really survive living in underground bunkers?

The
Gustloff
was my bunker. I felt a deep breath take hold. All the struggle and worry. Could it nearly be over?

Hello, my butterfly,

I know the separation is difficult and it must be lonely to fly by yourself. But soon our great country shall prevail and the dutiful will stand on pedestals of honor. The day is coming.

I am relieved to report that the boarding procedure is well under way and that I am warm. Some of the other sailors had to haul life rafts in the freezing cold. I can't imagine where they found such a quantity of rafts.

We are told that we will board even more passengers but I don't know where we shall fit them. The upper cabins are occupied by the privileged and the refugees have gladly taken to the mattress pads. The ship is not even moving, yet some passengers are wearing life vests. They look quite silly.

The Wilhelm Gustloff is now a living, breathing city. Enterprise is afoot. People barter their belongings and a shoemaker and his apprentice repair shoes on the upper promenade deck. They have amassed quite a sack of coins for their efforts.

I'm sure you are wondering about the activities I wrote of earlier. My friendship with the young recruit has developed quite nicely. We share important conversations on all matter of topics.
Alas, I'm no longer the dreamy boy you'd wave to at the edge of the school yard. I am a man in uniform now.

Each day I find myself in deeper allegiance to our country and our Führer, Hannelore. As such, I have helped the recruit find secret accommodation on board to assist in fulfilling his mission. He was so much obliged that he once again mentioned that upon arrival in Kiel he will promptly recommend me for a medal of valor. Just another one to add to the pile, but appreciated nonetheless. After all, everything I achieve, everything I have done, it is all for you. For you and for Germany. Surely you know that, don't you, Lore?

The tiny baby nuzzled against me. The knight said she was part of Mother, part of Father, part of me. If she was part of us, I wanted her to know our city of Lwów. She should know Poland. Looking at the child, I suddenly became hungry for my country, for its fat bees carrying nectar from apple flowers and for the birds singing in clusters of hazel.

How would she know the truths from the untruths? Would she believe that Poles, Jews, Ukrainians, Armenians, and Hungarians had all coexisted peacefully in Lwów before the war? That I often made tea and doughnuts with Rachel and Helen in our kitchen?

Food. I wanted her to know our food. How my hands missed the feel of dough dusted with flour. My ears missed the snap of apple pancakes in the pan and my eyes missed the rainbow of fruits and vegetables sealed in jars on the shelves. War had bled color from everything, leaving nothing but a storm of gray.

I wanted her to know not only Poland, but
my
Poland.

I pulled her close and whispered in Polish: “There were no ghettos, no armbands. I often fell asleep to a breeze floating through my open window. It's true. It was like that once.”

The interior of the chimney measured about five meters wide. There was a ladder and a ledge of ample width to lie down on. It was cold and I couldn't sleep. The chimney was secluded, but it could also be my downfall. If someone looked in and saw me, they would immediately know I was hiding. Should I have stayed in the infirmary? I might have been better camouflaged there, warmer. Closer to Joana. But if the Nazi from the harbor came on board, he'd look for me in the infirmary.

I was weighing my options when the hinges on the door rotated.

The sailor climbed up the ladder and took a seat next to me.

“I've come with news,” he announced.

“Oh yeah, what's that?”

He rubbed his blistered palms together. “I have just observed from the top deck the arrival of hundreds of female naval auxiliaries. They are well dressed and quite clean.”

“They're bringing the women's auxiliary on board?” Maybe that meant we'd leave soon.

“Yes, there are hundreds of them and they seem quite plucky.”

“Where are they going to put them?” I asked. “Are there enough cabins available?”

“Oh no. All of the cabins are quite full already. But I
imagine there are those on board who might offer a warm cot.” He snorted with laughter.

I leaned back against the cold chimney wall. Had this guy been broadsided with a brick at some point?

“How long have you been in the service, sailor?” I asked.

He stared at his feet, hesitating. “As we share confidences, I will be truthful. I was a late recruit. I had wanted to be part of the youth organizations, but the physical drills were quite rigorous and placed heavy emphasis on athletic competition. I can see you have gifts of strength and coordination. I do not. I cannot run very fast or jump very far. My gifts lie in other areas. My father was terribly disappointed but Mutter was relieved. Although Mutter of course loves the Führer, she wasn't quite inclined to serve me up. I'm an only child.”

“Your mother loves the Führer, eh?”

He looked at me, his eyes sober and sharp. “Of course. We all love the Führer, sir. As the papers say, ‘The good German fights for the Führer.' I certainly do. I will admit that I'm too tenderhearted and at times felt sorry for someone or other who could not be part of the master race, but now I banish such impure thoughts. Such is the nature of sacrifice, is it not?”

His impure thoughts were radically different from my own.

He stared at me. “You agree, of course? We are good Germans.”

His eyes lingered. His speech pattern carried an unsettling cadence. I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to knock him off the ledge. But instead I just nodded.

“We are good Germans. So do you think you could find me some food?” I asked.

The maternity ward was now full. Three of the women were quite close to their time. Emilia whispered to her baby, inspecting her tiny hands. When I was a little girl I had two baby dolls and carried them everywhere. Then I became competitive in school and had no time for dolls. I turned away from Emilia and her daughter, trying to swallow past the strange knotting in my throat.

A soldier in a green uniform and black jackboots walked in.

“Joana Vilkas.”

The soldier had yellow hair and fair, almost translucent skin. He looked like the men referred to as “purebloods,” portrayed on the German signs. “Can I help you?”

“I'm here about someone that
you
helped.” He stood completely still. “One of your patients—the one with a shrapnel wound and a damaged ear.”

Emilia's posture tightened. She pulled the infant close and kept her eyes on the soldier.

“Can you confirm the name of the patient with the shrapnel wound and the bad ear, Miss Vilkas?”

I walked over to him and lowered my voice. “I'm not at liberty to give out the patients' names. I'm sure you understand.”

He became annoyed. This man wasn't used to being refused.

“If I am not mistaken, miss, you are
Volksdeutsche
, a Lithuanian who was allowed to repatriate into Germany. Your liberty belongs to Adolf Hitler. We can certainly hand you back over to Stalin.” He grinned, pleased by the bully within him. “But we wouldn't want to do that. You're too pretty. So can you confirm, then, the name of your patient with the shrapnel wound and damaged ear?”

“I'm not sure I remember,” I whispered. “Maybe Friedrich? Or Fritz?”

The soldier seemed to consider this. What did he already know?

His eyes narrowed. “Florian, perhaps? Surname Beck?”

He knew more than he was letting on.

“Yes, that might be it.”

“Where did you encounter him?”

“In transit. He was bleeding and suffering a fever. Is there a problem, sir?”

The soldier ran his finger along the edge of the metal table, as if checking for dust. “If you are telling the truth, then no, there is no problem. But if you are assisting or harboring a deserter, Miss Vilkas, then yes, there's a big problem.”

“He has papers. Did Herr Beck show them to you?” I folded a piece of linen to busy my trembling hands.

“He showed me his papers. He also showed me his attitude. It was only after I pressed that he showed me
all
of his paperwork.”

I tried to deflect but dig. “Then you understand the nature of his situation?”

“Yes, he's a courier for Gauleiter Koch. He was wounded and says Koch appointed you as his personal nurse.”

My breath stopped but my hands kept moving. Gauleiter Erich Koch appointed me? What was he talking about?

He shook his head. “But there was something,” he said, looking at Emilia and then at me. “I didn't believe him. I'd like to take another look at his papers. I sent him to the infirmary but I can't seem to find him there. Would you happen to have a duplicate of the medical testimony you signed for him?”

Medical testimony. That I had signed. What had he done? “I'm sorry, there have been so many,” I said.

“Yes, there are a lot of wounded. So I've sent a wire to Koch's office for confirmation, but thought you might be able to solve the matter more quickly. Did you see him?”

“Yes. I removed his stitches.”

Emilia squirmed in protest, wanting to defend Florian.

“What did he say?” asked the soldier.

“Just that he was tired.” Emilia shot me a ferocious look. “And . . . that he had wanted to board the
Hansa
instead.”

“
Hansa
?”

The wandering boy ran in, chest heaving beneath his life vest, tears streaming down his face. He held up the stuffed rabbit. The remaining ear dangled from a strand.

“Oh no!” I exclaimed. He nodded, pouting.

“Don't you worry, we'll fix him right up.” I turned to the soldier. “Are we through, sir? As you can see, I'm about to go into surgery.”