jherbert.sepulchre-第26部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


。　As　the　years　passed　and　the　boy　was　able　to　take　on　more　man's　work　（albeit　unenthusiastically）；　conditions　for　the　Palusinskis　improved。　They　were　still　impoverished；　true；　but　then　so　were　many　of　their　neighbours；　and　Henryk's　old　wound　continued　to　make　prolonged　labour　difficult：　yet　food　for　the　table　slowly　became　less　of　a　problem　and　occasionally　there　were　zlotys　enough　to　spend　on　other　things；　usually　new　farming　equipment。　Poland　itself　was　establishing　a　more　benevolent　governance；　initiating　land　reforms　that　were　beneficial　to　the　small　farmholder；　creating　a　social　security　system　and　organising　health　care　for　its　population。　Janusz　Palusinski　might　well　have　grown　into　a　relatively　normal　young　man　had　not　yet　another　unfortunate　chapter　in　Poland's　history　begun。
　　On　1st　September　1939　Germany　invaded；　bringing　a　reign　of　terror　that　would　eventually　lead　to　the　total　subjugation　of　the　Polish　people。　Important　officials；　potential　troublemakers；　men　of　learning　were　to　be　eliminated　under　the　new　order　of　the　General　Government。　The　Polish　workers　were　to　be　intimidated　into　submission：　the　murder　of　countless　numbers　saw　to　this。　Failure　to　obey　the　edicts　of　the　Third　Reich　meant　immediate　execution　or　being　sent　to　a　concentration　camp　（which　usually　resulted　in　a　more　lingering　death）。　All　Jews　were　to　be　exterminated。
　　For　Poland　it　was　a　return　to　the　bad　old　days　of　rule　by　fear。　For　Janusz　Palusinski；　then　sixteen　years　old；　it　meant　a　return　to　the　bad　old　days　of　permanent　hunger。
　　The　Nazis　had　set　the　Polish　farmers　working　for　the　sustenance　of　the　German　people；　each　district　mander　ensuring　that　no　produce　was　withheld；　only　the　most　meagre　amount　left　for　the　farmer　and　his　family　so　that　they　had　the　strength　to　work　the　fields。　To　hide　food　from　the　occupying　forces　meant　punishment　by　death。
　　The　people　of　Janusz's　village；　both　men　and　women；　young　and　old；　were　decimated　during　the　terrible　years　that　followed；　for　the　Polish　people　are　a　proud　and　defiant　race　（not　to　mention　stubborn）　and　the　village　was　no　mare；　and　certainly　no　less；　than　an　encapsulation　of　the　country　as　a　whole。　Many　of　the　younger　men　became　partisans；　hiding　in　the　surrounding　forests　by　day；　venturing　forth　to　sabotage　where　they　could　by　night。
　　Henryk　Palusinski　saw…　this　as　a　time　to　redeem　his　former　glory。　Age　and　his　old　wound　prevented　any　active　part　in　resistance　operations；　but　he　endeavoured　to　supply　the　hiding　groups　with　what　little　food　he　and　the　other　villagers　could　spare。　He　also　fed　them　any　information　on　German　troop　activities　that　came　his　way。　He　urged　his　son　to　join　the　partisans　many　times；　but　Janusz　was　even　more　reluctant　to　do　that　than　he　was　to　plough　the　field；　and　Kazimiera；　when　her　son　plained　to　her；　forbade　Henryk　to　persist　with　such　suggestions。　The　risk　in　providing　food　for　the　cause　was　enough；　she　scolded；　without　exposing　their　one　and　only　son　to　more　danger　than　already　existed　for　them　all。　Besides；　who　would　work　the　farm　if　anything　happened　to　the　boy？　Although　disappointed　in　his　son's　lack　of　spirit；　Henryk　was　forced　to　listen　to　reason。
　　Events　took　their　own　course　when　the　older　Palusinski　fell　ill　in　the　winter　months　with　a　severe　respiratory　condition。　In　the　early　hours　of　one　morning　when　he　lay　wheezing　in　his　sickbed；　there　came　an　urgent　rapping　on　the　frontdoor。　Kazimiera　feared　it　was　German　soldiers　making　a　spot　check　on　the　farms　around　the　village；　a　frequent　occurrence　in　those　dark　days；　searching　for　hidden　food　stores；　perhaps　hoping　they　might　discover　a　partisan　or　two　skulking　on　the　premises。　She　opened　the　door　with　much　trepidation　and　it　was　with　relief　that　Kazimiera　recognised　the　woman　standing　outside；　hair　dampened　by　drizzling　rain：　she　was　from　the　village；　her　husband　a　member　of　the　resistance。　The　woman　held　a　small　bundle　in　her　arms。
　　'Food；　Pani　Palusinska；'　she　told　Kazimiera；　'for　my　husband。　The　Germans　watch　me；　they　suspect　my　Mikolaj　is　with　the　resistance。　But　our　men　are　starving　in　the　forest；　Pan　Palusinski　must　take　this　to　them。'　Kazimiera　explained　that　Henryk　was　too　ill　for　such　a　journey。　'You　have　a　strong　son；'　she　was　reminded；　the　woman's　tone　cold。
　　Henryk　had　heard　the　conversation　through　the　open　door　of　his　room　and　he　called　out　for　his　wife　to　bring　the　woman　inside　lest　by　chance　she　were　seen　by　their　enemy。　The　villager　rushed　to　Henryk's　door　and　pleaded　with　him　to　send　Janusz　into　the　forest　with　the　food。　The　older　Palusinski　began　to　rise；　prepared　to　undertake　the　mission　himself　despite　his　poor　health；　and　Kazimiera　pushed　him　back　again；　agreeing　that　their　son　should　go；　afraid　that　such　an　effort　would　surely　kill　her　husband。
　　Janusz　had　no　other　choice。　If　he　refused　he　would　be　pilloried　by　the　villagers　and　neighbours；　branded　a　coward；　and　his　own　father　would　make　his　life　even　more　unbearable　for　him　than　it　was　already。　Besides；　the　risk　should　be　minimal　at　that　hour　of　the　morning。
　　His　father　gave　him　detailed　instructions　on　where　to　find　the　partisans'　forest　hideaway；　and　the　youth　set　out；　pulling　his　coat　tight　around　his　neck　against　the　chill　rain。　It　was　one　of　those　few　occasions　when　Henryk　Palusinski　felt　truly　proud　of　his　son。　Unfortunately　that　pride　was　to　be　short…lived。
　　Janusz　was　captured　in　the　forest　by　German　soldiers　who　had　always　been　aware　that　there　was　a　supply　line　between　the　partisans　and　the　villagers　and　farmers。　As　fate　would　have　it　and　as　perversely　ironic　as　fate　often　is…a　patrol　had　chosen　that　morning　to　watch　a　particular　section　of　woodland　in　which　the　young　Palusinski　crept。　He　was　caught　within　ten　minutes　of　reviewing　his　home。
　　To　his　credit；　Janusz　did　not　instantly　break　under　the　Nazi　threats　and　beatings　which　followed。　However；　it　took　less　than　a　day　at　the　dreaded　Lublin　interrogation　centre　for　that　to　happen。
　　He　gave　the　names　of　partisans；　revealed　where　their　encampment　in　the　forest　was　hidden；　mentioned　which　villages　assisted　them　（much　of　this　was　guesswork　on　his　part　and　he　strove　to　make　it　sound　convincing　to　his　tormentors）　and　who　among　the　farmers　supplied　the　underground　movement　with　food。　It　was　not　until　they　took　him　to　another　room　and　pletely　immersed　his　body　in　water；　pulling　him　up　just　before　he　lost　consciousness；　repeating　the　process　several　times；　that　he　admitted　his　own　parents　were　involved　with　the　partisans。　Only　when　lighted　cigarettes　were　pressed　against　his　testicles　and　no　more　information　babbled　from　his　broken　lips　was　the　Gestapo　sure　there　was　nothing　left　for　him　to　tell。
　　The　next　day　Janusz　was　driven　to　Zamek　Lublin；　a　hillside　castle　that　served　as　both　prison　and　courthouse。　There；　in　an　old　chapel　that　had　been　transformed　into　a　courtroom；　the　dazed　youth　was　sentenced　to　imprisonment。　He　was　lucky：　others　with　him　found　guilty　were　dispatched　to　a　room　next　door　and　instantly　shot。
　　From　Zamek　Lublin　he　was　taken　to　Majdanek；　a　notorious　internment　centre　just　east　of　the　city　where　many　thousands　of　Poles；　Hungarians　and　Czechoslovaks　were　being　held；　and　it　was　here　that　Janusz　received　the　tattooed　number　on　his　wrist　that　forever　would　identify　him　as　the　unfortunate　victim　of　a　Nazi　concentration　camp。
　　Once　he　had　recovered　from　his　injuries；　he　began　to　realise　he　had　certain　advantages　over　many　of　the　other　inmates　which　might　possibly　help　him　survive：　he　was　young　and　had　learned　to　exist　on　a　limited　amount　of　food　for　a　number　of　years　（on　this　point　he　was　soon　to　discover　that　at　Majdanek　'limited'　meant　hardly　any　at　all）；　he　was　cunning；　already　a　natural　scrounger；　he　held　scant　remorse　for　any　personal　misdeeds　（the　thought　of　what　had　befallen　those　he　had　betrayed　…including　the　fate　of　his　parents　…hardly　disturbed　him）；　he　was　not　Jewish。
　　And　there　was　one　particular　aberration　of　character　that　would　eventually　ensure　his　survival　under　the　worst　of　circumstances；　but　that　was　not　to　be　appreciated　until　much　later。
　　His　clothes　were　of　a　black…and…white　striped　material；　thin　and　coarse　and　loose…fitting；　his　bed　was　a　plank　of　wood　on　damp　ground。　His　panions　were　the　starving。
　　Janusz　became　used　to　raving　hunger　once　more。　He　dreamt　of　great　plates　of　sauerkraut；　sausages；　boiled　pork　and　pickles；　with　coriander　seeds　mixed　in。　And　often　he　dreamt　of　when　he　was　nine　years　old；　of　the　night　his　father　had　stolen　the　tiny　pig；　how　his　family　had　feasted；　the　park　lasting　for　days；　thin　soup　made　from　the　bones　lasting　even　longer。　He　would　wake　from　the　dream　in　the　darkness　of　the　night；　his　sunken　eyes　wide　and　staring；　the　succulent　memory　vanquishing　the　moans　and　smells　around　him　in　the　rough　hut。　He　would　remember　other　details　of　that　clandestine　night；　and　juices　would　run　from　his　open　mouth。
　　Time　passed　and　Janusz　mentally　sank　into　himself　just　as　his　flesh　physically　sank　into　his　bones。　Yet　there　was　ever　one　bright；　although　tormenting；　light　far　him。　Unlike　many　of　his　fellow　internees　far　whom　food　had　bee　almost　an　abstract　thing…　they　still　craved　it；　still　licked　their　bawls　which　had　often　contained　only　watery；　meatless　soup；　a　piece　of　black　bread　and　sawdust；　but　the　less　they　were　fed；　the　more　unreal　to　them　became　true　sustenance…he　never　relinquished　that　one　glorious　memory　of　his　family's　night　feast　all　those　years　ago。　It　became　an　obsession　with　him。　And　oddly；　a　driving　force。　Where　others　slowly　drifted　down　into　their　own　private　abysses　of　despair；　Janusz's　thoughts　constantly　stretched　towards　his　vision；　perhaps　as　a　drowning　man　might　reach　for　a　swooping　seagull。
　　He　worked　as　hard　for　his　gaolers　as　his　enfeebled　body　would　allow　（and　with　considerably　more　eagerness　than　on　his　father's　farm）　and　was　never　averse　to　mentioning　any　subversive　talk　he　might　hear　in　the　barrack　huts　during　the　night；　always　willing　to　point　out　potential　troublemakers　to　the　German　guards。　He　became　a　pariah　among　the　prisoners　for；　although　they　could　only　guess　he　was　an　informer；　it　was　his　readiness　to　serve　the　Third　Reich　beasts　that　he　was　hated　for。　Fortunately　for　him；　there　was　too　much　dread　in　their　hearts　and　too　much　passi