Crossing the River

11. Liberation

11 Liberation One Sunday morning while I was playing in the yard with the old dog by his kennel, happy that we were beginning to be friends and that I could already pet him without his being at the end of his long chain, a motorcycle with a sidecar suddenly drove into the yard, and in it were two German soldiers. I hardly had time to be startled. Continuing to stroke the dog’s neck, I managed to half smile at the invaders. I thought they were looking me over as they parked their motorcycle, but they went into the kitchen, and their behavior gave no indication that they were after me in particular. As soon as the door shut behind them I slowly turned around, ambled lazily to the gate of the barn, went through it to the back door—and shot like lightning out to the fields, farther and farther away. Under the circumstances, my regular hiding place in the hay did not seem safe enough. In the darkness of the second shed out in the fields, where I could hide behind a crack between the thick unplaned timbers, I stopped for the first time. Cool air from the deep pit where the ice was kept rose, the unhurried peace of the day of rest. It was hard to believe that much of anything could happen on such an ordinary day. A good hour passed and no one came near. I simply could not wait helplessly in a closed place, so I went out of the cornfield to look around. Then I heard Daugela shouting from afar, “Juodas, where are you?” Cautiously, I approached him from the side, keeping my distance. As usual, he had a light smile on his wrinkled face, as if to reassure me and put me at ease, for he had understood that I was frightened and he knew that he would find me at the spot where we had prearranged to meet. He had disturbing news: the Germans had come to tell him that because of the approaching front, all inhabitants of the area were being evacuated. They said the evacuation was temporary, no more than a few days, until the situation at the front stabilized. Everyone was to meet in the village with their wagons by two o’clock in the afternoon; they would be led out 178 Chapter 11 in one of the convoys to a more distant village in the region. People were to take with them only food and bedding. No one was to remain in the area. Daugela was businesslike in spite of the onerous consequences of the order for him—abandoning his livestock, leaving his farm without a caretaker, and so forth. The past few days had been relatively quiet. We were used to the flashes of light from the front, which had not grown more frequent, and the muffled rumblings, which brought with them light tremors in the earth, had not grown stronger. The obvious conclusion was that the front was still far off and approaching slowly and that the evacuation would last quite some time. Shamefaced , he said he could not take me with him, as I was likely to arouse suspicion among his neighbors in the caravan, and the longer the evacuation lasted, the greater the danger. He suggested that I, too, abandon the place because the region would certainly be crawling with soldiers. Daugela said that I should go in the opposite direction, eastward, to the large forests that he had already discussed with me several times. In the forest I could hide for a few days, and the Russians would arrive there first. Daugela was apologetic as he spoke, but the idea of going east did not appeal to me. He tried to persuade me that the effort was worth it, and that I would be able to do it. My outward appearance was now that of a local youth, and I would not provoke unusual questions if I were seen alone. He would provide me with some food for the journey and would also leave food for me in one of the stable’s mangers, just in case I had to retrace my steps or arrived back to the farm before he did. When I recall this conversation, I cannot help but be amazed by the man’s dedication. A harsh decree had just been imposed upon him, a farmer, yet he came out to the fields to look for the...