Free The Story of a Life by Aharon Appelfeld Page B

were coming, I could make out a posse of men on the ridge next to me, which was also a cornfield. They were advancing as if on a raft. At first I didn’t make the connection between the small figure that was swimming across the top of the cornfield and these other bodies that were also being borne aloft, but after a while I realized that their movementswere accompanied by war cries, that they were fanning out to the sides and flanking him. The small figure, who at first had seemed to be swimming effortlessly, now appeared to be growing tired. The distance between him and the forest toward which he was aiming had not narrowed.
    All this took place a few hundred meters from me, and although I saw the people, I connected these strong movements not with human beings but with nature. It seemed to me that the winds were gathering strength to leap forward and spread over the cornfields and cut them down.
    It didn’t take all that long for the truth to be revealed. The small figure was no more than a child, and those pursuing him, peasants. There were many peasants, with axes and scythes in their hands, pressing forward, determined to catch him. Now I saw the child’s figure very clearly; he was breathing heavily and turning his head every few moments. It was clear that he wouldn’t escape them. He couldn’t escape. They were many and they could outrun him; soon they would be blocking his path.
    I stood and looked at the swarthy, sturdy faces of the peasants and at the intensity of their advance. The child was trying very hard, but his efforts were in vain. Apparently he was caught not far from the forest; I heard him pleading with them.
    After that, I saw the crowd of men return to the village. They were braying, exultant, as if after a successful hunt. Two young peasants dragged the child by his arms. I knew that soon, if he was still alive, they’d turn him over to the police, and in my heart I knew that my fate, when the time came, would be no different from his. Yet that night, when I laid my head down on the earth, I was happy to be alive and see the stars through the trees. This selfish feeling, which I knew to be impure, enfolded me, pulling me down into the depths of sleep.

10
     
    I CAME ACROSS more than a few courageous and noble people during the war. Most memorable were the brothers Rauchwerger. Tall and sturdy, they looked like the Ruthenian peasants who worked in the warehouses. They had a non-Jewish type of naïveté that was evident in their every gesture. They trusted people and didn’t bargain. Everyone cheated them, but they never got angry, never shouted or raised a hand.
    Otto, the firstborn, had worked for many years in a lumberyard. The owner, a small shriveled Jew, exploited Otto’s strength, working him late into the night. Otto neither complained nor demanded overtime pay. Occasionally he would go to the inn, down a few small glasses, and invite all the poor people there to join him for a drink. They loved him and would gather around him as if he were their elder brother. At the inn he’d be happy and throw his money around. Respectable people didn’t like Otto. His naïveté and honesty were considered foolish. They’d say, “A man who doesn’t stand up for what he thinks and doesn’t insist on getting what he deserves is an idiot.”
    With the outbreak of war, all the warehouses were closed down and, like many others, Otto was left without work. He spent some days at the inn, frittered away what money he had, and when he no longer had a cent to his name, he went to the orphanage and worked there as a volunteer.
    In the morning, he would chop wood and fill the water tanks, fetch groceries, and peel potatoes. In the evening, he would bathe the orphans as he sang to them and imitated animal sounds. Then he would sing them to sleep with lullabies. Those who knew him well said that his cheerfulness in the ghetto was astounding.
    When the deportations began, Otto hid the orphans in basements, and