The First Meeting

Spring seemed to have lost its way in 1939 as the winter snows clung tenaciously to the Silesian Landscape, creating a Christmas-like atmosphere as Easter approached in early April.

In the mining town of Hajduki in Upper Silesia, there was excitement in the air as people anticipated the Easter Holidays – this, in spite of the gloomy tension that had prevailed in the country since the news of the annexation of Austria by Germany in March 1938. Anxiety had intensified as the greedy monster of the third Reich, his appetite whet by this tasty hors d'oeuvre of Austria, had sniffed the air scenting out a possible second and even third course. Poland and Czechoslovakia, up wind, provided irresistible temptations. By March 1939 Hitler had taken over all of Czechoslovakia. The Polish people felt uneasy and insecure. But none of this tension could dampen the high spirits of fifteen year old Katja as she hurried down Konipnicka Street towards the tram stop that Good Friday. She still wore her school uniform as her arrival from school had been only a few minutes before their departure for Beuthen. It had all been such a rush.

"Is my suitcase ready Aunt Emma?" she asked between mouthfuls of the sandwiches that Emma had prepared.

"Of course, now just slow down child, you will give yourself indigestion." But she was eager to be off.

Hurrying towards the tram stop, her blonde, waist length braids swaying behind her, she turned back every now and then to encourage her companion. Emma, elderly and rotund, puffed and wheezed as she tried to keep up with her young charge.

"Not so fast Katja!" she implored.

"The tram is already there Aunt Emma. If we don't hurry it'll be full, and we'll have to stand." She did not worry for herself, but she knew her old Aunt would suffer standing all the way to the border. She retreated to the old woman's side and, supporting her elbow, tried to help her along, but Emma would not be rushed. It was at times like this that she wished she was a few years younger and a few pounds lighter. She was getting too old to be rushing about with a spring chicken like Katjuszka.

Emma and her grandmother Anna were old friends, their friendship dating back to their school days, a period of nearly five decades. Emma had seen Anna's daughter, Klara, marry Cyprian, a young Pole from across the border. A mixed marriage – Klara was German, Cyprian Polish! A wise marriage? When their little daughter Katja had been born, she had felt that she too had received the gift of a grandchild. Emma, of German extraction, had been married to a Pole herself. After his death she has suffered at the hands of the authorities because of her nationality. Oh yes, she knew of the sorrows and heartache a mixed marriage could bring. Life had been hard and lonely after the death of her husband, but she had never re-married. Her joy therefore, at being included in Klara's life and especially at being asked to assist in times of need filled her with warmth.

This was one of those times – Klara had taken ill and had had to be hospitalised. She remembered Cyprian's plea,

"I can't trust her with anyone else Emma." a worried father had told her, "I would take her to Beuthen myself, but it is so important to get Klara to the sanatorium at Wisla as soon as possible. The doctors say the worst of the illness is behind her, but what she needs now is the healthy mountain air of the Beskidas and complete rest. They say six weeks at least."

The family had intended to spend Easter with Klara's sister and her husband in Beuthen, German Silesia. Now it was out of the question, but Cyprian did not want to disappoint his young daughter.

How could she refuse? It was all for Klara, Katja's mother. Emma still had a slight feeling of apprehension where Cyprian was concerned even though he was a good husband and father – wasn't he Polish after all? She dreaded the thought of Klara meeting the same fate that she had. But Klara loved him, Katjuszka loved him, and to be honest she loved him as well. So, where did all this antagonism between the races stem from? It came galloping from the past to manifest itself in the present, and probably repeat itself in the future. Never mind that now – Klara was ill – she needed her to take care of her young daughter whilst she was recovering, and that was all that mattered. Quite a task! The young girl was headstrong, but at the same time compassionate and caring.

What a combination! She definitely took after her paternal grandmother Katarzyna. They shared the same vigorous, impetuous temperament and the capacity for squeezing the most out of every moment! Only their coloring was different. Katja was blonde with blue eyes whereas Gran, now grey, had been dark haired with grey eyes.

As they boarded the tram Emma tutted:

"Tch, Tch, you were quite right girl, the tram is full."

Katja's face clouded for a moment, as she thought of her mother, convalescing in the Beskidas. The family had been so looking forward to this visit to Aunt Elli and Uncle Eugen, and for Katja most of all, seeing her favourite cousin Sonja. Undeterred, Emma bustled her way to the front of the tram, nudging people aside with her umbrella as she went, hoping to find a seat. Katja, preparing for a long uncomfortable ride, followed.

Emma turned and nudged Katja as they moved to the front of the tram.

"Did you see Wiadek sitting near the back? I wonder what he has up his sleeve today."

Wiadek was well known for being a first rate smuggler, particularly where foodstuffs were concerned. He would smuggle wonderful Polish krakowovska sausage (named for Krakow) concealed in the sleeves of his overcoat, ducks tied to the inside of his legs hidden by his great baggy trousers. But the 'piece de resistance' was the cigars brought back from German Silesia hidden in ten fingers of his gloves!

As she reached the front of the tram, Emma sagged against the glass panel that separated the driver from the passengers. She was already weary, and the journey had not even begun. Then unexpectedly, a pleasant voice offered,

"Bitte, nähmen sie platz" A tall slim dark haired young man stood up and offered her his seat.

"Oh danke schön" In a fluster, Emma accepted his offer wondering why he had addressed her in German. The she realised that in her agitation she had been speaking in German. Relieved, she sank back on the uncomfortable bench, grateful that she had been spared the undignified ordeal of being thrust from side to side in the moving carriage. As Katja moved into Emma's vacated position the tram lurched and she felt herself falling forward even though she was holding tightly onto the overhead rail. A strong arm reached out to steady her enabling her to regain her footing. She glanced up gratefully to thank her benefactor and found herself looking into the smiling dark eyes of the same young man who had just so gallantly given Emma his seat. She hesitated. A "Thank you" in German was out of the question as she was wearing her Polish school uniform. She merely nodded and briefly glanced away. Lately political issues had provoked some ugly incidents between the German and Polish communities in Silesia, animosity and bitterness which Katja in her naivety found hard to understand.

She had grown up shifting between the German society of her mother and her mother's family, who lived only thirty five kilometers away over the border in German Silesia, and the Polish community of father, friends and school. She observed that the Polish people of the province of Silesia were somehow different from those in the rest of the country. Their allegiance was first to Silesia, and her past history. Nevertheless, now the growing bitterness between Polish and German Silesians was unmistakable, making matters difficult for those who had opted for 'mixed marriages' and for their children. To Katja, all people were the same, only the languages were different. In her inimitable way, she oversimplified the situation.

But there were those who did not share her lack of prejudice, and the reality of vicious injustice and intolerance reached out to her for the first time when she was at school. This bright enthusiastic little girl had been chosen as class prefect for one year, a responsibility she accepted with honour and great pride. One of her duties was to clean the blackboard after each lesson and to make sure that there was chalk and a sponge ready for the next teacher. On the fateful day the next subject on the timetable was geography, one of her favourite subjects.

The previous teacher had already moved on to her next class, and the inevitable clamour broke amongst the children. Impervious to this, Katja applied herself to her duties. She thoroughly cleared away the remnants of the maths lesson and then left the room to fetch the stand and the map that the teacher would need. As she reentered the classroom, she was appalled to see that someone had written on the board in a large childish script the words: "Katarzyna jest Germanka!"

The little girl, already sensitive to the Polish/German question, considered the remark offensive particularly as it was directed at her personally. Her small frame shook with rage. Blue eyes blazing and close to tears, she shouted at the top of her voice:

"Who did this?"

A wave of silence had swept over the class. The children glanced uneasily at one another afraid to speak up. Katja fixed her eyes on each pupil in turn. All returned her intense gaze, until it came to the turn of Marysia. She moved nervously in her place, her hands behind her back. Wilting beneath Katja's fierce stare, she let the telltale piece of chalk fall to the floor. She gasped in dismay.

"So, it was YOU!" Katja screamed. Her face turned crimson with fury. Never before had she felt so angry. Marysia, now afraid of retaliation, left her seat, and edged towards the door

"You won't escape me," she shouted, as she picked up the ink well from the teacher's desk, and taking careful aim, hurled it in the direction of the unfortunate offender. At that moment, the door opened, and as the bottle shattered against the doorframe, ink showered down on the unfortunate geography teacher, Pani Dutkowna, who spontaneously uttered a profanity. Katja covered her mouth with her hand, shocked at the unhappy turn of events, and in addition, to hearing the offensive language never used in her home.

Summoned to appear before the school director and staff, she stood, head held high, with an air of respectful defiance about her, facing this formidable assembly. They waited, expecting some remorse from the young pupil. However, all she would say by way of an apology was:

"I'm sorry. The bottle was not meant for Pani Dutkowna." Then as an afterthought, she added:

"Marysia called me names!"

Some of the teachers knew that Katja's mother was German, for that matter, so was the director's wife, Pani Eliza Waszynska, who was good friends with Klara.

Klara seldom accompanied Cyprian to school functions unless she knew that Eliza was going to be there. Her self-consciousness at not being able to speak Polish was mistaken for aloofness, which caused much gossiping amongst the Polish teachers. The resulting resentment and even jealousy, inevitably often created a strained atmosphere.

It seemed now, that this animosity had descended on her daughter. Seven out of the thirteen teachers voted for her to be relieved of her prefect status for the rest of the year – a harsh punishment for the little girl. No cognisance had been made of the slur the three words had implied or so it seemed to Katja. It had left a bitter taste.

The young man acknowledged her silent thanks with an understanding smile. They stood facing one another as the tram lurched on its way, their arms outstretched above their heads, clutching the handrail. Occasionally their arms would touch as the speeding tram rounded a corner, making both aware of certain chemistry between them. Emma observed this disapprovingly, and with a strategic nudge of her umbrella at the young man's calf, accompanied by an apologetic exclamation, she reduced the physical contact to a minimum. He must be at least twenty maybe twenty-one, and Katja ... only fifteen. What was he up to? Well she was here to take care of the young girl, or if she was honest, the young woman.

The young man was inwardly amused at her efforts to discourage behaviour she might consider as "improper". 'Yes little mother, I would protect her the same way if she were mine.' He smiled to himself.

"I see you are still in your school uniform." he remarked chattily to Katja.

"There was no time to change ..." she started to explain then stopped herself. What did it have to do with him? Emma scowled. She had slowed down her umbrella attack, which seemed too obvious a ploy and had no backup plan.

Nothing daunted, the stranger continued trying to break the ice with some mundane remarks.

"I am still studying although I am not at school anymore." Katja nodded politely. "What is your favourite subject?" he asked thinking he must try to keep this very fragile communication going.

"History," she exclaimed, lighting up immediately. Fantastic, it was one of his favourites too.

"What is your second favourite ...?"

By the time they reached the border, the young couple had introduced themselves and was chatting away in Polish and German. Their repartee was witty as they bandied words in both languages delighting some of the passengers as they listened to the mixed exchange.

Katja spoke fluent German, as her mother's tongue was their home language. Klara had given up trying to learn Polish a long time ago.

Cyprian had patiently tried to teach her, spelling out words like 'Dozowdica or 'szczotka' ...

"I'll never learn!" Klara had sobbed and with a defiant toss of her auburn hair, she sent her scribbler and textbooks flying across the room. "The language is impossible," and they had left it at that.

A Polish customs official boarded the car calling for passports, and anything to declare. Some passengers had to leave the car for the routine search. Emma, her curiosity getting the better of her, glanced back to see whether Wiadek was still in his seat.

Sure enough, the seat was empty and she saw Wiadek under escort to the terminus building. She could picture him standing there in one of the private cells, arms outstretched as the customs official patted his body up and down. Somehow, he always managed to escape detection, as it never occurred to the searcher to examine his open arms. Eventually the tram rolled on through Niemansland to the German Zoll-amt. There the same ritual took place amid the frustrated murmurings of the passengers not only because of the second search, but because they would now have to alight and board another tramcar on the German side of the border. The passengers eased towards the exit door, keen to be off as soon as possible.

Katja turned to Bernard shaking her head,

"What do they hope to gain? A few minutes perhaps?" He agreed with her. He certainly was not in a hurry to leave the tram. All he could think was that by taking their time to alight he would have a few more minutes of Katja's company. The tram ground to a halt, wheels screeching on the rails and now with the doors wide open an icy blast of windborne snowflakes blustered through the tram. The passengers at the front of the coach clutched at their scarves and hats as they alighted, their heads bent against the wind, peering into the gathering darkness, some seeking the terminus building, others, those who had come to meet them. Emma hesitated on the top step as she fought a losing battle with the wind to gain control of her fugitive shawl.

Katja supported her on one side and Bernard on the other as they started what seemed to be a precipitous descent. As they struggled down the steps, a tall dark figure detached itself from the small group that had ventured forward to meet the tram.

"Eugen, thank goodness!" Emma exclaimed as he relieved the two young people of their burden and helped her down the last step.

Eugen's greeting was warm but brief.

"Come quickly," he urged as he took the bags that Bernard handed down to him. "Elli and Sonja are waiting in the car. It's not far." It was obvious that Eugen was anxious to be underway as soon as possible as the storm was getting worse. Now that night had fallen, visibility would be limited, making the journey hazardous.

Katja followed her uncle as he hurried towards the car. She would so like to ask him whether they could give her newfound friend a lift but Uncle Eugen had already opened the car door and was waving her in. She turned back expecting to see Bernard close by, but by now he was walking towards the terminus building. As the car door slammed, he turned and waved. She wound down the window in spite of her Uncle's protests and waved one more time: "Aufmedersähen!" she called, her salutation carried on the wind. "Domwidzenia!" he echoed back, smiling as he recalled their exchange on the tram. The car engine reluctantly coughed to life. Eugen let it run for a few minutes to let the motor warm up. Seizing the moment, Bernard ran forward impulsively to the car and pressed his hand against the window in a final greeting. Katja responded in the same manner, a last contact as the car pulled away leaving his receding figure to merge with the swirling snow.