A Feather on the Water(35)

“You’re doing a great job,” she said. “See you back at the house.”

As she walked on, past the warehouse, she heard someone calling out to her.

“Mrs. Radford!” It was Corporal Brody. “I’ve had a call from the guardhouse, ma’am,” he said. “There’s a German guy at the gates, shouting his mouth off. Says someone from here has stolen two of his pigs.”

“What?” Martha looked at him, incredulous.

“He says they were taken from his farm—the other side of the river.”

“Whoa . . .” Martha took a breath. “He’s saying that our DPs rounded up two pigs and brought them into the camp without anyone noticing? That’s ridiculous!”

“I know, ma’am.” Brody nodded. “What shall I say to Sergeant Lewis?”

“I guess we’ll have to search the camp, just to be certain. Ask him to tell the farmer that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” Brody replied.

“Tell me, Corporal,” she said. “If you had to hide a couple of pigs in this place, where would you choose?”

He pursed his lips. “I guess that would depend,” he said.

“On what?”

“On whether they were dead or alive.”

She nodded, feeling stupid for not having thought of that. Of course, the obvious thing would be to slaughter the animals in the woods, out of sight and sound, then carry them into the camp. But even then, the risk of being spotted would be huge. It seemed highly unlikely that the farmer’s accusation was true. But they were going to have to go through the motions of a search.

“There’s a basement under blockhouse five,” Brody said. “It’s where they put the ducks and chickens at nighttime. You could hide a carcass in there—butcher it and all—without anyone knowing what you were up to.”

“Okay, that’s where we’ll start. Is it safe for you to leave the warehouse unguarded for an hour or so?” She could have gone to find Stefan to help her. But on balance, that didn’t seem wise. He’d already told her he wouldn’t be her spy. To expect him to help rumble suspected pig rustlers wouldn’t exactly endear him to his fellow DPs.

“The next detail’s due in half an hour,” Brody said. “Shall I ask Sergeant Lewis if it’s okay for us to stay on a while and search the place?”

Martha nodded. “I’ll meet you at blockhouse five. If there’s nothing there, we’ll split up and search the other houses. I doubt anyone could hide a whole pig under a bed, but if the carcasses have already been butchered, I guess there could be joints of meat just about anywhere.” She realized that she was now talking as if the farmer’s accusation were true. In the blink of an eye, she’d switched from refusing to believe the DPs could be capable of such a crime to visualizing how they might conceal their ill-gotten gains. As she walked away from the warehouse, she made a fervent, silent prayer that it wouldn’t be true.



The beam of Sergeant Lewis’s flashlight picked up a pair of glowing eyes. The duck gave a startled quack, which set off a flurry of movement in the basement. Spooked by the sudden intrusion, the poultry made a racket that echoed off the bare walls. The squawks were punctuated by high-pitched squeals, which the flashlight revealed were made by a trio of frightened guinea pigs penned up alongside half a dozen rabbits.

The sergeant directed the beam around the room. There was nothing much else to be seen. Just a few gardening implements and a pile of hay.

“What’s that? In the middle of the floor?” Martha had spotted a glint of something as the beam of light swept across it.

Sergeant Lewis angled the light down. “A wet patch—like someone’s been cleaning up, maybe?”

“Could just be they spilled water when they fed the animals.” Corporal Brody pointed to a half-full bucket beside the pile of hay.

“We’d better go and search upstairs,” Martha said, hoping Brody was right.

She trailed behind the men as they pulled back the blankets dividing families’ living quarters. Watching them open suitcases and poke around under beds made her very uneasy.

“What about the latrines?” Brody said when they’d worked their way from one end of the blockhouse to the other.

“We’d better check, I suppose,” Martha replied. It was a revolting thought, concealing fresh meat in such a place. But if someone were desperate enough . . .

“Nothing in here,” Sergeant Lewis called when he opened the door.

“What about those cubicles—two of the doors are shut.” Brody pushed past him.

“Wait!” Martha shouted. “There might be . . .”

But Brody was already kicking the doors open. “Jeez! Pardon me, ladies!” He came rushing out, red-faced. “Two old girls in there,” he spluttered. “Sorry, Mrs. Radford, I just thought . . .”

“Okay, Corporal.” Martha pulled the door shut behind him. “You two go look in the other blockhouses. I’ll wait here and apologize.”

Martha stood outside the latrines, summoning the few Polish phrases she had mastered. It was bad enough that the people in this place had had soldiers rifling through their meager belongings, but for elderly DPs to have been disturbed while on the toilet was an indignity too far. She wished Kitty were with her to say something more than a simple “I am sorry.”