The Things We Cannot Say(82)

“And after that?”

“Our driver will take you to a place where the Don River is accessible. There is a local there with a boat—he will take you across. Stalin has freed the Poles he was holding, so technically you’ll be free once you reach the other bank and you’re into Soviet territory.”

It took a long moment for that last word to register, and when I did, I blurted it out incredulously, “Free?”

“Free...” Tomasz repeated it too but he said the word slowly—as if he was savoring its taste on his tongue. Our eyes locked, and we grinned at each other again.

“Yes, you’d be free, although,” Henry said cautiously, “the journey would not be over, and you’d not be out of the woods yet. After you cross the river you’ll need to walk on foot into a city called Voronezh—it’s not far from the Eastern Front, but still well under Soviet control. You can board a train there, which will take you as far as Buzuluk. I just need to be sure you understand what you’re in for, my friends. This will be an unpleasant journey too—and long, at least a few weeks. The trains are overcrowded with your fellow Polish citizens recently released from the gulags and the work camps. They are all desperate to get to Buzuluk.”

“What’s at Buzuluk?” Tomasz asked.

“The Polish Second Division are reforming and they are training there. But we have heard that conditions there are also difficult—food is scarce, disease is rife—and some Polish refugees are suffering immensely. But I need you to get to Buzuluk, because there is a shipment of British clothing coming to keep the new Polish troops warm over the winter. If this works as I hope, the British officers who are bringing in the clothing shipment will be looking for you, and when they return to Britain, they will take you both back with them and deliver you to the US embassy. My brother will take things from there.”

“Your brother is...?”

“He is a judge in America. He has contacts in the government... We are hoping if we can show them how bad things are here, they will intervene. Our efforts have not been fruitful yet, but...perhaps this new film will be the thing to motivate them.” He sighed heavily and offered me a sad shrug. “We will just keep trying. It is all we can do.”

“We too will do whatever we have to, won’t we, Alina?” Tomasz said, checking in with me, and I smiled weakly as I nodded.

“We will.”

Any excitement I’d felt at the prospect of freedom was now well and truly tamped by Henry’s reminders of the difficult road ahead. It still seemed impossible. It still felt impossible.

“Here—” Henry retrieved from his backpack a roll of cloth and a small canister, then a tin and several small bottles. He passed these to Tomasz. “I’m sorry—that’s all I could find. Will it make a convincing plaster?”

Tomasz read the labels and checked the containers, then winced.

“There’s not much to work with here.”

“It’s so hard to get medical supplies—as you well know.”

“Yes,” Tomasz murmured, surveying the gear carefully. He shrugged. “But I will make it work.”

“Can’t we just carry the film?” I asked.

There was a pause, then Tomasz said softly, “If we are caught, it is better that the film is not discovered.”

“And once you arrive in Soviet territory, you will find many people who are very desperate—anything that has potential value for sale is at risk of theft. The film must be hidden,” Henry said quietly. “Now, I purchased these rubles for you—it’s not much, but you’ll likely need to buy some new clothes and food may be hard to come by there. You might have to be resourceful, but you’ve more than proven you’re capable of doing that. And finally, you’ll need your papers to gain access to the camp at Buzuluk—there are so many people trying to join, I understand they are strictly refusing entry except to those who can prove Polish citizenship.” He glanced at Tomasz. “You still have your papers?”

“Yes, I’ve managed to hold onto my prewar passport,” Tomasz said, but my stomach had dropped.

“Oh no,” I whispered, and I turned to Tomasz in a panic. “Did Mama give you my identity card before they took her away?”

He shook his head, frowning, and I started to shake.

“My...she always held it on herself, because we were never apart and I kept forgetting. I...the ID card was all I had. I don’t have a passport.”

Henry opened his mouth, then closed it. Tomasz shut his eyes. Hope was draining out of me, despair rushing in to replace it. I felt sick with regret. Mama had only held on to my papers because I’d been foolish early in the occupation—careless and lazy, despite the fact that my very life was at risk. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“We can get to Buzuluk without a passport, right?” Tomasz asked suddenly. Henry nodded cautiously.

“Of course. You’ll be hidden in the back of a truck. No one will be checking your paperwork.”

“And I will be granted access to the camp? With my passport?”

“As I understand it, yes.”

“Then—” Tomasz glanced at me and shrugged “—we get to Buzuluk and hope for the best. Is the worst-case scenario that Alina will just wait outside for me?”

“The camp is immense, Tomasz. Tens of thousands of people are already inside. I am concerned that you don’t realize how difficult it would be for you both if you were separated there. In fact, knowing you as I do, my friend, I have a sneaking suspicion if you get all the way to Buzuluk and Alina is left outside the camp alone, you will refuse to enter too, and that makes this whole mission pointless,” Henry said, his voice curt with frustration. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “No, it seems to me that the only way we can proceed here is for me to go back to Nadia and see if we can secure some false papers for Alina. It is our only chance at success here.” Tomasz squeezed my hand, and I nodded. Henry spread his hands wide. “That would be hard enough at any time, but our problem is that time is short because... If we are doing this—it has to be tomorrow.”