Page 77 of Hell to Pay
I did, and the man said, “I don’t want it. I should keep my wits about me.” He was talking through his teeth, though, and seemed most uncomfortable.
“You’re safe here,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, with the ghost of a smile. “The boys seem a bit bloodthirsty.”
I was so surprised, I laughed, then translated.
“How does he know?” Dr. Becker said, frowning.
“How do you know?” I asked the man again. “And what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘the soldier.’”
He attempted a shrug and winced. “Aren’t little boys always bloodthirsty? Look at the one who shot at me. I didn’t realize it was a kid, not until later.”
“Yes, well,” I said, “hewastrying to kill you.”
“Hence the wits,” he said, and smiled. I smiled back. His smile was so kind, I couldn’t help it. “My name is Joe,” he said. “I’d shake hands, but—” He gestured to the sling.
“Daisy,” I said, and introduced the others.
“I must get this sulfa powder into that wound,” Dr. Beckersaid. “Tell him that I’m sorry, but I’ll have to remove the stitches and stitch him up again after”
“OK,” Joe said after I’d translated. “If you have some more of that Schnapps …”
“I’ll drink it with you tonight,” Dr. Becker said. “For now, one morphine tablet.”
Joe didn’t answer, but said, “The heavy thing at the bottom is a radio. Pull it out, will you?”
I did. A black box, complete with earphones. It had two bullet holes in it.
“Well, so much for that,” Joe said. “Better the radio than me. Those bullets would have gone right through my back otherwise. I always was lucky. One more thing in there, though, and we’ll hope that’s not shot up.”.”
“It’s a cardboard box,” I said.
“Open it,” Joe said.
Frau Adelberg said, “Don’t open it! What if it’s a bomb?”
“Would he want to blow himself up?” I asked, exasperated. And I’d thoughtIwas frightened during that first bombing raid. But then, the war hadn’t really come to Frau Adelberg before. Of course it was a shock.
“Who knows?” Frau Adelberg said. “The Japanese do it. Kammy-kazzee, they call it.”
I translated, and Joe grinned in a tired sort of way and said, “I’m not unselfish enough for that, I’m afraid. OK, then,I’llopen it. You can stand behind the door, if you like.”
Frau Adelberg and the children—at her command, for they didn’t want to go—retreated behind the open door, but I saw two little heads peering around it curiously, one above the other. Joe fumbled with the box with his left hand, and I finally gave in and helped him.
And stared at what was inside, speechless.
“What is it?” Frau Adelberg called. “Is it safe?”
I found my voice. “Oh, yes. It’s safe. It’s … it’s treasure beyond measure.”
No child has ever been so excited at Christmas as we were pulling out the contents of that box, with me translating as we went.
Breakfast,the first interior box read. Here’s what was in it: Canned chopped ham and eggs, a packet of biscuits, malted milk tablets, and a packet of oatmeal. And an envelope of instant coffee and a packet of sugar! Each item left us more speechless than the last, and Frau Adelberg was moaning for a different reason now.
Lunch,the second box said. A tin of cheese, a bouillon cube—soup!—more biscuits, a bar made of dried fruit, tablets marked “orange drink,” andanotherpacket of coffee—real coffee, I was guessing—and still more sugar.
By the time we got to the box markedDinner,everybody was gathered around the bed, Frau Adelberg had her hands on her cheeks, and the little boys were jumping up and down. A tin marked “pork loaf,” more biscuits, more bouillon, more orange-drink tablets,morecoffee, and more sugar.
