فصل 47

joana

The sound of children screaming, wood splintering, and life departing roared from behind. I tried to run toward the crowd but the soldier grabbed me and threw me off the road. I crawled through the snow toward the pink of Emilia’s hat and draped my body over hers.

The explosions finally ceased and the soldier yelled at us to move quickly into the village.

“But I can help them back there. I have medical training,” I argued.

“It’s no use. Move along, Fr?ulein, now!” the soldier commanded, waving us forward. Our group reassembled and trudged toward Frauenburg. But one person was missing.

The young German was gone.

Who was he? Whatever was written in the letter commanded great respect from the soldier on the road.

Emilia was inconsolable, turning in all directions to find the German. She wailed and tried to leave. It took four of us to get her back into the cart. The bombing propelled everyone forward at a quicker pace, anxious to reach Frauenburg and possible shelter. I didn’t want to move forward. I needed to go back, to help the injured. But they would not allow it.

“What good will you be, my dear, if you are injured?” said the shoe poet. “You must preserve yourself in order to help others.”

Poet didn’t know the truth. I had already preserved myself. I had left Lithuania and those I loved behind.

To die.