THE FLOWERS

THE FLOWERS

I

       The fragrance drew her to the cave. She was twelve years old, and alone. It was mid-winter in Poland, and Anna was taking a different route home from school.  It was a fairly warm day for February, and Anna liked to go places no one else ever went to. She loved to see the deep snow in the forest valley. Pristine in its loveliness, it looked so pure without a footstep anywhere, save for hers. She felt like she was the only one ever to see this small valley, and that made it her own special place.

       Of course, no one ever went into the valley. Supposedly it was haunted; but it was certain that some people had been shot there during the war. There were rumours of ghosts wandering there at night; of strange lights that would appear then disappear without explanation. Many people scoffed at the idea, but no one ventured in to find out. The real reason was that no one wanted to find another unburied body left behind by the Nazis. There had been so many found, and every one was a reminder of what the war had done to them. They were a people that would rather forget. 

       Anna knew about the stories, but she wasn’t as afraid of the dead as much as she enjoyed being by herself. She had come here before, but this was the first time she could remember smelling flowers in February. She could and would be afraid of many things, but the smell of flowers wasn’t one of them. She could never be afraid of flowers. Flowers were her friends. 

       Trees and overgrown brush hid the entrance to the cave. She had a hard time pushing her way through, but finally she stood at the mouth of the cave. Fear clutched at her, but the smell of flowers was stronger than ever, and that made her feel better. She called out to see if anyone was there, but only silence answered her. The light was starting to go down, but there was still enough to see into the cave for some distance. She took the book of matches from her backpack and went in. 

       The smell of flowers grew strongest where the sunlight ended. There was another smell there; cloying, but too faint to bother her. She peered into the darkness, but could see nothing. Slowly she pulled a match and struck it. She screamed, then dropped the match. She waited shaking, but nothing moved. There was no sound; even the wind seemed to have died away. Finally, she drew the courage to light another match, and prepared herself for the shock of what she would see.

       He was dead. In fact, he had been dead so long that only a skeleton remained. And he wore the uniform of the Nazis. Yet there were flowers blooming all around his body. They were the most beautiful flowers Anna had ever seen, but why they should grow here in the cold and darkness was beyond her understanding. She left the place and ran home to tell her parents. 

II

       Captain Gustav Shreinfeldt of the Third Panzer Division had been ordered to bring his troops to Warsaw. They had spent the night in a small country inn, some fifty miles southwest of Warsaw. Until now Captain Shreinfeldt and his troops had been involved in the roundup of Jews in the southern part of Poland. He hated the job. Not that the captain liked Jews. Far from it. He had hated them since he was a child. They had all the money, and they let them know in no uncertain terms. His father had spent most of this life trying to get out of debt to them. His father often complained bitterly about them, and that left its mark on his son.

       Despite this the captain hated the rounding up of Jews. He told himself it was because he wanted to fight in the real war, not against defenseless women, children and old men. He might even have convinced himself of this if not for the fact that he hated the war even more than he hated the Jews. 

       The war. But he hated the time even before the war. Ever since Hitler had come into power people had changed. He could remember the time before then, times that were hard, but when people actually laughed. Not laughed at anybody, or when some official made a joke. The laughter he missed was simply the laughter of good humour. A few close friends sharing a glass of beer in Munich during Oktoberfest. The laughter of his girlfriend Gertrude chasing him along the streets of Dresden during the summer holidays. The laughter of his little sister Terza as she ran through the fields picking flowers in the bright summer sun. The laughter of Gertrude’s eyes when he asked her to marry him. That was before she died in the Hitler Youth riots in Berlin.

       Captain Shreinfeldt wrapped his coat around himself as he stepped out into the cold dawn of a Polish winter. They would not be leaving for another hour yet, so he thought a stroll through the countryside would be in order. He informed the sergeant of his decision, then headed for the deepest part of the woods.

       The snow was soft, muffling his footsteps into silence. It was so peaceful here, but there was no peace in him. He wanted to be at peace, but the war that held Europe in an iron grip also gripped him. He was as war-torn as poor Poland, and he felt very cold inside.

       He was deep in the woods and considering turning back when he heard the laughter.  Very faint and brief, nonetheless he was sure he had heard it. It had sounded like a child had laughed, then been silenced.  He stopped and listened very carefully. It came again; short, faint, but unmistakable. It was the sound of a young girl’s laughter.

       He followed it, moving silently through the trees. Finally, he came to an old abandoned farm. The house was almost totally destroyed. Only the barn had remained standing, but there were gaping holes in the sides, and a roof that was barely whole.

       He crept up to the back of the barn and peered in through a hole in the wall. There were Jews living inside, as many as sixty all crowded together. Most of them were still asleep, but one young girl was awake and playing with her doll. She was also holding a flower made of cloth, with a stick for a stem. It was made by hand, and was very pretty.

       Hers was the laughter he had heard, the laughter of joy and innocence. She looked very much like his younger sister. She turned and saw him. A look of terror crossed her young face. He smiled at her, though, and slowly she relaxed and smiled back at him. He made no move, but continued to smile. Her smile broadened into open laughter as he waved to her. She waved back and came over to him. With another smile she handed him her flower. Captain Shreinfeldt, an officer in the Nazi army, accepted the gift from a Jewish girl. He smiled, then bowed. From inside the barn her mother called to her, and she ran back to the others. The captain put the flower in his coat and walked away.

       When he returned his company was ready to go. Without hesitation he gave the order to move out. He considered telling someone about the Jews hiding in the barn, knowing it was his duty. Somehow, though, he could not bring himself to do it. He hated the Jews, or if not, he certainly had no love for them. But it was the war he truly hated, for at heart he was a peaceful man. He had seen enough suffering to last him a lifetime, and yet he knew that that war had only just begun. The magnitude of the stupidity of it all came flooding in, and began to overwhelm him. He would tell no one about the Jews hiding in the barn. It was his own personal rebellion against the war and against the uniform he wore. No one would ever know of it, he thought, no one but him and the little girl. Already that moment was etched into his memory, a memory that would last him a lifetime. A memory to last forever, he thought, something that no one else would ever know. He was wrong.

       They were stopped near a small village some thirty miles from out of Warsaw. They were ordered out of the truck. To the complete surprise of his troops, Captain Shreinfeldt was disarmed and put under arrest. He was taken by the Gestapo to a small shack in a nearby village and questioned. Did he know about the Jews? He felt the cold in the pit of his stomach. Yes, he admitted. And how long had his parents been hiding them? Captain Gustav Shreinfeldt blinked and licked his lips. His parents? What did they have to do with this?

       The Gestapo commander informed him of the Jews hiding in his parent’s attic. They and their daughter had already been shot for harbouring state enemies.  He had already he admitted he knew about them, but damn it all, he had confessed to the wrong crime! He was questioned further, but he kept silent. He was already a dead man, and the secret of that happy, carefree child would die with him.  At least one part of the world he loved would live on, even if no one ever knew of it.

       He was found guilty, taken out and shot. His last thought was that there was no one left to mourn for him, and for that he was grateful. The pain was ending, let it end here for him and his family. And for one innocent young girl whose smile had made him, for the briefest of moments, happy.

       His body was thrown into a nearby cave rather than buried. The Gestapo didn’t have time to waste burying people, especially traitors. They drove away soon after, leaving hurriedly for the war that would claim all of their lives eventually. The valley returned to its customary winter silence. The captain’s body bled into the ground, watering a flower that had taken root in his heart, and eventually in the soil. Out of compassion. Out of love. Out of trust.

III

Anna took them to where she had found the body. Many of the neighbours came as well. They simply could not believe there were flowers growing in a sunless cave in the middle of winter. If it were true it was a miracle, but no one would believe it until they saw it for themselves.

       When they arrived at the cave they could only stare in stunned disbelief. If not for the fact that the flowers surrounded the remains of a Nazi officer, they would have called it a miracle. But why should such a thing happen to a Nazi captain? There was no sense to it.

       Anna looked closely at the flowers. She had never seen anything like them. She picked one and examined it closely. Red and purple inside, there were large white petals that were as soft as silk. The fragrance was utterly beautiful! She was reminded of every happy and joyous thing she had ever known. She brought it over to her mother, who could only stare at it. She had seen something like it before, but she could not remember where. She put it inside her coat, took Anna by the hand and left the cave. 

       They would say nothing to anyone about it. The cave would be sealed up so that no one would ever know. It might very well have been a miracle, but there was no way of knowing for certain. And there might be those who would say it was a sign of God’s approval of the Nazi regime. That was something to be avoided at all costs. They searched the body, took what possessions they could find, and left.

       Anna stayed close to her mother on the way home. She was afraid of what they had done. She wanted to know why the flowers were growing there, but for some reason she couldn’t understand the people were afraid to find out. Nor could she understand why she was told not to say anything about the beautiful flowers. She wanted to share them with her friends, but now she couldn’t even see them for herself. She didn’t understand at all.

       As they walked home, they passed the Nazi officer’s effects amongst themselves, and spoke of what have happened. One of the things they found was a photograph that they assumed was the young man and his family. The picture was passed around to everyone, but when Anna’s mother saw it, she stopped and turned white.

       She saw the young girl on the right, and noticed how much she resembled Anna. Or herself as a child. That was remarkable, but not as remarkable as what made her stop and stare.

       She had told no one. Not even when they found the footprints outside the barn. She was so young, too young to understand what the uniform meant. Too young to recognize an enemy. She could still see his smile, and the friendly way he waved to her. The flower she had given him because she wanted him to be her friend. She did not have to see the flower in her coat to know it for what it was, to know that it was already growing in her. That its roots had already entwined around her heart. Entwined in love and compassion, as it did to his heart, all those many years ago.

THE END