Song of a Sparrow

“Halt!” he yelled.  “Halt, or I will shoot!”

     Benny’s heart pounded in his chest.  The bag hindered an easy flight, but he was not going to loosen the grip on his treasure.  He swung it over his right shoulder and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.  The rough edges of the old brick street pushed through the thin soles of his heavily worn shoes, making the run difficult.  When he reached Karolkowa Street, he headed north toward the cemeteries.  Hugging the darker shadows from the house fronts, he continued to run.  The loud clomping of boots rang out behind him.  Another German had joined the chase.       

      The boy darted behind rubble, moving in and out of alleys.  Gasping for breath, he took a chance to rest behind the ruins of an apartment building.  If he could make it to the northern end of Mlynarska Street, he would be at the cemeteries.  Ahead, he saw their walled outline.  Shifting his bag to the other shoulder, he raced for the Polish cemetery.  If he could reach it in time, he believed he could re-enter the escape hole.  Benny learned to alternate his exits and entries into and out of the ghetto, and he used the hidden hole on more than one occasion.

      It was dark by the time Benny entered the graveyard.  He could not believe the Germans still chased him.  The boy had hoped that nightfall would block their view and the SS would not see him enter.  A whizzing noise passed near his ear.  The Germans had opened fire.

      Benny ran for cover.  White, marble gravestones stood out in the darkness, lending an eerie guide for the boy.  Using these as shields, he darted in and out.  When he approached the vicinity of the break in the wall, he suddenly heard a loud thud.  Benny jumped behind a tall monument.  Peering around the corner of the stone, he looked toward the noise.  Several boys blocked the secret passage as they overturned grave markers and stones.  They laughed and joked boisterously.

      Polish gangs often ran the streets of both the Jewish and Polish sectors.  Little had been done to stop these raids.  The gangs had plundered and raped, almost at will.  Construction of the ghetto wall had lessened these activities somewhat but had not totally stopped them.

      Benny hoped the wall cavity, concealed by foliage, would go unnoticed by the Polish youth.  Unexpectedly one of the Poles jumped accidentally into the middle of the vines, causing him to trip on a loose brick.

      “What’s that?” the Pole asked.

      The others walked toward their friend.

      Benny held his breath.

      Abruptly they stopped as they looked back over their shoulders.

      “Listen.  Someone’s in the cemetery,” said one of the youth.

      They stood quietly, listening.  Soon they heard the voices of the approaching SS.

      “It’s the Germans,” whispered one of the boys.  “Let’s get out of here!”

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