Chapter 49

49

There was little conversation at dawn the next morning as the men checked their guns and ammunition. Jana and Nela worked together silently in the restaurant kitchen. They boiled water to make acorn coffee for everyone, using the remaining powder, and cut the last of the bread into small pieces. Although she should have been hungry, Jana's stomach was clenched so tight with nerves, she could barely swallow a crumb.

When it was time for the men to go, Jana was lost for words. Was it appropriate to wish them luck? Perhaps these men were religious and she should say, God be with you . But that sounded like they might not return. In the end, no one said anything; the men gave each other a determined nod and Egon met Jana's eyes. After a tense smile. he turned away, waving the men forward.

Jana stood with Nela alone in the cellar, the absence of the men leaving an ominous space.

It was twenty to six: twenty minutes before the announcer would broadcast his appeal to the Czech people. The two girls sat in front of the radio. Jana switched it on and was met by a blast of static. She twirled the dial left and right, attempting to find the station, but the static just increased or decreased in volume. Nela shot her a nervous glance. Jana's fingertips trembled as she continued to search. Moments passed. She jumped as the announcer's voice burst into the room, welcoming them to Prague radio.

Jana and Nela stared at Nela's wristwatch, watching the second hand tick past. The six o'clock chimes echoed from the radio. She held her breath. The Czech announcer had, as instructed by the Nazis, been broadcasting in German but switched to Czech and gave the call to arms. He appealed to Czech police units and members of the former Czech army. The girls bolted out their chairs and up the cellar steps.

Jana's heart raced as a grey, rainy morning greeted them. Their plan was to head for the streets nearest to the radio station and help with the blockades. She looked eagerly around her for a sign of action, but there were few people to be seen. They came to a junction a couple of blocks from the radio station. Ahead, a man was pulling a cart laden with a jumble of bricks, furniture and scraps of metal. Another pushed a wheelbarrow of what looked like sacks of sand. More people appeared, men and women, their arms full of all manner of household items which they threw in a heap on the street.

Then people poured out of every doorway, pushing and shoving anything that could cause an obstruction. Jana and Nela helped heap the things into a huge pile across the street. A builder's van arrived and the crowd rushed to unload the materials.

And then came the screech of police cars. It was inevitable. Jana stiffened, preparing herself for what was to follow. Car doors flew open and the police jumped out. The man beside her reached for one of the blockade items, an iron bar, and she grabbed a brick. Police ran towards them, their hands on their holsters. She raised the brick above her head, knowing how useless it was against a bullet, but she told herself they wouldn't shoot every single person. Or would they?

Jana and the other resistors formed a line before their unfinished barricade and braced themselves. A long-limbed policeman with a narrow face swung himself in front of them. The man with the iron bar beside her bristled.

‘Looks like you need a hand here if that heap of junk is to halt the Germans.' The policeman grinned, blew his whistle and shouted, ‘We stand united against the Nazis.'

She uttered a gasp of relief as she watched the police mingle amongst the resistors. With their help, the barricade was swiftly completed and she and Nela ran with the crowd to an adjacent street to start again. Gunshots echoed from the direction of the radio building followed by the rattle of machine gunfire. Had Egon and his accomplices managed to storm the building? Were they under siege?

The ominous sound of wheels rattling over cobblestones made her turn.

Wehrmacht trucks.

‘Run,' a man's voice shouted.

Everyone scattered, ducking into buildings and alleyways. Jana cowered in the entrance of a laundry shop. Where was Nela? She had been right beside her. The clang of the bell above the door from behind startled her. She looked around at a stout, red-faced woman with damp hair poking from a white cap.

‘Quick,' beckoned the woman .

Jana sprinted inside the shop and the woman closed the door behind them, the bell above the door clanging again.

‘This way,' the woman said and led Jana past ironing boards, rails of men's shirts, soldiers' uniforms and black SS jackets. A pungent chemical smell hung in the steam-filled air.

They reached the back door.

‘They may give me work, but I still hate them,' the woman hissed. ‘The door in the backyard will lead you out.'

‘Thank you,' Jana said before rushing across the yard and out into a back street. She paused to gain her breath and consider what to do next. Excitement and fear coursed through her and her head spun with euphoria; at last, they were rising up. The comradeship she'd experienced with others as they built the barrier was a powerful emotion. Being active, making a difference, being seen, made her spirits soar. She would find the next barricade, and the one after that. This was just the beginning.

Hurrying along, she scanned the streets for Nela but saw no sign of her. Some ordinary citizens in everyday clothes paraded with rifles and pistols, their faces resolute. It was an extraordinary sight. Jana found another barricade being built and joined the crowd hauling an array of objects to make the wall; anything to hinder trucks and hopefully tanks from moving around the city. The air was charged with excitement, purpose and determination. Rumours flew.

‘The US army are south of Prague!'

‘The Russians are advancing!'

‘Hitler is dead!' This last one was a popular, recurrent one. If only it were true, thought Jana.

It was crowded where she stood so she moved further down and halted in surprise. Two young women, their cheeks pink from exertion, were shovelling sand from a cart. Dasha and Karolina. Jana leaped over to them, calling their names, overcome with joy at seeing her two friends. A startled look from Dasha was followed by a huge grin and, putting her shovel aside, she threw her arms around Jana.

A thought flashed in Jana's mind; she had wondered if Dasha had suspected her of hiding children and betrayed her to the police. After all, she'd commented on the children's clothes and books. And there was the German soldier she was friendly with. But now, seeing her friend's warm smile, she doubted this to be true. Surely?

‘Are you all right?' said Dasha looking her up and down. ‘You look a bit?—'

‘Crumpled?' finished Jana, suddenly aware that she'd been wearing the same clothes for goodness knows how long.

‘Well, yes. I've seen you look fresher. I came by your apartment a couple of times but no one was home.'

Jana didn't comment but turned to greet Karolina. She hugged the girl, feeling her sharp bones and caving chest.

Pulling back, she looked into her spectral face. ‘How are you?' said Jana, concern in her voice.

‘I've had terrible news,' Karolina said. ‘Petr is seriously ill. I'm afraid he'll die in that awful prison.' Her voice was hoarse with exhaustion. ‘I don't know what to do.'

‘This is what you do,' said Jana. ‘What we are doing now: rising up to free ourselves. If Paris can do it, then so can we. Don't lose heart, Karolina. We'll drive the Germans out and Petr will be free.'

Karolina looked unconvinced and turned her face to hide her tears.

Jana gently took the shovel from Karolina's limp hand. ‘Let me take over for a while. Take a rest.'

Karolina plumped herself down on a broken chair that was destined for the barricade whilst Jana and Dasha continued to shovel sand.

‘Can we win?' said Dasha.

‘We must,' said Jana, shovelling with a vigour she didn't know she possessed.

The barricade was nearly complete when the ominous trample of heavy boots sounded behind them. Panic rose in Jana's throat; they were trapped between the Germans and the barricade.

A group of anti-Nazi police amongst them stepped forward, shielding the civilians, and drew their pistols. The three girls huddled together. For a moment, time slowed down as the German rifles pointed at the police pistols. Jana looked around her frantically. There was no way out. They would all die in a hail of bullets.

A breath. A heartbeat. And then it started. Explosions of gunfire that ricocheted around the high buildings. People screaming and falling. Blood on the cobbles.

To her left, an archway. She yanked Dasha's arm. ‘That way,' she yelled.

The three girls dived through the stone archway and emerged in an adjacent square with a dried-up fountain.

‘My home is nearest. Come to me,' panted Dasha.

‘I have somewhere else I must go,' said Jana.

There was no time to explain that she was on the run and had joined up with a resistance group.

‘Go,' she urged. ‘I'll find you later.'

The girls split up, Karolina fleeing with Dasha. Jana continued to wander the streets, looking for where she could help. She pulled down German signs, ripping her nails and bruising her fingers, carried metal bars to the barricades and hammered nails into planks of wood which she lay in the paths of oncoming German vehicles.

The sky darkened and it began to rain. Thousands of citizens filled the streets. The Wehrmacht were unprepared for events and struggled to control the mass of resistance without the aid of the police force, who mostly refused to shoot their fellow Czechs.

Hours later, Jana, barely able to stand, trudged through the torrential rain back to the restaurant and slipped through the back door and down into the cellar. Hearing the sound of running water, she tiptoed to the cloakroom and peered cautiously around the door. Nela stood naked by the sink splashing her grime- and blood-covered skin with cold water. Her dirty clothes lay in a heap on the floor.

‘You're bleeding,' Jana said. Exhaustion made her feel outside of herself, as if someone else had spoken.

‘Just scratches. You too.'

Jana looked down at her bloody hands and ripped nails and only now noticed how her skin smarted. Dazed, she left Nela to finish washing and fetched a drink of water from the kitchen, before flopping onto her mattress.

Later, she too stripped off in the cloakroom to wash and slipped on the one extra dress she had borrowed from Ramona. When she returned from the cloakroom, Nela had tuned into the radio station. The announcer was appealing to the people to continue with the barricades to halt a new influx of German troops.

‘It's as if the Reich is sending every last soldier into Prague,' Jana said, sitting beside Nela .

The girl nodded, a faraway look in her eye.

Jana reached for her hand. ‘After we were separated this morning, I was worried about you. It was a relief to find you back here.'

Nela withdrew her hand and avoided Jana's gaze. ‘It's best not to get attached to people right now. It can distort one's judgement in a moment of crisis.'

She sounded so old for her young years.

‘Let's get a couple of hours rest before we go out again,' Jana said.

There was nothing to eat so they went straight to lie down. Depleted of all energy, Jana rolled into a ball on her mattress, briefly aware of the burn of hunger before she plunged into sleep.