ferryman

"Sarge! This one's a real troublemaker! Lazier than a pig! Let me take him down and finish him off. No one'll miss him. We'll say he croaked on his own... that we buried him in the dyke. C'mon Sarge! He's holding us up!"

The sergeant was glad to be able to have one less Jew to worry about. So long as they could finish the job.

The guard took the Jew down to the bank and told him to swim. Swim like a frog, dammit! Just swim! His shots splashed into the water as the Jew swam. About 20 rounds should do it.

..................................

Misi was the kind of guy who liked sitting in the shade of a willow on the banks of the Maros with a makeshift fishing rod in one hand and a jug of wine in the other. His little sister Julia had always laughed at the idea of Misi as a soldier. "Too bad our János wasn't a bit older. He'd show the Russians a thing or two" she used to say.

Misi's instinct was to throw himself under a tree and snooze, but he knew it was not an option. You can be shot for sleeping on guard duty, even if all you're doing is watching over a bunch of scraggly little Jews doing the first manual labor of their lives. Whiny bunch, but harmless. Always cleaning their glasses with their greasy shirts. Why do Jews always wear glasses, anyway? Whatever. Better a bunch of skinny Jews with shovels than a battalion of Cossacks with machine guns.

The dike they were repairing along the Raba was coming along nicely. The spring air was pleasant; the sun strong. Misi liked this part of the country. Hills in the distance. Actual hills! To Misi, who had seen nothing but the flat expanse of the Great Plain, they may as well have been the Alps. Maybe they were.

The new group of Jews threw themselves down for a short break. A voice addressed him from one of the twenty-odd sunburned bespectacled, big-nosed faces.

"Misi!? Misi Kardos!? Is that you?" the voice was hushed but enthused. "I am Gluck! The brick factory... you know... on the road to Mezohegyes. You carried bricks for me. Yes! Yes! Misi!"

Out here they all look the same, but hey! I'll be damned! Old Mr Gluck! Always gave me a nice tip when I made the delivery without damaging any bricks.

But Misi had enough sense to hide his enthusiasm. The sergeant was a real bastard. With a glance over his shoulder, Misi turned cautiously to old Mr Gluck.

"Misi! Misi! I give thanks to God for you, Misi!"

..................................

Years later, a letter arrived from Tel Aviv, written in slightly ungrammatical Hungarian. Not that Misi noticed.

Dear Mr. Mihaly Kardos,

Through my agents in Hungary I have arranged an account at the Southern Plains Savings Cooperative, account number 5541-2211-KARMIH-001. All funds found therein are at your disposal. I am sorry that it has taken me so many years to arrange this for you.

I thank you again for my life.

Peace be with You,
Henrik Gluck