Leon Uris - Mila 18

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Leon Uris - Mila 18part one

TWILIGHT

Chapter One

Journal Entry--August 1939

This is the first entry in my journal. I cannot help but feel that thewar will begin in a few weeks. If the lessons of the past three yearsare any barometer, something awesome is apt to happen if Germanymakes a successful invasion, what with three and a half million Jewsin Poland. Perhaps the tensions of the moment are making me overdramatic. My journal may prove completely worthless and a wasteof time. Yet, as a historian, I must satisfy the impulse to record whatis happening around me.

ALEXANDER BRANDEL

Drops of late summer rain splattered against the high windowwhich ran from the floor to the ceiling.

The big room was violently Polish, in memory of one of thelanded gentry who had kept it as a nest for his mistress of the momentduring his visits to Warsaw from his estate. All evidence offemale occupants had vanished.lt was solid and leathery and masculine.Its former grandeur was somewhat qualified by a practicalconsideration that the present occupant was a working journalistwith the particular slovenliness that goes with bachelorhood.

Christopher de Monti was untidy but rather inoffensive about it.It was almost a pleasure for his housekeeper to clean up after him,

for he had immaculate taste in records and books and tobacco andliquor and a wardrobe marked with the finest British labels.

In one corner, next to the window, stood a banged-up typewriterand a ream of paper and an overfull ash tray.

The single bedroom was formed by a deep alcove off the livingroom which could be isolated by drawing a pair of velvet drapes. Anight stand beside the huge bed sported an ancient German tablemodel radio shaped like a church window. From the radio escapedthe sad and foreboding notes of Chopin's Nocturne in A Flat.

That was about all one heard on Radio Polskie these days;Chopin performed by Paderewski... nocturnes.

It seemed as thougli night was again to fall on Poland.Chris grumbled in a state of half sleep and half wakefulness and stretched his lean,wiry limbs to their full reaches and felt across thebed for Deborah. She was gone. His eyes opened and searched thedark corners of the alcove. Then he quieted as he heard her movingabout in the other room.

His hand groped automatically on the night stand and found the

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Leon Uris - Mila 18o his window and waved her hand feebly, then ran across thestreet to where a line of droshkas waited. The horse clip-cloppedaway from the curb and turned out of sight.

Chris let the drapes fall closed, snuffing out most of the light. Hewandered into Hie kitchen and poured himself a cup of the steam11

ing coffee Deborah had made then slumped into a chair and hid hisface in his hands, shaken by the impact of another parting.

On the radio, a newscaster speaking in nervous Polish recited thelatest diplomatic setback in the growing mountain of them.

Chapter Two

Journal Entry

On the news we hear that Russia and Germany are about to announce

a non-aggression treaty. It seems impossible that the twosworn enemies on the planet, pledged to destroy each other havecome to this. Hitler's tactics seem logical. He obviously wants toneutralize Russia for the time being to avoid the possibility of a twofront war (that is, if England and France honor their obligations toPoland). I'm willing to wager that the wages being paid to Stalinis half of Poland and I think we are being divided up at some longpolished table in Moscow this minute.

ALEXANDER BRANDEL

In embassies, state departments, chancelleries, foreign offices,consulates, ministries, war offices, code rooms, newsrooms, franticmen scurried to all-night conferences, played war games, barked

into telephones of flooded switchboards, cursed, prayed, pleaded.

A trail of broken treaties lay strewn about like corpses after aMongol invasion.

Men of good will were stunned at the warped logic behind whicheighty million civilized people rallied and shrieked and strutted likehysterical robots. Hammered into a hypnotic trance by the welltimed tantrums that were the mad genius of Adolf Hitler, the menof good will sank deeper into muck and mire, unable to divestthemselves of the all-consuming monster in their midst.

The geopoliticians had drawn and quartered the world into areasof labor and raw material and presented the master plan whichstood to make Genghis Khan and every archvillain of every age

pale by comparison.The German masses gave the edict in a terrifying redundance, "Sieg Hell! Sieg HeillSieg Heill"

"Lebenstraum [Land to live]!"

"Sieg Heil!"

And they poised ready to act out the role of Teuton war gods tr>

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Leon Uris - Mila 18the strains of Wagnerian Fire Music.

"We must save German citizens living under foreign tyrannjGerman is always a German!"

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"SiegHeiir

Austria and Czechoslovakia qualified. Flushed with bloodlessvictories, certain that America, France, and England would notfight, the Nazi cancer spread.

"Danzig is German! Return the Polish Corridor! Return the1914 borders! Halt the inhuman treatment of ethnic Germans!"

"SiegHeill"

Once an indifferent world stood by and shrugged as little yellowmen fought little yellow men in a place called Manchuria, and onceFrance sputtered feebly as Germany broke the Versailles Treatyand marched into the Rhineland, and once men debated, then

sighed as black men in mud huts armed with spears fought for thenland ... a name that children used in games ... Abyssinia.

A mesmerized world quivered at the proving ground of democraticsterility; the rape of Spain by Italian and Moroccan andGerman hordes.

Now Austria, now Czechoslovakia, and the righteous cowed and the evil grew bold.

Once the harbingers of peace told their people they had made abill of peace in a place called Munich. As Poland's hour grew nearcame that realization that there was no place left to run or to hide,nor words to say, nor treaties to make.

In Moscow, a shrewd chessplayer knew that the long dream of

e Allies was to have Russia and Germany maul each other to

ath. His distrust of England and France was built upon decadesboycott, hard-learned lessons when republican Spain was

landoned, and finally when Russia was not invited to the sellout

Munich.

Hitler, positive of the final timidity of the Allies, positive their

ring of betrayals would extend to Poland, keyed his war trumpets

shattering highs and was responded to with black drum rolls andpounding boots.

Josef Stalin was no less certain of Allied betrayal. In a desperate

d for time he entered into negotiations with his archenemy. Toensure easy, unimpaired victory for himself, Hitler did business>ith Stalin, and the Allies cried, "Foul!"

And in the middle a proud and defiant Poland, which hated' a and Germany with equal vigor, ended all hope of Alliedby refusing to petition Russia for help.

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Leon Uris - Mila 18

is sped his Fiat down the rain-slickened boulevard and1 into the shop-lined New World Street. It was gray put. Theloppers clung close to the buildings and moved with haste

*"> "legant store windows. At the corner of Traugutta Street,line of shops ended, the New World Street changed itsle Krakow Suburb Boulevard for reasons no one seemedtand. Chris headed toward the semi-faced, semi-elegant

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Bristol Hotel. The hotel made a good newsman's headquarters. Itgave him a twenty-four-hour-a-day switchboard service and itstood at the apex of a triangle that enveloped the Europa Hotel, theForeign Ministry, the President's Palace, and Warsaw's city hall.Between them, there was always a constant flood of news.

Chris turned the car over to the doorman and brushed past the

turmoil of the rumor-filled lobby to the opened-cage Otis elevatorof World War I vintage.

On the balcony floor he entered the door of a suite marked SwissNews Agency.

Ervin Rosenblum, photographer and journalist and Chris'sindispensable man, stood at the toorktable, which was spillingover with photographs, cables, stories, and copy.

Chris walked beside him, wordless, and took a fistful of the latedispatches. One by one he let them flutter to the floor. Ervin Rosenblumwas a very homely man who stood five feet five inches andwas almost sightless without his thick-lens glasses. As Chris read,Ervin searched,Chris's pockets for a cigarette.

"Boy," Chris mumbled. "They're surer than hell going to startshooting soon."

Ervin gave up his search for a smoke. "Mark my words, Polandis going to fight," he said.

"Maybe she'll be better off if she doesn't fight."

Ervin looked at his watch nervously. "Where the hell is Susan?I've got to get this stuff to the lab." He picked up his Speed Graphicand jiggled the flash bulbs in his pocket. "Chris, do you think Englandand France will help us?"

Chris kept reading the dispatches. "When are you and Susangetting married?"

"I can't get her still long enough to ask her. If she's not at theorphanage she's at a Zionist meeting. Did you ever hear of sixmeetings a week? Only Jews can talk so much. So I'm appointedto the executive council just so I can get dates to see her. Mommaasks, are you coming to dinner tonight? She's made potato latkesfor you, special."

"Potato latkes? I'll get there between stops."

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Leon Uris - Mila 18Susan Geller appeared in the doorway. She was as short andhomely as Ervin was. Squat, devoid of almost all features whichmake women pretty. Her hair was pulled back straight and flatand wrapped into a knot under her nurse's cap. Her hands werrlarge and knobby from the life of lifting sick people and changingbedpans, but the moment she spoke the ugliness faded. SusaiGeller was one of the kindest creatures on the earth.

"You're a half hour late," Ervin greeted her.

"Hi, honey," Chris said.

"I like you better," she answered to Chris.

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Ervin grabbed a batch of negatives, film, bulbs, and his camera."It's all yours," he said to Chris.

"Can you stop by the President's Palace? See Anton. Maybehe can fix us up for five minutes with Smigly-Rydz. He may bechanging his tune now that the Russian-German nonaggression

pact is official."

The phone rang. Ervin snatched it off the hook with his freehand. "Hello... Just a minute." He held his hand over the mouthpiece."Wait outside," he said to Susan. "I'll be right there."

Susan and Chris blew good-by kisses to each other.

"Who is it, Rosy?"

"Deborah's husband," he answered, and handed him the phoneand left.

"Why, hello, Paul. How are you ?"

"I was asking the same question. I was just saying to Deborah

how much we and the children have missed you."

"Things have been pretty hectic."

"I can imagine."

"I do owe you an apology for not calling. How... uh ... isDeborah?"

"Fine, just fine. Why don't you break away for dinner tomorrow?"

Chris was finding it unbearable to keep up the masquerade.

'ery time he saw Paul and Deborah together, every time he uiought of them sharing a

bed, the revulsion in him grew."I'm afraid it's impossible, Paul. I may have to send Rosy to

rakow and----"

Paul Bronski's voice lowered. "It is rather important that youcome. I should like to see you on a pressing matter. Say, seven."

Chris was scared. Paul's tone had the authority of a command.

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Leon Uris - Mila 18_ jrhaps Paul Brpnski himself would call the showdown thatDeborah had avoided. Maybe it was all fantasy. They were good'"ends. Why not invite him to dinner?

Til be there," Chris said.

hapter Three

Journal Entry

we studied the trend of the behaviour of the ethnic Germans ina and Czechoslovakia. They have done a tremendous job innining in advance of the German armies. They have certainlyaising all sorts of hell in Danzig. Just before the AustrianMuss" they became strangely quiet. This past week their ac15

tivity here has all but stopped. Could this be on orders? Is this thelull before the storm ? Is history about to repeat ?

Everyone I know is being called up into the reserve. SmiglyRydzmeans to fight. Polish temper and history indicate they will.

ALEXANDER BRANDEL

"We Poles unfortunately got ourselves located between Russia and Germany. Thetraffic between the two has been busy, indeed," JDr. Paul Bronski, dean of the College of Medicine, said to anauditorium overcrowed with students and faculty. "We have beentrampled. We have even ceased to exist, yet Polish nationalismfires a breed of patriot that has always made Poland return."

A spontaneous burst of applause halted his speech.

"Poland is in trouble again. Our two friends are restless. Thesituation is so urgent that they have even called upon the seniorcitizens like this specimen before you...."

Polite laughter for Paul's overcritical estimation of himself. Althoughbalding and sporting a scholar's stooped shoulders, PaulBronski had sharp and handsome features.

"Despite the blunder of the High Command in calling me intothe army, I predict that Poland will somehow survive."

In the back of the auditorium, Dr. Franz Koenig stood motionless,looking into the sea of faces. Bronski's leaving filled him withran exhilaration he had never known. His long, patient wait was

almost over."I leave this university both heavy-hearted and joyous. Theprospect of war is enormously real and it saddens me. But I amcontent for the things that we have done here together and I amhappy because I leave so many friends."

Koenig didn't even hear the rest of it. They would all be drippingtears, he knew. Bronski had that facility to put a tremor in histhroat that never failed to move the recipients of his milky words.

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Leon Uris - Mila 18

They were all standing now, and unabashed tears flowed downyoung cheeks and even grizzly old cheeks of professors in a sloppyindulgence of sentiment as they sang school songs and anthems,which sounded like school songs and anthems everywhere.

Look at Bronski! Engulfed by his adoring staff. Shaking hands,slapping backs until the end. The "beloved" Bronski. "The Universityof Warsaw without Paul Bronski is not the University ofWarsaw." "Your office will remain untouched until you return t us."

Your office, Koenig thought. Your office, indeed.

Dr. Paul Bronski, the "beloved" Paul Bronski, had finished thelast of his instructions, dictated the last of his letters, and dismissedhis weeping secretary with an affectionate buss.

He was alone now.

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s looked about the room. Paneled walls covered with the

s; >ols of achievement that one would gather as the head of ag ; medical college. Diplomas and awards and photos of stulentsand classes. A billboard of glory.

He shoved the final batch of papers into his briefcase. All thatras left was a photo of Deborah and the children on his desk. Helid that into the top drawer and locked it. And he was done.A soft, almost apologetic knock on the door."Come in."

Dr. Franz Koenig entered. The little gray-haired man with theittle gray mustache advanced timidly to the edge of the desk. "Wetave been together for a long time, Paul. Words fail me."Paul Bronski was amused. A magnificently understated phrase.. a lovely play on words. Dr. Koenig was a humorless man whoould never believe his sincerity was doubted.

"Franz, I'm going to recommend you fill my office----""No one can fill----"

Nonsense..."

And more garble... and another farewell. c-anz Koenig waited in his own officeacross the hall until Pauland then he re-entered. His eyes became fixed on the leatherbehind Bronski's desk. He walked behind it and touched it.. , tomorrow he would move in and things would look good from here.

My chair... dean of medicine! My chair. Bronski gone. Quick

alking, teary-voiced Bronski. Ten years he had waited. The board

was bunded by Bronski. They were entranced by the fact they""'d put a graduate of the university as the dean of medicine for

irst time in six decades. That's why they chose Bronski. A

pering campaign against me because I am a German. They

so eager to make Bronski the dean, they even closed their eyes

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Leon Uris - Mila 18e fact that he is a Jew.anz went to his own office again and got his homburg andsd his cane over his arm and walked in his half trot down thecorridor. The students nodded and doffed their caps as he

U.

proached the big ornate wrought-iron gates. A knot of stu>ckedhis way. For a moment everyone stood still, then thesolved and he passed through, feeling their eyes on him.lifferently they reacted these days, he thought. No longere indifference. He was a man to be respected, even feared.? The thought delighted him.

lis fat, nagging Polish wife behaved differently nowadays."" i away from the three ponderous main buildings of theantinuing the fast pace in rhythm to his tapping cane instion of Pilsudski Square.17

He was happy today. He even made an attempt to whistle. The

end of a long, long journey was at hand.

Like most of the million ethnic Germans, Franz Koenig hadbeen born in western Poland in a territory formerly Germanoccupied,then freed to Poland after the World War. In his youthhis family moved to Danzig, which was located in a geographicalfreak known as the "Polish Corridor." It was a finger of land whichsplit East Prussia away from the German mainland in order togive Poland access to the sea. It was an abnormal division. Danzigand the Polish Corridor filled with ethnic Germans and Polesbecame a thorn in German pride and the object of bickering andthreats from the beginning.

Franz Koenig came from a good merchant family. He had receiveda classical education in medicine in Heidelberg and inSwitzerland. He was a man Of total moderation. Although raised

in the furor of Danzig, he considered himself neither German norPolish nor much of anything but a good doctor and teacher; aprofession, he felt, that crossed the bounds of nationalism.

Franz Koenig was an adequate man. His appointment to theUniversity of Warsaw was adequate. The Polish girl he had marriedwas adequate. He lived his life in a mild and inoffensive manner,delighting most in the privacy of his study with good musicand good books. The early marriage ambitions of his Polish wifefailed to stir him. She gave up in disgust and grew obese.

When the Nazis came to power, Franz Koenig was embarrassedby their behavior. In an outburst, rare for him, he referred to theSA Brown Shirts as "thick-necked, pin-headed bullies." Hethought himself fortunate to be in Warsaw and clear of the havoc

in Germany.All that changed.

There was a month, a week, a day, and a moment.

The office of dean of the College of Medicine was open. Byseniority, competence, and devotion, the position was his. Inanticipation of the appointment which should have been routine,he constructed a dull but adequate speech to accept the chair. He

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Leon Uris - Mila 18never delivered the speech. Paul Bronski, fifteen years his junior,was appointed.

He remembered Kurt Liedendorf, the leader of Warsaw'sethnics, snorting in his ear.

"It's a blow to usall us Germans, Doktor Koenig. It is a terribleinsult."

"Nonsense... nonsense..."

"Now maybe you understand how the Versailles Treaty hasmade the German people anonymous. Look, you... Heidelberg... Geneva. A man of culture. You have been made anonymoustoo. You are a victim of Jewish cunning. All us Germans arevictims of Jewish cunning, Herr Doktor.... Hitler says..."

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Jewish cunning... Bronski... Jewish cunning...

A "I that Franz Koenig ever wanted for a world he served well was

; the dean of medicine at the University of Warsaw."Come and spend the afternoon with us, Herr Doktor. Be with./our own people," Kurt Liedendorfsaid. "We have a special guestfrom Berlin who will give us a talk."

And the guest from Berlin told them, "Perhaps the methods of he Nazis are harsh, butto rectify injustices heaped upon theJerman people takes men of strong will and vigor. Everythingre do is justified because the goal to restore the German people toheir rightful way of life is justified."

"Ah, Herr Doktor," Liedendorf said, "Good to see you here. Sit There . sit Upfront."

litler has seen to it that the German people are not anonynous

any more. If you declare yourself as a German, you will notie anonymous!"

He came home from the fourth meeting, and the fifth and the )"*Vi, and he looked athis fat Polish wife and all that was aroundFeudal gentry, universal ignorance. "I am a German," Franzsaid to himself. "I am a German.":or Koenig, you should see it in Danzig. Thousands andIs of Germans fighting for the Fuhrer. Letting the worldit we will not be abused any more." proud he was of the deliverance of the Germansfromria and Czechoslovakia!' we been thinking of it deeply, Liedendorf. I want to join in this

- ** .

Iked along the edge of the Saxony Gardens, past the blocksnment buildings and palaces and art museums. All this,nd marble were not of his sinew. In the beer halls, in thef his own people, German people, was where he belonged., Franz Koenig was a respected man. Here they spoke ofngs without shame or fear.

; ohj---d before the Square of the Iron Gates just beyond the

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Leon Uris - Mila 18ny< lens.

ening odor of half-rotted vegetables, unwashed peasants,

chickens, haggling, screaming barterers and beggars, and

nd pushcarts pleaded for the zloty in the most primitive

trade.

I neckties, good as new!"

n me!"

n squatted on the cobblestones with a few eggs, thieves

:kets roamed about, and lines of pushcarts dangled

^u c'lries and greasy jackets. The noise of the iron rims

.rts i d and echoed over the square.

- a me!"

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Bearded Jews, bearded Paul Bronskis, argued endlessly to save ahalf zloty in hand-waving Yiddish, a language cruelly butcheringthe beautiful German tongue.

A drunken soldier was hurled from a cafe and fell at Koenig'sfeet.

Drunk as a Polethat is what they say, Koenig thought. Drunkas a Pole. Such fitting words.

All of Poland had passed before him in two short squares. Howwrong is Hitler's disgust of the Slavs ? A nation of thirty millionpeople with only two million newspaper readers. A nation of feudallords and serfs in this, the twentieth century. A nation which worshipeda black madonna as African Zulus prayed to sun gods.

This was Poland to Franz Koenig. Five per cent Paris, walled behindmarble mansions and ruling decadence. Ninety-five per centUkrainia ... abominable ignorance.

What could the good industrious German folk have done withthe fertile flat lands and the bursting mineral deposits of Silesia?

"Buy from me!"

Who was this mass of dirty people with their childlike mentalityto hold back the German people, who had contributed more to theworld's enrichment and knowledge than any other race?

Franz Koenigknew that no matter what small injustices the Nazisperpetrated the final result of a greater Germany justified themeans.

Koenig circumvented the confusion of the market place and

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Leon Uris - Mila 18entered Hans Schultz's bar.

Schultz smiled. "Guten Tag, Herr Doktor, Guten Tag."

"Hello, Schultz. Anything new?"

"Ja. Herr Liedendorf is unable to come out these days. He saidthat our work is done and you should stay home and wait."

Dr. Koenig downed his beer and nodded to Schultz, who smiledas he wiped the bar.

In a few moments he entered his flat and put his hat neatly on therack and placed his cane directly below it. He looked at his fatPolish wife, whose mouth was sucking in and out like a puckeredfish, and he could not hear what she was saying. She walked and herflesh wobbled.

He envisioned her in the bed, which sagged on one side becauseof her immensity, and he saw her flabby buttocks and her hangingbreasts.

Koenig walked to his study and slammed the door behind him,

He turned on the radio. It was always set now on Radio Deutschland.

A rally from Hamburg!

"We Germans cannot tolerate the outrageous treatment of ourcitizens in Poland, where German women and children are unsafe

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from Polish vandals... where German men are beaten and mursred!""Sieg Heill Sieg Heil! Sieg Heill"

And soon ten thousand voices shattered the air waves, singingDeutschland fiber AUes," and Dr. Franz Koenig closed his eyes

ad tears fell down his cheeks, just as they had fallen down thecneeks of his students.

And he prayed that his liberators would be coming soon.

Chapter Four

Journal Entry

Wonderful news! Andrei came home on leave unexpectedly! Weof the Bathyran Zionist Executive Council have a lot of things toilk over and decide. With Andrei here it will give us a chance to -- '-igether.

ALEXANDER BRANDEL

e army truck came to a halt before the northernmost bridge

spanned the Vistula River from Warsaw to Praga. Captain

ei Androfski hopped out of the cab, thanked the driver, and

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Leon Uris - Mila 18

;d along the river toward the new northern suburb of Zoliborz.

Ited back the four-cornered cap worn by officers of the crack

giments and he whistled as he walked and received and

the smiles and flirtations of young lady strollers. Captain

jidrofski indeed cut the classic figure of an Ulan cavalry

r. riis leather shone, and the short stiletto at his side glinted

the sun caught it.

: turned away from the river and into a tree-lined street of-^w homes in an area stamped with upper-middle-classindrei spotted a large stone on the sidewalk and began towith his feet with the dexterity of a trained soccer player,luscles fairly rippling through his trousers. He gave theinal swift kick of the boot, speeding it down the streetin imaginary goal, and turned at the gate of Dr. Paul

i house.

; Andrei!" shouted ten-year-old Stephan as he sprinted'~~3 and leaped on his uncle's back.

rick!"

'o "clashed," and the big cavalry officer was "thrown" to

"* apparently no match for his eighty-pound nephew. He

gallantly, got to his feet, and lifted the victor on his

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"HowisBatory?"

"Batory! The finest, the most beautiful, and the most fierceanimal in all of Poland."

"What has he done lately, Uncle Andrei?"

"Lately! This weekwell, let me see. I took him to England forthe Grand National, and he ran so fast he split the air and caused itto thunder. WeO sir, those Englishmen thought it was raining andran for cover and didn't even see the race. Batory lapped the fieldfour times and was coming up for the fifth time when the secondfastest horse crossed the finish line. And those stupid Englishmenwho were hiding in the stands thought Batory finished last."

"Who takes care of Batory when you are gone?"

"First Sergeant Styka, personally!"

"I wish I could ride him again," Stephan said, recalling the mostthrilling incident of his young life.

"You will, just as soon as we clear up some things."

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Leon Uris - Mila 18VCan I jump him this time?"

"Yes, I think so. That is, if heights don't make you too dizzy.When Batory jumps, the world below becomes very small. As amatter of fact, I don't enter him in jumping races any more. Batoryjumps so high, the other horses are around the track before hecomes down."

Andrei walked to the house.

"Uncle Andrei!" cried Rachael Bronski. This meeting wasdevoid of the previous violence, for the voice belonged to an elegantblack-eyed fourteen-year-old young lady whose greeting waslimited to an affectionate hug.

"Andrei!" cried Deborah, running in from the kitchen, wipingher hands. She flung her arms around her brother's neck. "Youdevil. Why didn't you let us know you were coming?"

"I only knew myself last night. Besides, I want to stay clear ofAlexander Brandel. He'll call one of those damned meetings."

"How long?"

"Four whole days."

"How wonderful!"

Andrei lifted Stephan from his shoulders as though he wereweightless.

"What did you bring me?" Stephan demanded.

"Stephan, shame!" his sister reprimanded.

Andrei winked and stretched his arms out. Stephan began fishingthrough his uncle's pockets, which had been an unfailing source ofbooty from his earliest memory. He withdrew a gilded Polish

eagle, the insignia whose two spread wings held up the front cornerof the Ulany cap.

"Mine?" with apprehension.

"Yours."

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"Wow!" and Stephan was gone to alert the neighborhood that ijo reat Uncle Andreiwas home,aid for my beautiful niece."'ou spoil them.")o me something."

ic girl's fingers quickly worked the ribbon open.>h! Oh!" She hugged him and raced to the mirror to fix theof ivory combs into thick black hair which was just like heraether's.

"She's beautiful," Andrei said."Boys are already starting to look at her." "What do you mean? What boys?"

Deborah laughed. "She won't be a wallflower like her mother."Rachel walked to her uncle, whom she adored, and kissed his heck . "Thank you, Uncle

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Leon Uris - Mila 18

"Please don't dream things up between Chris and me."

"Just old friends?"

"Just old friends."

"Does Paul know?"

"There's nothing to know!"

"Did you raise me for an idiot?"

"Andrei, please... please, we have enough to worry about thesedays. And for God's sake, don't pick an argument with Paul."

"Who argues with Paul ? He always----"

"I swear, if you two get into another fight----"

Andrei gulped down his tea, stuffed a half dozen cookies into hispocket, and buttoned his tunic.

"Please promise me you'll get along with Paul tonight. He'sgoing away. Do it for me."

Andrei grunted, came up behind Deborah, and gave her a brisk Islap on the backside. "See you later," he said. "

Andrei Androfski stretched lazily on a park bench on the edge ofthe Lazienki Gardens facing the American Embassy. The statue ofFrederic Chopin hovered above him, patronized by the localpigeons, and the Belvedere Palace of the former Marshal Pilsudskiwas immersed in the greenery behind him. It was a nice place tolaze. He engaged in his favorite pastime of undressing the femalepedestrians with his eyes. He dug into his pocket and found the lastof Deborah's cookies and munched.

After a while the main door of the Embassy opened. GabrielaRak came out and walked up the embassy-lined Aleja Ujazdowska.He caught up to her by the time she reached the first intersection.Sensing a masher behind her, Grabriela stepped quickly from thecurb.

"Madam," Andrei said, "would you kindly give me the name ofthat fortunate young lady who owns the heart of the most dashingofficer in the Ulanys?"

She stopped in the middle of the street.

"Andrei? Andrei!" And she spun into his arms. The trafficpoliceman raised his hand, sending a flood of vehicles swirling

around them. They dodged and honked their horns with the irri24

tated understanding one gives to a soldier and his girl kissing in themiddle of a street. At last an unpatriotic taxi driver shouted thatthey were a pair of jackasses and sent them scurrying to the safetyof a park bench across the way.

"Oh, Andrei," she said, and lay her head on his chest. "Oh,

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Leon Uris - Mila 18Andrei," and she sniffled.

"If 1 knew that I was going to make you so sad, I wouldn't havereturned."

She dried her eyes and purred with contentment. "How long?""Four days.""Oh, I'm so happy."

"I almost had to find another woman for myself. I thought youwould never get out of the Embassy."

Gabriela toyed with his large hand, which nearly made two ofhers. "I've just been in a meeting. We aren't reopening the,Americanschool. All the children have been evacuated to Krakow. Evensome of the key personnel are leaving."Andrei grumbled something about the traditional cowardice ofmericans.

"Let's not talk about it now," she said. "We only have ninetyxhours, and look at the time we have already wasted. We can'tj to my place. I had it repainted. It smells terrible. I didn't know

>u were coming home."

'"And if we go to my place, Alexander Brandel and the wholeunned executive council will be camping at the doorstep.""T et's risk it," Gabriela said with a low-voiced tremor of want

ent her captain to the curb in search of a droshka.'l hey drove north past the imposing mansions of the "new rich"n the Avenue of the Marshals. Gabriela snuggled against him, hertigers feeling his face and shoulders^

Andrei's flat on Leszno Street sat in a middle-class neighborhoodlat buffered the rich on the south from the wild slums on the. They cKmbed the stairs towards his tiny flat, arms aboutother. By the time they reached the third-floor landing,iela stopped to catch her breath,

[y next lover has to live on the ground floor," she said,drei swept her up in his arms and tossed her over a shouldersack of sugar.

at me down, you crazy fool!"

emitted a bloodcurdling cavalry charge and leaped up theflight of stairs two steps at a time, kicked open his neverddoor, then stood in amazement with Gabriela trying tom off his shoulder.

drei's eyes went from corner to corner around the flat. He

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Leon Uris - Mila 18Andrei kicked open the closet door. Everything pressed andhanging neatly.

The kitchen... All those lovely unwashed dishes washed.

There were curtains, lace curtains, at the windows.

"I've been evicted!" Andrei cried. "No, something more horriblethan that has happened. A female has been here!"

"Andrei, if you don't put me down I'll scream rape."

He lowered her to the floor.

"I think you owe me an explanation," he said.

"I'd sit in my place night after night waiting for Batory to chargedown the street bearing my Ulan warrior. All alone with my tenblack cats and my memories. And I came here and sat because youwere all around me and I wasn't quite so lonely. But who can sitin such a mess?"

"I know your type, Gabriela Rak. You're going to try to makeme over."

"Oh, you know it!"

She leaped at him, and he caught her off the floor and held herand sank his lips into hers. And in a moment Andrei had no moretalk to make. They were bringing each other from smolderingdormancy with an urgency that heightened every second.

The phone rang.

It stuck them like a knife. They froze.

It rang again.

"Son of a bitch, Brandel."

It rang again.

"Let it ring, darling," she said.

And it did... again and again and again.

Gabriela spun away from him, teary-eyed. "It has eyes, thatphone. It never rang the whole time you were gone."

"Well, maybe I'd better answer."

"Oh, you might as well. Every Bathyran in Warsaw knows thatAndrei Androfski is home on leave."

He snatched the phone from the hook. "Is that you, you son of abitch, Brandel?"

A soft voice answered on the other end. "Of course it's me,Andrei. You've been in town for three hours and twenty minutes.Are you snubbing your old friends?"

"Alex, do me something. Go to hell," he said, and slammed thereceiver down. The instant he did, he lifted it again and dialed

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Leon Uris - Mila 18Brandel's number.

"Andrei?"

"I'D call you later. Tell the gang I'm anxious to see them."

26

"I hope I didn't break anything ,up. Have a nice time. GoodShabes."

Andrei walked to the edge of the bed, where Gabriela sulked. Heleaned over and put his lips into her honey hair, and she closed hereyes, reveling in the sensations his touch caused. Andrei went tothe window and pulled down the shade, plunging the room intodusk, and he locked the door.

"Don't be angry, Gaby. I didn't know about your place. I wouldhave gotten a hotel room. Don't be angry."

"I'm not angry," she whispered.

They lay beside each other, luxuriating in teasing and touchingand whispering.

Suddenly Gabriela broke into a sweat and she was no longer ableto control herself. "Oh God, I've missed you so!"

And they fought awkwardly and furiously to get out of theirclothing.

The phone rang.

This time it went unanswered.

Chapter Five

Journal Entry

/ think I picked the wrong time to call Andrei. Thank goodnesshis temper goes down as fast as it rises.

I talked to banker friends this evening. Everyone is frantic toconvert their securities to American dollars or Swiss and South American bonds.Whole estates are being liquidated.With the Russian-German alliance a fact, the German propagandais gone utterly insane with charges of Polish border violations andlaltreatment of ethnic Germans.

Meanwhile, why do we keep a deaf ear to England's and France's

leadings that we negotiate for help from Russia? Does our General tall really thinkwe can beat the Germans? '

ALEXANDER BRANDEL

Dr. Paul Bronski filled the large brown envelope with a numberal and financial papers. There was a will, insurance policies, aty of securities, some cash in large denominations, and a key

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Leon Uris - Mila 18that first moment of the meeting subsided.

"Would you excuse me ?" she said. "I've got to see to dinner. Illbe back with cocktails."

Paul offered Chris a seat, then returned to his desk and loadedhis pipe. "I've been listening to the news," he said. "I hear you gotwith the old man."

"Seems strange keeping this position with the clock runningout."

"Both Russia and Germany have pushed us around for centuries.There's actually little to choose between them. Well, thehell with it. Chris, we've missed you. How have you been?"

"Running."

28

uch of the tension in Chris had eased. The warm welcome, theamail talk. Either Paul was totally ignorant or expedient. Or he wasplaying some sort of game with great skill. Whatever it was, Pauldid not want an ugly scene, and that was a relief.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Paul said abruptly. "Been called up.

rtore than likely I'll be stationed with the surgeon general's staff

in Krakow--paper work. Been so long since I practised medicine,

I begged offline duty for the sake of the army. Works out well, they

iced administrative help."

Chris was both glad and sorry at the pronouncement. Nagging

thoughts buzzed around inside him. "See here, Paul," he wanted to

ay, "Deborah and I love each other very much. It's nothing we

ilanned... just happened. I want you to give her her freedom."

ie words never found their way beyond nagging thoughts.

low can you say to a man who is leaving for war, "I want your

rife: Incidentally, have a nice time at the front" ?

Why did Paul Bronski have to be such a decent sort ? That's whatnori ^ so damned lousy. Bronski was a wonderful person. And

lesire Chris had to create a scene suddenly melted."Chris, you and I haven't known each other tremendously longs some friendships go. You know how it is. With some people you /oik with them allyour life--like myself and Dr. Koenig--and" ~t really know them. Another man can walk into a room and indinutes you become friends--real friends. I think you and Ire that kind.""T hope so, Paul."

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Leon Uris - Mila 18We been a very lucky man. In addition to my position and >.[y, my father left me a considerable estate which I have beento enlarge." Paul slid the brown envelope across the desk.F something should happen to me..." he continued.>h, come now."

rood friends don't have to make small talk, Chris. Poland3't have a chance, does it?"lo--not really."

Iven if I dp get through, which I certainly anticipate, they; to make it hard on us. With your connections and freedom ofsment and with the possibility of an occupied Poland, you aree best position of anyone I know to convert my estate ii~~ American holdings."took the envelope and nodded.11 find everything in order."

ike care of it right away. I have a friend leaving for B

Leon Uris - Mila 18

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