Page 64 of The Storyteller of Krakow

‘Promise me, Lena, you won’t do anything,’ Anka pressed.

‘I won’t,’ I said, touching the coin at my neck once more.

* * *

That night began in a strange sort of calm. The sky pressed low over the valley beneath Monte Cassino. The abbey was a jagged crown against the starlit sky, lit intermittently by distant flares.

I left my tent and went to the back of my truck, and pulled on the jacket. It hung loose across my shoulders, but I did not have time to worry about that. Quickly, I tucked my hair beneath the helmet, packed a small bag with some biscuits, some bandages and a torch. If Wojtek was injured or needed coaxing, I would at least have what I needed.

In the dim light, I studied myself in the wing mirror. A thin young soldier stared back, dust-smeared, hollow-eyed, indistinguishable from a hundred others who trudged these slopes. I was ready.

Then, Anka appeared. ‘This is madness,’ she said quietly. ‘And you promised me.’

‘I know, but I can’t do nothing, Anka.’

‘If they catch you up there, they’ll think you’re a deserter. Or you’ve gone stark-raving mad! Or the Germans will catch you, and then what?’

‘Shhhh! It’ll be fine, Anka, I won’t let anyone catch me.’

She stepped forward, gripping my sleeve. ‘And if you find him and he’s injured? How will you bring him down? He weighs more than the ambulance.’

I had no answer for that.

‘I just need to know,’ I said. ‘If he’s wounded, if he’s trapped. I can’t sit here and imagine him dying alone.’

Her fingers loosened.

‘You’re as stubborn as a mule,’ she muttered.

‘I’ve been told that before.’

She gave a reluctant smile, then grew serious again.

‘If you’re not back in a couple of hours, I’m coming after you.’

‘You will not.’

‘Try to stop me.’

I squeezed her hand once, hard. Then I stepped into the night.

The valley was quieter than in daylight, but not silent. Distant artillery thudded and flares rose intermittently, washing the slopes in ghastly white before fading again into darkness.

I kept to the edges of the track, nodding curtly at any soldiers I passed. In the dimness, no one looked closely. Everyone was too tired.

A sentry challenged me near a supply point.

‘Dokąd?’ he asked.

‘Pick up,’ I answered, lowering my voice to roughen it. ‘Orders from transport. Need to bring one of the trucks in for repairs.’

He grunted and waved me through.

The uniform was working.

I skirted away from the trucks that sat near the base of the mountain and found a path up, covered in shadows.

It was a treacherous climb, as the earlier bombardments had chewed the earth into craters that were now invisible in the dark. Barbed wire lay coiled like dead snakes and glinted when the light of the moon landed on them. I felt tired, right down to my bones, but I would not stop. I would find Wojtek.