Inside the Camps | A World War Two Story

Inside the Camps - Part 6

Cade had found a pot hidden away in a corner of the hut. I went down to the nearest creek, gathering some of the water. It looked clean, but I knew it wasn't. She boiled potatoes on the rusted stove as I tried to teach Joan simple Russian.

The next two weeks were just the same as before. Working for small portions of bread, Cade and Joan sometimes taking beets and potatoes from the farms when working, and me, the guy who's being forced into translating for the NKVD. At first, they would wake me in the middle of the night, forcing me to sit in their office until I agreed. After a few nights, I gave in, as the lack of sleep started catching up to me and it became unbearable. I agreed to translate for the traitors, the people who held us captive. If I agreed to translate, they had more pros than cons. More potatoes, beets and bread, liquor and coffee, sweets from the nearest market, and nice places to sleep. They met my requests, but it wasn't easy. I wanted warm places to sleep for Cade, Joan and I, and hot food every night. I wanted Joan to have a private teacher so she could finish school, and for Cade to finish her last year of school.

These demands were met after about a week, but it was worth it. The permanent dirt in my hair finally removed itself under the steaming water. I hadn't seen Cade's natural brown hair in a while, but with it flowing in the frosty wind, it brought back all of the memories of the months before, making a small smile pull at my lips.

I tossed a few beets and potatoes into the same pot, inhaling the sweet smell. I almost forgot I was in a work camp in the middle of Siberia, but that's what I wanted. Cade twirled Joan's hair, clipping it up into a small bun. She treated her as if she were her own daughter. As I sliced the bread for us and the officers, the double doors burst open, hitting the wall behind them with a loud thud. The chief stared me down, though he was slightly smaller than me. "Vy dolzhny perevesti dlya nas. Yest' starushka, kotoraya krichala na nas, pytayas' zastavit' nas ponyat'. Dumayu, ona govorit po-litovski." I had become better at speaking Russian, and I was now very fluent in the language. I have to translate for them. There is an old lady who has been yelling, trying to make them understand something? She may speak Lithuanian. I nodded, setting the knife down on the table. I shot a simple look to Cade, smiling warmly. "I'll be right back. If the bread becomes cold, place it in the furnace to warm." She nodded, holding Joan close as if she thought she would be taken away from her.