Herschel's Log - Entry Three.

Herschel’s Log

November 30, 1943

Of all the possible situations Jim could have gotten himself into this morning, running into Peter was nearly the worst. Short of getting shot by a guard, he could not have had a worse time. And Erich never exactly fixes anything with his goddamn temper. Though Jim says he came off the watchtower to help, and that’s actually somewhat encouraging, I always thought Gabe was the only one for whom Erich would jump to the rescue, but it’s good to know he still has some loyalty at least to the rest of us. Gabe wasn’t even anywhere nearby. I don’t know why Erich let him wander the streets alone. The whole thing has just been a mess so far.

I guess I let Jim wander the streets alone, too. But I didn’t have a choice. The shop is in sight of the guard station. Jim has no idea how dangerous that is for me. I’ve gone two years without being spotted, and I’ll be damned if James Banhart gets me shot within twelve hours of arriving.

I made most of the bad moves this morning, actually. I brought Jim to the shop, huge mistake. I wanted to get him out, not bare my soul to him. And I shouldn’t have assumed I could hide any of them from Peter. Peter is always everywhere.

Peter must be a scary character to them, but he’s been my friend for ages. Peter Shimmel Berezovsky: twenty-two year old Russian butcher and head of the Jewish underground. He must be like nothing the three of them have ever seen. I think Erich maybe recognized him; he’s acted as a go-between between the ghetto and the soldiers once or twice.

We used to head the resistance together, Peter and I. I think I might have mentioned this here before, but that was so many years ago now I don’t remember. I’ve been a huge disappointment to him since I’ve been home, and he stopped making it a secret a long time ago. But he’ll always be unfailingly loyal to me, and owe him my life a hundred times over. Our fathers were best friends, and for the two of us, that is about the most important bond we could have.

            Peter is technically not from here, which is why I always found it ironic that he is the one who has thrown his life into protecting the Jews in this city. Really, he’s half Russian. He was born outside Moscow. His mother had tried to leave Russia a few years after the revolution, stayed in Poland long enough to meet Peter’s father, and returned home once she was pregnant. Peter didn’t come to Poland until he was five, when his mother got married and shipped him to Poland to live with his father, Yochanan Mencher. I don’t think I have to point out that Peter never managed to leave behind his mother’s Russian surname.

Mr. Mencher was the butcher in the Jewish quarter and a close friend of my father’s. The only person Papa ever spoke more highly of was Knight. I remember the day my father took me to the butcher shop and there was suddenly a boy my age there. Almost by default, we were immediately friends. I was near his only friend, too. He spent a lot of time alone in the butcher shop. He can cut through muscle and bone faster than anything, and he’s still better with knives than anyone in Poland. Peter could kill you faster with his butcher knife than Erich could with a bullet.

I’ve been Peter’s friend for so long now, I know he has just as many problems as the rest of us. He never really fit in with the other kids in the Jewish quarter when we were younger. He had a tough time considering himself a Jew at all, in the beginning, but here in Poland there wasn’t much else he could be. Also, Yochanan Mencher was probably the most devout man in town, so Peter couldn’t hold out forever. Around time we turned fourteen, he suddenly became intensely invested in his cultural heritage, if still reluctant towards the actual religion. That was also about the time he got to know Rebecca, but I don’t even want to get into that right now. There’s always the chance Jim will find his way into this log, and I don’t want to be the one who started the end of the world.

Anyway, Peter’s father and my parents were the first heads of the underground. They were the most respected people in the community; no one could have led the people in the beginning. But Yochanan was caught with contraband weapons and beaten to death a few months after the wall went up, and Peter stepped up and took his father’s place. He swore his loyalty to my father and the Resistance, loyalty that became somewhat misplaced on me once my parents were gone.

Because of my parents, I would always command more respect than Peter. He can be cold and harsh, almost too intense to handle. For whatever reason, he isn’t the one people want to listen to. But he was the organizer. He was the one who could really get things done. We made a good team, Peter and me. Under our control, the Resistance opened up the tunnels, doubled the weapons stockpile, and worked closely with the Judenrat. We came so close to pulling off a real uprising. Then I singlehandedly threw it away.

Now I’m back. The tunnels have been almost entirely discovered and closed. The Judenrat has been dissolved. I don’t know what happened to the weapons, but I imagine that if Peter had the ability to walk into the Nazi bunker and shoot up the place, he probably would have done it by now. There’s been talk of resurgence ever since I came back, but whatever Erich is hearing isn’t true. There is no resistance anymore.

Peter still runs the underground, channeling information, distributing food, running smuggling operations, that kind of thing. He resents me, though, for running away, and for coming back with no intention of continuing the Resistance.

And now, as if I needed another quarrel with Peter, he’s gone and bashed heads with the goddamn Sons of Thunder. He doesn’t exactly complete the group; let me put it like that. He hates that they’re here, and he won’t believe that I had nothing to do with it. He thinks I’m trying to say he can’t handle the Resistance alone. He’s right to be as angry as he is. Rebecca had no right bringing them here. They don’t have any idea what we’ve been through, or how bad it is here, or how to help. I don’t like how he insults them, though. They may not know what they’re doing, but they really did come here to help us.

I don’t know why I’m writing any of this. There’s no need to take down Peter’s whole life story. I think that lately, it has been sinking in that I am never getting out of this place. This story is going to die with me, unless, I tell it all right here. Peter and I likely won’t come out on the other side of that wall, so if I don’t tell his story, no one ever will,

Unfortunately, I think we have essentially established that Gabe and Jim are staying, at least for now. Peter did not at all succeed in scaring them off. I say, give them a week. Once they see what it’s really like here, they won’t stay. Erich won’t turn us in, either. He’s in too deep now. He’s can’t explain how he knows where we are without admitting how long he’s gone without reporting us. I don’t think he would do it anyway. He jumped to Jim’s rescue today, and I think that means he’s on our side. And he’s in it for Gabe; I know it, even though he doesn’t. He won’t pass by this opportunity to get Gabe back. Jim will go after Rebecca again, too, but that’s a whole different situation.

This will probably get ugly, but I have to deal with the fact that they’re here. They were my friends before, and they are my friends now. Peter thinks the three of them will bring the whole ghetto down, and maybe he’s right. But that might not be such a bad thing.

Reviews

[Bexfinch]

Yaya a new chapter I always enjoy coming and findingnnew material chicka i havs been reading your writingg for three years that is a pretty big deal so pat urself on the back i love this chapter and cant wait to get back to gabe and erich ;)