Kitchener Waterloo Collegiate and Vocational School - Grumbler Yearbook (Kitchener, Ontario Canada)

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and family gone and his only hope lying in finding his father. Per- haps he too had been killed and there was no one in the world to care for him. With this bitter thought the child-'s last courage seemed to desert him and he gave way to utter despair. Thus he arrived at Novy Bydzov. The sun was shining brightly when Mikul opened his eyes. The storm was over, and, except for the puddles in the street, might never have existed. But not so the terror of the child. Confronting him when he awoke were three tall khaki- clad figures. They smiled and made friendly overtures, but they were soldiers. To Mikul that meant only one thing. He cowered in the cor- ner, his panic-stricken eyes vainly seeking some means of escape. The soldiers looked at him in sur- prise. Why the kid acts scared to death of us! one exclaimed. No wonder, muttered another. He looks half-starved and Will you look at his shoes! What shoes! There's nothing but rags left. And he was right. Mikul's little feet were bare except for Hopping bits of leather bound on by muddy rags. At the sight of the strangers staring at him so fixedly, the anguish in the child's heart over- flowed and once again he began to sob. At this crucial moment a help- ful towns-Woman bustled up, and with her assistance the soldiers persuaded him to come with them. So little Mikul found a haven after his Weary months of wander- ing. He tasted milk again and fresh bread, and heard the welcome sound of friendly laughter. It was all very strange, but a wonderful kind of strangeness that, he rea- lized in the depths of his grief- scarred soul, meant the beginnings of happiness. Everything would be all right. He nestled down in the blankets at the shelter and as his tired mind groped among dreams. he heard the cow-bell ringing and his mother's voice as she softly chanted a lullaby. Mrs. Anderson resignedly straightened the paper. Henry was a good man but he wouldn't stop to think! Quietly leaving the table she found her cheque book and an envelope. Taking her pen she swiftly began to write. Pay to the o1'der of the European Relief Drive . . . . And with a secret smile she sealed the envelope. Urge fiT 1'O'zTll AUDREY HETT. C X B The Il'0l'TlT. 10,1071 one is only four. ls IINIITP to sample and cxplorff. .fill Cals and dogs along' 1110 slrcci .irc mean! I0 see and 1111111 In glwfl. .alll lcfalws 11'e1'1' maffc for Il'IITTfI.Ilg lfirouglz. 11111 anis on IIfIl'f'lIH'IIfS. In pursue. Tlw large' and muslhi' cellar doors Uf Course Il'l'I't' j11sl 0IlfSI'lTl' of slorcs. For fllllllllllg orer rvry fast: .11111 frees for tozzcliirig QOTIIQ' pasl. T110 11'url11 11'l1e11 one is just a Inf. ls nmstlhi' firzafirig 11'l1aI is 11'l1al. 77 THE GRUMBLER

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ma said in her strangely dead voice that it really meant that lVlari was starving. For a few pathetic days she struggledg then her little eye- lids closed and they said that she was dead. Her grave was so very tiny but then Mari was such a little thing, only three years old. And Mamma cried. The child turned restlessly in his sleep. In his dreams he saw again his brother when he came to say good-bye. Nicolai was sixteen and a man, so he was going to join the Underground and kill the Nazis. lVlamma's pleading was unheeded: so at last she kissed him sadly and sent+him bravely on his way. Now Mikul, my little one, she had said, You are all I have leftg you must be a man and help your poor mamma. And the child had proudly agreed as he squared his thin shoulders and envisioned the duties before him. He was almost eight by this time. So the years had sped past although each day had seemed to creep painfully by with weighted footsteps. Nicolai was captured in Zilina eight months later. They shot him. When, many months afterwards, word reached his home village, Mamma didn't cry. She just sat quietly in the silent kitchen and the last light died in her eyes. She was sitting there when the village was bombed. Mikul had gone into the forest to collect wood and while he was in the midst of its green coolness he heard the throbbing roar of the mighty wave of aero- planes which winged high over- head. Dropping his sticks he ran swiftly home to tell his mother of the wonders he had seen. She wasn't there. Neither was the cot- tage nor the ones on either side. Most of the sleepy little street was in ruins, and where the great ware- house on the corner had stood there remained only a yawning crater. Some said that the Germans had used the deserted old building to store ammunitiong perhaps they did. The child only knew that his mother was gone and that he was alone. He turned and stumbled back into the woods. Hour after hour he trudged on, knowing only that somehow, somewhere, he must find his father and leave the bitter memory of the village forever be- hind. But hours passed into days, and months and a year. People were kind, although a homeless child had long been a common sight, but there was so little that they could share. During the warmer months he slept in any protected corner. but as winter clamped the land in an icy grip he was compelled to beg shelter from kindly folk along the way. Some were able to give him odd bits of clothing to replace his tattered rags, and this, together with scraps of food enabled him to continue painfully along the way. The long weeks dragged by, each taking him closer to Germany by a few weary miles. Rumours came to his ears of great battles to the west and east but they meant little to him. Battles brought only noise and killing. and the child had had enough of both. So he trudged doggedly on. Gne day as he entered a town a great commotion surged about his ears and his amazed eyes beheld people laughing and shouting as they danced in the streets. Swas- tikas were torn down and burned as shriek after shriek proclaimed victory. Mikul was terrified. Any minute the Gestapo would come and he must flee at once. So think- ing, he hid in the shadowy out- skirts of the town till morning. then silently, stealthily he hurried along his way. To his amazement he met no Germans in the villages through which he passed, but in his befuddled state even this made little impression. What could vic- tory mean to him with his home THE GRUMBLEF2 21

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X., x. M N' Q Q Q L I J X-9 Ao' v . J V -1' xghxshwf, Vit! V , 9 J ' 0 7 . J xa Q Q Q E XJ J N ex Q xt Xi ' X 'X 'X 's,' - h. u X N ' l J J J An Q A U Q I NJ 2 J In , Q 11 N N ,xx r- fjlqaff :Rain NIARGVERITE NIILLER. A XII E They say that April shozrers. fire supposed to bring May flowers. But in my t'Sfl-Illll-fl.0ll. Thafs mere l.lllflgl'llUfl'0Il. For as far as I can see. The rain falls drearily. In any months. on any do-Y. Anti especialltv In M 051' Perhaps Ihese May'-Janw' Shozrers. Will bring us furze-time flowers. But while for this 1c'e're 14'a1'l1'rzg'. The ll'6'fll'l18f-Illflll is slalirzg. Thar it will rain tomorroue. For rzalure is in sorrow: Ur so il seems to me. As the rain falls emllessly. In May. THE GRUMBLER