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Underground Scouts

By Marie Sontag

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Chapter One
Be Prepared - Czuwaj!


Midmorning, September 8, 1939
Palmiry, Poland, Kampinos Forest


Tadzio stood with his family in the entryway of their summerhouse, clenching his teeth to calm his coiling stomach.

Poppa, his battered suitcase in hand, stepped to the door and turned the brass handle. One more second and he’d be gone. Again.
I should stop him. Tadzio lowered his gaze and shook his head. No. Today is no different.

But today was different. Today, Germany declared war on Poland.

He twisted a loose thread hanging from the cuff of his Boy Scout shirt and inhaled a quick breath. “Why do you have to leave now Poppa? We need you. The war…”

With a sigh, Father released the door’s handle and turned. The circles beneath his eyes showed darker than usual. “I’m sorry, Tadzio. I know I haven’t been home much this past year.” He ruffled Tadzio’s dark blond hair. “I know I have missed out on many events. And, after meeting with your Scoutmaster today, I realize how important your Scouting activities are. However, I must go on a special business trip. We will talk more when I return.”

Poppa glanced at Magdalena who stood with stooped shoulders next to Mother. The vanilla and lavender scent of his aftershave hung in the air as he shifted his gaze back to Tadzio. “You’re thirteen now, son. Even though Magdalena is older, I expect you to take over as man of the house.”

Magdalena sniffled into her lace handkerchief.

Squeezing five-year-old Henio’s hand, Mother studied Poppa with tear-rimmed eyes. She kissed his cheek and offered what looked like a forced smile. “Come back to us soon, Henryk.”

Once again, Tadzio fingered his wayward thread. “Poppa?” His voice came soft. “Can you at least tell us when you’ll be back?”

“I can’t give you any details.” He lifted Tadzio’s chin. “When I return, I’ll explain everything. For now, obey Mother and listen to your Scoutmaster. Take care of the family until I return.”

As Father walked out the door, Tadzio tamped down the sharp taste of garlic and onions that rose to his throat—compliments of last night’s dinner. Although anger boiled in his belly, he wanted to run after him, wrap his arms around his waist, and scream, No, Poppa. Don’t leave us now!

Earlier that morning, Andrzej, Tadzio’s sixteen-year-old patrol leader, had driven to their summerhouse with their Scoutmaster and two other Scouts in tow. Father and the Scoutmaster, Dr. Handelsman, had then retreated to Poppa’s study. The two spoke in hushed tones for almost thirty minutes.

Tadzio hated mysteries. He stood outside the doorway until Poppa and his Scoutmaster finished. When they exited, his Scoutmaster’s pressed lips advised him not to ask questions.

Now, two hours later, Dr. Handelsman joined Tadzio and his family on the white-columned porch to bid Father goodbye.

As he shielded his eyes from the late-morning sun, Tadzio’s breath caught in his throat. When will I see Poppa again?

With solid steps, his father deposited his suitcase in the trunk of Andrzej’s black Fiat 518, then strode across the yard and into the barn. Minutes later, he emerged dragging two bulging suitcases. Hoisting them into the back seat of Andrzej’s car, he slid in next to them.

“Thank you for coming today, Professor Handelsman,” Mother said to the Scoutmaster. “I know your talk greatly encouraged my husband.”

“And his words inspired me,” the elderly man said. “Your husband is a brave man.”

Arching a brow, Tadzio turned to the Scoutmaster. “Professor, what did you and my father discuss?”

Professor Handelsman raised his chin and gazed out across the yard. “Later, son. Not now.”

The stench of petrol flooded Tadzio’s nostrils as Andrzej revved the Fiat’s engine. Seconds later, chauffeuring Father, the patrol leader pulled out the graveled driveway and onto the Kampinos’s forest-lined road.

The Scoutmaster stroked his walrus mustache and turned to Tadzio and Magdalena. “Andrzej will be back in about an hour. I’d like you and the other Scouts to join me in the study when he returns. Then I will tell you what you need to know.”

Tadzio opened his mouth to say, Tell us now, but the professor’s scowl stopped him.

Frustrated, Tadzio returned to the house and shuffled into the parlor. The black Böesendorfer piano beckoned him from the far corner. Its black and white ivories invited him to hammer out his swirl of emotions beneath the weight of his fingers. In the past, music always served as a constant companion. He hoped it would again as he sought refuge from the world’s harsh realities in the soothing sounds of a Schubert sonata.

The other Scouts went their separate ways until Andrzej returned from his mysterious errand.

At three o’clock, the Fiat’s tires crunched across the pebbled driveway. His patrol leader had returned. The professor motioned the Scouts to follow him into the study.

Once everyone settled into one of the room’s leather-backed chairs, Professor Handelsman eased shut the study’s heavy oak doors.

Tadzio’s chair swallowed him whole as he slouched into its ample seat.

Sitting behind Poppa’s cherrywood desk, the professor adjusted his rimless spectacles and gazed at the group. “Sources tell me it’s only a matter of days before German soldiers march through here on their way to Warsaw. Boy Scouts and Girl Guides from several cities have banded together with the Scouts in Warsaw to take a stand against the Nazis that will pour into the capital. It won’t be easy. If you have any qualms about joining us in the effort, say so now.”

Tadzio’s body tensed. What effort? Confusion and anger blurred his thoughts. He wanted to shout, but instead, he whispered. “Joining what effort?”

Stefan shot Tadzio one of his cocky half-smiles. “Joining the underground resistance, you moron.”

Their Scoutmaster’s chair squeaked as he shifted his weight and stroked the left side of his mustache. “The Scouts are not really joining the Underground.” His voice came thick and heavy. “We are merely choosing to help the cause, as it were.”

Bullies. Tadzio avoided them. For as long as he could remember, Stefan, a Scout his own age, had bullied him. Now, for the sake of Poland, their Scoutmaster challenged him to confront the Germans.

Tadzio gazed around the room—first at Andrzej, then Lech and Stefan, his best friend Krzysh, and finally his sixteen-year-old sister, Magdalena. She stared back, her dark-brown eyes wide with uncertainty. What would Magdalena say? Would she do whatever Andrzej and Lech did?
Biting her lip, his sister brushed a lock of her shoulder-length black hair behind one ear and squeezed her eyes shut.

Tadzio pulled in a ragged breath. What would happen to Mother and little Henio if he and Magdalena joined the resistance?

Their Scoutmaster continued. “What I am about to ask from all of you is a personal sacrifice on behalf of Poland. Your final decision is, of course, up to you. As for your family, Tadzio and Magdalena, the caretakers of your manor house have pledged their lives to protect them while your father is away on business. If you decide to join us in the cause, they will look after your mother and little brother. You must each make your own decision.”

A hush filled the room. The Scouts’ pale faces betrayed the struggle that plagued them all.

Tadzio broke the spell. “I mean no disrespect, Professor.” He squirmed in his chair. “I don’t know why my father had to leave right now, but since he’s gone, my family is my priority.”

Squaring her shoulders, Magdalena inched forward on her chair. “And earlier this week my father’s brother and his wife were killed when a bomb hit their apartment building in Warsaw.” Her voice quivered and she dug her nails into the sides of the brown leather chair. “That’s why we came out here to our summerhouse. Now, we’re also caring for our orphaned eleven-year-old cousin Józefina.”

Tadzio nodded. “Since I am the eldest son, my first responsibility is to my family.”

“Well spoken, son.” Professor Handelsman studied Tadzio over the top of his glasses.

“As I said, the caretakers of your manor house have pledged to watch over your family while your father is away. However, I understand why you must make your mother and little Henio your priority.”

The professor glanced at the other Scouts. “What about the rest of you?”

Tadzio’s patrol leader, Andrzej, spoke first. His pensive gaze narrowed and he pinned Tadzio with a stare. Apparently, Andrzej didn’t accept his excuse. “As we know, this is what we’ve prepared for all summer. It comes as no surprise.” Andrzej jiggled his left leg. “The Scout training we received in the Kampinos Forest the past few months—first aid, food storage, water purification, map reading skills, Morse Code, riflery—it all prepared us for this moment. I will give my all for Poland.”

Lech smoothed back his thick, black hair. “Andrzej’s right. Unless you were living in a vacuum, we all knew the Germans would eventually come for us. I say it’s time to take a stand.”

First Lech, then Andrzej, and finally Lech’s younger brother, Stefan, rose to their feet. Standing with raised chins, they punched their fists into the air and shouted in unison. “Czuwaj! Czuwaj!”

Glued to his chair, Tadzio shook his head. Czuwaj? Their Scout motto mocked him. As a Scout, he had pledged to be vigilant. Awake. Prepared. But this? No. He couldn’t shout Czuwaj. Not now. Nothing had prepared him for this.

Tadzio glanced at Krzysh. His heart squeezed as his best friend pulled his knees to his chin and clasped his hands over his ears. No. Krzysh wasn’t up to the task either.

Krzysh tried to hide it, but Tadzio knew better. His best friend was crazy with fear over his parents’ fate.

On September 1, when the Germans first bombed Warsaw, Father drove the family to their summer home in the Kampinos Forest. Krzysh and his seven-year-old sister Lucyna had accompanied them. Krzysh’s parents promised to join them as soon as they took care of business in the city. Later, Krzysh’s parents sent a message saying a bomb leveled the Bank of Poland just as they were leaving—the same bank where Tadzio’s father worked. Now, Krzysh’s parents were recovering in a hospital somewhere in Warsaw. That made it Krzysh’s responsibility to care for his nine-year-old sister, Lucyna.

Tadzio shifted his gaze to Magdalena. Like him, she remained in her seat.
Beads of perspiration trickled down Tadzio’s back. His stomach twisted into a knot. He ran out of the room, barely making it to the bathroom before spewing his afternoon meal into the toilet.

Ashamed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror and shook his head. Guess I was right. I don’t have what it takes to fight the Germans.


Later that evening, before everyone turned in for the night, Mother coaxed Tadzio and Magdalena into performing their violin and piano arrangement of Chopin’s Etude in E Major for their houseguests.
When Professor Handelsman heard the announcement, he turned to Tadzio’s mother with wide eyes. “I didn’t know Chopin wrote an etude for piano and violin.”
Mother pursed her lips, making her sleek Greek nose appear even more slender. “Actually, Professor, Tadzio has written a piano arrangement of Chopin’s Piano Etude in E Major so he can accompany Magdalena as she plays the melody on violin. The two had hoped to perform this new arrangement for the Chopin Young People’s Concert this fall. They have been working on the piece for the past three months.”
“Well, well.” The professor clapped his hands and motioned everyone into the parlor. “Tadzio, my boy, I knew you had talent on the rifle range, as well as archery and map skills, but I had no idea you also possessed such musical ability. By all means, we must have a command performance.”

Stefan shoved his way past Tadzio as he entered the room. “Right. He’s just a regular Mr. Perfect.” With a sigh, Stefan flopped down on the dark green sofa.
Angered by Stefan’s cutting comment and embarrassed by the attention, Tadzio’s face burned. He lowered his head and plodded to the piano.
The professor sat in the winged Queen Anne chair next to Stefan and leaned toward the Scout. “Not perfect, Pan Lutowski, skilled.” His voice came low. “You have skills as well. After all, you chose to leave with me tomorrow morning. Tadzio chose to stay behind.”

Balling his hands into fists, Tadzio ticked a jaw muscle. Perhaps the professor hadn’t meant for him to overhear his remark to Stefan, but he had.
Mother settled Henio and the other two children next to her on a couch across from the professor. Andrzej and Lech sat on parlor chairs near the piano.
Smoothing his mustache, the portly professor addressed the group. “Did any of you know that, according to Chopin’s biographer, Chopin once told his copyist he believed he’d never written a more beautiful melody than the one found in the E Major Etude?”

Tadzio raised a brow. He’d never heard that story.
Others shrugged and shook their heads.

The professor nodded. “Once, when Chopin was listening to a recording of this etude, he raised his arms like this.” The elderly man stood and clasped his hands above his head. “When the piece ended, legend says Chopin exclaimed, ‘O, Poland, my fatherland!’” Professor Handelsman slowly sat.

Folding his hands in his lap, the Scoutmaster continued. “As you all know, after the Polish cadets rebelled against Russia in 1830, Chopin never returned to Poland. And how Chopin loved his homeland! You can hear the longing for his homeland in every strain of his music.” The Scoutmaster’s tired eyes revealed a wistful look. “He wrote the Etude in E Major two years after he left Poland, and, as I said, he never returned.” He pulled in a long breath. “Ahh. What a fitting melody for this evening.”

Tadzio peered closer at the professor. Were those tears in his eyes?
He knew Chopin left Poland in 1830 when the Russian czar sent troops into their country. His grandfather had told him stories about the cadets at the Warsaw Military College, and how they launched a rebellion against the czar. One of those cadets had been Grandfather’s Great-Uncle Tadeusz, for whom Tadzio was named.
How proud his grandfather had been of his great uncle. Grandfather explained how the Russian czar before Nicholas I had allowed Poles their own parliament and constitution. But then, once Nicholas I came to power, he abolished the Poles’ self-government and restored strict Russian rule. Having been given a taste of freedom, the Poles staged a rebellion. Within a year, Nicholas I defeated the cadets and their supporters. The czar sent 25,000 rebellious patriots and their families to Siberia—including Grandfather’s Great Uncle Tadeusz.
Last year when the family vacationed with Grandfather at the summerhouse, the elderly man had told him, “Although my Great Uncle Tadeusz was sent to Siberia, his family evaded capture because they hid in this summerhouse. This is a very special place for our family.” That was the first time Grandfather ever shared this tidbit of family history. A month later, Grandfather died.
Tadzio couldn’t help but think that history was now repeating itself. This time, it was the Germans who sought to take away Poland’s freedom. And now, he and his family had sought refuge at the summerhouse.
Tadzio glanced at Magdalena. She stood next to the piano with her chin resting on her violin, her bow drawn across her strings, and her elbow raised in anticipation of Tadzio’s downbeat.

After nodding his head twice, the magic began.
Magdalena’s lilting melody and Tadzio’s restful two-four rhythm transformed the room into a unity of emotion for the fatherland of Poland.
Of a yearning for freedom.

Of love.

Of family.

Of everything good in life.

And, for one brief moment, it eased the painful knowledge that the enemy, like inky mists of darkness, now crept across the forest floor, seeking to snatch it all away. Even Stefan, who appeared to hum along with parts of the melody, seemed grateful for the little concert. Before Tadzio and Magdalena reached the song’s climax, the younger children fell asleep.

As the last notes faded and Magdalena lifted her bow from its strings, Lech sighed. “That was amazing.”

Magdalena blushed. Avoiding Lech’s gaze, she placed her Roth violin in its coffin-shaped case. “Thank you.”

Lech stood and placed a hand on hers as she fastened the latch. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.”

Professor Handelsman stood and gave a slight cough. “Andrzej, Lech, Stefan. Set your alarms for 5:30 a.m. We will head out immediately after breakfast.”
Magdalena shot Lech a puzzled look.

Lech stared back. A pained expression flooded his eyes. His mouth opened as if to say more, but the professor coughed again.

The elderly Scoutmaster nodded toward Tadzio’s mother. “Thank you for your hospitality, Pani Dombrowska. No need to see us off tomorrow. We will care for ourselves and be gone before you rise.”

Tadzio squeezed his eyebrows together. He wanted to know where the Scouts were going, but having chosen to stay behind, he knew he had no right to ask. Angry with the Germans, himself, Father, and everyone else in general, he kissed Mother on the cheek and ambled off to bed. Krzysh followed ten minutes later. Feigning sleep, Tadzio didn’t say a word.


When Tadzio arose the next morning, Professor Handelsman, Andrzej, Lech, and Stefan had already left. While he and Magdalena set the table, Mother prepared a breakfast of tomatoes, avocados, and eggs.

“Do you know where Professor Handelsman has gone?” Tadzio asked Mother.
“Off to do important Scout work, I suppose.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “But I appreciate you staying here to help with the children. I know you’d much rather be off with them.”

Tadzio wasn’t so sure he’d rather be off with the Scouts. He could only imagine what kind of danger they might encounter.

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