How High The  Larks Fly

As they scrambled up the bank the familiar large patch of grass could clearly be seen. The sunshine had turned it into wondrous shades of yellow, indigo and emerald green; and by the time the girls were halfway towards reaching it, they could already smell the flowers. Their fragrance was almost intoxicating. Violets grew all over this part of the slope in large thick clumps; probably because after the long Northern winter the sun arrived there first and melted the snow. This was the spot the girls were heading for; as far as they were concerned it was the most beautiful place on earth.

Living in that region of Europe, so close to Russia, the inhabitants grew used to the cold climate and learned, in fact, to enjoy it. In the winter months, all the children in the village, including Brigitte and Ruth, dressed warmly in woolen hats, scarves and mittens, and dragged their colorful sleds down Landestrasse to this, the highest spot in the vicinity, where they spent hours sliding up and down the snow laden slope. For the children, especially the small ones, it was a huge hill, and during the endless cold weeks it provided them with entertainment from dawn to dusk. For Ruth and Brigitte though, Springtime was when they most loved being there, and they could hardly contain their enthusiasm when the sun appeared on that Spring morning to beckon them back again.

Running and scrambling up the sweet-smelling bank, Ruth and Brigitte finally reached ‘their spot,’ their little part of paradise where they lay down on their backs in the springing, yielding, sun-splashed grass and listened to the busy chirruping and twittering of nesting birds as they flew about collecting twigs and dry grasses for their new nests. Nature’s sounds filled the air. The bucolic, peaceful mooing of cows grazing in meadows echoed all around, while the mesmerizing sound of buzzing bees and insects amongst the violets mingled with the exquisite songs of the nesting birds. For a short while at least, the two girls were transported into a world of delight; where ugly sounds did not exist, and bad things did not happen.

Shading their eyes and squinting in the sunlight, they deeply inhaled the heady perfume of violets in the warm air and gazed upwards at the great dome of heaven high above them to watch a pair of larks perform delirious soaring cartwheels in the sky.

“Look how high the larks fly.” Said Brigitte, breaking their silence with a tinge of envy in her voice, “It must feel so good to be able to fly high up above the fields to another place, where nobody gets hurt and there is no fighting or killing.”

Only six months prior to that day, the German Army had unleashed an artillery bombardment on Danzig, a town the girls knew well. They were not aware of what had exactly happened when the soldiers marched into Danzig, but they were given to understand that bad people from other countries were coming to attack them, and that their German soldiers would keep everyone safe.

Six months after that terrible day both girls were, of course, aware that their country was at war, but they were not at all sure why. Everyone they knew was given to understand that whatever was happening in the surrounding area was for the good of all the German people, and that for this they should be thankful. During the past weeks they had heard many times the sounds of explosions and the ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ of armaments echoing through the valleys around Tiegenort; and they and their parents had not been able to go outside when night fell because of the signs posted around the village which said, ‘Do Not Travel Anywhere at Night Because the Enemy Can See You.’

Six months after that terrible day both girls were, of course, aware that their country was at war, but they were not at all sure why. Everyone they knew was given to understand that whatever was happening in the surrounding area was for the good of all the German people, and that for this they should be thankful. During the past weeks they had heard many times the sounds of explosions and the ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ of armaments echoing through the valleys around Tiegenort; and they and their parents had not been able to go outside when night fell because of the signs posted around the village which said, ‘Do Not Travel Anywhere at Night Because the Enemy Can See You.’

They, and everyone with whom they had come into contact during their short lives, had been told to be very afraid of any soldiers other than their own German ones; who had so far been the only soldiers to enter their village. So apart from being afraid of the ‘Unknown Enemy,’ the girls had been somewhat shielded from the harsh realities of the situation their country was in.

Their lives revolved around attending church and school, both of which they loved; as much as they loved life in their village. The very spot they lay on was, to them, a safe place, since they had already used this sloping part of the dam as a refuge. Several times whilst cycling home in that vicinity, when they had heard the sound of air-raid warnings they had hidden for what seemed like hours, crouching beside their bicycles underneath the hill of the dam, hoping that the bombs of the enemy would not drop over their beloved village. The village which protected their homes, their families and, they trusted, their lives.

© 2019 CHRISTINE HAMER HODGES 8/11/2019

HOW HIGH THE LARKS FLY