My Mother and the War

My Mother hated the way men talked about the war.

It was like they were seeing the conflict, its chaos and brutality, from a great distance.  

They talked about divisions and armies, threw around numbers like scientists or university professors:  The 4th Army and the 3rd.  The 8th and the 10th, and the 10th's Army XVI Corps.  And what about the XVIs 14th Infantry Division, and the 11th, the 53rd, and 116th regiments?

It was like some intricate game with codes and rules no one could understand unless he was born to it.

She wanted to be free of the war and all its secrets and structuress.

When men started talking like that, she always left the room, went to a bedroom and sat with her thoughts, her memories.

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Here's a poem I wrote about my mom and her war experiences.

What the War Taught Her

My mother learned that sex is bad,
Men are worthless, it is always cold
And there is never enough to eat.

She learned that if you are stupid
With your hands you will not survive
The winter even if you survive the fall.

She learned that only the young survive
The camps. The old are left in piles
Like worthless paper, and babies
Are scarce like chickens and bread.

She learned that the world is a broken place
Where no birds sing, and even angels
Cannot bear the sorrows God gives them.

She learned that you don't pray
Your enemies will not torment you.
You only pray that they will not kill you.

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To read more about my mother:

"Simple Polish Soup"

"My Mother and Polish Mushrooms"

"My Mother and her Neighbors"

"Dreams of Warsaw"

"All of History's Polacks"

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The photo above is of my mom and her sister.  They both were taken to Germany as slave laborers. They were reunited in a refugee camp after the war.