A Bed for the Wretched – Chapter 19

A Bed for the Wretched – Chapter 19

“Not you again!” Numo yelled at Kuze when he saw him sneaking up on him. “Hold your horses man, don’t jump to conclusions... I came here to tell you that someone is looking for you. He asked me if I knew a one-legged man named Numo Damovski, so I kept thinking to myself… I am sure it’s the guy who told me off and called me an idiot when I told him not to give that child tobacco… So I immediately rushed here to help out the man...” replied Kuze. “What man?” asked Numo in a casual tone of voice. Kuze turned, looked towards the upper part of Prenies and said: “The driver of those comrades…” “Get lost asshole!” Numo yelled and raised his crutch threatening to hit Kuze with it. “Don’t call me an asshole and lower your crutch. If it wasn’t the driver of those comrades I wouldn’t have looked for you!” Kuze replied angrily, clinching his fingers and making a fist. “You are saying the driver of your comrades is looking for me? Why? Do you know?” inquired Numo. “He didn’t tell me why. He just asked me politely: ‘Find Numo Damovski and bring him to me dead or alive!’ that’s what he said. And here, as you can see, I am kindly telling you that he is looking for you. Why? It seems that only he knows,” replied Kuze. Numo stood up, pressed his crutch under his arm, shook the grass off his pants and said: “Let’s go, lead the way to the driver of your comrades…” They left. Kuze led and Numo followed tapping with his crutch on the cobblestone road with each step. Kosta, the driver, appeared from the opposite side carrying rolls of paper and a few steps later they came face to face. They looked at each other in silence. Kosta dropped the rolls of paper in front of Kuze’s feet and said: “Take these and quickly nail them, glue them and hang them on the walls. Ask others to help you. Now go!” “Kosta, is that you?” Numo asked quietly after Kuze left. “Numo?” replied Kosta quietly, putting his fingers to his lips, and said: “Pretend you don’t know me. You are alive, you are alive, Numo! Iovan told me you were here. He is in the hospital. Do you remember Iovan?” “Of course I do!” replied Numo as memories of the man in uniform, with whom he had spent years, began to flood his mind. He remembered Iovan well, how could he not remember him, they were friends since childhood. “Kosta?” Numo asked again quietly. “You are alive too. And what has happened to Iovan, which hospital is he in?”

“He is in Elbasan, in the hospital there... But don’t worry about him Numo, he is okay. Calm down but don’t extend your hand to me, just listen and do what I tell you. That tall guy over there thinks you stole his hand gun. He asked for permission from the Prenies commander to search you. If you have the gun, please get rid of it, throw it in the bushes. Right now they are watching us from the window. Go in the bush, toss the gun and I will take it from there. The tall guy is constantly threatening. He said if he found a gun on you, he would court-martial you and send you to the madhouse. So, please, do as I tell you and walk in front of me...” advised Kosta. Numo did as he was asked and then asked: “How are the boys from our squad?” “Only a few of us are left. Some were killed, some were wounded and are now lying in hospital beds in Suk... Our commander, the one who boasted a lot, was killed by a grenade. So many young men and women lost their lives, Numo… It is so unfair… Toss the gun now…” ordered Kosta. Numo slowed his pace, turned his head and said: “Don’t think that I am afraid of the tall guy and that I tremble in fear if I have to go in front of a military court or to the madhouse. I am not afraid of any of that. I have another gun hidden in the straw in the horse stables. But please tell me, is it true that they are forming positional battalions and accepting lame people like me?” asked Numo. “Go slow, Numo... Yes, it is true... They are recruiting one-eyed and one-legged people who can shoot... Are you thinking of enlisting?” asked Kosta. “That’s why I am asking. But how do I get there, to the designated place? How do I contact the recruiters?” asked Numo. “The tall guy is in charge of those matters...” replied Kosta. “Oh yeah? He is, eh?” whispered Numo. “In that case, I am not tossing the gun…” “Stop, stop your nonsense!” Kosta interrupted, grabbed Numo by the hand and said: “Please stop and listen... Do you really want to go to the front line?”

Numo slowed his pace, turned his head and said: “What else would you expect me to do? Sit here and rot in these barracks and horse stables? Sit here, breathe the red dust and burn in this heat? What do you think I should do? Maybe you think it suits me to wander around in Prenies or maybe you think I belong in a madhouse? Or do you think it is my destiny to limp around like this on one leg? You did tell me they recruit one-legged men who can shoot, right? Did you forget that I can hold a gun? Let me say this, Kosta, I have been pacing up and down these cobblestones mornings and evenings hoping that one day one of these drivers that pass by here would stop and take me away. You are doing okay driving a jeep. It doesn’t rain on you, you sleep indoors, you don’t have to freeze and your portion of food is always full... You are almost like a dog, Kosta...” “Stop! Enough! That’s enough!” interrupted Kosta. “We each struggle in our own way…” “Catering to the tall guy? Of course! Someone has to do that job too... but I couldn’t picture it would be you? I knew you as a different person. I knew you as a fearless person who would run up and toss a grenade into a bunker. I knew you as a person who would run first in the front line and jump over barbed wires... And now I see Kosta the servant, serving a...” but before Numo could finish his sentence, Kosta interrupted violently and said: “I am no one’s servant! Least of all that sniveler’s. It’s not the way you think. Those orders were given to me against my will… I had no choice in the matter…” “No choice?” interrupted Numo. “You always have a choice!” and continued to walk ahead with difficulty, but surefooted. “Why are you so angry at me and blame me for all these things, Numo?” asked Kosta. “Forgive me Kosta. My anger is making me stupid. I have some unfinished business with the tall guy and it kills me to see you with him. His presence here disgusts me. Should this not be the fruit of our dreams, our desires and beliefs? But what freedom have we brought to these people here? And who here can assure me that tomorrow our people will return to their ancestral homes happy and free? Why did this happen to us? No, I don’t need an answer from you or from those who occupy high positions. In these times those who ask questions and those who answer them equally respond to betrayal. So it is easier not to respond… Look!” Numo pointed with his crutch. “Look, Kuze is putting up posters. Let’s see what they say.” “You go ahead and look,” said Kosta. “I have seen enough of them. They are plastered all over Koreshtata in Prespa, on the walls in hospitals, on beech tree trunks and on oaks and pines on Vicho. I have seen enough of them…” “They are aimed at whom?” Numo interrupted. “...at those who dig, carry stones, logs and build bunkers to...” but before Kosta could finish telling him, Numo interrupted and whispered: “Wait!” The two men stood in front of a large red poster and stared at a young man and woman in DAG uniforms with automatic rifles in their hands and behind them stood mountains, bunkers and explosions, and under them and over them, written in big letters, was the slogan: “The enemy will never take Vicho!” Kuze stood to the side and marveled at the poster. He then said: “Look at them! They are heroes!” “The only thing that’s missing, Kuze, is you between them!” replied Numo. “Oh, come on Numo! Can’t you say anything good? Can’t you see that I am doing what I can? Look!” Kuze extended his fingers, “I hit myself with the hammer putting up these posters. Those in the administration must be idiots. You can’t hammer these tiny nails with such a large hammer. Those fools gave me a hammer for large nails. They think a nail is a nail and you can nail it with any hammer…But the posters are beautiful, aren’t they? A while ago, when an old man asked me what they were and I explained, he said: “We had no such things in my time during the Ilinden Uprising. Is this some sort of flag, eh?” That stupid old man thinks the poster is a flag.

Just look at it man… are you blind?...” concluded Kuze. “Come on Kuze, keep nailing,” said Numo. “They are calling us to go to battle. And you, Kuze, by doing this, you are calling us to go to battle, understand?” Kuze went to the next barrack and began to nail another poster. An old man went over to him and asked: “What is this?” “It’s a call to battle,” replied Kuze while holding several nails in his lips. “It’s a call to battle and I am calling you to go to battle. Do you understand?” Numo and Kosta turned around and headed towards the administration office. When they arrived at the office door they heard the tall guy’s voice. He said: “Too bad! Too bad we didn’t think of it before. I would personally have made arrangements with our Albanian colleagues. They would have certainly provided us with complete instruments. What a pity... Imagine a brass band playing marches here in Prenies... and not only in Prenies. I would have taken it to the hospitals and to Suk… and wherever we have refugee camps.” Kosta knocked on the office door and, without waiting for an answer, opened it and walked in. Numo followed behind. The tall guy adjusted himself and said: “What a surprise. Instead of us looking for you, you came to us. Did he come on his own or did you have to drag him here Kosta?” Numo hit the floor with his crutch, stood straight, raised his head and looked ahead, and in military style said: “Machine gunner Numo Damovski reporting for duty Sir! I want to volunteer for the front line Sir!” Numo paused for a second to swallow and clear his throat when everyone in the office stood up. Numo pressed his crutch firmly, leaned on it and said: “I want to be transferred to the positional battalions… When should I report to the designated place, Sir?” The silence was disturbed only by a fly pounding on the glass window trying to get out. The tall guy stood up, took a step forward and said: “Machine gunner, go to your cabin and wait for us to call you. Bravo, palikari! Levendi! I will send you with the first group. And you, Kosta, what have you done with the jeep? Have you fixed it?” “I had it fixed an hour ago. If you are ready, we can go,” replied Kosta. Numo left the office. There was no wavering in his step which is typical of people with one leg. He was surefooted. His wooden leg somehow beat the cobblestones a little harder today. When he came close to the barracks he looked around. All the walls were covered with red posters. They were all calling him to battle. And down in the meadow near the ovens, two squads were forming. The men marched on the grass, on the dusty road and on the cobblestone alleys. Their footsteps were thunderous and youthful: “To battle, to battle, to battle, Macedonians we will go!...” The young people in the posters are beckoning us to go to battle in our old, worn, torn, long and wide pre-war Czech uniforms. We are going to battle!