Shadows of Yesterday

War on the Farm

"Can't believe you're really here," my brother, Jens says, hugging me so tightly I imagine I hear my ribs creak. Surely they could even crack with such a grip. We were born on this family farm, the fourth generation of Pedersens to own this piece of the Danish countryside. I suspect the smile on my face clearly shows my memories of the 'best friend' status we'd always held for each other. We surely were close. Only two years apart. "Can you imagine how happy our parents must have been with each of our arrivals?" I ask.

Jens grunts in some surprise, obviously wondering what I mean. Guessing his question, I continue, "...getting a boy first, to carry on the family name and farm—" He interrupts, "... and a girl to be schooled in the gentle art_ of womanhood..." His voice drifts off, seemingly thinking the same as me... that was the Grand Plan of those days.

I smile as my thoughts take me even further. I've surely come a long way from those days. "I can't believe it either. No more than I can believe what a soft spot Hitler seems to have for Denmark... how much freedom he allows us compared to what we hear about other—"

"You can believe it's a soft spot, Wanda. You're from the city," My father growls from among the pillows supporting him in his special lounge chair. "Don't you know those black angels from hell took two of our four horses?" His face is thunderous, clearly remembering the sight of them being taken away. His rapidly reddening face is a sure indication of his rising blood pressure, and I imagine a painful pounding in his ears. "Two of them!" He growls angrily. "And of course, they had to be the youngest! Nothing but the best for Mr. Hitler," and his face twists in an ugly frown.

I can feel the shock and pain clouding my face as I find myself unable to prevent a gasping denial of the cruel reality. "Ohh no, Far. NO!! Asta? And Ludie?" Even closing my eyes tightly can't stop them brimming and overflowing. I was there at the birth of Asta. She was named for the stars that filled the clear, cold, black sky on that special night. And Ludie? Pain and disbelief grow to an unbearable level in the remembering - her birth was all over by the time we arrived. I have no control of the tear that runs down my cheek. "I saw Ludie take her first precious steps after all those countless wobbly attempts to stand up. She can't be gone, Far. She can't!" My hand raises itself as if having a life of its own. As if to stop the reality. Both of those darling girls held such special places in my heart... forever, I'd thought. But not any more.

Knud nods grimly, his distress evident. Such high hopes he'd held for these equine youngsters - the precious offspring of his top working horses. I can barely suppress a sob. Ahh Trine and Frida. How shall we go on without you? Turning his head aside with a faked coughing fit, Knud is barely able to whip out a crumpled handkerchief and hide most of his face. I pretend not to notice. Unthinkable for him to have anyone witness his tears; especially not me. How clearly I remember the young woman who'd looked up to him and respected him since she was a small girl, bobbing along on his shoulders as he proudly strode his land.

More tears threaten as I pat his hand. I know how hard this loss must have struck him. Dearest Far - must have been a pain near as strong as all he'd endured after the amputation of his leg. And another random thought crosses my mind. Diabetes, they'd said - the medicos. Decades later, descendants would question this diagnosis, wondering how any ordinary person would have managed to eat too much sugar in wartime. The saying - rub salt in the wound - was never more apt than what that old man must have felt with this further loss. Once so powerful and in control; now no longer even able to 'stand' by and see his beauties taken away to who knew what treatment? And an unimaginable life and final fate. He turns his hand over to clutch mine tightly, his heavy jowls and wrinkled throat tightening with several convulsive gulps. It's a hard thing to watch. My heart aches for him.