A European Education

Romain Gary

• Publisher: Eschenburg Press
• Year: 2018
• eBook ISBN: 9781789121872
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: European History
• Index: History

A NOVEL OF DESPERATE LOVE, BITTER HOPE, CHILLING COURAGE AND RELENTLESS BRAVERY"THIS quietly terrible parable for our times was first published in France fifteen years ago and was awarded the Prix de Critiques. It was translated into fourteen languages, but not into English. Since then M. Gary has won international fame with several other books. Now an entirely rewritten and, M. Gary hopes, a much improved version of A EUROPEAN EDUCATION is published in English for the first time."A too hasty glance at A EUROPEAN EDUCATION might give the impression that no novel has ever borne a more sadly ironical title, because this is a story of innocence 'educated' in all the horrors and atrocities of modern war. But some of the graduates of the twentieth century's school of despair learned something other than the subjects taught. They learned that man's dream of freedom, of dignity and of love, is immortal; that his faith in a future without hatred cannot be destroyed."—Orville Prescott in THE NEW YORK TIMES"A EUROPEAN EDUCATION is a story of unmitigated privation and terror. But it is also the story of the human heart's triumph over evil even in the exercise of evil."A EUROPEAN EDUCATION is about a group of partisans called the 'green ones' because they live in the forests of Poland. They hide in caves, steal food and sabotage every effort of the Germans."Before the book ends, the hero has become a man; he has killed; he has learned how to steal without being caught, how to make friends with the Germans whom he intends to kill, and how to love."The title is inherent in Janek's bitter summing up of what he has learned; '...all this European education comes down to is to teach you how to find the courage to shoot a man who sits there with lowered head....'"This may not be Romain Gary's most popular book, but it is a little masterpiece and may prove to be his."—THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE

 

CHAPTER 1

THE HIDEOUT was finished just as dawn began to glimmer. It was a wretched dawn in September, drizzling with rain. The pine trees floated in mist; the sky was lost somewhere out of sight. For a month they had been working secretly, by night; the Germans never risked leaving the main roads after dusk, but by day their patrols ranged the forest, hunting for the few remaining partisans whom hunger and despair had not yet forced to give up the fight. The den was twelve feet deep and fifteen feet wide. They had flung a mattress and some rugs into one corner; six sacks of potatoes, a hundredweight each, were stacked along the earthen walls. In one of these walls, alongside the mattress, they had dug a hearth; the chimney flue came up to the surface a few yards from the hideout, in a coppice. The roof was solid. They had made good use of the door of an armored train which the partisans had derailed about a year ago, on the line from Wilno to Molodeczno.

“Don’t forget to get fresh brushwood every few days,” said the doctor.

“I won’t forget.”

“Keep an eye on the smoke.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Above all, don’t talk to anyone.”

“I won’t talk,” promised Janek.

Shovel in hand, father and son inspected their work. It was a good den, thought Janek, well hidden in the brushwood. Even Stefek Podhoriki, better known in the school at Wilno as “Winetoo, the Noble Apache Chieftain,” while Janek himself went by the glorious title of “Old Shatterhand”—even Winetoo would not have spotted its existence.

“How long shall I be living like this, sir?”

“Not long. The enemy will soon be beaten.”

“When?”

“Don’t lose heart.”

“I’m not losing heart. But I want to know. When?”

“In a few months perhaps.”

Dr. Twardowski looked at his son. “Stay hidden.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t catch cold.”

A pair of snowshoes was lying by the hearth, the kind that trappers use in all those adventure stories about the far northern wildernesses which Janek loved so much.

Dr. Twardowski caught his glance. “You’ll use them when the snow falls. But even then you must drag the blanket behind you to erase your mark. Otherwise, they will follow the track and find your hole.”

Janek felt a little thrilled. “I know about them, sir. The trappers use them in the Far North when they hunt the animals for their skins.”

The doctor nodded. “Yes,” he said, “when they track the animals for their skins.” He took a Browning automatic from his pocket. “Look.” He explained how the pistol worked. “Take good care of it. There are fifty cartridges in the bag.”

“Thanks.”

“I am going off now. I’ll come back tomorrow. Keep well hidden. Your two brothers were killed—you are all we have left, Old Shatterhand!”

He smiled. “Be patient. You’ll stay here only as long as the S.S. troops are here. They are not even an army. They are the worst there is in the human race. They will be gone in a few weeks. Think of your mother. Don’t ever go far away from your hideout. And cheer up. Freedom always returns. It will speak the last word.”

“Yes, sir.”

The doctor went away into the mist. It was daylight now, but everything was still gray and hazy—the pine trees floating in mist, their branches drooping like burdened wings that no air can lift. Janek slipped into the brushwood and raised the rusty iron door. He climbed down the ladder and threw himself on the mattress. It was pitch dark in the hideout. He got up and tried to light a fire; the wood was damp. He got it going at last, lay down again, trying not to cry. He took up the big book Winetoo, the Red Indian Gentleman. But he could not read. The silence in his ears was frightening; it was as if the whole earth had turned to stone. His eyes closed. Weariness numbed his body, his mind.....He fell asleep.

CHAPTER 2

HE SPENT the next day in his underground lair. He read the chapter in the book in which Old Shatterhand, bound to the stake, succeeds in eluding the vigilance of the Indians and escapes. It was his favorite passage. He roasted potatoes in the embers and ate them. The chimney drew badly, smoke filled the hideout and stung his eyes....He dared not go out. He knew that outside, all alone, he would be frightened. In his lair he felt safe from men.

Dr. Twardowski arrived at nightfall.

“Good evening, Old Shatterhand.”

“Good evening, sir.”

“You haven’t been out?”

“No.”

“You weren’t frightened?”

“I’m never frightened.”

The doctor smiled sadly. He looked old and tired. “Your mother wants you to pray.”

Janek thought of his brothers. His mother had prayed a lot for them. “What use is praying?”

“No use. Do as your mother tells you.”

“I will, sir.”

The doctor stayed with him all night. They did not sleep much. They did not talk much, either. Only Janek asked, “Why don’t you come and hide, too?”

“There are a lot of sick people at Sucharki. Typhus, you know. The famine is spreading the epidemic. I must stay with them, Old Shatterhand. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I do, sir.”

All night the doctor tended the fire. Janek lay with his eyes wide open, watching the logs turn red and then black.

“You aren’t asleep, my boy?”

“No, sir...”

“Yes?”

“How long is this going to last?”

“I don’t know. No one knows—no one.” Suddenly the doctor said, “The Americans are in the war now. They will come from the west, soon. In the east the Russians are fighting like lions.”

“Are they fighting for us, sir?”

“Yes—for us, and for millions of others.”

The wood crackled, burned and fell into ashes. The doctor sat on the mattress, rubbing his hands. He looked into the fire. When he spoke again, his voice shook a little.

“It will take some time. You must be patient. If you don’t hear from me, whatever you do, don’t go back to Sucharki. You have food for some months. When you have nothing left to eat, or if you get too lonely, or too scared, go and find the partisans.”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know. They are constantly on the move. They are hiding in the forest. Try to find them—but don’t ever show them your hideout. Whatever happens, don’t show it to anyone. If things go badly, always take refuge here.”

“I will, sir.”

Two days later the doctor returned. He didn’t stay long. “I daren’t leave your mother alone.”

“Why?”

“A German non-com has been killed at Sucharki.

They are taking hostages.”

“It’s like the Indians,” said Janek.

“Yes, like the Indians.”

The doctor was staring into the fire. “One more thing....” He raised his eyes. “Remember, nothing important ever dies. Whatever happens to your mother, or to me—it is only an episode. What our enemies are trying to kill is immortal—out of their reach. Liberty, love. It always grows again.”

He stood up. “Perhaps you are too young to under-stand. You will have to find out by yourself.”

“I’m not too young,” young Janek said.

The doctor smiled. “Good. Don’t get careless. Keep yourself clean and tidy. Do as your mother has...

Table of contents

• Title page
• TABLE OF CONTENTS
• DEDICATION
• CHAPTER 1
• CHAPTER 2
• CHAPTER 3
• CHAPTER 4
• CHAPTER 5
• CHAPTER 6
• CHAPTER 7
• CHAPTER 8
• CHAPTER 9
• CHAPTER 10
• CHAPTER 11
• CHAPTER 12
• CHAPTER 13
• CHAPTER 14
• CHAPTER 15
• CHAPTER 16
• CHAPTER 17
• CHAPTER 18
• CHAPTER 19
• CHAPTER 20
• CHAPTER 21
• CHAPTER 22
• CHAPTER 23
• CHAPTER 24
• CHAPTER 25
• CHAPTER 26
• CHAPTER 27
• CHAPTER 28
• CHAPTER 29
• CHAPTER 30
• CHAPTER 31
• CHAPTER 32
• EPILOGUE
• ABOUT THE AUTHOR
• REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER