The Purge of Tremors

1

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Springtime, 1941, in the forests of Yugoslavia, a stand of old European spruce trees caught the woodcutter’s eye. Perched along the ledge of a steep outcropping, Alexander Slovac knew the climb would be demanding. It is here he would wield his axe. Rumors were rampant throughout the countryside German regiments were assembling outside the city and would soon advance on Belgrade. No place seemed safe, but Alexander Slovac was determined to fall a Carpathian spruce which possessed the fine grain and density he had promised his friend. The girth of the trees in this stand would easily take five cuts. Throwing his pruning belt up to the top, he climbed the escarpment and picked a tree instinct told him would fall into a ready-made clearing. To his delight, it fell exactly in the position he had hoped for and he began the work of cutting the downed tree into sections.

After resting, Slovac threw the wood cuttings down the embankment close to the cart where he could easily load and begin the trip down the mountain. Hans Gojkovic would meet Slovac as planned, pay him the 500 Dinar for his work and leave immediately back to his home in the village of Grosnica. The one-day journey would take him perilously close to German lines. To avoid scouting parties, he would travel at night using little known trails guarded by heavy underbrush and overhanging trees. The travel was arduous and fraught with danger. Before leaving, Hans wrapped the wagon wheels with a thick cloth Ljubica had given him to cover supplies, hoping the noise traveling over the road would be lessened. Twenty miles south of Belgrade, just outside the village of Rgotina, he encountered a band of German Wehrmacht soldiers leading a family at gunpoint high on a bluff overlooking a ravine. The women and children were sobbing. He watched as they slowly disappeared into the darkness. Moments later, shots rang out and the crying stopped. Hans stood silent calming his horse. Surely, if he moved they would hear him. Within a few minutes, the soldiers reappeared atop the bluff laughing and speaking German. Hans pulled the wagon off the trail behind a tall clump of bushes and waited; petrified the horse would spook and draw the attention of the soldiers. Removing his hunting rifle from its shaft, he crouched down and waited.

Having to remain awake and alert, all he could think of was Ljubica and young Dijana waiting for him to return home. Ljubica was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Hans was short and stubby with a beard he had purposely grown to cover a facial scar that began at the bridge of his nose and ended just beneath his chin. Ljubica always told him kiddingly that it was his best feature. Growing up, she seemed to be always surrounded by boys trying to get her attention. Hans learned the carpenter trade with his grandfather as a small boy growing up in Belgrade. His mastery over the years building furniture and wooden instruments became well known. He came to understand the quality of different woods and the inferences of textures and rings. His grandfather believed finely-crafted furniture held within its bones the legacy of the past. Ljubica would often stop by his grandfather’s woodworking shop with her mother looking for pieces of furniture that had a good price, often bartering for one she had a keen interest in and the family could afford.

To his surprise, one day, Ljubica came in to the shop with her mother leaving her to go over and talk to Hans about re-stringing a violin. Nervous, Hans fumbled around but in the end agreeing happily to do the work and bringing the violin back to her to following day. He remembered how foolish he must have looked putting on his best clothes to deliver the violin. Impressed he had gone to so much trouble, she invited him to talk with her about the delicacy of making furniture and wooden instruments. He admired her as she explained her interest in books and music. His demeanor and poise as he carefully listened to her every detail seemed to infatuate her. They instantly became friends. Over time, she fell in love with his sincere companionship and his simple uncomplicated view of her world. A year later, they were married. When Dijana was born, their exuberance at holding this beautiful being in their arms seemed to forever lock them together as family.

After what seemed like an eternity the soldiers finally left, making their way north where he presumed was another village of unsuspecting peasants. It was morning when he reached Kragujevac; the city was alive with activity. People were crowded in the town square listening intently to the town’s mayor while German Regimental Commander Colonel Rudolph Albrecht stood stoically at his side guarded by a dozen or so armed regimental soldiers. Albrecht was tall and hovered over the mayor. His coal black eyes looking out over the crowd seemed bereft of humanity. The heavily metaled brown uniform of the German colonel reeked authority. Before the mayor had finished talking, the German moved forward and stood purposely in front of the mayor. Raising his arms to gesture silence, he raised his voice commanding all to hear, Citizens of Kragujevac. The Fuhrer has sent me here to protect you from the hordes of dissidents roaming the countryside, robbing your homes and raping your women. The brave citizens of Kragujevac who are not among these heretics have nothing to fear. The colonel moved a couple of steps closer to the crowd and clasped his hands together, I now urge you to go on about your business just as you would any other day. In a few days I will appoint a magistrate to hear your complaints and to gather any information you think will keep you safe from our enemies. Your mayor will have complete access to me any time day or night. Hans couldn’t believe his eyes. Most people were nodding their heads in agreement or saying nothing. They were frightened and actually seemed to be relieved by what the colonel was telling them. Hans was infuriated. The family he saw shot to death were simple peasants, not marauders or thieves.

Trying to remain unnoticed, Hans left the square quietly, making his way home back to Grosnica. He was relieved to see 15-year-old Dijana running up the path with her mother Ljubica close behind. They were safe and seemed to be unaware of the peril lurking just outside the city of Kragujevac. After eating, Hans and Dijana would read together and Ljubica would play her violin, as they always did. Later, Ljubica would make a delicious strudel for the next day. He would hold his wife close this night quietly explaining to her what had happened to him during his journey back from Belgrade. Trying to escape would surely place them in further jeopardy as the Germans were everywhere. It would be worse if they were caught on the road. Although frightened, Ljubica understood and agreed to stay hoping the Germans would leave soon. They stayed awake most of the night holding each other close, and then as fatigue overcame them, closed their eyes.

A week went by without incident as Hans worked feverishly in his workshop creating an instrument he hoped Dijana would cherish for the rest of her life. Its bottom would be made of a good maple with the fine grain of a spruce for the top of the instrument his friend Slovac insisted it be made from. Carefully applying a thin coat of varnish to protect the finish, he placed it in a rack to dry. Ever since she was 6 years old, his beautiful Dijana easily took to the violin, testing the tone and resonance of each instrument her father crafted. Ljubica had taught Dijana well. Hans had always been struck by how comfortable she was with herself, always sweet, but contemplative and temperate when anyone would ask her a question. Her embrace was happy, deep and memorable to the one receiving it. This instrument would be hers and hers alone.

Seeing a day that was too beautiful to waste, Dijana and her mother decided to hike up to an outcropping of rock up on a ridge overlooking their cottage. Once there, Dijana could see her father walking from his work shed to his wagon getting lumber. He stopped when he spotted the two women waving frantically at him from their perch. They laughed when Hans paused and welcomed the distraction by performing jumping jacks. Welcomed by a bright, sunny morning, the women marveled at a flock of birds nesting in the trees below explode from the canopy forming a cloud of black. Following their leader, they formed a V flying in unison toward the east. Where do you think they’re going mother? Dijana asked.

Ljubica continued to stare straight ahead. They’re a family, daughter. They are leaving to find a new place, and that place is wherever they can be together.

Both women watched as the formation slowly disappeared over the horizon, a few birds falling off but returning quickly to their place as if it was reserved for them.

I admire them. Dijana mused.

Why? Ljubica asked.

They are off to somewhere new, another part of the world only they know. They are free to explore places and things we can only dream about.

Ljubica smiled and reached over patting her daughter affectionately on the knee. I think we all secretly wish to be free like Dijana. If you were free, where do you dream about going?

Paris. I would go to Paris, Dijana said excitedly, to see the buildings, the different kinds of people, the beautiful streets and the fountains and statues.

You know, Dijana, while you’re sleeping at night, your father and I talk about going to places like that. Sometimes I read to him and we look at the pictures. The words put us there in our dreams and sometimes we can feel the excitement of being in a new place without actually being there.

Mother, why is it father never asked you to help him learn how to read?

I think he likes me reading and playing the violin for him. He says that I can make both words and music come to life, allowing him to dream about the things we can only talk about. Ljubica turned to her daughter. You are a young woman now daughter, she said with great emphasis. You will have choices in your life that your father and I could never dream of. Dijana, your father and I have raised you to find a place in this world that fits you, where you will be the happiest. I chose your father because he loves me, because he is kind to others, and because he allows my imagination to stray beyond what our life here commands. He isn’t all he could be but it’s enough.

Ljubica reached over and pressed her finger to Dijana’s lips to stop her from speaking. Shhh, she insisted, listen to me! Take what you have been given and share it with the world. Be proud of who you are and where you came from and live your life as long as God allows.

Ljubica and her daughter had sat here many times looking down at the countryside, marveling at how the furrows of farm fields and their plantings matched the symmetry of the surrounding forest with perfection. Today, however, felt different. Dijana felt on this day her mother was about to release her from the safety of childhood and put her in an unfamiliar world she was not prepared for.

The next day, Hans drove the wagon to the village of Bozunja along the Jasenica River to meet his friend Dragon. As boyhood friends, they spent much of their youth working the fields as peasant farmers with their parents. In their free time, they enjoyed traipsing through the forest daydreaming about conquering worlds far beyond their realm and mimicking heroes of the Ottoman Empire that their parents enthusiastically talked about. Dragon’s parents were devout Muslims, unusual in a predominantly Christian country. As he grew older, Dragon came to befriend a neighbor who was a metal worker. The man took an interest in Dragon and eventually agreed to take him on as an apprentice, teaching him the skills of working with metal. As the years passed and Dragon became skilled at metalworking, he began designing and creating intricate and refined stamps for metal fasteners and latches to use on doors and cabinets. Orders began coming from nearby villages who wanted not only attractive but sturdier door elements for their home. On this day, Hans wanted to see if Dragon could make metal latches that were unique and easier to maneuver for a clothing chest he was making. Seeing Hans pull his wagon up to the front of his shop, Dragon promptly slipped off his work apron and walked out to greet him. My friend, where have you been? Dragon said enthusiastically giving Hans a bear hug.

I’ve been busy building a chest for a customer in my village. he replied. They lost their son recently to tuberculosis and he wanted to do this for his wife, but they don’t have a lot of money. The straps I use for the fasteners are cheap. I thought you might have something I can use that will look better.

Come into my shop. Dragon insisted. I do have something that has some minor imperfections but hardly noticeable. I can’t sell them that but his wife should have something special. Hans followed Dragon over to his bench and watched him pull out a drawer. Here, my friend. he said as he handed over six metal latches each intricately interlaced.

How much for these? Hans asked."

Dragon pursed his lips sadly. No cost to the gentleman. A family should not have to suffer this way. It’s the least I can do.

Do you have time for a drink? Hans asked in his most persuasive tone."

It would be impolite to say no to a friend. Dragon laughed.

I thought it was against your faith. Hans said jokingly.

Allah will forgive such a small indiscretion with an infidel. Dragon responded with a smirk.

Both men climbed on the wagon and Hans drove to a local kafana along the riverbank that Dragon was fond of. The coffee shop was smoke filled and packed with locals so Dragon led Hans to an outside table. Unexpectedly, Dragon leaned over toward Hans quietly saying Have you heard what has been going on in Kragujevac?

Yes, Hans whispered, I saw the Germans in the square when I returned from Belgrade. I didn’t stay; thought there was going to be trouble.

Dragon leaned in further, It’s good you left when you did. We have heard that the German soldiers surrounded some young men that were standing together in the crowd and took them away. They haven’t been heard from since.

Hans got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Is it true young men are running around in gangs looking to kill the Italians and Germans?

Dragon paused for a moment, the way people do when they are about to say something important. Did you see all those men in the restaurant talking quietly? I’m sure that’s what they’re talking about. Hans, there have been men going in and out of this kafana for days that I do not recognize. Dragon looked around making sure no one was listening, then leaned in and whispered, I think they are spies trying to get information.

How do you know all this, Dragon? Is it true what the Germans are saying? Are there men running around the countryside shooting Germans?

Dragon leaned in again and this time whispered even lower. Not men Hans, boys no older than sixteen!

Hans was shocked. How? he insisted. Where are they getting their weapons?

I’ve seen them, Hans. They are hiding their guns in some hollowed out old trees along the bank on the other side of the river about a mile from here.

Are you crazy, Dragon? How did you see this?

Paranoid someone would hear them talking, Dragon scanned his surroundings again. "A couple of weeks ago, I went down the river where it