Page 124 - LEIBY

124 Leiby – Border Smuggler

gate. An Uzbekistani soldier, dark skinned with slanted eyes,
dressed in the Red Army uniform, looked at him curiously.

“Who do you want?”

“The commanding officer.”

“Let him in, I know him,” a dark-haired soldier with noticeably
Jewish features approached the gate. He exchanged a few words
with the guard, then opened the gate and accompanied Leiby
inside.

Leiby entered the officer’s room, impatient and tense.

“Officer, we need reinforcements urgently!” he exclaimed. “The
N.S.Z. have organized a blood libel and pogrom in Praga, we’ve
found the boy claimed to have been murdered and dispersed
the mob, but they’re regrouping and planning a new attack.
Please, you must send us soldiers to help protect us all until the
bloodlust subsides!”

The commanding officer, a severe looking middle-aged man,
listened attentively. “Yes, we’ll send you reinforcements,” he
decided, and his face took on a stern expression. “The war is
over, and if the Poles don’t understand that, our soldiers will
explain it to them,” he banged his fist on the table. “I’m not
prepared to have the same violence enacted all over again.”

Leiby was relieved. He placed a bottle of vodka on the table,
and the officer greedily twisted open the cap. In one long swig,
he emptied the bottle down his throat. His face reddened and
his mood became gay.

“Long live Stalin! Long live our Motherland! A toast to the
fraternity of nations!”

“But there’s no freedom and no fraternity, people here are being
murdered,” Leiby lamented.

“No, my dear child, I’ll send you a truckload of soldiers and the
gangsters will run away like frightened mice!”

“One truckload won’t be enough,” Leiby played his luck. “We
need three – one for the life of Stalin, one for the Motherland,