Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7 They all sat together around Mr. Jablonski's scratched wooden table. It was covered with more food than Max or Zena had seen in a year. There was nothing fancy, just bread, cheese, apples, and a pitcher of frothy milk. But to Max it looked like a holiday feast. Mr. Jablonski filled two plates for Max and Zena, and neither of them even tried to remember their manners. They gobbled their food, washing down huge mouthfuls with gulps of milk. Mr. Jablonski kept refilling their plates as Martin and Lev looked on with smiles. The men

acted as if Max and Zena were part of their families, too. Martin was the youngest of the group — he looked about seventeen. He was as big as a bear, with a quick laugh. Lev seemed to be just a little older than Aunt Hannah, small but very muscular. His round glasses gave him a shy and bookish look. But his eyes were steely, and Max could see by the way the others listened to him that he was the leader of their little group. Mr. Jablonski wasn't Jewish or a partisan — he was a spy. He'd tricked the Nazis into thinking he

loved Hitler. He'd even become close friends with the Nazi commander in the area. But secretly he was working with the partisans — helping plot their missions, hiding them in his barn, supplying them with food and news from the outside. After Max and Zena finished eating, Lev spread a map across the table. He traced their route back to the forest. If they were lucky, they'd reach their camp by sundown tomorrow night. They also talked about the war, showing Max and Zena on the map where the latest battles were being fought. In the ghetto, newspapers and radios had been forbidden. Nobody had any real idea about what was happening outside the barbed wire fence. The Nazis always made it seem as though they were crushing their enemies, and that any day Hitler would be the leader of the entire world. But now Max and Zena learned the amazing truth — Germany was losing the war! The Nazis still controlled most of the countries in Europe, but their grip was slipping. American

and British forces were battering them in France and other areas to the west. But the real trouble for the Nazis was on the other side of the map, in Russia. Lev pointed to that giant country, which stretched out to Poland's east. "Hitler has sent millions of German soldiers to Russia," Lev said. "He figured the Russians would surrender within a few weeks." But the Russians were determined fighters, and the battles dragged on and on. By now, German troops were running low on weapons, food, and warm clothes. The Nazis kept loading up trains with supplies. But few of these trains made it to Russia. "We're blowing them all up," Martin said, flashing a smile. Different partisan groups were targeting trains all over the east. Lately they'd been destroying hundreds of trains every week.

"But tonight's train was one of the most important," Lev told them. It had more than thirty railcars, packed with machine guns, tons of ammunition, and winter uniforms. But most important: Panzer tanks. "There were twenty of them," Martin added. Max shuddered as he remembered the enormous steel beasts rumbling through the streets of Esties, their guns powerful enough to blast away an entire building in one shot. For weeks after the invasion, Max had nightmares that a Panzer was chasing him. He'd wake up drenched in sweat, his arms and legs aching as though he'd been running for his life. To destroy the train, Aunt Hannah, Lev, and Martin had carried a fifty-pound explosive from their base in the forest. They traveled in the dead of night, dodging Nazi soldiers guarding the tracks. They climbed onto a train bridge that stretched across two high ridges, and tied the bomb to the underside of the tracks.

Then they hid behind a rock, readied the bomb's detonator, and waited for the train. Hours passed. But then, finally… Whoooooooooooooooo! Whoooooooooooooooo! The train barreled toward the bridge. Black smoke belched from the stack of the massive locomotive. A Nazi flag glowed in the moonlight. And there were the Panzer tanks, each sitting on its own flatbed railcar. Behind them, an endless line of railcars was packed with supplies for the Nazi troops. The train approached the bridge. With a flick of a finger, Lev triggered the blast. Kaboom! The bomb exploded in a massive ball of fire. In a flash, the bridge crumbled, its wooden supports snapping like toothpicks. The train's locomotive seemed to hang helplessly in the air for a moment. And then it