Bennett heard himself give a forced laugh. ‘The British are pretty good at letting off steam themselves, you know.’
‘Letting off steam?’
Bennett mimed a rush of air from the ears.
Wladyslaw absorbed this with a grin before looking away. When he spoke again, his tone was subdued. ‘We left pub quick last night.’
‘Trouble?’
‘Some English boys, they want to fight us.’
‘Something to do with the beautiful lady perhaps?’
Wladyslaw gave a small expressive shrug. ‘Maybe.’
They both knew the truth probably lay elsewhere. Following the lead of the trade unions, some of the more hysterical British newspapers had been whipping up fears over the unexpected influx of
Poles.
‘But you managed to avoid trouble, did you?’
Wladyslaw gave a silent laugh. ‘Good soldier – he knows when to run, when to fight.’
‘As a nation I’m afraid we have a great talent for xenophobia.’ Misinterpreting Wladyslaw’s silence, Bennett began to explain, ‘Xenophobia is the—’
‘I understand this word OK,’ Wladyslaw said, his face set at changeable. ‘But British government, trade union – we get same story both ways. Poles are bad people
now.’
‘Nonsense, Wladyslaw! Nobody could ever think such a thing after your fantastic war service. Not bad .’ Aware that he was protesting too much, Bennett paused abruptly.
‘This government’s still very new to the job. They’re still burning with socialist idealism. Give them a bit more time and they’ll see the injustice of it all.’
‘You think?’ Wladyslaw shifted forward in his chair and fixed Bennett with a hard stare. ‘Liaison officer – Major Phipps – you know this man?’
Bennett sighed, ‘Yes.’
‘OK, I tell you – yesterday he come and say to Poles from Second Corps, why you boys not want to go home? We tell him this is simple – we have no home. Our home is part of
Ukraine or Byelorusse now. And he look at us like we’re crazy people. Like he not know that eastern Poland is gone now, not part of Poland no more. And this is military man! This is liaison
officer!’ Wladyslaw spoke with a fervour that, not for the first time, caused Bennett to gaze at him in fascination. ‘Then Major Phipps, he says OK, if you not like government so much,
why you not go back and get another? And we say, good joke, and we laugh. And he is angry with us. He gets like this’ – in a vivid parody, Wladyslaw thrust his chin up, tightened his
lips and glared down his nose – ‘and he says not laughing matter. And we say, sure, is laughing matter when British understand nothing, when British talk like this to us. Sure –
this is funny!’
Bennett could imagine how well this had gone down with Major Phipps.
In a very Polish gesture, Wladyslaw pressed a fist hard against his chest and said passionately, ‘This is real deep hurt for us, Doctor. That British not hear what we say. We, who are your
real true friends.’ The hand swung forward, palm open. ‘That you not believe us when we tell you that in all of history Russia is never to be trusted. Not with us. And ’
– he pointed a warning finger at Bennett – ‘not with Britain also, although you forget this, I think.’
The thick smoke had begun to irritate Bennett’s lungs and he coughed a little. ‘I couldn’t pretend that history’s our strong point, Wladyslaw. But for what it’s
worth, I think attitudes are beginning to change.’
‘But too late for us, I think. Britain, America – they will not fight for Poland second time.’
‘No.’ Bennett turned aside to cough again. ‘What about you, Wladyslaw? Have you had any more thoughts about going home?’
Wladyslaw’s passion had subsided as quickly as it had come. He leant back in his chair and said in a tone of gentle melancholy, ‘I wait for news from Helenka, but I think it is not
good for me to return.’
The coughing took a sudden grip on Bennett’s throat and he spluttered helplessly. Springing up,
‘Letting off steam?’
Bennett mimed a rush of air from the ears.
Wladyslaw absorbed this with a grin before looking away. When he spoke again, his tone was subdued. ‘We left pub quick last night.’
‘Trouble?’
‘Some English boys, they want to fight us.’
‘Something to do with the beautiful lady perhaps?’
Wladyslaw gave a small expressive shrug. ‘Maybe.’
They both knew the truth probably lay elsewhere. Following the lead of the trade unions, some of the more hysterical British newspapers had been whipping up fears over the unexpected influx of
Poles.
‘But you managed to avoid trouble, did you?’
Wladyslaw gave a silent laugh. ‘Good soldier – he knows when to run, when to fight.’
‘As a nation I’m afraid we have a great talent for xenophobia.’ Misinterpreting Wladyslaw’s silence, Bennett began to explain, ‘Xenophobia is the—’
‘I understand this word OK,’ Wladyslaw said, his face set at changeable. ‘But British government, trade union – we get same story both ways. Poles are bad people
now.’
‘Nonsense, Wladyslaw! Nobody could ever think such a thing after your fantastic war service. Not bad .’ Aware that he was protesting too much, Bennett paused abruptly.
‘This government’s still very new to the job. They’re still burning with socialist idealism. Give them a bit more time and they’ll see the injustice of it all.’
‘You think?’ Wladyslaw shifted forward in his chair and fixed Bennett with a hard stare. ‘Liaison officer – Major Phipps – you know this man?’
Bennett sighed, ‘Yes.’
‘OK, I tell you – yesterday he come and say to Poles from Second Corps, why you boys not want to go home? We tell him this is simple – we have no home. Our home is part of
Ukraine or Byelorusse now. And he look at us like we’re crazy people. Like he not know that eastern Poland is gone now, not part of Poland no more. And this is military man! This is liaison
officer!’ Wladyslaw spoke with a fervour that, not for the first time, caused Bennett to gaze at him in fascination. ‘Then Major Phipps, he says OK, if you not like government so much,
why you not go back and get another? And we say, good joke, and we laugh. And he is angry with us. He gets like this’ – in a vivid parody, Wladyslaw thrust his chin up, tightened his
lips and glared down his nose – ‘and he says not laughing matter. And we say, sure, is laughing matter when British understand nothing, when British talk like this to us. Sure –
this is funny!’
Bennett could imagine how well this had gone down with Major Phipps.
In a very Polish gesture, Wladyslaw pressed a fist hard against his chest and said passionately, ‘This is real deep hurt for us, Doctor. That British not hear what we say. We, who are your
real true friends.’ The hand swung forward, palm open. ‘That you not believe us when we tell you that in all of history Russia is never to be trusted. Not with us. And ’
– he pointed a warning finger at Bennett – ‘not with Britain also, although you forget this, I think.’
The thick smoke had begun to irritate Bennett’s lungs and he coughed a little. ‘I couldn’t pretend that history’s our strong point, Wladyslaw. But for what it’s
worth, I think attitudes are beginning to change.’
‘But too late for us, I think. Britain, America – they will not fight for Poland second time.’
‘No.’ Bennett turned aside to cough again. ‘What about you, Wladyslaw? Have you had any more thoughts about going home?’
Wladyslaw’s passion had subsided as quickly as it had come. He leant back in his chair and said in a tone of gentle melancholy, ‘I wait for news from Helenka, but I think it is not
good for me to return.’
The coughing took a sudden grip on Bennett’s throat and he spluttered helplessly. Springing up,
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