Slovakia, Autumn 1944 - p.12: Windfall

October 31, 1944

I started the day by eating two Dextro-Energen wafers which gave me a slight boost. I knew or sensed that I will not be able to hold out much longer without proper food and warm shelter. The soldiers, who fed me their macaroni and good, chicory-based black coffee the day before, mentioned that the mountain was above the village of Donovaly. I knew the place from pre-war weekend outings and decided to find my way there. I walked on the summit all morning. Some noises from below continued to reach me but I could not orient myself in the thick fog. A few familiar looking bushes warned me that I was walking in circles. Early afternoon a wind started to blow over the mountaintop and the fog cleared. Then it happened.
Suddenly there was in front of me an army rucksack. I lifted it and hurried into the shelter of almost leafless bushes and stunted trees. On the way I found a bayonet in its metal scabbard.

The rucksack was an unbelievable find, especially as its contents were dry:
- Two cylindrical boxes of tinned food.
- One small carton of dark-brown, crumbly cubes. These turned out to be a compressed mixture of chicory-coffee and sugar.
- Two pairs of long, warm underpants. New, unused.
- One small towel and four grey footcloths. All unused.
- A large scale topographic map of the region
- A ribbon with a bulbous sword ornament and cardboard strips with rank insignia. They identified the former owner of the rucksack as a non-commissioned officer ( poddôstojnik) in the Slovak army.

I was not in the habit of praying and did not know whether to laugh or cry. With the newly found bayonet I opened one of the tins. Inside was shredded meat which I scraped out with my spoon. I ate one of the ersatz coffee cubes. With my stomach stilled, I stripped, swung my unspeakable shorts into the bushes and pulled on both long underpants. My rotten socks were replaced by nice, dry footcloths. --- I sat on the rucksack and temporarily forgot my thirst as I studied the map. It showed Banska Bystrica at the aproximate centre . At the top of the sheet, about 25 kilometers distant, I found Donovaly and the nearby mountains. I could see that during the past days I have climbed up and down mountains whose height (elevation above sea level) ranged from 1000 to over 1500 meters. I stuffed the remaining meat tin, coffee cubes, footcloths and the map into my knapsack. My new bayonet in its scabbard dangled from the wide belt on the outside of my long coat. The rucksack and other useless items were left behind. Now that I had a better feel for my surroundings I hurried to get down to Donovaly before nightfall.

Again I heard shouting, engine noises and this time also the clanging of tank threads. Hours later, after descending through a wooded area, I reached a group of houses near a winding road. It was dark, quiet and nobody seemed to be outside. I walked to a small peasant cottage that stood separately at the end of the hamlet and knocked. The door opened and a man looked at me in the light of a kerosene lamp. There I stood, 17 years old, skinny, bedraggled in an ill-fitting army coat. After a few words I was motioned in. Thus started my first sheltered night in Donovaly.