He let go of me and said in broken French, “Go run, I have it,” without believing it. For what ? He did not reply. He just pushed me again and repeated, “Go.” I ran. I ran as much as a pregnant and malnourished body can run, stumbling over roots, sinking into the snow, my lungs burning, my heart exploding in my chest.
I could hear shouts behind me , but I didn’t look back . I just ran until I couldn’t anymore, until my legs gave way and I fell face down in a clearing. I stayed there, lying down, spitting out snow, waiting for the gunshots. But there were no gunshots, only silence. Silence and cold. I raised my head slowly. I was alone, completely alone.
And then I heard footsteps again. I turned my face, ready to die. He was the soldier. He was wearing a military coat and carrying a backpack. He approached me, threw the coat over my shoulders and said in a low voice, “I can’t go back now, they’ll shoot me. You can’t go back either. So, we’ll have to continue together.
” It was the beginning, the beginning of something that should never have existed, of an impossible escape, of a forbidden alliance, of a story that no one would believe if I told it, but I am telling it now because Matis Keller deserves to be remembered, because my son deserves to know, and because some truths must be told before time erases them forever.
If you are listening to this now, wherever you are in the world, know that this story really happened. And perhaps, just perhaps, you will understand why I kept this secret for 60 years. We didn’t speak for the first 48 hours . We just walked. Mathis in front, me behind, stumbling in the deep snow, my feet wrapped in rags he had torn from his own shirt because my shoes had fallen to pieces.
He guided me through the forest without a map, without a compass, just instinct and fear. Sometimes he would stop, raise his hand to make me be quiet, listen to the sounds of the night and then leave again. I wasn’t asking any questions. I didn’t yet understand what was happening. All I knew was that I was alive, that my baby was still moving in my womb, and that this man had saved me for no apparent reason.
The end was our first enemy. Matis had in his bag some military rations, dry bread, a can of meat, a water bottle. He shared everything equally, even though I could see in his eyes that he was hungrier than me. On the second night, we took refuge in an abandoned barn outside a village whose name I never learned.
