Nikolai and Werner strolled through the camp. It wasn't a pretty Spaziergang but the two appreciated the quiet and the oppertunity to stretch their legs after dinner. Werner had told his comrade about what had happened at Dr. Zieglers, how he'd had to fetch the doctor who in turn, had come running in to save Wojciechowski. He'd told him about what he'd read in the journals which caused Nikolai to shake his head in dismay.
"I'm truely sorry for signing you up for that. I didn't think it would be like that at all." He apologized, grabbing Werner's hand.
"It's alright. It's worth it because of Wojciechowski."
"Is the polish doctor so interresting?"
"Yes. And I heard that he was working on a cure for cancer when he was arrested..."
"A cure for cancer? That's important...I wouldn't have arrested anybody who was working for such a great cause, even if he had soviet spies working for him."
"You know about the accusations?"
"I have friends everywhere Werner." He replied cheerfully. "I know most everything about everyone in this camp."
"That's true." Werner agreed and laughed. Nikolai cuffed him around the neck in a playfull way, then lay his arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair.
"Why are you so interrested in the cure for cancer?" Nikolai asked him. "Is there someone in your family...?"
"Yes, there is. He's very dear to me, like a brother, and he's suffering from a brain tumor. If Wojciechowski can solve the riddle and cure cancer than I have to somehow..."
"Oi! You want to get him out of here!?" Nikolai cried out in surprise. He quickly covered his mouth with his mittened hand. He really hadn't meant to be so loud. Luckily for them there was nobody close by.
"Yes. Yes I do." Werner admitted. "I need to. I need to get that pole out of here and bring him to some research lab so that he can keep doing what he needs to do." Werner knew it was risky to admit all of this even though he trusted Nikolai with his life. How could he be sure that Nikolai wouldn't report him? He waited a bit nervously for his friends answer. Nikolai didn't stress it; he fished the cigarettes out of his pocket, gave one to Werner and took one for himself. After lighting both he finally spoke.
"I'll help you."
"Really?" Werner asked in surprise. He hadn't expected that for an answer. He'd expected a joke or maybe a gentle way of telling him to let it be. But he'd never thought that Nikolai would be ready to help.
"Of course. I don't like this camp any more than you. And if there is truely a man who can cure cancer here, we need to save him, don't we." Nikolai smiled slyly at Werner. For the first time Werner thought that Nikolai really didn't seem German, there was something about him that just didn't fit. He was scared to voice his suspicions to his friend, not because he was scared that he'd be angry but because he was afraid they'd be overheard. Werner threw a glance over his shoulder and then he finally asked Nikolai.
"You said you're name sounded Russian when I met you...were you kidding or...do you have Russian roots?"
"Ach Werner! I don't have Russian roots, not that I know of." Nikolai said with a laugh. "But yes, my name is Russian. I'm sorry if I mislead you." The way he said 'mislead you' sounded as if he was talking to a girl who'd fancied him but who's feelings he didn't return. "You're not the first one here to ask me if I was Russian." He said thoughtfully. "I guess there might be something slightly soviet about me..."
"There's definitely something soviet about you." Werner responded. "You seriously could pass for a Russian. You even look a bit eastern-european."
"Oh gosh. Don't let the Lagerführer hear that, or he'll send me to work alongside the prisoners myself." He joked. Even though the two men were traumatized from their experience at the camp they still managed to laugh. And then Nikolai started to whistle and soon enough his whistling burst into song. Werner didn't recognize what his dear friend was singing but it was beautiful.
Nikolai had a sweet and powerfull voice. It carried through the camp. Neither of them knew that some of the jews and russians and political prisoners in the barracks heard his song. They pricked their ears to hear it. Such a melody hadn't been heard or sung here since forever. It was not a German song, it was Russian.
Two of the Wächter heard the older man singing to the dark camp as well. They stopped to listen simultaneously and both threatened to report the other afterwards; listening to non-german music was as much a crime as thievery.
The Russian lullaby rocked many of the men to sleep that night. Nobody said a word of it the next morning, not even to their closest comerades. Everyone hoped for the singer to return the next night and free them from their worries again.