He Wasn't the Same

He Wasn’t the Same

Union County, Iowa

Friday, June 8, 1945

9:21 a.m.

Eighteen-year-old Jakub Nowak, the youngest son of Polish immigrant farmers, settled into a thinly padded seat for the longest train-trip of his life. He was bound for Chicago—but that brief stop was only a fraction of his punishing journey.

Exactly one month after Germany surrendered, ending the war in Europe, Jakub sat in quiet contemplation processing the magnitude of his decision. Deep in thought, the familiar scent of his mother’s perfume wafted up from his shirt collar. In his mind’s eye he replayed the memory of the tender farewell as he hugged his tearful parents and wondered when he would see them again.

He stole a quick glance at his leather suitcase in the overhead bin. A shadow of a smile crossed his face as he remembered the two sandwiches and a bag of cookies his mother had packed for him. He was thinking about how much he’d miss his mother’s cooking when the bright light from the window across the aisle suddenly dimmed.

“Excuse me, I don’t want my bag to fall on you.” A haggard middle-aged man with a day’s stubble and hollow eyes stood next to Jakub’s seat. Using one arm, the man lifted a scruffy canvas bag and placed it next to Jakub’s suitcase. The man steadied himself using a wooden cane to regain his balance. Gingerly, he bent at the waist and took the seat across from Jakub.

Other passengers paraded down the aisle in both directions carrying bags and packages looking for suitable seating. The train was scheduled to depart within minutes, which added a sense of urgency to their search.

Jakub’s youthful curiosity got the better of him regarding his new surroundings. In an attempt to be less conspicuous, he began to turn his head as if stretching his neck. He determined the aging train car had considerable wear from years of long-distance travel carrying thousands of servicemen to war, and in happier times, to see the wonders of America. From the corner of his eye, Jakub noticed his seatmate looking out of the window.

“Where ya’ headed? I’m Jakub, by the way.” He extended his hand, then nervously, raked the fingers of his left hand through his wavy blond hair. Two dimples appeared as he smiled.

“I’m Cole. Cole Garza” He cleared his throat. “Cincinnati, Ohio.” He said. “How about you?”

“First, Chicago, then I change trains and head to Baltimore.”

“What’s so important in Baltimore? Cole asked.

”I’m going to catch a cargo ship—I need to go to Danzig.” Jakub said.

Cole‘s eyes narrowed. “That’s a long trip. Why Danzig? You know it’s still dangerous there. Some say that area remains an unofficial war zone.”

Jakub nodded, pressed his lips together, and inhaled deeply. “Yeah, I know, but I just gotta’ go. I need to locate my brother. He went to Poland before the war to visit family and then, he couldn’t get out. We haven’t heard from him in months.”

Cole looked down for a long moment before he spoke. “I’ve heard talk, and I’ve seen newsreels of Danzig. You won’t like it.”

“Have you been to Poland?”

Cole shook his head. “No. The farthest east I got was Mortain, France. I was at the Battle of Mortain, in August of ’44.” He pulled up his right pantleg to reveal a prosthetic leg. “I was an Army chaplain—30th Infantry Division, but I sorta’ ran out of prayers that day.” Immediately, he looked away like someone had pulled a switch—in an instant, he changed.

An awkward silence fell between them.

As the train slowly inched forward, Jakub studied Cole’s weatherbeaten face, his calloused hands, and his introverted demeanor. He thought Cole had the eyes of a farmer, not a priest—keen eyes that could study open fields, evaluate billowing clouds, and calculate when to plant, when to irrigate, or when to harvest. He looked more like ahard-working man that could read weather patterns and make quick decisions to save a crop. He didn’t look like a man who was educated to save souls.

“I’m, I’m sorry,” Jakub stammered. “About your leg.” He pushed his body into the cushion, uncertain how to react after hearing Cole’s heartbreaking confession—and seeing the change from talking about his horrific memory. ”Did you always want to be a priest?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Cole said slowly, softly. His voice had changed, like he didn’t want to speak anymore. “When I was ten. My folks were religious, so it seemed natural for me.” Cole’s bottom lip curled and he stared ahead in silence.

“What about now?” Jakub asked. “You’re still a priest, right”?

“Yeah, but not a parish priest—that’s really what I wanted to do. Now I teach at Xavier, a Jesuit university. Not my favorite thing to do.”

Jakub stared out the window trying to process what he had just learned. The reality of combat had never been so close—if he wanted to, he could reach down and touch what Cole brought home from the war.

“Are you from Union County? I mean, from near here?” Jakub asked.

“No. I’m from Ohio. I was out here visiting a war buddy.”

“That must have been nice to see him.”

Cole turned his eyes away and sat in silence for a long moment—like he had to go somewhere else to find an answer. Or maybe he didn’t want to respond at all. When he spoke, it was like another person was speaking. “He wasn’t the same.”

Time seemed to stand still as the two men remained quiet, allowing their bodies to synchronize with the side-to-side swaying of the train.

Cole leaned forward. “I should warn you,” he sounded like he was about to share a secret. “When you get to Danzig, you’ll see an ugliness you can’t imagine. City blocks destroyed—schools, hospitals, bridges. It looks like the devil went on a drunken rampage, demolished everything in his path. The smell of bombs and death will be everywhere you go.” He stopped momentarily to swallow before continuing, “Jakub, war changes everyone who sees it—even priests. And it’ll change you, too.” He sat back into his seat and added, “I hope you speak Russian.”

Jakub’s eyes widened, but he didn’t speak. The train steadily gained speed, carrying him farther from the safety of his home. Looking out of the window he recognized the open fields, the clusters of farm towns, and the ever-present barns. Everything he saw was familiar, comforting.

As sunbaked telephone poles flashed by, he studied the midwestern landscape. He felt a chill when he thought about travelling across the Atlantic—and tried to picture the dark ocean that once teemed with killer wolfpacks of German submarines.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Cole meant when he said war changes people, even priests. Then he thought about his brother.

As the conductor walked the aisle checking tickets, Jakub sat glued to his seat wondering how he would be impacted when he came face to face with the atrocities of war. He blinked and then realized he had already been changed—thanks to Father Garza, he knew he wasn’t the same.

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