t。 He sniffed the meat like a nervous mongrel。 The smell wasn't strong； yet somehow it prevailed over the roasting pork。 He bit into it。
He discovered that devouring raw meat was not so simple。 It stretched and stretched； its shininess preventing a firm grip。 He laid it down once more and lifted the kitchen knife。 Janusz carefully cut off a thin sliver of meat （some enjoyment there； cutting into the moist softness； blood staining the blade）； then pushed it into his mouth。 To begin with the taste was repugnant； but the more he chewed the more he became used to it。 And soon he began to appreciate the raw freshness。
Janusz； aged just nine years； swallowed the meat and cut off another sliver。
The whole family feasted in the early hours of the morning； eating the pork and vegetables in enraptured silence； Henryk swilling wine until the bottle was empty； occasionally winking at Kazimiera and grinning lewdly。 The very fact that the meat was so clandestine added its own special flavour。
It was a feast that the young Janusz would never forget。 Indeed the memory would taunt his tastebuds many； many times in the years to e。
Neither of his parents mentioned the missing liver the following day…perhaps Henryk's improbity towards his good neighbour subdued any anger he felt against his own son for stealing the meat； and Kazimiera could only feel shame that circumstances had driven her little Janusz to such a hungry state。 Conditions did not improve when suspicion for the loss of the pig fell on the Palusinski family； although no accusations were made。 Help from others came less and less。
Janusz grew； his frame sturdy enough； but his flesh lean and undernourished。 He was disliked by the other boys of the village （who had no particular regard for the senior Palusinski's ancient act of valour） for Janusz could best be described as shifty； always on the edge of any group； constantly seeking ways to better his own lot （he was hungry most of the time； a disfort that can easily shape a person's character）。 As the years passed and the boy was able to take on more man's work （albeit unenthusiastically）； conditions for the Palusinskis improved。 They were still impoverished； true； but then so were many of their neighbours； and Henryk's old wound continued to make prolonged labour difficult： yet food for the table slowly became less of a problem and occasionally there were zlotys enough to spend on other things； usually new farming equipment。 Poland itself was establishing a more benevolent governance； initiating land reforms that were beneficial to the small farmholder； creating a social security system and organising health care for its population。 Janusz Palusinski might well have grown into a relatively normal young man had not yet another unfortunate chapter in Poland's history begun。
On 1st September 1939 Germany invaded； bringing a reign of terror that would eventually lead to the total subjugation of the Polish people。 Important officials； potential troublemakers； men of learning were to be eliminated under the new order of the General Government。 The Polish workers were to be intimidated into submission： the murder of countless numbers saw to this。 Failure to obey the edicts of the Third Reich meant immediate execution or being sent to a concentration camp （which usually resulted in a more lingering death）。 All Jews were to be exterminated。
For Poland it was a return to the bad old days of rule by fear。 For Janusz Palusinski； then sixteen years old； it meant a return to the bad old days of permanent hunger。
The Nazis had set the Polish farmers working for the sustenance of the German people； each district mander ensuring that no produce was withheld； only the most meagre amount left for the farmer and his family so that they had the strength to work the fields。 To hide food from the occupying forces meant punishment by death。
The people of Janusz's village； both men and women； young and old； were decimated during the terrible years that followed； for the Polish people are a proud and defiant race （not to mention stubborn） and the village was no mare； and certainly no less； than an encapsulation of the country as a whole。 Many of the younger men became partisans； hiding in the surrounding forests by day； venturing forth to sabotage where they could by night。
Henryk Palusinski saw… this as a time to redeem his former glory。 Age and his old wound prevented any active part in resistance operations； but he endeavoured to supply the hiding groups with what little food he and the other villagers could spare。 He also fed them any information on German troop activities that came his way。 He urged his son to join the partisans many times； but Janusz was even more reluctant to do that than he was to plough the field； and Kazimiera； when her son plained to her； forbade Henryk to persist with such suggestions。 The risk in providing food for the cause was enough； she scolded； without exposing their one and only son to more danger than already existed for them all。 Besides； who would work the farm if anything happened to the boy？ Although disappointed in his son's lack of spirit； Henryk was forced to listen to reason。
Events took their own course when the older Palusinski fell ill in the winter months with a severe respiratory condition。 In the early hours of one morning when he lay wheezing in his sickbed； there came an urgent rapping on the frontdoor。 Kazimiera feared it was German soldiers making a spot check on the farms around the village； a frequent occurrence in those dark days； searching for hidden food stores； perhaps hoping they might discover a partisan or two skulking on the premises。 She opened the door with much trepidation and it was with relief that Kazimiera recognised the woman standing outside； hair dampened by drizzling rain： she was from the village； her husband a member of the resistance。 The woman held a small bundle in her arms。
'Food； Pani Palusinska；' she told Kazimiera； 'for my husband。 The Germans watch me； they suspect my Mikolaj is with the resistance。 But our men are starving in the forest； Pan Palusinski must take this to them。' Kazimiera explained that Henryk was too ill for such a journey。 'You have a strong son；' she was reminded； the woman's tone cold。
Henryk had heard the conversation through the open door of his room and he called out for his wife to bring the woman inside lest by chance she were seen by their enemy。 The villager rushed to Henryk's door and pleaded with him to send Janusz into the forest with the food。 The older Palusinski began to rise； prepared to undertake the mission himself despite his poor health； and Kazimiera pushed him back again； agreeing that their son should go； afraid that such an effort would surely kill her husband。
Janusz had no other choice。 If he refused he would be pilloried by the villagers and neighbours； branded a coward； and his own father would make his life even more unbearable for him than it was already。 Besides； the risk should be minimal at that hour of the morning。
His father gave him detailed instructions on where to find the partisans' forest hideaway； and the youth set out； pulling his coat tight around his neck against the chill rain。 It was one of those few occasions when Henryk Palusinski felt truly proud of his son。 Unfortunately that pride was to be short…lived。
Janusz was captured in the forest by German soldiers who had always been aware that there was a supply line between the partisans and the villagers and farmers。 As fate would have it and as perversely ironic as fate often is…a patrol had chosen that morning to watch a particular section of woodland in which the young Palusinski crept。 He was caught within ten minutes of reviewing his home。
To his credit； Janusz did not instantly break under the Nazi threats and beatings which followed。 However； it took less than a day at the dreaded Lublin interrogation centre for that to happen。
He gave the names of partisans； revealed where their encampment in the forest was hidden； mentioned which villages assisted them （much of this was guesswork on his part and he strove to make it sound convincing to his tormentors） and who among the f