Hunger

Hunger, when it lasts too long, can drive a person almost mad.

My brain was working without the food it needed, and strange, impossible thoughts filled my mind. Until then, I had never truly understood what hunger meant.

Three months earlier, before I told this terrible story of starvation, I had still been a carefree boy.

When I was young, I often went exploring around my uncle’s house.

My uncle was a man of strict habits. He believed that besides a day for rest and worship, there should also be a day for recreation.

So every Wednesday, I was free to do whatever I wanted.

I liked to mix learning with pleasure, and my favorite activity was searching for bird nests.

I had one of the finest egg collections in town.

Every egg was carefully classified and kept under glass cases.

There was a forest that I could reach by waking early and taking a cheap train.

I usually arrived there around eleven in the morning.

I would spend my time collecting plants or studying rocks.

My uncle was always pleased when I brought back samples for his herb collection and stones for him to examine.

After filling my bag, I would begin searching for birds’ nests.

One day, after about two hours of hard work, I sat beside a stream to enjoy my simple but generous lunch.

The memory of that meal still makes my mouth water.

The spicy sausage, the wheat bread, and the beer…

I would have given all the wealth in the world for such a meal now.

But let me return to my story.

While I was resting, I looked up at the ruins of an old castle nearby.

It had once been a grand historical building, but now it was covered with ivy and slowly falling apart.

As I looked at the top of a tall tower, I saw two eagles flying in circles above it.

Soon I realized there must be a nest there.

My collection was missing two things: eagle eggs and large owl eggs.

I immediately made up my mind.

I would climb to the top of that tower, no matter what it cost me.

I walked closer and studied the ruins.

The old staircase inside had collapsed years before.

The outer walls were still standing, but there was no way to climb them except by using the ivy.

I soon discovered that was impossible.

There was only one other way.

A chimney still stretched from the bottom of the tower to the top.

It had once carried smoke from every floor of the castle.

I decided to climb through it.

The chimney was narrow and rough, which actually made it easier to climb.

I removed my coat and squeezed inside.

Above me, I could see a small opening of light.

It was the top of the chimney.

Up I went.

For a while, I climbed like a chimney sweep, using my hands and knees.

It was slow, but the rough stones inside gave me places to hold on.

Soon I reached halfway up.

But then the chimney became narrower.

The air grew hot and uncomfortable.

Finally, I became completely stuck.

I could go no farther.

There was no doubt about it.

My only choice was to climb back down and abandon my precious discovery.

I tried to retreat.

But I could not move.

Something hidden was blocking me.

I was trapped.

At that moment, the full horror of my situation struck me.

I could not move upward or downward.

I was going to die there from starvation.

Yet a child’s mind is full of hope and imagination.

I began thinking of every possible way to escape.

First, I reminded myself that I did not need food immediately.

I had just eaten a large meal, so I still had time to think.

My first idea was to break away the mortar around me with my hands.

If I had brought my knife, I might have been able to do something.

But I had left it in my coat pocket below.

Soon I realized my efforts were useless.

The only thing I could hope to do was slowly force myself downward.

I pushed, twisted, and struggled with all my strength.

But nothing worked.

I could not move even an inch.

Time passed quickly.

Because I had woken so early that morning, I became tired.

Slowly, sleep overcame me.

I fell asleep.

When I woke, everything was dark.

And I was terribly hungry.

Night had arrived, and I was still trapped.

My body was squeezed tightly, and I could not change my position at all.

I groaned loudly.

Since my happy childhood days, when simply waiting between meals felt difficult, I had never experienced real hunger.

The feeling was both painful and unfamiliar.

I began losing control.

I screamed and cried out in desperation.

Suddenly, something appeared.

It was only a harmless lizard.

But to me, in that moment, it looked like a horrible monster.

I screamed even louder, until my strength finally disappeared.

Then I fainted.

I do not know how long I remained unconscious.

When I finally opened my eyes again, it was daytime.

I felt terrible.

The hunger was still eating away at me.

I was too weak to scream.

I was far too weak to struggle.

Suddenly, I heard a loud voice.

“Henry! Are you there, Henry?”

It was my uncle.

“Are you there, my boy?”

I could barely answer.

But I forced myself to move.

A little mortar fell from the chimney.

That small movement saved me.

When my uncle and the others searched the ruins, they noticed that fresh pieces of stone and mortar had fallen from above.

That was how they discovered where I was.

“Stay calm!” my uncle shouted.

“Even if we have to tear down the entire ruin, we will save you.”

Those words sounded wonderful.

But I had very little hope left.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard another voice above me.

“Are you below or above?”

“Below!” I answered.

Immediately, a basket was lowered down.

Inside were milk, a biscuit, and an egg.

My uncle was careful not to send too much food too quickly.

I drank the milk first because my thirst had almost overcome my hunger.

Then, feeling a little stronger, I ate the bread and egg.

Meanwhile, they began breaking through the wall.

I heard the sound of a pickaxe.

Afraid that the dangerous tool might strike me, I struggled desperately.

The belt around my waist had caught on a stone.

Suddenly, it broke loose.

I was free.

Only quick movements with my hands and knees prevented me from falling.

Ten minutes later, I was in my uncle’s arms.

I had spent two days and two nights trapped inside that terrible prison.

Because I had often lost awareness, I could not even tell exactly how much time had passed.

It took me weeks to recover from that terrible starvation.

And yet, compared with the suffering I was about to face, that experience was nothing.

After resting and thinking for some time, I looked around again.

We were still moving upward at frightening speed.

From time to time, the air became so thin that breathing became difficult, like what happens to balloon travelers when they rise too quickly.

But unlike them, who feel colder as they rise higher, we experienced the opposite.

The temperature was increasing rapidly.

I could not calculate it exactly, but I believed it had reached about 122 degrees Fahrenheit.

What could explain this strange change?

Until then, everything we had experienced seemed to support my uncle’s theories.

The unusual rocks, electricity, and magnetic forces had changed the normal laws of nature and kept the temperature moderate.

But now I feared we were approaching a place where the heat would become unbearable.

Perhaps the rocks themselves would melt.

That frightening thought entered my mind, and I told my uncle.

“If we are not drowned, crushed to pieces, or starved to death, then we can look forward to being burned alive.”

My uncle simply shrugged at my angry words and returned to his thoughts.

An hour passed.

Nothing changed except that the temperature continued to rise slightly.

Finally, my uncle spoke.

“Well, Henry, my boy,” he said calmly, “we must make a decision.”

“A decision about what?” I asked.

“About what we are going to do. We must restore our strength.”

“If we save the little food we have left, we may survive a few more hours. But we will become too weak to act when an opportunity appears.”

“Yes,” I replied bitterly.

“Until the end. But I doubt that end will take long to arrive.”

“Suppose a chance for survival appears. Suppose we need strength to act. Where will we find that strength if we allow ourselves to become weak from hunger?”

“When this piece of meat is gone, Uncle, what hope will we have?”

“None, dear Henry. None.”

“But does staring at the food make it last longer? You are thinking like someone who has lost all courage and determination.”

“Then you mean to say you still have hope?” I cried.

“Certainly,” my uncle answered calmly.

“You believe we can escape from this terrible underground world?”

“While there is life, there is hope.”

“As long as a man’s heart still beats and his body still lives, he must never surrender.”

What courage that man had.

Anyone else in our situation would have been overwhelmed by despair.

“What do you plan to do?” I asked.

“We will eat the remaining food we have.”

“Every last crumb.”

“It may be our final meal, but that does not matter. Better to die as living men than as exhausted skeletons.”

“Very well,” I whispered.

“Let us eat.”

“We must,” my uncle replied with a deep sigh.

“Call it whatever you like.”

My uncle took the remaining meat and the pieces of biscuit left from the accident.

He divided everything into three equal portions.

Each of us received enough food for what might be the rest of our journey inside the earth.

Each person reacted according to his own nature.

My uncle ate quickly, but not because he enjoyed it.

He ate only because his body demanded it.

I placed the food in my mouth and chewed slowly.

Even though I was starving, I felt no pleasure.

Hans, however, ate calmly.

He swallowed every bite as if this were an ordinary meal.

He seemed like a man who could accept either great abundance or complete hardship.

Hans was probably no more accustomed to hunger than we were.

But his strong Icelandic character had prepared him for suffering.

As long as he received his weekly payment, he was ready to endure anything.

The truth was that Hans cared about very little except his wages.

He had agreed to serve a man for a certain amount of money each week.

No matter what happened to himself or his employer, he never complained as long as he was paid.

Suddenly, my uncle noticed something.

Our guide was smiling.

I could not understand why.

“What is it?” my uncle asked.

“Schiedam,” Hans answered.

Then he pulled out a bottle of precious liquor.

We drank it.

To this day, my uncle and I would say that bottle gave us the strength to survive those final terrible moments.

The bottle was only half full.

But in our situation, it tasted like a miracle.

It took my uncle and me several minutes to recover from the surprise.

The Professor drank about half a pint and could not drink any more.

“Excellent,” Hans said in his own language.

He swallowed almost all that remained.

“Wonderful,” my uncle said.

He sounded almost like he had just left a comfortable club in Hamburg.

For a moment, I felt a small spark of hope.

But then that hope disappeared.

We had eaten our final piece of food.

And it was five o’clock in the morning.