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The Tempest: Calista's Song

by Lee A. Kolesnikoff

389 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0198; ISBN 1-55369-385-X; US$30.50, C$34.95, EUR25.00, £17.50

World War I and its horror as seen through the eyes of a young, French girl; how her faith supports both her and those she encounters.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book A new priest is assigned to a parish in Saint Germain-enLaye, a city twenty kilometers west of Paris. he discovers that three men are secretly imprisoned in the Chateau Germain. He arranges to see them only to learn that one of the prisoners, Simeon Gereau, blames himself for the death of his young friend, Calista Planiere. Calista is born in Soissons, a city on the Aisne River. World War I starts when Calista is nine. She loses both her parents and is then taken in by a benevolent older couple. She meets Captain Simeon Gereau when French forces start to mass along the river in preparation for the famous Chemin des Dames assault of April 1917, where tens of thousands of French soldiers die in just fifteen days. Calista dies two days before the battle begins, immediately after she is Confirmed. Simon Gereau feels responsible for her death. A more detailed reading of Calista's Song will provide the answer to why Captain Gereau comes to such a conclusion. Calista Planiere affects all those she meets during the three hellish years of the Great War. Further, she lives out her life in a way that causes others to have more regard for their own.

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About the Author Lee Kolesnikoff has some experience with the inner workings of the clergy. His father was employed as choirmaster of a church in Brooklyn and his mother was the daughter of a priest. Throughout his youth, he never lived more than thirty feet from the Russian Greek Church of the Holy Transfiguration. When the church janitor became ill, Lee polished brass candleholders, helped shovel coal into the furnace and cleaned the glass panes protecting the icons of the saints. He sang at grave-side services, in the alto, and tenor sections of the church choir, read the psalter during Lenten services, reading the prayers and supplications in the original church Slavonic. Through the activities of his parents he vicariously became privy to the problems confronting the church, dialogues concerning finances, the purity of the church, political maneuvers, struggles for power, the behavior of the clergy, its priests, deacons and elders. At the age of twelve, Lee started the church's first Sunday school with twenty students attending. Not funded by the church, he cajoled, pleaded and enticed the students' parents to buy the religious literature necessary for the classes. He received th e support he asked for. Three years later, when the number of students reached 75, the church retained a seminarian to assume the responsibilities of the burgeoning endeavor. One of Lee's relatives, studying to be a priest at Union Theological Seminary, provided him with an opportunity to mingle and sit in on the novices' discussions. He noted their concerns, fears and hopes. He heard their arguments supporting and sometimes questioning church dogma. He witnessed their pain and frustration as they struggled to become priests. Lee Kolesnikoff lives in Clifton Park, New York with his wife Eugenia. Their constant companion is Girlie, an Abyssinian cat.

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Sample Excerpt - Chapter Eleven

The Planiere Family

Calista Planiere was born on April 29, 1905, in Soissons, France, a city located sixty-five kilometers northeast of Paris. The birth had put the parent at risk. About half way through the eight-hour delivery, a priest was summoned to be present during the procedure should the choice have to be made between saving parent or child. As a precaution, the holy unction was painted on the mother's forehead and last rites were given. But a kind Providence, in the guise of a loving and skilled French midwife, saw to it that all ended well. The delivery accomplished at last, a firm whack was administered to the baby's bottom. Upon hearing its loud cry of indignation, everyone present agreed that Jeanette Planiere had gifted the world a lovely girl with a very healthy voice. The infant weighed almost three and a half kilograms and entered her bright and noisy surroundings crowned with a head of wet, black hair. Jeanette named the child Calista after the French Pope, Calistus II.

Charles and his bride Jeanette had recently relocated from the city of Messines, in Belgium, where he had learned his auto mechanic's trade. While at school there, the young Frenchman befriended a lovely young Belgian girl, Jeanette Van Darm. After a four-year courtship, he proposed, she accepted, and they were married. The couple had decided to live in Soissons because Charles had family there, several cousins. The fact that the city had once been a temporary Belgian possession as the result of a previous war with France made living there more palatable to Jeanette. Before moving there she had learned that several Dutch families still resided in the city. She reasoned that she might get acquainted with them and they, in turn, might soften the transition to her new surroundings....

... The family lived in one of the second floor flats over Benjamin Dutoit's Pharmacy Shop. The masonry building was sturdy, well kept, and clean and quiet as the grave after seventeen in the evening. Monsieur Dutoit, unlike the vast majority of the French who ate dinner much later in the evening, preferred to have his supper at exactly fifteen past seventeen. This meant leaving his pharmacy precisely on the hour, allowing ten minutes for the walk home. According to those who made it their business to delve into such matters, he was never late for the evening meal.

There were no neighbors on the first floor to complain when Calista made noise in the parlor, or hopped, or danced. Living in one of the few completely furnished flats in the building, and in all of Soissons for that matter, the Planiere family found little need to spend their hard-earned cash on furnishings or paraphernalia. And on occasion, when Monsieur Dutoit took payment for his professional services in farm produce, he would place a sack of tomatoes, basket of potatoes or a few heads of cabbage in the hallway for the Planieres' use. Incorrigibly kind and good-natured, the pharmacist chastised himself regularly for being too good to his tenants. Kindness was considered by some to be a sign of weakness and a landlord could not afford to have such a reputation. But, he was indeed a good man, and self-flagellation or no, he continued on in his personal pilgrimage to make the world a better place. It was the main reason Madame Dutoit had married him. She believed he was without equal when it came to having a pure heart.

As for the flat itself, the rooms were in good repair and clean, but they had not been refurbished for some time. Monsieur Dutoit kept his rental properties in acceptable condition, but he was careful with his money. The parlor, a rather large room, looked out over the street, Rue Saint Martin. Two large windows provided ample light during the morning hours but became shaded during the afternoons, a blessing during the long, hot summer days. A rug graced the old oaken floor, its faux-oriental pattern having seen better days. The sofa and chairs were still in good condition, but their deep burgundy color cast a somber pall over the room. To counteract this effect, Jeanette made white curtains for the windows from several remnants, skillfully piecing them together to make unique but cheerful window accents.

The kitchen had a sturdy stove, much too large for the flat. It was so large, in fact, that it might have been used to make meals for a company, or perhaps even a battalion, of English Royal Fusiliers. The massive stove in the kitchen and the large fireplace in the parlor would prove an advantage during the winter when the family's main objective would be to stay warm. There were ample cabinets and more than ample kitchen utensils, not surprising, since the person who must have brought in the stove also reckoned that a respectable number of pots, pans and serving ware would also be required to cook for the Fusiliers. Monsieur Dutoit had purchased the stove, utensils, flatware and a number of other miscellaneous items at a bargain price from an old retired Parisian entrepreneur who owned a very large hotel.

There were two adequate bedrooms and a large storeroom, meant to serve as a third whenever the need occurred. In the main bedroom, there was an elegant, wooden three piece suite, which the landlord had brought in from a previous rental building he had sold. Thus, the furnishings in the master bedroom were of a quality far more luxurious than one would have expected for a flat at this price. The young family and their intense desire to build a life together had impressed the landlord. He lowered the rent by a substantial amount. He never mentioned the very elegant bedroom furniture nor the premium in rent it might have exacted under different circumstances. Despite his own best self-chastisements forbidding any inclination to do good, his reputation for being a kind man was spreading. He was doomed as a landlord, and he resigned himself to his dire fate.

Calista's bedroom was adequate, containing a crib, a small oak bed and a chest of drawers, with more space than necessary for the child's clothes. Of course, all she needed the first year of her life was the crib, to be changed and her mother's warm, milk-filled breasts. As time went by she was moved to the small oak bed. She stopped her suckling. Her world expanding, Calista bullied Jeanette to befriend and accept as a member of the family Mumu, the smiling brown bear sewn into Calista's bedspread. Gretel, her rag doll, was also invited to become part of the Planiere family. The doll had a blue dress and blond curly hair. Her lips were fashioned in a smile that extended completely across her waxed-canvas face. Round, blue eyes capped with thick black eyelashes, two florets of rouge painted on each of her cheeks and a dab of rouge placed on the tip of her nose further enhanced Gretel's cheerful appearance.

There were several parks in Soissons and, as the child matured, the young mother took advantage of as many of them as the pair could manage. For a time, several were too far to reach on foot, but as the child's ability to walk improved, even these became available to the family. Jeanette Planiere remained a devoted and fiercely protective mother. During Calista's early years, she spent a great deal of time conversing with, and singing to the child, coaxing her little by little to come out of herself and embrace the world around her. One technique worked quite well. Just before bedtime each night, Jeanette would sit on the bed at the child's side and play a little game with her. The mother would start to sing a song and then stop. She would then ask her daughter what she thought the next part of the song might be. The girl would hum a tune and at the same time devise some appropriate lyrics. Jeanette would then express surprise and wonder at how her daughter had selected exactly the right notes and words for the next part of the song. "You certainly are clever," the mother would say. The ruse continued, night after night. After a time Calista became aware of her mother's well-intentioned deception; but she was not offended, for singing a song that never ends is a very wonderful thing to do. At one point, Calista thought that life, too, might be like a song that never ended. That vision, birthed from the special place that lay between her mother's love for her and the silly tuneful game of songs they played nightly, became the anchor of the girl's life. This was how Jeanette Planiere nurtured the beautiful soul of her daughter Calista.

The Planiere family's circumstances improved. With new improvements each passing year, more automobiles were being sold and there was more need for Charles' skills as a mechanic. He no longer needed to be the blacksmith's hireling or the farmer's laborer. Jeanette did not have to worry about adding to the family income any more. Now she could devote more time to Calista, her gift to the world.

The child, always happy, playful and inquisitive, was forever asking her mother questions. Now four years old and approaching five in only a few months, her curly, black hair had become very long and shiny. Her large round azure-blue eyes, much like her mother's, never seemed to lose their sparkle. Her cheeks were colored with the tints of roses, peaches and the off-whites of gardenias. The little girl's favorite and only doll, Gretel, was always by her side or under her arm. Calista and Gretel spent many wonderful hours in the cool shade under the chestnut trees in the park, thinking about those profound and secret things that only a young girl and her favorite doll are qualified to investigate. Calista's other friend, Mumu the brown bear, remained at his post, covering the bed. The bruin's task was to protect her against all the imaginary and terrible demons of the night.

When not playing with Gretel or talking with Mumu, whose large, brown, fluffy body rested on top of her at bedtime, the young girl spent the day engaged in the pastimes of most children; running, hopping, skipping, practicing somersaults, sucking her thumb, following wagons, observing autos, horses, pigs, cows, doves and blackbirds. And then, after the many pleasures of life overwhelmed her, Calista and Gretel would steal away and take a cool refreshing afternoon nap on top of their friend, Mumu.

The young girl's favorite dress was her white one. It was sprinkled with a wagon load of tiny red roses, all attached to their green-leafed stems. The dress was hemmed with a red border and had a red and white collar. Calista loved to wear that dress. She was always chiding her mother to let her wear the 'rose dress.' Jeanette obliged her most of the time, mainly to gain some respite from the girl's never ending query, "Can I wear the rose dress today, Maman, can I, can I?"

Calista never wore shoes during the summer. She did, however, wear a pair of hemp sandals when she went out into the street or took longer journeys with her mother to the food market or to the clothing store in the marketplace.

And so, the years flew by for the young girl, neither moving too swiftly nor too slowly. The world was complete for her; she had her Papa and her Mama, her Gretel and her Mumu. All was going well for the Planieres. There was plenty of work for Charles, Jeanette had made wonderful friends and Calista, too, had found friends of her own age to play with.

Then one evening, exactly two months after her ninth birthday, Calista heard a new word. It was late and she was in bed, playing with her doll and Mumu. She could hear her father and mother in the kitchen, speaking in hushed tones. She knew what they were discussing had to be serious because they were whispering. They always whispered when the subject was grave and not for Calista's ears. As they conversed, they mentioned one word over and over again; war. What was war, the girl wondered. As she tried to deduce the meaning of the word, the child's eyelids soon became as heavy as a rattan valise filled with lead. She closed her eyes. It was time for sleep. Just before she drifted off into slumber, she made herself a promise to ask her mother what 'war' was.

Jeanette and Charles had been discussing his conscription into the French Army. The notice had arrived the previous week. All of France was buzzing with rumors concerning the threat of war with Germany. The assassination of Archduke Francis Ferdinand and his wife Sophie on Saint Vitus day, June 28th in Sarajevo, had served to destabilize the continent. The assassination gave the Germans the excuse they needed to attack their neighbors. The future appeared bleak. Talk of war was everywhere. The French government ordered the immediate combat readiness of all fighting forces and support personnel. They hastened the process of drafting all able-bodied men for military service. The Planieres had reason for concern.

Now Jeanette would have to return to her vocation as a seamstress. The family decided that if the war came, she and Calista would leave the city and go to Paris where Charles had several friends and a few distant relatives. Returning to her family in Belgium was out of the question. If the invasion came, it would most likely involve Belgium before it did France. The family crafted a plan for every turn of events. They tried to remain optimistic. It was almost one before they finally retired.

"What is war, Maman?" Calista asked her mother the next morning. Jeanette promised to explain everything to her young inquisitor, providing she finished her breakfast. Eager to hear what her mother had to say, the daughter dutifully did as she was ordered and then waited, impatiently, for her mother to explain what 'war' was. As the mother joined the girl at the kitchen table Calista began to fidget. Jeanette concluded the kitchen was not the proper place for such a grave discussion. She dressed her daughter and took her out to the park. They spread a blanket on the grass and sat down near their favorite grove of poplar trees. That also seemed not to be the right place.

After visiting three more areas in the park, and making three more attempts to broach the topic, Calista's mother could not find the appropriate words nor the proper setting for their discussion. She was at an impasse. She did not have the slightest idea of what to do next. Also, she was afraid of revealing how concerned she was about Charles' going to war. What should she do? Jeanette thought and thought. Finally, she took the only course open to her. She told Calista they would wait for her father. The family would discuss the matter together in the parlor after the evening meal.

Returning from work, Charles reached the top step of the stairway at the second floor landing. His daughter, eagerly awaiting his arrival and now hearing him on the landing, threw open the door and raced into his arms.

"Maman said you would tell me about war tonight," she exclaimed, "but only after supper and if I eat all of it." Charles fired a glance at Jeanette, who was now standing in the doorway. She returned his glance, but said nothing. The mother went back into the kitchen to prepare for the serving of supper. Turning his attention to Calista once more, Charles nibbled on her neck and stroked her hair. The daughter squirmed and giggled, delighted that her Papa was home again.

After the evening meal, the young girl nested in her father's lap. The family had left the table and were all seated around the stove in the parlor. Late spring, with the onset of its ever-warmer days, still retained some cool nights. Papa was warm, and the little girl found comfort in cuddling close to him. Calista loved her father as only a little girl of that age can. His strong arms, the sound and vibration of his chest as he spoke caused her to imagine he was a huge lion purring and playing with her, one of his cubs. The child liked to put her ear against his chest when he spoke. It made her eardrum tingle. And when it did, she giggled.

Charles, understanding what was happening, would increase the volume of his voice, and then Calista would giggle even more. But tonight was different. The child sensed it immediately. There was no talk for several minutes. Now, at twenty-one, the day was fast drawing to a close. Charles puffed on his pipe and gazed out into the gathering dusk that now was enveloping the world outside the window pane. Jeanette sat on the couch repairing a small tear Charles' work uniform. The family was at ease; safe, intimate.

"Papa, what is war?" Calista whispered into her father's ear. Her tone was soft, pleading, not harsh, demanding.

"What is war?" Her father repeated the child's question aloud. Jeanette stiffened. She looked into her husband's eyes, searching them for the reinforcement she required. Finding it, she settled back into the sofa. Charles handed Calista to his wife and went into the kitchen. It took him a few moments to find the articles he was looking for. Successful in his quest, he returned to his seat, carrying his wife's mesh-sided and oilskin-bottomed shopping bag. The little girl ran across the rug and reclaimed her place on his lap. Charles retrieved a turnip and a cabbage from the bag. Showing them to Calista, he went on to explain that, "War is about the cabbage, here, and the turnip, here! The Germans have been eating sauerkraut for hundreds of years. They are sick of it, oh, awagawaga!" The father contorted his face into a gargoyle-like grimace, shook his head, and allowed the sound of his voice to find its way through his loose-swinging lips. Calista giggled at the sight of her father, now pretending to be a German eating and being tormented by his sauerkraut.

"That is why they always look so sour and mean, like this." Charles twisted his face into another grotesque masque. The girl screamed with delight.

"But we French, we do not eat sauerkraut. We eat turnips, sweet and tasty. That is why we are always happy, like this." He stood up, lifted up his daughter and danced around the room. Then he danced Calista over to the sofa, sat her in Jeanette's lap, and continued his recitation.

"The Germans drink beer. It tastes very bad; awagawagwaga! But we French, we have wonderful wine." Charles rolled his eyes and licked his lips "Mmmm." Calista laughed.

Jeanette, amused with her husband's storytelling, smiled. He continued spinning his tale to a mesmerized Calista.

"The Germans are tired of beer. They want to taste French wine. They are an unhappy and greedy lot, not like the French. They are jealous of us."

The young girl nodded her head in agreement. Believing now that he had satisfied the little girl's curiosity, he ended with, "And that is why the Germans want to fight the French. That fighting is called war." Charles looked at his wife. She nodded slightly, indicating her approval of his masterful manipulation of the subject.

"Will many men be hurt? Will they have to die, Papa?" Calista asked. "The other children were talking about it."

"How many Germans can you kill with a turnip, and how many Frenchmen can you kill with a cabbage?" her father asked.

"None," Calista replied and laughed. She envisioned the scene: German and French troops throwing cabbages and turnips at each other. It was a mess.

That evening the child fell asleep quickly. Her father's story had made her laugh, and his strength in telling it had assuaged her fears about the war.

That night Calista dreamt that she awoke to find an angel sitting at the foot of her bed. She was blond and very, very, beautiful. Without uttering a word, the angel crooked her finger and beckoned to Calista to accompany her. They flew out of her bedroom window and through the star-filled night. Soon, the sun arose in the east and it was daylight. Below them, there was a great deal of smoke, the cacophony of men in battle, the sound of gunfire. They descended. As they neared the ground, the angel held up her hand.

The gunfire and fighting stopped. Calista saw that they were approaching a lone, grassy, hilltop. They landed. Six huge male angels, already there, stood surrounding a silver catafalque. The girl sensed that her father and mother were its occupants. She was sad but, to her surprise, not distraught. The female angel had soothed her distress so that she felt only the pang of separation. She knew her parents would be in heaven, that she would see them again. Calista looked into the coffin, through the rose-tinted glass top. They looked beautiful, she thought. The female angel signaled the six others. They lifted the catafalque and carried it below to the battlefield. All of the French soldiers stood at attention as the funeral procession flew by them. The Germans, standing on the opposite side of the battlefield and facing the French soldiers, turned away, ashamed. Before Calista realized what had occurred, the six angels carrying her parents' coffin flew upward into the sky and were lost in the clouds. The child understood. They were going straight to heaven.

Once again, the angel beckoned to the girl to follow her. They took to the air once more, but this time they headed toward Germany. After a time they landed. There was a tent in the distance. They approached it. There was the sound of crying inside the tent. As she got closer, Calista realized there were a great many people crying inside the tent. The angel threw open the flap. German soldiers were sitting at a table, eating sauerkraut and crying. The girl was moved to tears. She felt so sorry for them. Her father was right. They were a sad lot. Then the thought came to her. They were Protestants. There would be no heaven for them. The girl stepped away from the tent and walked a short distance to the edge of a stream. There, she knelt and prayed for her parent's souls, and she prayed as well for the poor souls she just had seen in the tent; for, even alive, they were in a worse state than her dear, departed, parents. The angel approached and softly stroked the girl's hair. The girl understood. She had learned the lesson the angel hoped she would.

Calista awoke from her dream. It was the middle of the night, still dark. She reached out, found her doll Gretel, embraced and tucked her under the covers so that the face of the doll touched hers. Then she went back to sleep.

The next morning Charles Planiere reported for work at the garage. Old Willie Piccard, the garage owner, called him into the office and closed the door behind him. "Do not report for work any more," he ordered. Charles, surprised, reminded the owner that there was the Lorraine-Dietrich machine that still needed work. Also, did he remember that Monsieur Semiens was bringing his Bugatti in the next day for an engine overhaul. Piccard shook his head no, but then waved his hand and dismissed all of Charles' remarks.

"You are leaving for the Army next week. Spend the time that remains with your family. Here are your wages for the week and a little something extra to help Jeanette and the little girl while you are gone," Piccard sputtered, embarrassed. He handed Charles a fistful of francs.

"You know I am not a religious man, Charles, but God be with you. Your job will be here waiting for you when you return," he added. The garage owner shook Charles' hand and awkwardly hugged him. Embarrassed at his show of affection, the owner sat down at his desk and started shuffling through some papers, pretending to be looking for something.

"I will be back, but only if my aim is good with the turnips," Charles quipped. His employer looked puzzled by his employee's remark. "Just a joke, something I said to my daughter," the now unemployed father exclaimed as he passed through the door homeward bound.

Willie Piccard's unexpected generosity pleased Jeanette. Now there would be a whole week for the family to be together, with few interruptions. Charles found Calista close by his side. She would not leave him. She would not unclasp her hand from his. Even her favorite companion Gretel lay quietly unattended on the bed, her only companion the blanket-thin Mumu. Jeanette was not to be found far from Charles, either. The three went everywhere; picnicking in the fields, window shopping but not purchasing, watching the stars at night, wrestling on the parlor floor in midday and even attending vespers at the church.

Charles, never particularly interested in affairs of the spirit , seized the opportunity to pray. What did Charles pray for? Only God knows. One thing was certain; he greatly loved his wife and daughter, and at times when one has to consider facing death, it is the rare man who prays not only for the safety of his family but for the protection of his own soul as well. The last few nights before Charles' leaving were memorable. Jeanette made it so. Never had they made love with such ardor and yet with such tenderness. One night, in the midst of their lovemaking, they came to that place known only to true lovers. Their souls united. A rite of passage, it would be the last gift they would confer upon each other. Now, whatever happened could never erase the bond they had forged. Charles could leave now, and Jeanette could let him go. In spirit, they would always be the same. On their last night, Charles gave Jeanette the cross he always wore. He also gave his wife a confirmation ring, his mother's. It was for Calista.

Two days after her husband's departure, Jeanette decided to leave Soissons. Her intuition told her that she and the child would be safer in Paris. She left, taking only the barest essentials. Monsieur Dutoit was aware of the family's circumstances and did not complicate the matter by making unnecessary demands concerning their clothing, the flat and the rent. He informed Jeanette that the apartment would be waiting for them whenever they returned. As for the pharmacist, he felt the need to remain in Soissons and help those who might be in need of his services.

The fear of war inundated Soissons. The city's inhabitants left for Paris in droves. Two weeks after the Planieres were settled in their new loft in Paris, the Germans crossed the Oise River and a short time later the Aisne River. By the end of August, 1914, they had taken Soissons, and were moving toward Paris. Jeanette had chosen well, and left in good time.

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Catalogue Information

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