Yes
And then Chiune Sugihara finally makes his decision. Early in the morning, he goes out to the yard and announces to everyone out loud, “I will issue visas!”
For a second, the whole world seemed to freeze in silence, but immediately the silence exploded: shouts of joy, tears of joy, mothers holding children in their arms, people hugging, - and then everyone rushed to the gate, some even trying to climb over it. Gudze and Boleslovas, the consulate staff, tried to stop the avalanche of people collapsing into the yard.
“I confirm once again that we will issue visas, but please follow the procedure, not all at once, please stand in line,"
the consul moaned. Boleslovas came up with a ticket system, giving everyone a number so they wouldn’t push and get into fights.
Sugihara gulped his cup of coffee and hurried to the office. Difficult and slow work awaited there: before issuing visas, you had to fill in questionnaires for everyone, verify if there was a guarantor for the final destination, check whether future travelers had a train ticket or at least money for that ticket, or at very least a guarantee that money will be received before the trip. The consul did not have a lunch break that day. His wife brought him some sandwiches. Consulate opening hours were clearly stated at the door: 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., but Chiune Sugihara wrote and wrote visas until late in the night.
The same thing happened the next day. And another day. His pen broke in half from strain, so he had to write with a quill, constantly dipping it in an ink bottle. Gudze helped to fill in the questionnaires and put the stamps of the consulate as if his life depended on it. Boleslovas brought a rubber stamp for transit visas from somewhere, so there was less handwriting to be done, yet every night Chiune fell into bed completely exhausted and tired, his wife massaged his aching, swollen hands until a few minutes later the consul sank into the deep sleep of a tired man.
Everyone forgot me, the cat! Offended, I settled where it was most strictly forbidden: in the maid’s bed. The weirdest thing is that she didn’t get angry at all, she just wiped away the tears and hugged me. And it was… good.
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