Fire and Steel, Volume 1

by Gerald N. Lund

  Elder Reissner didn’t turn around. He didn’t dare. His eyes were fixed on the man and the teller. The supervisor started shaking his head even before she finished. “Nein!” he said emphatically. His head lifted and he looked directly at Elder Reissner. “Nein!” he barked. “Geh weg! Go away! Get out of here.”

  The muttering behind them was rapidly swelling in volume. “Englisch? Englisch?” people were crying out.

  At that moment, Elder Brighton stepped up beside Elder Reissner and made a serious blunder. He grabbed him by the elbow, and in what he thought was a hushed whisper, said in English, “Elder, we’ve got to get out of here. They think we’re English.”

  “Shut up!” Elder Reissner hissed. Then jamming his identity card back in his pocket, he grabbed Brighton’s elbow. “Let’s get out of here,” he said in German. “Don’t look at them.”

  As they turned and started for the door, the muttering was quickly becoming a chorus of shouts. Staring at the floor and gripping Elder Brighton tightly, Elder Reissner pushed through the people, keeping his eyes down, dragging his companion with him. He felt something strike his face and realized someone had just spit on him. Seeing them coming, the elderly bank guard opened the door for them, but just as they reached it, Elder Reissner saw a flash of movement. The fist caught him on his right temple and knocked him to his knees. Somewhere he heard Elder Brighton cry out, but it barely registered. In an instant he was swarmed under. Two thoughts suddenly came to him: “Roll into a ball and cover your head,” and “Don’t fight back! Don’t fight back!”

  #16 Herrenstrasse, Menzing

  Paula Groll was seated at the table peeling potatoes for the Bratkartoffeln, a stew of fried potatoes, diced bacon, and onions that would be their supper that night. The radio was on, but at the moment there was no news, only classical music. Finishing another potato, she set the knife down, leaned over, and clapped her hands in delight. “Bravo, Bruno.”

  The baby, who had pulled himself up to a chair, turned and flashed her that smile that she so loved about him. She held out her hands. “Come, to Mama, Bruno. You can do it. Come to Mama.”

  He let go with one hand but immediately started to wobble and grabbed for the chair again. She got up and went to him, holding out two fingers for him to hold. “Come on, Bruno. You can do this. You are a year old now, son. Let’s show Papa that he’s wrong about you.”

  Eager to launch himself free, the baby clasped each finger and let his mother lead him away from the chair. She laughed when she saw the fierceness of his concentration. It was like he had understood all the jokes his father had made about him being so chubby that he wouldn’t walk until he was three.

  As Paula was leading her son across the floor toward the table, a movement out the window caught her eye. She glanced up. Two figures were coming slowly up Herrenstrasse toward their home. “Ah, gut!” she exclaimed, delighted to see who it was. Then she gasped in great shock and surprise. She swept Bruno up in her arms and leaped to the window, pulling back the curtain.

  In three strides she reached the playpen and thrust the baby into it. She grabbed a rattle and shoved it at him and then raced to the entryway and flung open the front door. She went down the steps in great leaps, her hair flying.

  “It’s all right, Schwester Groll. I’m okay.” It came through clenched teeth, and the pain on Elder Reissner’s battered face told a different story.

  “He’s not all right,” Elder Brighton said. “He’s hurt bad.” He had his arm around his companion and was half holding him up.

  “What happened?” she cried as she reached them. Then, before they could answer, she waved them off. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get you inside.”

  It took Paula almost fifteen minutes to get the blood off and the wounds cleaned up enough to determine just how seriously he was hurt. She was greatly relieved to see that while he had been badly battered, most of the cuts and abrasions were superficial. Gretl watched in horror. Paula had sent her upstairs when the elders arrived, but Bruno had started to fuss and so she called Gretl down. Now the young girl looked on in horrified fascination as she walked Bruno back and forth and watched her mother work on her beloved Elder Reissner. On the table beside Paula was a small cardboard box that she used as a makeshift first aid kit. She reached in it now and took out several adhesive bandages. One by one, she removed the backing and carefully placed a bandage over each of the more serious wounds.

  Gretl began to weep silently as she watched.

  “It’s all right, Gretl,” Elder Reissner said. “Your mama is fixing me up. I’ll be fine.”

  “Promise?” she sniffed.

  “Promise.”

  “Hold still, Elder. I need to look at this cut over your eye.”

  “Yes, Mama,” he said, managing a teasing smile.

  Gretl took instant offense at that. “She’s not your mama. She’s my mama.”

  He laughed. “You’re right, Gretl. Sorry.”

  Paula leaned in closer, gently probing the ugly cut over the elder’s left eyebrow. “This one is pretty deep,” she said. “It will need stitching. You’re going to have to see a doctor.”

  “You know that’s not going to happen right now, Schwester Groll. Just do the best you can, please.”

  Knowing he was right, she reached for one of the largest of the bandages. Then she retrieved a small set of scissors and began to cut away parts of it.

  “What are you doing?” Elder Brighton asked.

  “Watch and see.”

  He leaned in closer as Paula cut the bandage into the shape of an H. Upon finishing, she held up and examined it. Satisfied, she carefully peeled the backing off and looked at Elder Reissner. “This is going to hurt, because I have to hold the cut closed while I put the bandage on.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Holding the bandage carefully so it didn’t touch anything, she pinched the wound shut with one finger and her thumb.

  Elder Reissner moaned and jerked once, but then he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

  Very carefully she turned the bandage sideways and attached it to his forehead. The crossbar of the H went directly across the cut. When she removed her fingers, the wound stayed closed.

  “Wow,” Elder Brighton said. “That’s neat. Where did you learn to do that?”

  “I am a mother, that’s how.” She put everything back in the box and then sat back. “All right, Elders. Tell me what happened.”

  They exchanged glances, but Elder Brighton shook his head. “Your German is better than mine,” he said in English. “You tell her.”

  Elder Reissner started with the phone call from Zurich and described the confusion and chaos that was going on in the mission office, his decision not to wait for their mission president to call, and their ensuing efforts to get funds.

  “And have you heard from him yet?” she asked.

  “No,” Elder Brighton answered. “And we won’t go until we do. Until then we are to be ready to leave on a moment’s notice.”

  “How can you leave with no money?”

  “President Jahn will take our check and cash it for us. He works at the post office.”

  Paula frowned. “He could get in trouble with the government for that.”

  “That’s what we told him too,” Elder Reissner said. “He said that if he didn’t, he would be in trouble with the Lord.”

  To Paula’s surprise, Elder Brighton was suddenly crying. “It was all my fault. I did something really stupid,” he whispered. “I didn’t want those in line right behind us to know what I was saying, so I told Elder Reissner that we needed to leave—in English.” He turned to his companion and began to sob. “I’m so sorry, Elder.”

  Reaching out, Reissner laid a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Elder. It’s all right.” Then he looked at Paula. “There were three guys just behind us in the line—the kind of guys you see coming out of the beer halls on a Friday night.”

  “Hooligans.”

&nbs
p; “Yes.” He took a quick breath. “They went berserk. They thought we were British.”

  He looked up at her and gave her a strange look. “I’m a pretty strong guy, and for a moment I was tempted to fight back. But as quickly as the thought came, there came another. Don’t resist. It will only make it worse. So I curled up in a ball and dropped to the floor.”

  Brighton spoke up. “He thinks they cracked one of his ribs.”

  “That was God’s hand protecting you, Elder,” Paula said gently. “If you had fought back, they would have killed you.”

  “God helped us in another way,” Elder Brighton said, still tearful. “The bank guard shoved the men away and helped us out the door.”

  “You are very fortunate young men,” Paula said, crying now too.

  “I know.”

  They were all silent for a time, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Finally, Paula spoke. “I want you to go upstairs and lie down for a while. I’m going to call Wolfie and tell him what’s happened. As soon as he can get home, we’ll take you back to your flat.”

  Elder Reissner was shaking his head before she finished. “We’ve got to go now. There are two companionships we haven’t reached yet.”

  For a moment he thought she was going to fight him on it, but she didn’t.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful we are for your help,” he went on, his voice heavy with emotion.

  “I’m glad I was here.” Paula got to her feet. “All right, then. You go, but get off of Herrenstrasse as quickly as you can. Take the back streets and alleys. Can you find your way?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m still going to call Wolfie and tell him what happened. Tonight we shall bring you supper and some other things you may need. I’ll also start spreading the word through the branch.”

  “We’re asking companionships without telephones to come to our flat. There will be more than just Elder Brighton and me there tonight.”

  She chuckled softly. “How do you say it in English? ‘The merrier the more’?”

  “The more the merrier.”

  “Ja. ‘The more the merrier.’ Go. We will see you tonight.”

  • • •

  Paula and Gretl watched the two elders move away, Elder Reissner limping badly. She had made Gretl say good-bye to them inside so as not to call the attention of the neighbors to two young Americans—one of them injured—coming out of her house. But she came out on the porch and stood there silently. If they turned around one last time, she didn’t want them to see a closed door. But they kept moving, slowly but steadily.

  Just as Paula was about to step back inside, Elder Reissner suddenly stopped. The two of them exchanged a few words, and then they both turned around. When they saw her they waved. She waved back. But when they started back toward her, she ran lightly down the steps and went to meet them.

  “I’m sorry,” Elder Reissner said, “but I forgot one thing.”

  “What? I can bring it to you tonight.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s Hans.”

  “Hans?”

  “Yes, Hans Otto. I’ve been trying all summer to reach him. I know he graduated in June, but I thought he was going to be around until he went to university in the fall. I would like very much to say good-bye. This may be my only chance. Did he graduate?”

  “Yes. And he was valedictorian, just like he said he would be.”

  Reissner laughed. “I knew he would be. Once he set his mind to something, there was no stopping him. So is he back home with his parents?” Then his face darkened. “Is he going to get called up in the army?”

  “No. He didn’t go home. He’s in Nuremberg.”

  “Nuremberg. No wonder I can’t find him.” Then the light dawned. “Did he go to work for that guy who owns that big truck factory again?”

  “Ja. He worked there for a few weeks last year, and Herr Junker was so impressed that he brought him back as soon as school was out.”

  “That’s wonderful. And what about the army? I’m sure they’ll be calling up a lot of young men.”

  “That’s the best thing. Inga is elated. The factory makes trucks, and now with the war coming, they will be making trucks for the army. They are doubling their output. Hans Otto is working on the diesel engines for the trucks.”

  Reissner was smiling broadly. “And because he’s in a war industry, he will not have to go.”

  “Ja. They call it an ‘essential industries deferment.’ Then in the fall, when he starts university, they won’t call him up either until he graduates.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Elder Brighton said. “No wonder his parents are pleased.”

  “If you get a chance,” Reissner broke in, “will you tell him what’s happened? Tell him that we tried to see him to say good-bye.”

  “I will. Once you find out where you will be, send me a letter, and I’ll send it on to him.” She glanced around quickly. “Now go. Before someone sees you and starts asking questions.”

  _______________

  Chapter Notes

  In the latter half of the nineteenth century and the first part of the twentieth, the European missions were under the direction of what at first was known as the British Mission and then later was called the European Mission. Individual missions in France, Holland, Scandinavia, Germany, and Switzerland had their own mission presidents and considerable priesthood autonomy, but oversight from Salt Lake City came through the European Mission.

  Because of its leading role, the European Mission was often led by members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. That was true at the outbreak of World War I. Elder Hyrum M. Smith was held in high esteem not only because of his apostleship but also because he was the son of President Joseph F. Smith, who had become President of the Church upon the death of Lorenzo Snow in 1901. He was also the grandson of Hyrum Smith and a grandnephew of Joseph Smith, who were martyred in Carthage Jail. He had been called to preside over the European Mission in 1913 (Mormonism in Germany, 54).

  Hyrum Valentine, a native of Brigham City, Utah, was called as the president of the Swiss-German Mission in 1912. He had served a mission in Germany starting in 1900. Both Elder Smith and President Valentine were in their early forties at the time these events occurred.

  Even though people all over Europe were predicting war after the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, no mention was made of the possible danger in the official records of the Swiss-German mission until a full month later, when it was noted that there were “rumors of war in Germany.”

  The mission records do not state exactly what day President Valentine and Elder Smith set out on their joint mission tour. What is known is that on August 2nd, the day after Germany declared war on Russia, a telegram came from Salt Lake City telling President Valentine to quickly move all of his missionaries out of danger areas. By that time, the two men had already left. As chaos spread rapidly, the pair seemed to have dropped off the map.

  In reality, amidst all of the confusion of the declarations of war and the mobilization of Germany, the presidents of the two missions were arrested, along with an elder traveling with them, and were charged with being British spies. They were held for seven days while the American consulate worked to have them freed. When they were finally released, they took passage on an overcrowded train and went straight back to Switzerland. Elder Smith continued on to Liverpool, where the telegram finally caught up with him on August 22nd (Mormons and Germany, 40; and Gilbert Scharffs, Mormonism in Germany, 40–60).

  In that volatile time, there are records of foreign nationals being mobbed and beaten severely. This was especially true of those who spoke English. There is no definitive record that missionaries were part of that, but it is included here to convey the tensions present in Germany at that time.

  September 3, 1914—Graswang Village, Bavaria, Germany

  Inga Eckhardt sat at the kitchen table and looked out her window at the first ridges of the Bavarian Alps. They were still that deep, forest green that was so restful
to the eyes, but she knew that very soon they would be splashed with brilliant fall colors, and soon after that they would wear a cloak of snow.

  That didn’t make her sad. She loved all of the seasons in their little valley. It was without question one of the most beautiful places on earth, and she was always grateful that it had been her privilege to be raised in such splendor of nature.

  “Grandmama, Kristen is kicking me.”

  “Kristen, stop kicking your sister.”

  “She kicked me first.”

  She sighed. “Am I going to have to send Grandpapa up there when he gets home?”

  “No, Grandmama.” Both voices answered in unison and with the same weary surrender. Good thing. Hans and their parents had taken a wagon full of cheese wheels to Garmisch-Partenkirchen and probably wouldn’t be back until after midnight.

  Inga thought about going up and making sure they quieted down, but she chose not to. The sun was now behind the hills, and very soon darkness would steal over the land and a hush would descend on their little hamlet. It was her favorite time of the day, and she decided to go out on the porch to enjoy it. She stood, took a scarf down from the rack for the chill, and slipped out the door, careful not to let it bang when it shut.

  • • •

  Inga came awake with a start, a spurt of panic sending her heart pounding. She looked around wildly before realizing where she was. She must have fallen asleep in her chair. Shivering, she pulled the wrap around her shoulders more tightly. Then she jumped as she heard the noise again. The moon had come up since she had come outside. It was full, and the night sky was clear. Everything was bathed in a velvety silver. She looked out toward the lane that led past their house. It was too far away to be sure, but she thought she could make out some dark figures coming toward her. Then she heard the murmur of voices. Some of the young people passing by? The Krauthammer boys coming back from a night at the beer halls?