Fire and Steel, Volume 1

by Gerald N. Lund

  She shook her head. No. If it were them, she would have heard them long before now, singing their ribald songs and belching out their beer breath. She stood up anyway. Whoever it was, she didn’t feel like talking.

  But just as she reached the door, a voice sang out. “Hallo, is there someone there?”

  Inga hesitated but then shrugged. “Ja, this is Frau Eckhardt. And who is calling?”

  The answer came joyously. “Frau Eckhardt? This is Kirchenältester Reissner. Do you remember me? I was friends with your son, Hans Otto.”

  For a moment, she was too dumbfounded to answer. She just stared at the two figures in suits and ties and Homburg hats standing at her gate, scarcely daring to believe what she was seeing.

  “Frau Eckhardt?”

  “Ja, ja, I am here. Of course I remember you. Come, come.”

  After ushering them in, Inga stepped back out and looked around to see if any of the neighbors were out of their houses or if anyone else might be passing along the lane. Then she shut the door quietly and went inside. Elder Reissner swept off his hat. In the full light she recognized him immediately, but she remembered the other one as not being quite so skinny.

  “Frau Eckhardt, let me introduce my companion, Elder Ronald Brighton from Utah. Elder Jackson was transferred to Hamburg.”

  She inclined her head. “How do you do, Elder Brighton?”

  He remembered to take his hat off too. “Very well, danke. It is a great pleasure to meet you after all I have heard about you.”

  She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, or who he had heard it from, but he seemed like a nice boy, so she nodded and thanked him. Then she peered more closely at Elder Reissner. “You look much better than I expected.”

  “Ah, yes. So Schwester Groll—Paula—told you about our little mugging at the bank? The bruises and bumps are all but gone now.”

  She lifted a finger and tapped her forehead above her left eye. “Except for that one. You will have a nice scar to remind you of Germany, no?”

  He laughed, but there was a tinge of sadness to it. “I will.” He still had his hat in his hand, and he donned it again, pulling it down low over his eyes. “I can almost cover it with my hat if I pull it down low enough, but then I look like an American gangster.”

  “I do not know what an American gangster looks like, but it does make you look sinister. But I am forgetting my manners.” She motioned to the chairs. “Please sit down. Can I take your coats?”

  “No, but thank you. We can only stay for a few minutes. We have to catch the midnight train to Zurich.”

  “So you are leaving Germany now?”

  “Ja. Finally.”

  “Paula thought that you were leaving three weeks ago.”

  “We thought we were too, but there was a mix-up with a telegram from Salt Lake and—”

  “Ja, ja. She told me all about that. So they didn’t order you out?”

  “That first telegram just asked President Valentine to move us out of danger. That was sent just as the war was beginning. Then just three days ago he got another telegram. It told him to release all missionaries and to do whatever was necessary to get us to Liverpool by the 16th of this month. They’ll have tickets for us on a steamer home.”

  “Ah,” she said, understanding now. “Paula called me yesterday and told me that she had heard the missionaries were heading to England. She tried to call you, but your phone was disconnected.”

  “Yes, we were gathering up our missionaries.”

  “But she said you were going north, up to Holland and then across the Channel.”

  “That’s true of some, but for those of us in the south of Germany, traveling all the way across the country would be dangerous. So we are going out by way of Switzerland and France and then coming back in just before we get to Holland.”

  “I’m glad for you but sorry for Paula. She says the members in the branch there are very sad that you are no longer their branch president.”

  Elder Reissner lowered his head and stared at his hands. “That is very hard for me. The hardest of all, actually.” But then he straightened. “But enough of that. Paula told us that Hans Otto doesn’t have to worry about going into the army.”

  Her face lit up with smiles. “It is an answer to my prayers.”

  “And mine. I am going to miss him very much.”

  “And he you. He called last week and asked if I had heard from you. He really wanted to say good-bye. I’ll write and tell him that you came.”

  He leaned forward. “And give him my best wishes. He is a fine boy.”

  “I know,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly glistening.

  They were silent for a moment, and then Reissner straightened. “I am very glad we found you, Frau Eckhardt. I thought I would never see you again. Then the president decided it was safer for our missionaries to gather in Oberammergau rather than Munich, where there are so many soldiers in the train station. When I realized that we had an eight-hour time window, we decided to come and find you. Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?”

  “Ja.”

  “Name it.”

  “Call me Schwester Eckhardt instead of Frau Eckhardt.”

  His eyebrows shot up as he stared at her. “Is that all?”

  “Ja.”

  “All right . . .” He hesitated for a moment and then added, “Schwester Eckhardt.”

  “No,” she shot right back. “You can’t call me that.”

  Bewildered, he glanced at Elder Brighton and then back at her. “I . . . I guess I don’t understand.”

  She smiled, and for a moment she looked like an impish little girl. “You can’t call me Schwester yet because I’m not your sister yet.”

  He stared at her, still not comprehending.

  She continued, “But if you were to baptize me, then I would be your Schwester in the gospel, no?”

  Her laughter at their expressions was like the tinkling of a bell, and her eyes were dancing with delight. “Will you baptize me, Elder Reissner?”

  “But . . .”

  “I know, I know,” she chuckled. “I haven’t had any of the lessons. But Paula has told me all about Joseph Smith.”

  “And you accept him as a prophet?” Brighton said, looking almost as stunned as Reissner.

  “I do. Without question. And Paula also gave me the Book of Mormon you gave her for me.”

  “Have you read it?” Elder Reissner asked.

  “Four times.”

  “Really?” he blurted.

  Tears came to her eyes. “I know that book is from God. So, can I be baptized?”

  Reissner shook his head, but in amazement rather than denial. “But we’re leaving tonight. Uh . . .” His mind was racing. “I suppose you could ask someone in the branch to baptize you the next time you are in Munich.”

  “I want you to baptize me, Elder. So that means you have to do it tonight.”

  “But we don’t have any of the forms or—”

  She smiled sweetly as she interrupted him. “Did Jesus bring forms to John the Baptist?”

  Reissner shook his head ruefully. “Good point.”

  “What about your husband?” Brighton asked.

  That startled her. “What about him?”

  “You have to have his permission. Is he here?”

  She shook her head. “He’s in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, and he won’t be back until after midnight.”

  “And we’ll be gone by then,” Elder Brighton said, sorrow twisting his face.

  “If he were here, would he give his permission?” Reissner asked.

  She considered that for a few moments before nodding. “I think so. I have not hidden any of this from him. He won’t like it, but I don’t think he would forbid it.”

  The two elders exchanged glances. Finally, Elder Brighton started shaking his head. “I don’t see how we can.”

  Reissner got to his feet. “Look, Elder. Here’s how it is. We don’t have the proper forms. We don’t have permis
sion from her husband. We don’t have our president here to okay it. And we’re leaving because Germany’s at war. Who knows how long it will be before missionaries can come back to Germany? I think all of that warrants an exception, don’t you?”

  Inga held her breath as Brighton debated it in his mind. Then a slow grin stole across his face. “Yes, I think an exception is warranted.”

  Inga wanted to leap up and throw her arms around them, but she sat quietly, almost primly. “So what do I need to do?”

  “Is there some water nearby, enough to immerse you in?”

  “We have a pond out behind our barn.”

  “Then get something warm to put over you afterward until you can come get dressed in something dry again.”

  • • •

  Inga came back downstairs, freshly changed into dry clothes after her baptism. Elder Reissner had pulled a chair out and motioned for her to sit in it. Both missionaries then came around behind her, laid their hands on her head, and confirmed her a member of the Church. When Elder Reissner said, “Receive the Holy Ghost,” she started to cry. After closing the prayer, he came around and pulled her to her feet. He opened his arms. “Now can I call you Schwester Eckhardt?”

  Her eyes were radiant. “Ja,” she whispered. “Now you can call me Schwester Eckhardt.”

  He did.

  Her smile broadened. “Say it again.”

  He did.

  She turned to Brighton. “You say it too.”

  He did, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Her shoulders lifted and fell. “Danke schön, meine Brüder. Danke schön.”

  • • •

  Ten minutes later, as the elders put on their hats, the mood was much more somber. “I feel awful. I know we have to leave, but I hate the thought of leaving you alone.”

  “I am not alone.”

  “Of course not, and I didn’t mean that God won’t be with you. We all know that. But you’ll be the only member within fifty miles. There is no branch of the Church anywhere near here. No missionaries. No one to give you the sacrament. No one to come and see how you’re doing. That’s what I meant by being alone.”

  Her head cocked to one side for a moment, and then she held up a finger. “Einen Moment.” She turned and went back into the kitchen. A moment later she came back. She was holding up her Book of Mormon. “I also have this,” she said. “I am not alone.”

  Elder Reissner tried to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out. He could barely see through the tears. Then came a sudden thought. He held up his finger. “Und noch ein Moment.” He dropped to one knee and opened his briefcase. He fumbled around for a moment and then came up with another book. He stood up and handed it to her.

  A little confused, she took it and looked at the cover. “Lehre und Bündnisse?”

  “Yes. We call it the ‘Doctrine and Covenants.’”

  Her eyes widened. “Is it a book like the Book of Mormon?”

  “Yes. It is different in many ways, but what matters is that it will make you feel the same way you do when you read the Book of Mormon.”

  She laid it on top of her Book of Mormon and then pressed them both to her chest. “Then I really am not alone.”

  September 7, 1914—Graswang Village

  “Mama?”

  Inga jerked up from her sewing, instantly recognizing her son’s voice, even though it was strangely muffled. She tossed the skirt she was working on aside and leaped to her feet. “Hans! Is that you? I’m in here, son.”

  She heard his footsteps start down the hall but didn’t wait for him to come into the bedroom. She stepped into the hall, almost running. Ahead of her, a figure approached in a lumbering gait. It was not her Hans. She screamed, falling backwards. It was some kind of horrible monster, and it was coming straight at her. She ducked back into the doorway and slammed the door behind her. Looking around wildly, she saw the scissors on the chair. She dove for them and came up with them in her hand. She tore to the window and shouted at the children. “Annalisa! Kristen! Run! Run!”

  She whirled back and froze as the footsteps clunked up to her bedroom door and stopped. “Stay back!” she shouted. “I’ve got a weapon!”

  To her stunned amazement, she heard laughter. Wild, almost maniacal laughter. Then the door jerked open. The sight almost made her faint. The body was that of a man, but it was clothed in a long greatcoat, with amulets on the shoulders and brass buttons. The feet were covered by highly polished black boots that came to the knees. But it was the face that chilled her blood. A dark green, metal helmet framed a round face. A horrible, round face. The skin was glossy and black; the eyes large and vacant and covered with a glassy material. But the nose was the worst. It was huge and tubular. It hung down at least six inches, forming an enormous snout. Instead of nostrils there was a single hole, and it was covered with a metallic-looking mesh.

  She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest she thought she might faint.

  There was more laughter and then a muffled voice. “Mama, it’s just me.” One hand came up and ripped the hideous face away. Waves of relief shot through Inga. It was Hans, and he was laughing. He was laughing so hard that he bent over and held his stomach.

  “It’s a gas mask, Mama.” He held it up by the straps and waved it at her. “It’s just my gas mask. It’s not going to bite you.” He strode to the window and stuck his head out. “It’s all right, children,” he called. “It’s just me.”

  Still numb, Inga stared at him for several seconds. Then her eyes narrowed. Her jaw clenched. Her head lowered, and she went after him with the scissors. “That’s not funny!” she bellowed. “Not one bit.”

  He tore off the greatcoat as he danced around the bed, keeping it between him and her. “I’m sorry, but . . .” He had to stop and catch his breath. She stopped too, her breath heaving in and out of her. Finally she tossed the scissors on the bed and pushed past him. She slapped him hard on the rump as she passed. “I don’t know you. Get out of my house.”

  This only sent him into more peals of laughter.

  It took almost fifteen minutes for her to let him come back into her presence, and it was another five before she was laughing too. The grandchildren were trying on the gas mask now, trying to scare one another. She looked away. She still found the thing horrible. Eventually she reached the point where her mind started to focus again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” she asked.

  “I didn’t know until this morning.”

  “I thought you were supposed to start university this week.”

  “I was.”

  “But . . .” She looked more closely at him. “And what are you wearing?”

  For a moment, there was panic in his eyes, but he quickly pushed it back. He came forward and gathered her into his arms, pulling her close. “Mama. I joined the army yesterday.”

  Her jaw fell open. She tried to get words out, but nothing came. He rushed on. “I am off for training, and then I shall be sent to France. Like Grandfather Eckhardt did in the Franco-Prussian War, I am going to fight for the Fatherland.”

  She froze in place again, and this time the horror twisting at her stomach was worse than before. “Oh, Hans. Oh, my son. What have you done?”

  He stepped back, stricken. “Mama. You have to help me. Please, Mama.”

  “Help you?”

  “Yes. Father is going to be livid. You have to help me tell him. You have to make him understand.”

  Her hands came up and she buried her face in them. A very different kind of horror was sweeping through her, turning her heart to stone. “Oh, Hans,” she cried. “You foolish, foolish boy. What have you done? Oh, what have you done?”

  _______________

  Chapter Notes

  Elder Hyrum M. Smith returned to Liverpool, England, on August 22nd, 1914. By that time, war was no longer imminent, it was a reality. But communication with the continent was still difficult. Not until August 30th was he able t
o get a telegram through to President Valentine in Zurich. The telegram came in both German and French. It read: “Release all missionaries and take immediate steps to get them here for September 16th and 30th sailings. Wire acknowledgement of this message.”

  Valentine immediately withdrew 20,000 German marks from the mission account. He wired a nine-word telegram to all of his missionaries: “MISSIONARIES CALLED HOME. MAKE PREPARATIONS. I AM COMING. VALENTINE.” He left immediately on a ten-day tour of the mission. He went through the mission distributing cash to the missionaries so they could pay off their obligations and make the necessary travel arrangements to Liverpool. Many of those missionaries were aided on their way by the mission president of Holland, Elder LeGrand Richards, who would later become an Apostle.

  By September 28th, exactly three months after the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, President Valentine was able to send a telegram to President Joseph F. Smith in Salt Lake City. “EVERY ELDER, SWISS-GERMAN MISSION, POSITIVELY SAFE, WELL AND SECURED. VALENTINE” (see Mormons and Germany, 45–46; Mormonism in Germany, 55).

  We know that not all missionaries went directly through Holland. Some went through Switzerland first and back into Germany and Holland without problems (Mormons and Germany, 44). But it was the author’s assumption that those would likely have been missionaries in the south of Germany, who were closest to Switzerland.

  Though the exact number of missionaries evacuated is not known, there were about 200 missionaries in the Swiss-German Mission at that time. Probably about 150 of those were in Germany (ibid., 41). One missionary did not leave: Elder Wilhelm Kessler, who was a native-born German who had emigrated with his family to America and returned as a missionary, decided that he had an obligation to stay and serve the Fatherland. He became an officer and fought valiantly in the war. He was killed in the line of duty on July 1, 1916 (ibid., 49).

  September 11, 1914—Camp Otto Von Bismarck

  Near Piesenkofen, Germany

  “Sir?”

  The sergeant with massive shoulders and a face like a rhinoceros, whose name was Jessel, jerked around as if Hans had slugged him in the back. “What did you call me, soldier?” he barked.