Letters from Berlin

by Tania Blanchard

  ‘Yes, he’s taken me to dinner and to the philharmonic,’ I said calmly although my heart began beating faster with the fear that we’d been found out. How could I ever explain myself?

  He nodded, looking thoughtful. ‘Tante Elya and I would take you if we could, but as you know I’m too busy now we’ve had to let workers go, and Tante Elya can’t leave the village.’

  ‘I know,’ I said softly.

  ‘We’re lucky to have Julius.’ He stood beside me and, leaning on the gate, stared across the enclosure. ‘He’s a good friend and he’ll look after you any way he can.’

  ‘He’s doing it for you and Tante Elya – he just wants to help.’

  ‘I trust Julius to look after you and keep you safe, especially from men like Mueller. He never had any children and you’re like a daughter to him.’ He laid his hand on my shoulder. ‘Enjoy it, Susanna. He can give you the good life that we can’t any longer. He’s well liked and will introduce you to some lovely young people. We can’t do that for you either now.’ He glanced across to me, my face tight with mortification. ‘I’m sorry to bring this up, and you might not want to hear it, but we want to see you happy and well married, safe from the situation we find ourselves in, despite where your feelings might lie.’ My cheeks reddened and I wondered what he knew about Leo, but he continued talking. ‘If Julius can help, Tante Elya and I are grateful.’

  I didn’t know what to say. ‘You, Tante Elya and Leo are all I want,’ I said, my voice wobbling. Tears sprang to my eyes.

  ‘Maybe now, but soon it may be too dangerous for you here. Mueller is only the tip of the iceberg.’

  I turned and hugged him tight, the collar of his wool coat scratchy against my cheek. His admission scared me. He was always so solid and dependable, with a ready solution to any problem, but now there were things he could no longer do, situations out of his control.

  He kissed the top of my head and continued on to the barn with the bucket still in his hand. I waited until he’d gone, and then I cried like a small child. His kindness made my deception feel twice as terrible.

  * * *

  Onkel Georg must have said something to Leo about Julius and me. Washing down the equipment in the dairy the next afternoon, absorbed by the serenity of solitude and the repetitive scrubbing and washing, I didn’t hear Leo come towards me.

  ‘Having fun in Berlin, are you?’

  I started and turned, shocked by his tone.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ The water was still running and Leo stepped forward to turn it off.

  ‘Out about town with none other than Onkel Julius?’

  ‘Leo, he’s taken me out twice as a favour to your father.’

  ‘Mingling with Nazis?’ His face was filled with contempt.

  ‘He’s not like that,’ I said quickly. I didn’t want to have this conversation.

  ‘And how do you know that? Is he taking a little more interest in you than is proper?’

  Rage surged through me. I knew he’d be hurt when he heard about Julius but I was doing this for him. And, besides, he’d made it clear I should forget what was between us. I slapped his face. ‘How dare you! He’s a gentleman and your father’s oldest friend. He would never take advantage of me. He’s using his influence to help us. It’s not his fault the contracts are gone.’

  Leo’s dark eyes blazed with fury and he grabbed hold of my hands, as much to restrain me as to restrain himself, I was sure. ‘I don’t like him spending all this time with Vati. I don’t like him spending time with you,’ he growled. ‘I don’t trust him.’

  ‘He’s done nothing wrong. You have no right to tell me what to do.’ His grip on my arms tightened and I glared at him, breathing hard, daring him to tell me otherwise.

  He stared at me, the conflict clear on his face, and then he pulled me close. I closed my eyes, willing him to kiss me, but when I opened my eyes his face was tight with pain.

  ‘Stay away from Julius, Susie. He’s a Nazi, and a cheat and a liar like the rest of them. Don’t trust him.’

  He turned away abruptly and left the dairy. I sunk to my knees, sobbing.

  * * *

  Back at university, I cried on Marika’s shoulder yet again. Every time I closed my eyes I could see the fury on Leo’s face.

  ‘They’re trying to push me away like I don’t belong anymore.’ I wiped my eyes furiously with the backs of my hands and sat up on the bed.

  Marika shook her head. ‘Georg’s only trying to protect you, as is Leo. They both love you and want to keep you safe,’ she said. ‘It’s getting more dangerous – look what happened with Mueller. Just give Leo some time and space and, you watch, it will be fine when you next go back home.’

  I nodded. One day when Leo and I were together it would all be worth it, but until then I had to do what I could to ensure he and Tante Elya stayed safe. My only consolation for now was that Leo’s reaction showed he still loved me.

  I couldn’t tell Marika how Julius was protecting them; it was too risky. I hadn’t seen him since returning to Berlin – I was too busy studying for my end of year exams, and my thoughts were turning to the state nursing exam. Marika had decided to stay in Berlin with me over the summer break to help me prepare for the exam. I loved university, but I was desperate to make a difference, to demonstrate some humanity in the face of Nazi tyranny. The news of the Allied bombing of Hamburg through July only made me work harder. The city had been relentlessly pounded by raids for a week and we’d all felt numb at the news of the firestorms. It had shed a new light on how far the Allies were prepared to go to bring Germany to its knees.

  Marika helped me study late into the night until she knew the content almost as well as I did. Finally the day of the exam arrived and Julius telephoned to wish me luck, apologising that he hadn’t been able to see me – he’d been overwhelmed at work with the devastation of Hamburg.

  ‘The railway system’s in chaos,’ he told me. ‘We’ve never seen anything like it. Fire’s razed the city almost to the ground and the civilian losses are staggering. If we don’t get supplies and emergency services there soon, there’ll be many more losses. And now Mussolini’s government has been toppled, sending senior Reich leaders into a spin. We won’t have much support from them to deal with this emergency.’

  Perhaps the loss of the Führer’s alliance with Italy was a good thing – it made him more isolated and perhaps vulnerable – but I was stunned at the distress in Julius’s voice. It made the destruction of Hamburg more real to me. There was no comfort I could give him; I could only leave him to help get the city on its feet once more.

  Later that morning I sat in a large austere examination hall filled with women of all ages. I was nervous about passing the nursing exam, especially after listening to the series of instructions barked out by a Red Cross official, but I became so absorbed in answering the questions that the minutes slipped away until it was time to put down our pens. I’d done all that I could. A few days later I was relieved when the Red Cross informed me I had passed and that I’d soon be needed in Berlin because all the available nurses had been sent to Hamburg to deal with the crisis.

  It was only then that I managed to see Julius. As we walked through the parkland at Tiergarten, Julius, looking drawn and tired, told me he had some good news to share.

  ‘I’ve managed to secure Georg a new contract with the railways.’

  I shrieked with excitement and threw my arms around him. ‘That’s wonderful! Does Onkel Georg know?’ I drew back and he took my arm in his as we continued walking.

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve told him. It’s not as lucrative as the one he’s lost, but it’s for timber and will help keep the estate running.’

  ‘How did you manage it?’

  ‘I have the ear of one of the ministry’s most senior figures, Ganzenmüller, and he agreed to the deal. I gave my assurances to the minister himself that Georg and his family are upstanding Germans. I may have mentioned that I’m shortly to become engaged to Geo
rg’s goddaughter and ward.’

  ‘What about Tante Elya?’

  ‘I’ve told him she’s only a paper Jew and they understand that she’s not involved with the estate. As long as the deal is beneficial to them, they can overlook her status.’

  ‘There’s no risk to you?’

  He smiled indulgently. ‘Only if word gets out about our arrangement, but as far as anyone knows we’re in love and have the blessing of your family to marry.’

  I nodded slowly. It was beginning to feel very real. ‘If we’re going to do this, then we have to be partners. We tell each other everything.’ It would never be the partnership Leo and I had, but I still demanded some respect. He nodded. ‘I mean it, Julius. Don’t treat me like a child. I want to know everything.’

  ‘You might not like what I have to tell you sometimes,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I can handle it. I’m stronger than I look.’

  ‘Good. Equal partners. Should we shake on that?’

  I held out my gloved hand.

  He took it and we shook. ‘In that case, there’s something you should know.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Julius’s expression was serious, and it worried me.

  He led me across the soft grass and we sank into a seat under a large oak tree. ‘Keep this between us.’ I nodded, and Julius lowered his voice. ‘Mussolini’s fall has been a great shock and our leadership is nervous that the Reich might be perceived as weakened, especially after Stalingrad. The Soviets have penetrated German lines. We’re on the back foot and I think there’ll be difficult times ahead.’

  ‘Are we losing the war?’ I asked softly. Maybe there was hope that the Third Reich would fall.

  ‘No, but there may be repercussions at home, and after the firebombing of Hamburg…’ He let the thought hang in the air between us. Nobody had foreseen the terrible aftermath – the city unrecognisable, countless homes destroyed by fire, families without roofs over their heads, thousands of dead civilians and many more injured.

  ‘There may be evacuations here in the capital, causing chaos and mass panic. But my real worry,’ he continued in a low voice, ‘is that there’ll be another round of deportations to take the attention away from what’s happening on the front and provide a scapegoat to ease people’s fears.’

  ‘But who’s left?’ I said, my eyes darting across the gardens. Virtually all of the Jewish people of Berlin were gone now, under constant guard in the eastern ghettos or, worse still, incarcerated in concentration camps with the fear of death over their heads. How much longer would they survive with the Nazis bent on their destruction?

  ‘Not many,’ he said grimly, ‘but those who are still here will be under scrutiny.’ My skin chilled with apprehension. ‘Only protected people like Elya will remain, and even then, I don’t know how much longer they’ll be safe… I think it’s time to speed up our courtship.’

  * * *

  When the matron I’d worked with during my national service heard that I’d passed my nursing exam, she asked for me back at the Beelitz military hospital. It was a large complex of buildings fifty kilometres south-west of Berlin that had begun life as a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients and then become a military hospital during the Great War. The Führer had been treated here during that time, a story we heard with each new influx of nurses and doctors. The wide cloisters and verandahs with curved fascia and columns were graceful examples of the grand Wilhelminian style of architecture, but the wounded soldiers saw little more than their ward and a small patch of ground near their building before they were sent back to the front or home to their loved ones.

  Luckily I knew my way around because I was thrown into the deep end as soon as I arrived in August. They were short-staffed and new patients had come in from the Russian front after the Red Army offensives on the Ukrainian city of Kharkov and the Russian city of Belgorod just to the north. The mood was sombre after the defeat of the Wehrmacht and the retaking of both cities by the Russians. They had been particularly bloody battles and the casualties were staggering, in their thousands.

  I followed the senior sister around the long orderly ward, standing at the end of every neatly made bed with a group of nurses, listening intently and scribbling notes as she allocated patients to each of us and briefed us on their condition.

  The ward was full and the soldier in front of us had been thrashing about and moaning throughout our rounds, but now lay quietly, his waxen face the same colour as the white linen.

  ‘Private Schmitt presented a week ago with gunshot wounds to his abdomen and right thigh,’ intoned the sister as she checked his chart. ‘His right femur was fractured and although the field hospital completed fixation of the bone, he also sustained damage to the femoral artery. Consequently, he has severely compromised blood supply to his right leg and he will undergo surgery for an above-knee amputation. The gunshot wounds are healing slowly. Further debridement may be necessary, but the risk of peritoneal infection is high. This is our first priority. If he develops peritonitis the trauma of an amputation may be for nothing.’ She put the chart down smartly on the end of his bed. ‘Any questions?’

  The truth was that we were dead on our feet. The shifts were long, attending to the terrible wounds of battle and listening to the stories of the soldiers, consoling and comforting them in their pain, both physical and emotional, before forcing ourselves to eat something and then collapsing into bed until the next shift. But I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  After a month, I pulled all the strings I had with the matron and the Red Cross so Marika could join me at Beelitz as a nurse’s assistant until she had the required experience to sit the nursing exam herself. Like me, she wanted to do something useful and by September we’d both decided not to go back to university. Neither of us felt like we could abandon our patients and the overworked staff. Our work had real meaning compared to the dry book learning of university; we were helping injured soldiers return to health and it felt good to be doing something useful among the daily tragedy that surrounded us. Like Leo with the black market, I had to take action otherwise the helplessness of our situation would eventually overwhelm me.

  It took some work for me to convince Onkel Georg and Tante Elya to allow me to quit my studies. Women who weren’t at university were now being placed into active war service, not just as secretaries and telephonists, but as flak helpers and artillery auxiliaries. The idea of being sent to a combat zone or being responsible for shooting down enemy planes from flak towers across Germany was frightening. But nursing at Beelitz satisfied our service requirements and kept us both close to home and out of danger. Finally our families relented and we moved our belongings into a room at the Beelitz nurses’ quarters.

  * * *

  Julius and I began to see each other whenever we could. We often spent time on our own, getting to know each other better. We had to weather the scrutiny of his peers and keep everyone satisfied that our courtship was real. Julius had insisted on secrecy and, as much as it pained me, I couldn’t tell Marika what we were really doing. When I reminded her that Julius was simply looking after me as a favour to Onkel Georg she looked sceptical, with an arched eyebrow and a steely green stare. Then she’d soften, hand me one of her lipsticks, kiss me on the cheek and tell me to have a good time. I knew I couldn’t keep the truth from her forever.

  Julius bought me a little car so we could see more of each other. Initially I felt quite uncomfortable with his gesture. It was one thing to be taken out to restaurants and performances, even to accept small gifts of jewellery, but this was something else.

  ‘It’s too much,’ I’d said, staring at the shiny green Opel Olympia.

  ‘I can afford it, and it’ll make life easier for both of us,’ he’d said, handing me the keys. ‘People have to believe we’re a happy, committed couple.’ I’d taken the keys, nodding dubiously. On the estate, I had driven the truck and tractor for years, but I’d never tackled the busy city roads. With a few lessons from Julius, however, I
was navigating the roads between Beelitz and Berlin without any trouble at all. It didn’t take long before I was very grateful for the little car. Depending on our work schedules, Julius and I walked and picnicked in the parks and forests near the hospital, making the most of the crisp autumn days, or sometimes we met for lunches and dinners at small restaurants and clubs in the city.

  I tried my hardest not to think of Leo – these were the things I’d wanted to do with him – but I discovered Julius was good company. Slowly my childhood adulation of him began to be tempered by the beginnings of adult friendship, although I still felt in awe of him. He was a powerful man who had been all over the world and had accomplished so much already. I was only beginning my journey.

  ‘Fräulein Susanna,’ called one of Julius’s junior associates. We were at one of the most exclusive restaurants in Berlin, but wherever we went, we couldn’t help but run into someone that Julius knew. He’d convinced me that we couldn’t let the fear of air raids stop us from enjoying the pleasures of the city.

  ‘Hello, Tomas,’ I said, smiling. He was the son of a senior Nazi official, but was known for his wild living. He was generous and funny, which was what attracted most people to him, but underneath the brash exterior, he was kind and sensitive.

  ‘Come, join us,’ he said, gesturing to the table.

  ‘Just for a moment,’ Julius said.

  ‘Susanna, you must sit next to me,’ Tomas said, smiling broadly. I shuffled across the velvet seat. ‘Champagne,’ he shouted, clicking his fingers to the waiter, ‘and lobster, oysters and caviar.’

  ‘Tomas, we already have a table booked,’ I said, laughing. I couldn’t help but enjoy Julius’s lavish lifestyle and it was easy to get caught up in the glittering social life. At times I had to remind myself why I was doing it and, in quiet moments, I recognised the pangs of discomfort I felt as guilt. I couldn’t forget the squalor and fear that Onkel Tedi and so many others like him were enduring.