We took our time, exploring each other and discovering the way we each liked to be touched. It was almost more intimate than the act itself. I knew the passion between us was something special, and not felt by everyone, but it was more than that. When we came together we were one as I’d sensed we would be. I would never have called my relationship with Julius passionate and our joining had only ever been a physical one. But with Leo it was like a meeting of the spirit, our true selves. We were meant to be together. How was I ever going to be parted from him again?
Lying in each other’s arms, we whispered our hopes and fears to each other, revealed our dreams and desires, feeding each other stew and bread, drinking from the flask of tea when we were thirsty. I couldn’t think of anything more perfect.
Finally, as the night reluctantly faded to the early light of day, our lovemaking became almost desperate as we tried to sear the memory of each other on our bodies and minds.
‘I love you,’ whispered Leo, still arched over the top of me. His skin glistened with sweat in the lamplight, and his eyes were fixed to mine, dark pools of love that I could immerse myself in forever. I smiled softly, overcome with joy, but it was bittersweet.
‘I love you too.’ I pulled him to me, his body hot and slick on mine. ‘I want to stay like this forever.’
‘We’ll be together again. Memories of you naked beneath me will keep me going in the meantime,’ he said, smiling slowly. He kissed me, his lips soft and gentle, and then more demanding.
‘Don’t leave me, Leo.’ I wrapped my arms around him and clung to him.
‘I’ll never leave you. You’ll be in my thoughts every day until I come back to you. We’ll plan a life together.’
‘I can’t wait. It means more than I can say.’ I kissed him again, tears sliding down my cheeks and mingling with his as we said goodbye the best way we knew how.
17
Leo and the others who had been called up had to present themselves at Anhalter Bahnhof, once one of Berlin’s busiest train stations, now running only a fraction of services due to the bombings and damage. Armed SS guards manned the entrance to the terminus but I felt reassured by the trucks and buses parked alongside the station, reminding me that this was simply a call-up for a labour force to support the final push in this war. Desiccated leaves swirled around our feet in the November breeze as we waited nervously outside the station with other families bidding desperate farewells to their loved ones. Refugees from the east, and workers and travellers rushed past, their eyes sliding over our gathering and quickly away. They all knew what this was.
The loudspeaker announced that it was time for registration.
We’d already said our goodbyes but Leo embraced his mother once again. He hadn’t wanted her to come, worried about her status, but she’d insisted. She was wearing the yellow Star of David on her coat, and the only thing that prevented her from being carted away were the invisible bonds of her marriage. She was trembling and crying, and Onkel Georg put his arm around her as he had a few final words with his son.
Then Leo turned to me. ‘Leo, don’t go.’ I clutched his arm.
‘I’m here,’ he said, gathering me to him. I could feel the beat of his heart against my chest, the softness of his freshly shaved cheek against mine, the rasp of his thick woollen coat against my neck and his strong, capable hands on my back holding me upright. All in that single moment.
His hands slid lower over my bottom and he pulled me even closer.
‘Leo, your parents,’ I stammered nervously.
‘I’m sure they already know, but I don’t care if they don’t.’ He dipped his head and kissed me deeply. ‘I love you, Nightingale.’
‘I love you, Leo.’ Tears streamed down my face. ‘Come back to me.’
‘Look after Mutti and Vati while I’m gone.’
‘I will.’ We drew apart, but I held his hand, unable to let go yet. ‘Stay alive, Leo.’
He nodded and stepped back, our eyes still locked, our link unbroken until my reach had stretched to its limit. It seemed he let go and turned in slow motion, walking away from me and towards an uncertain future. He entered the building and disappeared from view.
Tante Elya, Onkel Georg and I didn’t speak a word the whole journey back to the estate. When Onkel Georg and I went out to do the evening milking, Tante Elya accompanied us and Frau Kraus insisted we have a small bite for dinner, though none of us were hungry. But, remembering my promise to Leo, I forced them to eat. It sapped all the energy I possessed and it felt as though I was moving through thick molasses.
Tante Elya stared unseeing at her embroidery until she roused herself and climbed the stairs to Leo’s room where she stood in the doorway, unable to step beyond the threshold. I took her arm and led her into the room. She sat heavily on the edge of his bed and, with her head in her hands, she finally allowed herself to cry. I wrapped my arms around her and she collapsed slowly to the bed where we lay together, caught within our own memories of Leo. Gradually she told me about some of her happiest times with him, sitting and reading stories in this room with him as a little boy. Then I told her about the day not long after the car accident when Leo had given me the carved horse to cheer me up and shown me the best strawberry patch. I shared the whole story of our love and our determination to be together. She hugged me tight, and told me how happy she was for me and Leo. I was glad I’d told her. I didn’t want to keep any more secrets and the news – and its hope of a bright and happy future together as a family – was something that could buoy all of us through this dark time.
‘Stay strong, Leo,’ I whispered into the night.
Life went on. I returned to Beelitz a few days later, having taken as much time off as the patience of the Red Cross would allow. There was so much work to do, so many more injured soldiers arriving from an increasingly desperate war. I told Marika everything. She shook with fury when she heard of Julius’s violence and cried with me when I told her I’d lost the baby. It was a lot to take in, but she was steadfast in her support.
‘I can’t believe that the officials have been transporting Jewish people like cattle, and making them pay for the privilege. Where’s their shame when they put their signature to the profit sheets and transfer funds from one department to another, like it’s an ordinary business transaction? And then you tell me that they’re being gassed, slaughtered like animals.’ She was pale and trembling, her eyes wide with horror. She stared into the distance for a moment, trying to comprehend the enormity of what I’d told her. ‘I’m just sorry I ever encouraged you to make an effort with Julius,’ she said finally, shaking her head in disgust. ‘He’s a manipulator and a coward and as bad as those who set this evil in motion… It makes me ashamed to be German. I’m so glad you’ve left him.’ I squeezed her hand in gratitude.
‘I can’t believe I stayed with him as long as I did. He sucked me into his glittering world, made me doubt myself and my own instincts. But finding out about the Jewish people was the tipping point. And when he hit me, I knew exactly what he was made of.’
She put her arm around me in comfort. ‘But you have Leo now. Finally you’re together as you should be. Do his parents know and approve?’
I nodded. ‘Tante Elya knew all along and Onkel Georg suspected. Tante Elya reminded him of how they’d met and how they knew they were meant to be. Now Leo has to stay alive so he can come back to me.’
‘He will. He has you waiting for him.’ I wanted to hug her even more.
But it was as if my conversation with Marika had stirred and awoken Julius’s spectre. When I finished my shift, he was waiting for me at the entrance of the dining hall. My heart rose to my throat when I saw him, but I couldn’t avoid him.
‘Hello, Julius,’ I said stiffly. He leaned closer to kiss me on the cheek and I flinched. He drew back in consternation.
‘Can we go somewhere more private and talk?’ he asked.
‘You can talk to me in the dining hall or not at all.’
He f
rowned, a look of hurt in his eyes. ‘I want to apologise… I love you.’
‘Well, you have a funny way of showing it.’ I clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking and made my way to a table at the back of the hall where we would be afforded some privacy. I didn’t care if he followed or not.
‘I’m sorry, Susie,’ he whispered, sitting down opposite me. ‘I was so afraid of losing you that it made me crazy.’ He reached across the table to grasp my hand, but I quickly pulled away, pressing my hands into my lap. ‘Please come back to me. I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. I swear it on the life of our child.’
‘I lost the baby,’ I said brusquely, the anger flaring hot and unruly within me. ‘It’s your fault.’
Horror blossomed on his face at the realisation of what he’d done. I didn’t care. I knew how much he wanted a family, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to console him. Part of me wanted to punish him, too, for what I’d allowed myself to become when I was with him. I felt ashamed whenever I thought about the luxury we’d lived in, my acceptance of his world and the power of the Nazis as we made deals to supposedly keep my family safe. I’d become like him in some way, blotting out the horror of Onkel Tedi’s life and all those persecuted by the Nazis. I’d known all along that it felt wrong.
‘Are you all right?’ he said, his voice cracking.
‘I’m fine now.’ I pressed my knuckles to my lips. I didn’t want to cry.
‘I’m so sorry, Susie, for all of it.’ His bright blue eyes were full of remorse. ‘I never meant to hurt you. You mean the world to me.’ He held out my engagement ring. ‘We can still have the wedding and we can try for another baby.’
I stared at him in astonishment.
‘I know you’re angry with me but let me make it up to you.’ He put the ring in front of me.
I pushed the ring back across the bare table. ‘I don’t want your ring. There’s nothing left between us.’
He nodded. ‘Let’s take it slow. This war will be determined in the next couple of months. The ministry’s being moved to the countryside south of Berlin, to Gross Koris, and all the essential staff are going. It’s too risky to stay in Berlin with the Allies moving towards us. Our operations can’t be disrupted. They’re crucial for Germany to continue to function, and for the war. I’ll be spending much of my time there. Take the time you need, but don’t stay in Berlin. Go home to Gut Birkenhof where I know you’re safe. We can start over when the war ends.’
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. ‘Julius, we’re finished. Whatever hold you had over me died when I saw that transport document with your signature on it. Leo’s gone, you made sure of that, and Tante Elya has Onkel Georg to protect her, as she always had.’ I pushed back my chair and stood. ‘Goodbye, Julius.’
He grabbed my wrist as I walked past him. ‘We’re over when I say we’re over,’ he said through gritted teeth, his eyes boring into mine. ‘I’ll give you a couple of months to heal, and then I expect you to wear your ring again.’ He pushed the ring hard into my palm. ‘You’re mine. Make no mistake about it.’ I glanced around the room. People were selecting food at the counter and some were sitting at tables eating, reading and talking to colleagues. Julius’s gaze followed mine. He knew I could make a fuss.
I pulled my arm free. ‘Leave me alone,’ I hissed. ‘I never want to see you again.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ His eyes were blazing now. Glad we were in public, I put the ring back on the table, made my way out of the dining hall and found my way to the ward where I knew he wouldn’t follow me.
* * *
Leo’s letter arrived on one of my days off back home. Tante Elya read it aloud when we retired to the parlour after dinner.
29th November, 1944
Dear Mutti, Vati and Susie,
I’m writing to let you know that I’m well. I’m working for the Todt Organisation and, as you know, they manage construction projects across the Reich, so I’m lucky to be working not too far from home. Currently our crew are working on reinforcing the runway of an airfield. It’s physically demanding work, but not hard and it’s something I can manage well after the years of outdoor work on the farm. We’re living in a camp nearby and walk the short distance to and from the construction site every day. Because we’re voluntary workers, we’re allowed to write one letter a week to our family and we’re paid for our labour. You don’t need to worry about me at all.
I hope you’re all well too. I will write again soon.
Your loving son,
Leopold
Tante Elya looked up at Onkel Georg and I, misty-eyed.
Onkel Georg nodded. ‘I told you not to worry, he’ll be fine.’
‘But he doesn’t really say much,’ I said dubiously. ‘And he’s not there voluntarily.’ I wished that he’d been able to write to me alone. Maybe next time.
‘He has to maintain the façade. How can he say anything else?’ said Onkel Georg. ‘His letters will be read and monitored by men within the Todt Organisation. Anything sensitive will be censored or not sent at all but at least we’ll have contact with him.’ We both must have looked crestfallen. ‘Don’t worry,’ Onkel Georg continued quickly. ‘He’ll send us a proper letter soon. I have someone within Todt who’ll smuggle his letter to me. Then we’ll know the real situation.’
After Julius’s visit, I asked to be transferred to another hospital around Berlin. Marika was leaving to complete the final preparations for her wedding and it made sense for me to go too – to make a fresh start without the worry of Julius turning up whenever he liked. It was a teary goodbye to the staff and patients at Beelitz, and then a last longing glance over the calm, sprawling gardens and ornate buildings as I left the grounds in the back of a Red Cross transport truck.
The giant monolith of the Tiergarten flak tower rose from the surrounding parkland of the Berlin Zoo, its guns trained on the sky, ready to protect Berlin’s government district. Not only did the concrete fortress house the armaments for the rooftop anti-aircraft guns and the personnel to man them, there was also a bunker large enough to fit fifteen thousand Berliners, or so the matron told me as we climbed the spiral staircase to the eighty-five bed military hospital on its third floor. Later, I heard whispers from the other nurses that the second floor housed a climate-controlled room where priceless artefacts from the city’s museums and galleries were stored. I could only imagine what exquisite treasures lay under my feet and wondered absently how I could gain access to the room, just to view the many precious and ancient items.
The Tiergarten hospital was a complete contrast to the facilities at Beelitz. Smaller and more compact, it was far more efficient, and easy to get from one ward to the next and to the operating theatres. The patients coming in from the front were mostly acute with terrible injuries that more often than not required surgery.
Some of the animals in the zoo below us had been killed during previous bombings and many had been sent to other zoos within the Reich, but some remained. It was strange to hear the sounds of Africa while we nursed injured soldiers: the roar of the lions and the trumpeting of the lone bull elephant, Siam.
I spent most of my time in theatre where my skills were developed in a new direction, ensuring the appropriate surgical instruments were sterilised, ready and in good working order, and assisting the surgeons during surgery.
‘The saws must be placed this way for Herr Bettingen,’ explained one of the sisters who’d been there for some time. Bettingen was one of the most respected surgeons in Berlin. ‘And he likes you to report on the patient’s condition pre-surgery, and sometimes assist him with the clamps and positioning. It’s quite specific, especially for amputations, so make sure you understand what procedure’s being performed before you scrub in.’
I thought I’d seen more amputations at Beelitz than was necessary in one lifetime, but apparently not. And, unlike Beelitz, I didn’t get to know my patients over a long period of time, as their care was handed over to t
he post-surgical nursing staff and they were then sent elsewhere to rehabilitate. The work was frantic, but I felt safe within the citadel. I slept and ate in the small nurses’ quarters within the building between shifts and on my days off I’d go home to Gut Birkenhof on the bus. We were a close-knit community who kept to ourselves, although there was a friendly rapport with the Luftwaffe soldiers and the flak helpers who manned the guns above us. Best of all, Julius didn’t know where I was.
* * *
The next time I came home in December, more news from Leo was waiting.
‘Leo’s sent us a special letter,’ said Onkel Georg after dinner, sitting on the lounge chair closest to the corner lamp in the parlour. He put on his reading glasses. We were waiting for the evening BBC news.
Dear Vati,
I’m at Zerbst Airfield, only one hundred kilometres from Berlin. About five hundred of us arrived the day we were registered. We live in a camp not far from the airfield. Even though we’re supposedly voluntary, we’re guarded at all times, particularly when we’re marching between the airfield and camp. We’re not allowed to leave camp on our days off, nor are we allowed to have visitors. As you probably guessed, our letters are monitored and censored. So please be careful what you write.
My work crew is hardening the runway of the airfield for some new aircraft that will be arriving soon. There’s talk that they will change the course of the war. I suspect it has to do with those aircraft engines that have taken so long to be perfected! Let’s hope it’s too late for them.
Onkel Georg looked up, puzzled at the mention of aircraft engines. I hadn’t told him about my intelligence work for the resistance because he would’ve tried to stop me and there seemed no point in telling him after I’d left Julius. I only shrugged my shoulders and managed to look just as confused. I couldn’t believe that our actions had contributed to such an extensive delay in the Nazis’ prize project. It gave me a rush of pride, which I knew Leo felt too. We were still doing good work.
Letters from Berlin Page 24