by Jack Murray
It rang true. Danny could see the belief radiating from Crisp or perhaps he was just a good salesman. Unquestionably, though, Danny felt his spirits lift. For once the plan didn’t seem the blindly optimistic cavalry charge of old. Instead, it was a combined effort across all the services bar Navy and, critically, they were not playing cricket. It would happen at night. It seemed, at long last, the Allies had learned the lesson of past failure. Danny certainly hoped so. For the first time, he thought so, too.
36
Ladenburg, Germany: 22nd September 1942
‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ hissed Sammy for what seemed like the twentieth time. Sammy accompanied Brehme into the police station, looking around him like a schoolboy visiting the headmaster.
It was eleven at night and the station was empty except for a policeman at the reception. Brehme nodded to the man behind the counter, Kaltz. He was new; he was young and rich and utterly uninterested in the job. It served one purpose; to keep him away from the front line. Brehme understood this all too well. Had he not done the same? Indolent the young man may have been, but he was not entirely stupid.
‘I’m just interrogating a suspect,’ explained Brehme to the young policeman. He might as well have said he was marrying a horse. The boy acknowledged him briefly before returning to his newspaper.
They went through into the office Brehme shared with Keller. Brehme showed him the large metal filing cabinet that was used to store the Gestapo files. Sammy nodded then extracted from his pocket a leather wallet.
‘What’s that?’ asked Brehme stupidly. Sammy raised his eyebrows but didn’t answer. Tools of the trade realised Brehme. He went over to his desk and sat down. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
And Sammy went to it. The leather pouch, from the quick glance by Brehme, seemed to contain a variety of metal implements. Brehme looked at Sammy’s hands as he picked out a couple of the metal lock picks. His fingers were long and slender, very much at odds with the rest of Sammy, which was neither.
He selected a couple of metal picks and went to work. Brehme turned away rather like a gentleman when confronted with a woman undressing. He felt it oddly inappropriate to watch the act of breaking in.
Seconds later he heard the sound of the filing cabinet drawers open. He spun around to Sammy, in shock.
‘Already?’
‘I was good, you know,’ smiled Sammy.
‘Still practicing?’ asked Brehme grimly but there was a twinkle in his eye.
‘Only when I lock myself out,’ explained Sammy.
Brehme was over to the cabinet in the blink of an eye. He fished through a couple of the drawers before he found what he was looking for.
‘Can you keep watch?’ asked Brehme.
Sammy went to the door and opened it just wide enough to allow him a view of the corridor.
Meanwhile, Brehme carefully flicked through the file he’d first seen a month previously. There was still no mention of him, but the rest of the file was full of biographical information about key town officials. Nothing in them seemed suspicious. Businessmen, too, were included. A number were suspected of having helped Jewish people escape abroad. This was based on past political allegiances rather than anything tangible. After a few minutes Brehme put the file away, slightly dissatisfied.
He searched through the other drawers and removed another file. This one was thinner. His eyes widened when he saw the abstract.
‘Information pertaining to the provision of sanctuary to Jews’
He flicked through the file. A number of the men and women mentioned in the previous file also appeared here. This was not unexpected, but it appeared that there was an operation being planned to conduct surprise searches on a mass scale. Brehme had noticed the build-up of SS personnel in recent days. He looked for a date.
There was nothing else in the file that could confirm when the operation would start. Nor was there any detail on who would conduct the searches. Given the number of SS he’d seen arrive in the previous few days, two things were clear to Brehme. The operation was imminent and, in all likelihood, would involve simultaneous searches to avoid news spreading.
He sat back in his old chair and shook his head. The country was at war, not just with half the world but also with itself. It made sense, of course. These people had created an enemy within to justify their own enrichment as well as their continued presence while others went off to fight. He thought of Erich Sammer again, a boy who represented everything he detested about the country. He’d avoided being sent to the frontline because of his connections. While Manfred risked his life in a desert, this piece of excrescence was pretending to play policeman.
‘Hurry up,’ said Sammy nervously.
‘Relax,’ replied Brehme. ‘The station is quiet these nights.’
Sammy smiled nervously, ‘Why? Have you sent all the criminals to fight?’
‘No, Sammy. They’re running the country now.’
If Sammy was surprised to hear this, he hid it well. In fact, it only confirmed his view that he’d been right to help his old nemesis. In an odd way, and certainly for the first time, they were on the same side.
Sammy performed his magic in shutting the filing cabinet. Then he turned to Brehme and said with a smile, ‘Can we go now?’
‘No,’ replied Brehme. ‘One more thing?’
Sammy glanced outside the window.
‘We don’t have time. I can see people coming into the station.’
Brehme shook his head and pointed at the table, ‘Quickly, this drawer.’
Sammy paused for a moment. His face was apoplectic. Then he did as he was ordered. It took a couple of seconds then the drawer was open. He stood back and let Brehme look. While the Police Chief did this Sammy glanced out the window. The long raincoats suggested only one thing. The men outside were almost certainly Gestapo. And they were now rushing into the station.
Brehme made an exclamation. He motioned for Sammy to come over and lock the desk drawer. A couple of agonising seconds passed as Sammy struggled to do this.
‘Hurry,’ hissed Brehme.
‘You’re the one that wanted the bloody thing open with the Gestapo outside,’ snarled Sammy.
They heard the click with relief and then immediately Sammy and Brehme darted over to the other desk. Moments later the door burst open. Ernst Keller stood in the entrance with another man that Brehme did not recognise, although he appeared to be cut from the same cloth. Keller looked from Brehme to Sammy and then back again.
‘I saw the light on in the office,’ said Keller carefully.
‘Strange time to be passing the office,’ replied Brehme, coolly. The pup behind the desk was obviously under orders to report if he ever came to the office at an unusual time. After what he’d seen in the memo he’d found, Brehme could understand why.
Keller looked once more at Sammy which made the little burglar feel distinctly like a fish staring at a hungry shark. Brehme noted Keller’s interest and decided introductions were in order.
‘Lieutenant Keller, may I introduce an informant of mine, Sammy Schneider. Sammy was once on the wrong side of the law but has thankfully seen the error of his ways and helped me on occasion with useful information.’
‘What were you discussing tonight at such a late hour?’ asked Keller. He was staring directly at Sammy. He also sensed the unease in the little man. This made him certain something was afoot. He stepped into the office accompanied by the other Gestapo officer and walked right up to Sammy, ignoring Brehme.
‘I heard something in a bar yesterday. I thought that the Chief should know.’
‘What did you hear?’
‘Black market things. Cattle,’ replied Sammy. Brehme was looking at Sammy. He hoped that Keller hadn’t noticed that he was holding his breath. The mention of cattle made Keller’s face turn a shade or three paler.
‘What things?’ asked Keller, his throat had tightened. His voice was barely a whisper.
Sammy noted this and rel
axed. Brehme had been right. These crooks were running their own black-market operation.
‘I couldn’t see who was speaking and they were heading out anyway. He said something about being under the noses of the police but that’s as much as I could hear before he was out the door.’
Keller nodded, seemingly relieved. He quizzed Sammy a little more on where this had taken place and seemed satisfied the little man was speaking the truth.
‘I’m sorry to have interrupted you,’ said Keller, edging towards his desk. He sat down and glanced at the drawer. He introduced the other man, but Brehme spotted him testing the drawer to see if it was still locked. He seemed satisfied that nothing untoward had happened. Kaltz would have told them that they’d been there only a few minutes. This was not enough time to have conducted any search.
‘That’s quite all right,’ replied Brehme expansively. ‘Sammy was just leaving anyway.’
Keller stood up and shook hands with Sammy. The grip was cold and clammy. Sammy nodded to the other man and then, accompanied by Brehme, escaped out of the office with more than a sigh of relief.
‘Well-remembered,’ said Brehme to the burglar. He’d briefed him in the car coming over for just such an eventuality. They reached the exit of the police station. ‘I’ll drive you back to Heidelberg.’
Sammy shook his head. There was a shrewd look in his eyes.
‘I don’ think that would be a good idea. Best I leave you here. Did you find what you wanted?’
‘I did, Sammy,’ replied Brehme. He held out his hand. Sammy looked down at the proffered hand and gripped it. They parted without another word.
Brehme watched him walk away and then he started towards his car. He stopped and thought better of it. He had one more place to go. He couldn’t draw attention to himself with a police car. Instead, he trudged through town in the cold night air, his mind spinning with what he’d read. It wasn’t just the raids planned by the Gestapo and the SS. He knew he was about to walk off the edge of a precipice.
Just ahead he saw the house he wanted. A look around told him that he was not being followed. However, he couldn’t take chances. He ducked down an alley way and remained there for five minutes. No one appeared on the street. It was nearly midnight so there was no reason why anyone should be there on a night like this.
Moving around the back, he clambered over a garden fence and approached the back door. There were no lights on inside. This was a problem. They had probably gone to bed. The last thing he wanted to do was attract attention by banging on the door but there was nothing else for it. He rapped the door. Softly at first, then harder. This produced the effect he’d sought. A dog started to bark. A few minutes later a light came on and a figure appeared at the door. Brehme could hear the man muttering darkly on the other side of the door.
‘Open up, Otto,’ demanded Brehme in a loud whisper. The door opened slowly.
Otto Becker’s face fell in shock when he saw who it was. In a better light Brehme would have seen him turn pale. Behind him, Felix was barking the bark of a dog that doesn’t know if it should be happy or warning an intruder.
‘Herr Brehme, what are you doing here at this time of night?’ replied Becker before turning to the excited Labrador, ‘Enough, Felix.’
‘Let me in, Otto. I need to speak to you’.
Agatha Becker appeared just behind her husband demanding to know who it was. Becker opened the door wider. Rather like her husband, she was shocked to see who it was. Felix moved forward and jumped up on Brehme. At least someone was glad to see him, thought Brehme grimly. He stepped forward into the kitchen. The elderly couple were too much in shock to object. But they felt something, too.
Fear.
‘What brings you here?’ asked Becker nervously. Gone was the irritation.
Brehme stared at Becker and decided to get to the point.
‘You are both in grave danger. You and the people you are harbouring.’
Agatha Becker’s hand went to her mouth. Her husband was speechless for a few moments. Then he began what sounded like a denial before being silenced by Brehme. There was no time for this.
‘Take me to them,’ ordered Brehme. ‘Now.’
The elderly couple looked at one another and then Agatha nodded. In silence, they led Brehme outside to a small doorway. Becker unlocked it and they descended down a wooden flight of stairs to a cellar. Becker gave the door a knock and a few moments later it opened. A face peeked through the crack.
‘It’s me,’ said Becker.
The door opened reluctantly, and they entered. Inside it was a small, cold room lit by a couple of candles. It housed an elderly man and woman. With them was a young girl. She couldn’t have been older than five. There was a straw mattress that acted as a bed, a table with two chairs, some books and a few toys. Who could live in such an awful life? Yet, Brehme recognised them.
‘Doctor Glickman,’ said Brehme, looking at the man who had once been his dentist, ‘You and Frau Glickman are both in serious danger. The Gestapo are going to raid a dozen houses they suspect of harbouring Jews. The Beckers have been identified as one such household. The raid will happen tomorrow night. You have to leave, now.’
Even in the candlelight Brehme could see the fear etched into the deep lines of the elderly couple. Brehme glanced down at the child. He knelt down and said, ‘What’s your name?’
‘Eliana,’ responded the little girl. She was clutching a doll and a teddy tightly to her chest.
‘Well, you will have to be a brave girl and help your grandparents. Do you understand?’
She nodded. Glickman finally found his voice and asked, ‘How do you know this?’
Brehme, shook his head, ‘There’s no time to explain. Collect your belongings and meet me at the alleyway in twenty minutes. Otto, you and Agatha have to make this place look like no one has been living here. Then, you have to reach anyone else who is harbouring Jewish people and let them know of the raid. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, but what can they do? Where can they go?’
Brehme had been thinking of this for the last twenty minutes since he’d uncovered the plan for the raid. There was one possibility. It was a risk. However, at this stage, they were fresh out of any alternatives.
‘I need to use your phone. I will organise this.’
Glickman looked at Brehme. There was gratitude in his eyes but also something else.
‘Why are you doing this? You are putting your life in danger.’
Brehme had no answer for this. It was certainly unusual. He’d spent a lifetime avoiding danger. He shook his head and pointed upstairs to Becker. His heart was pounding. The next few minutes would either be a moment of release or it would condemn them all to death.
They returned through the back yard back to the house where Felix was eager to greet them again. At any other time, this would have been welcome but there was simply too much to do. A disappointed Labrador watched his master and the visitor disappear into another room.
Becker pointed to the phone in the study. Brehme took a deep breath and looked at the little man whose life he was about to endanger.
‘This may not work. He may say no. He may tell the Gestapo. You understand this?’
Becker nodded. Then a thought struck him.
‘How did you know?’
‘The bags of food, Otto. The bags of food. I’ve watched you this year. Always carrying food for the five thousand. I didn’t realise initially and then…’ he left the rest of the sentence unfinished.
Becker nodded. He watched as Brehme picked up the phone. After a year living in fear, Becker felt peace descend on him. He had acted with the best of intentions. If this meant breaking the law, then so be it. The Nazis represented no form of authority that he would ever accept. He hated them and what they stood for. His chest began to swell with emotion. It wasn’t much, but he’d stood up against thuggery, hatred and brutality. Whatever will be, will be he thought.
Brehme fought to control the anxi
ety in his voice. He’d already stepped forward into an unknown world. The most dangerous moment for him had now arrived. He would now declare what he had done, if not to the world then to someone who could conceivably give him up to the Nazis. However, this was the one man in the area who had more reason to hate the Gestapo than most.
‘Hello, can you put me through to Lucas Kramer, please. Yes, Kramer farm.’
37
El Alamein, Egypt: 23rd October 1942
‘What time is it?’ asked Danny. He wasn’t even trying to hide the edge in his voice now.
PG looked up and replied irritably, ‘Ten minutes from the last time you asked.’
They were sitting outside the tank. Waiting. Benson joined them a few minutes later and they sat silently gazing up at the silver-shining full moon set amid a billion pin pricks of light. It gave the desert a strange pale blue glow before the darkness enveloped it fully.
‘What a place,’ said PG. ‘You spend half the day with your arse boiling and the other half frozen. But what a sky. I’ll miss this place.’
‘Are you off anywhere then?’ asked Benson, an amused smile creasing his face.
‘Who knows?’ replied the Yorkshireman but there wasn’t much belief in it.
‘Why?’ asked Danny, genuinely curious.
PG shook his head and replied, ‘Try spending a day down a pit. It’s black, dark and feels like you are within touching distance of hell itself. Then do it day in, day out. Breathing in that dust. No, Danny-boy, I’ll take my chances here.’
Danny was surprised by this. His life had been so free by comparison. The countryside, fresh air, fresh food. It all seemed so different from the blackness described by PG.
‘You know what I miss most?’