“Yes, Father,” she said and slipped out of the basement, emerging into a sunny but chilly May morning. The sun blinded her, and she blinked a few times. Berlin had been so beautiful before the war. She’d been fourteen when Hitler invaded Poland, but like all girls her age she was much more interested in play, boys, and clothes than in politics.
At first it had been nothing more than a distant excitement filled with celebrations for every newly occupied territory, but then the war drew closer. One by one her brothers, cousins, friends and neighborhood boys were drafted and sent away. Many returned in coffins, or not at all.
She shook her head, forcing the grief away. Nothing she could change about the past. Right now, her priority was to find food for her family, or they’d soon join the casualties of this war. Squaring her shoulders, she crossed the street and quickly faded into the shadows of the bombed-out buildings, always keeping away from the main streets.
It was best not to be seen by the Russians. The indiscriminate looting, murdering and raping were constant threats to anyone and especially for a woman. After a seemingly endless walk she reached the bakery, bathed in cold sweat.
“ Guten Morgen ,” she wished the baker’s wife a good morning. “What do you have today?”
“No flour. No bread.” The big woman scoffed. “ Ivans came and took everything. Without paying, of course.”
“I’m sorry, they’re so awful,” Marlene empathized with her.
The baker’s wife squinted her eyes and looked unabashedly at Marlene’s overcoat. “A nice coat you have. My mother is always freezing.”
Marlene hated the ways things had become, but ration cards had lost their value long ago and it was only thanks to bartering that they’d been able to subsist for the past weeks. “And my mother is always hungry.”
The woman nodded her understanding. “The Ivans might have overlooked a loaf. It’s a bit hard, but still good.”
“I’ll take it.” Marlene took off her coat and handed it to the baker’s wife in exchange for a loaf of bread that was hard as stone. They’d have to soak it in soup to eat it, but it was precious food.
She put the bread into her bag and left the bakery, when her glance fell on a platinum-blonde woman walking down the street as if she owned it. Marlene sucked in a breath, aghast how anyone could be so brazen. She fully expected a Russian to jump at the woman and shout the most feared words in Berlin at her.
Komm Frau ! Come with me, woman! Just the thought sent violent shudders down her spine. The next moment the woman looked in Marlene’s direction and Marlene stopped breathing altogether.
“Bruni? Is this really you?” she uttered, stunned.
“Marlene, what a surprise to see you here. How have you been?” Brunhilde von Sinnen, known as Bruni to her friends, looked incredibly radiant. She didn’t feature the cast-down, fearful appearance of most anyone else in this heap of rubble, formerly known as Berlin. She took a few steps toward Marlene and hugged her tight. “Isn’t it wonderful that I’ve found you? How are you doing?”
“Coping,” Marlene said. But the next moment the happiness to see her friend again was replaced by unadulterated panic. A scowling Russian soldier walked toward them. “Bruni…we…an Ivan,” Marlene’s voice faltered.
But her friend barely moved her head and shrugged. “Oh, that’s Gregori. He’s my guard.”
“Your guard?” Marlene’s brain filled with impenetrable cotton wool and she didn’t comprehend.
“Yes, silly.” Bruni took Marlene by the elbow and said, “Let’s go for a walk.”
“A walk? Are you crazy?” Marlene still eyed the soldier called Gregori with suspicion, but he made no attempt to come closer than a few steps away.
“Not at all, I’m dying to catch up on news.”
Marlene sighed and followed Bruni. Maybe there was strength in numbers and two women wouldn’t be as much at risk as one.
“Isn’t it a dream? The war’s finally over and we’re still alive,” Bruni said with her incredibly beautiful voice.
“More like a nightmare,” Marlene protested and told her about the godawful living conditions in the basement, how she had to take care of her parents, her constant fears and struggles.
Bruni came to a halt and looked at her. “When will you ever learn to look out for yourself instead of others, my dear? Look at you! Dressed in drab clothes, your beautiful hair hidden beneath that piece of filth…no wonder, you’re suffering. You need to adapt to the situation and find yourself a protector.”
“A protector? Like your Gregori?”
Bruni giggled. “Of course not. Gregori is dispensable. He’s a mere foot soldier, the kind women here are afraid of.”
“Why not you?”
“Are you really that thick, sweetie? Once it was clear who the new bosses were, I put on make-up and my best dress and introduced myself to Captain Feodor Orlovski, commander of the technical corps in Berlin. There’s only one man in Berlin more powerful than him, and that’s General Sokolov himself.”
“You threw yourself at a Russian?” Marlene spit out the words. How could Bruni sink so low?
“It doesn’t matter with whom we associate, what matters are the reasons why we do it. These aren’t normal circumstances. And I very much prefer to share the bed willingly with one man than unwillingly with many. To make sure nothing will happen to me Feodor has ordered his men to follow me at all times.
“Oh Bruni. I’m so sorry…this is so awful.” Marlene loved her friend dearly, despite her many faults.
“It’s really not awful…Feodor is quite an accomplished lover.” Bruni made a dreamy face. “He has the stamina of a trained soldier and the expertise of –”
“Stop. Please, no details.” The rising embarrassment burned Marlene’s face. She wasn’t like Bruni, had only once given herself to her boyfriend on the day before he’d been sent to the front.
Bruni giggled. “In case you ever need womanly advice, I’d be more than happy to elaborate.”
Her face burning, Marlene continued to walk down the street, almost forgetting the realities of Berlin while mulling over Bruni’s trade with the devil. Was selling one’s body to one man permissible if it prevented many others from stealing it?
They turned the corner into Marlene’s street and Bruni gasped at the sight of the destroyed buildings. “How on earth can you live like this?”
“It’s not that we have much choice,” Marlene said. The next moment her stomach tied into a knot at the sight of two drunk Russian soldiers on the prowl. In her joy to see Bruni again, she’d neglected to scan the street and hide in time. Of course, they’d spotted the two young women and broad grins appeared on their dirty faces.
“Oh my God,” Marlene whispered, bracing herself for the worst.
But it took only a few seconds until Gregori, who still followed them at a few steps distance, approached the two men and barked something in Russian at them. They looked dumbfounded and then turned on their heels.
“See how having a protector is beneficial?” Bruni said. “If you change your mind, I can certainly introduce you to a powerful and decent officer.”
On trembling legs, Marlene said goodbye and retreated into her building.
Chapter 3
Werner was on his way to have a first look at the Berlin University. Both General Sokolov and Norbert Gentner impressed upon him the importance of getting the education system up and running before the start of the new school year in September. And, just like that, he’d become the head of the department for culture and education.
An elite university akin to the one in Moscow – and naturally following the same political philosophies – was Stalin’s explicit wish. And who would be brazen enough to deny the Great Old Man his dearest wish? Not Werner.
So, he set out to begin his Herculean task with the help of only two other men, both of them devoted communists who’d been liberated from a concentration camp mere weeks before.
Expecting a building similar to the
SMAD headquarters, he gasped for air when he first set his sights on the university located on the prestigious boulevard Unter den Linden in the city center. His initial reaction was to refuse to set foot into the ruin that looked as if it would crumble at any moment.
“You sure this is where we are supposed to have the lectures?” he asked Friedrich Effner, an emaciated gray-haired man in his early fifties who had survived the camps only thanks to his privileged position as a gifted accountant.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. It doesn’t look all that bad, either,” Effner answered.
“Well then, let’s have a look inside.” On their way in, they saw several Germans scurrying about searching for whatever suitable things to pillage. But the lecture halls and classrooms had already been cleared of all movable furniture. Only the bolted rows of benches with attached seats were left.
“Get everyone out of here, no more pilfering,” Werner shouted at one of the soldiers accompanying his scouting group.
By sheer miracle they found a back building with little structural damage and Werner chose the two best-preserved offices for himself and Effner.
“Herewith I make you the Dean of the new Berlin University,” he said with a grin and motioned for Effner to take position in his new office. “I’ll get the technical company to commandeer furniture for us and we’ll start tomorrow with the interviews.”
“Yes, Comrade Böhm,” Effner said.
Werner handed him a list of prospective professors the Soviet cultural ministry had given him. It was vital to start the anti-fascist education of Berliners only with the most reliable people. That ruled out most of the professors who’d still been working until recently.
After a lengthy discussion in the Gentner group it had been decided that the first faculty to open up, even before the official inauguration in January next year, would be medicine. Doctors were urgently needed, and Werner hoped that he’d find enough professors and students who weren’t tainted by National Socialism.
“Are you considering screening the students for political reliability as well?” Effner asked.
In Moscow students were rarely chosen for their merits, but usually because of political rectitude. Of course, nobody ever admitted to this custom, but children of high-ranking party officials could get into any subject of studies, independent of their grades or personal achievements.
But this was Berlin. And Stalin had tasked them to build a demilitarized, democratic, anti-fascist society.
Werner had often thought about how to best complete the civilian-democratic revolution that had started in 1848. A land reform to abolish the remnants of feudalism was one thing, but erecting a democratic state with rights and freedom for the people, was a much more important, yet tricky, step.
He had seen the mistakes the Soviets had made during their implementation of communism and in this instance he shared Anton Ackermann’s opinion that in Germany, socialism could be reached without the prior dictatorship of the proletariat. Like the founder of the National Committee for a Free Germany, Werner believed in a “unique German way” to socialism and strongly objected to a Sovietization of the country.
But not politically screening the students could prove to be dangerous, too. What if one of them was swayed by imperialistic ideas and incited riots, geared toward destabilizing the young republic?
“Well, I think, we need to screen them for fascist tendencies. We have to prevent dangerous Nazi elements from entering the university.”
“That is an excellent idea, Comrade Böhm,” Effner said. He was probably as afraid to fail at his new job, as Werner was since the party didn’t forgive mistakes. “We could have the prospective students fill out an application form that asks not only for medical credentials, but also for former affiliations with Nazi organizations.”
“We’ll allow the first batch of students based on medical merit. Anyone who has studied before, or has served as a medic will be given preference, except for those clearly involved with Nazi ideology. Draw up a form and show it to me tomorrow,” Werner said, glad that he could delegate the tedious part of this process.
He left the office and made his way through the long hallways of the main building. He had office furniture to commandeer. On his way, he came upon a group of soldiers from the technical company carrying sinks to the exit.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Werner asked their leader.
“Dismantling bathrooms for reparations,” the engineer answered.
“No. You can’t do this. This is the university building and we need the bathrooms when we’re going to begin classes in the fall.”
The engineer simply shrugged. “I have a task to do, now please get out of my way.”
But Werner wasn’t going to accept that his own people endangered the re-opening of the university and stepped in front of the man, who was at least twice his size. In a gruff voice he clarified, “Comrade, I am Werner Böhm, head of the culture and education taskforce under Norbert Gentner.”
The engineer perked up his ears at the mention of Gentner, but then shrugged again, “I have my orders. If you don’t like them, get General Sokolov to issue new ones. And now will you please step out of my way, because I have work to do.”
Werner looked at the sturdy, muscled man and decided he didn’t want to start a brawl with him. Instead he rushed to the nearest military administration office and demanded to use the phone. Frenetically dialing Norbert’s office number, he prayed that his boss was in.
”Gentner.”
Thank God . “Norbert, this is Werner. I just left the university building and here’s a group of Russian engineers dismantling the building.”
“What do you mean by dismantling?” Norbert asked.
“They are removing the wash basins and even the toilet bowls and taking them away. Supposedly because this is part of the agreed reparations to the Soviet Union.” Werner almost laughed at the hilarity of the situation. Dismantling toilet seats and shipping them to Moscow.
“Did you talk to their commanding officer?” Norbert didn’t seem overly interested in the topic.
“Yes. He says he’s under orders from General Sokolov.” Werner saw another group of soldiers leaving the university building and throwing the porcelain pieces on top of a waiting truck. Judging by the noise, not many of the toilet seats and wash basins would even make it out of Berlin in one piece. His desperation grew. If only the party allowed people to think for themselves.
Even though he knew this was just temporary, until the proletariat had been educated enough to understand complex connections, his anger rose. And, boy, did he wish for this temporary period to end right now.
“If it’s signed by Sokolov, there’s nothing we can do,” Norbert said.
“You mean, I have to let them take away everything we need for the proper functioning of the university?” Werner was quickly reaching the end of his patience. Didn’t Norbert understand how stupid this entire action was?
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say you cannot ensure a proper functioning, just because these engineers are taking a few things for reparations.”
“So, you think we don’t need toilets for the professors and students?” Werner ran a hand through his short blond hair.
“Comrade, you’re deliberately misinterpreting my words. The engineer has been ordered by Sokolov, so there’s nothing we can do about it. If I were you, I’d concentrate on what is expected of me, instead of worrying about bathroom equipment.”
Werner grimaced with disbelief and anger, glad that Norbert couldn’t see him. He forced himself to even his voice and then said, “I will do as you suggested. Thank you for your advice, Comrade.”
He hung up, still furious about Norbert’s unwillingness to help him, when another thought occurred. Despite knowing better, he simply couldn’t let those brutes demolish what was left of the university without a fight. Even the most blockheaded Soviet official had to understand that it didn’t make sense to dismantle the building just to install
the stolen equipment again a few weeks later.
Maybe Captain Orlovski, the commander of the technical company would appreciate if he saved him needless double work. He picked up the phone again and dialed Orlovski’s number. After a short discussion Orlovski agreed to pause the dismantling until the two of them could meet in the afternoon.
Werner rushed to SMAD headquarters and at two o’clock sharp, he knocked at Orlovski’s office door.
“Ah…you’re Böhm. Your reputation precedes you, and I was wondering when I’d get to meet Gentner’s protege, but never thought it would be so soon,” Orlovski said instead of a greeting.
“Captain Orlovski, it’s my pleasure. Please, excuse me for bothering you with this issue.” Werner had heard that Orlovski was an engineer through and through, an intelligent man, always inclined to follow logic and reason. If he found the right words, the man might as well be on his side.
“Yes, yes, to the point. Why are you obstructing my men from taking the reparations that rightfully belong to the Soviet people?”
“Comrade, I may be a German by birth, but I’m a Russian by heart and thus I’m the first one to support the need of reparations for our beloved Soviet Union. The Nazi fascists have caused so much destruction to our country and it is only just that the Germans have to pay for what they did. But I am not sure whether the dismantling of lavatories and toilet seats is actually helping rebuild Russia.”
“That is the task of brighter minds than mine to decide. General Sokolov has ordered this task, so who am I to argue?” Captain Orlovski kept a straight voice, but Werner believed he saw a flash of frustration in his eyes. So, the rumors were true and Orlovski had an independent mind.
But…he wouldn’t get anywhere challenging authorities. The captain might be open to logic, but he was still an obedient soldier. Werner racked his brain for a different angle to the problem and said, “I am in complete agreement with you, Comrade. I must have expressed my opinion badly. Reparations must be paid. And I understand the need for swiftness, as we want to have the task accomplished before the Americans set foot into Berlin.
From the Ashes Page 2