The colonel hesitated for a moment and then said, “We only have a copy in Russian.”
“That will do, I have people who can speak and read your language,” Dean answered, wishing for his trusted translator Bob to be at his side right now. How much easier the entire conversation would be.
The Russian’s face fell for a short moment, before he had his expression under control again. “Under these circumstances, I will have to check with headquarters.”
“Well, then check with your headquarters,” Dean hissed. Of course, the Muppet had to check with headquarters. Did those damn Russians ever do something without checking with someone else first?
He balled his hand into a fist, wishing he’d never agreed to take on this mission. As far as he was concerned this was rapidly turning into a nightmare.
“As you wish, Colonel. I will immediately send a car to the village.”
“The village?”
The Russian shrugged. “There’s the next telephone line to Berlin.”
What the fuck? Dean managed to swallow down the expletive, because it wouldn’t help to contain the growing tension. He was sure that this was nothing but another ploy. The Russians had been in Dessau for almost two months and hadn’t been able to establish telephone lines with their headquarters in Berlin? Impossible.
But General Clay personally had impressed on Dean not to cause any problems with the Russians and keep the mission peaceful – under any circumstances. So, he ground his teeth and waited. For two hours. Precious hours he could have been tackling the Autobahn to Berlin.
At least the Russians provided his delegation generously with champagne, beer, and white wine. What they didn’t offer was the otherwise ubiquitous Vodka. Dean wasn’t sure whether this was meant as an affront or not. And he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to leave this damned place and get on the road again.
When nobody returned with news from the Soviet headquarters, he finally exploded. “Look I have orders to go to Berlin. These orders are clear and cover all my men and all my vehicles. What they don’t say is, if the Russians are willing to let you pass. Do you understand?”
“I’m afraid you will have to take up this point with my superior, since I’m bound to follow the Berlin agreement,” Gorelik said and kindly suggested, “Let me get him for you.”
It took an agonizing forty-five minutes until a one-star general arrived and greeted Dean with the warmest welcome wishes. But despite supposedly being the man in charge, he repeated the same bullshit Colonel Gorelik had said and insisted that according to the elusive Berlin agreement they couldn’t take more than the stipulated amount of men and vehicles through the Soviet occupied zone.
Dean couldn’t openly threaten the general, but he still made his opinion known and said, “I’m sure my superiors won’t like this incident and it may cause repercussions. Our entry into Berlin was agreed at the Yalta conference.”
The general wouldn’t budge, be threatened, reasoned with or scared, he wouldn’t be bluffed and couldn’t even smile at a joke. Dean was at a dead end. He asked the general to let him talk in private with his deputy Major Jason Gardner, who was waiting in the car. Together they went over the options, which weren’t many. Return to Halle or continue with only a third of the convoy.
“I say we return and ask for further orders,” Gardner said.
Dean exploded. “No way I’m going to let those bastards win. If we give in now, who knows whether they’ll ever let us drive up to Berlin.”
“Dean, there are agreements in place…“
“…that they ignore at will and instead pull up some phony shit nobody has ever heard of. I tellya it was a mistake letting the Russians get to Berlin first. Now we have to wrench every single inch of that damn city out of their damn hands.”
“What do you suggest we do?” Gardner as always was the embodiment of calm reason.
Yes, what do to? He’d rather cut off his right arm then return to General Clay with his tail between his legs. “We split up. I take the allowed men to Berlin and you return with the rest to Halle, letting headquarters know what kind of blockheaded bastards the Russians have turned out to be.”
“You sure, you should take on the Russians in your current mood?” Jason teased him, fully aware that Dean was about to explode at any moment.
Dean growled at his friend and then left the car to let the Russians know about his decision to submit to the mysterious Berlin Agreement. If the general felt victorious, it didn’t show on his face, and Dean was way beyond caring one way or the other. All he wanted was to leave this goddamn place and reach Berlin before nightfall.
Half an hour later after repacking everything, because the Russians insisted they weren’t allowed to bring machine guns with them, Dean hopped into his jeep cussing a blue streak.
“At least we’re moving and you’ll see, it’ll be a breeze to reach Berlin on the four-lane Autobahn ,” Bob, his driver and translator said.
But after a few kilometers, the leading Soviet car pulled off the Autobahn and guided them along a cobblestoned secondary road.
“What the hell are they doing now?” Dean bumped his fist against the metal frame.
“No idea.”
Dean waved down their escort and got out of the jeep, the vein in his neck pulsating dangerously. If those damn Russians didn’t stop their antics right now, he’d crush their skulls. “Why aren’t we going on the Autobahn as planned?”
The Russian shrugged, pretending not to understand.
“Autobahn?” Dean asked with growing frustration.
The Russian shrugged again and Dean’s fingers twitched. He knew methods to make the bullheaded lout speak. But with superhuman effort he somehow managed not to strangle this so-called ally and instead motioned for Bob to join him.
“He says the Autobahn is under maintenance, therefore we have to take the secondary road,” Bob translated, nervously eyeing Dean. He knew his boss’s temper all too well and added, “Dean, you promised the general not to cause a diplomatic incident.”
Dean gritted his teeth. The Russians were causing the incident, not him. Back in the jeep he growled, “We have every right to take our convoy into Berlin. So far, I’ve sucked it up and smiled, but these rotten bastards better not believe they can take me for a ride.”
Chapter 6
“Z ara, are you sure you can walk?” Marlene asked. They needed to go to the administration office and register Zara to receive a ration book for her. Although food was still almost nonexistent, without a ration book a person was doomed to starve.
“Yes,” Zara pressed out between gritted teeth. Her breath was labored and she had shiny eyes, despite the fact that her fever had broken the night before.
“She can’t return here,” Marlene’s mother said.
“But where shall she go? She has no place to live,” Marlene objected.
“This is not our concern,” her father joined the conversation. “She has been here for five days eating our food. Now she must leave. Her presence puts us in danger.”
And what about her safety? Marlene wanted to shout. But it would be an unthinkable act of defiance to raise her voice against her father. Therefore she nodded and said, “Yes, Father.”
For Zara’s benefit she put on a brave face, but deep within she was worried to death. There was no way her friend would survive out on the street. Whilst walking the two blocks to the registry office, she racked her brain to find a place where Zara could stay. The only person who came to mind was Dr. Ebert. His makeshift hospital was always overcrowded, but he surely wouldn’t send Zara away until Marlene had found her another place to live.
Dr. Ebert wasn’t at the hospital, but a young man in his mid-twenties with curly brown hair and warm brown eyes greeted them, “How can I help you?”
“I am looking for Dr. Ebert,” Marlene said. Zara slumped against the wall, barely able to hold herself upright. She was completely exhausted from walking just a few blocks.
The youn
g man glanced at her and then back to Marlene. “I’m sorry Fräulein, but he’s not here. My name is Georg Tauber, by the way. I am helping Dr. Ebert with his patients.”
“I am Marlene Kupfer and this is my friend Zara Ulbert.” He visibly flinched at hearing the name and Marlene hesitated. He must have recognized Zara’s last name and she felt a need to explain. “Dr. Ebert came to my house to treat my friend Zara several days back, but she can’t stay with us and so I thought…” His kind eyes emboldened her to finish the sentence. “Can she stay here, please? Just for a few days until I have found her another place to live.”
He nodded, giving her a smile that eased all her worries. “For the moment, yes. But Dr. Ebert needs to make the final decision, I am just helping out.” He glanced in Zara’s direction with barely concealed curiosity. Marlene basically saw the words forming at the tip of his tongue, but no sound came out. Instead he stretched his back and said, “Can you give me a hand and settle her on the cot over there, please?”
“Of course, Herr Tauber.”
Together they led the stumbling Zara to a cot in the far corner of the room. The bedsheet was surprisingly clean and Marlene wondered how they did the washing.
“Your friend is in pretty bad shape, what happened to her?” he asked.
“The usual.” Marlene cast her eyes downward, attacked by disturbing memories. He seemed to understand, because he laid a gentle hand on Marlene’s shoulder, as if to take away the burden weighing her down. She gave him a grateful smile. It had been a long time since she had received sympathy and compassion. Usually she was the one to console others.
In a move that was completely uncharacteristic for her, but too powerful to resist, she slung her arms around his back and pressed her face against his chest. No tears rolled down her face, but dry sobs shook her entire body, while he soothed her pain with long strokes of his hands down her back.
“Please, Fräulein, don’t cry. It’s over. You’re safe here,” he murmured again and again.
She knew he was lying, because nobody was safe in Berlin. The Russians could do whatever they wanted, even though the Americans had finally arrived a few days earlier, ending two months of agonizing Russian hegemony. Maybe now the constant raping, looting, robbing, and murdering would stop.
As her sobs eased, she became aware of her embarrassing behavior. Throwing herself at a virtual stranger, for the sole reason that he’d shown her some empathy that nowadays seemed to be in short supply. With a heated face, she stepped out of his arms, straightened her skirt and said, “Please forgive my inappropriate behavior Herr Tauber.”
His smile was sad and knowing. “No need to worry, Fräulein, we all need a shoulder to lean on once in a while. But please call me Georg.”
“I am Marlene.” She returned his smile, wondering what his life’s story was. His eyes didn’t feature the defeated look of desolation most everyone else wore these days, instead they showed a suffering so overwhelming, it caused her physical pain. The shadows of his suffering went far beyond the daily struggle of survival experienced by every citizen in Berlin.
He wriggled under her scrutinizing stare and said, “Let’s look after your sick friend, shall we?”
Zara was passed out cold on the cot, her skin heating up like an oven.
“She’s not over the hump yet, the fever is back,” George said. “I’m afraid she has developed an infection and will need penicillin.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“Because I studied medicine. I was in my sixth semester, when I was drafted into the Wehrmacht.”
“Oh,” she said, wondering why he wasn’t a prisoner of war.
Georg apparently could read her mind, or perhaps he simply had been asked that same question many times before, because he explained, “I served as a medic on the Eastern Front for about a year, before I returned to continue my studies. But it never came to that, since the Nazis didn’t like me accusing them of the atrocities committed in Russia and sent me to the Mauthausen concentration camp instead.”
“Oh.” This certainly explained the pained expression in his eyes and his reaction to Zara’s last name. What a grand man he was, helping the daughter of the very man at whose hands he’d suffered so much. She didn’t know what to say, since she had never talked to a camp survivor before. One thousand questions burned on her lips. Was it as bad as they say? What did they do to you? How did you survive? Instead, she studied the tip of her shoes, feeling the shame trickling into every fiber of her body and soul. Could she have known? Should she have known? Could she have done something?
In hindsight, the signs were clear. But like everyone else she had closed her eyes to what was happening. Not even the excuse to have been so young when it started was valid. Despite her tender age, she could have known, could have opposed. Could have begged her parents to do something. But she didn’t. Because she had lived comfortably in the modest luxury her father, a government official, had provided them.
A frightening thought grabbed her. Her father must have known, perhaps even assisted in the awful things. No, no, no , she violently brushed the awful suspicion away. No! Her father was a good man who worked for the labor bureau. He’d never mentioned anything about these crimes. Their home had always been an island of calm in the eye of the storm. She had not even noticed that a war was going on until her two brothers had been drafted in 1941.
Her brother Kurt had written glowing letters from Paris, making it sound like an endless party. A party she had been jealous not to be allowed to join. Only when the English and American bomber squads had begun discharging their deadly cargo over Berlin night after night and day after day, had she finally understood what war really meant.
It meant death, destruction, grief, sorrow, hunger, pain, and cold.
“Hey Marlene, are you all right?” Georg’s voice tore her out of her thoughts.
“I’m fine. I’m just…” she sighed. She felt inadequate to express her sorrows, especially in front of a person who had lived through so much worse than she probably could ever imagine. “… I just have never met anyone who was in a concentration camp.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “It’s nothing to aspire to.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
Before they could continue the conversation, Dr. Ebert entered the room and said, “Marlene, what a surprise! How is your friend?”
“She was getting better, but the walk here has exhausted her and the fever returned,” Marlene answered.
Dr. Ebert shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come here. The walk was too strenuous for her weakened condition.”
Georg joined the conversation, “I’m afraid she has an infection and will need penicillin.”
“And where should I get this?” Dr. Ebert muttered beneath his breath. “It’s not like I can just walk into a pharmacy and buy it.”
Marlene gave a nervous giggle. The idea of doing such a mundane thing like walking into a pharmacy seemed utterly ridiculous, given that Berlin was dubbed the world’s biggest heap of rubble.
“The black market,” Georg said.
“Too dangerous,” Dr. Ebert refused. “I just came from there. The Russians are raiding the area in an attempt to cut down on contraband. We need to wait a few days until the whole commotion settles down.”
“It might be too late by then.”
Marlene’s heart missed a beat as she heard his words. She couldn’t just wait and let Zara die. Something must… Bruni! Her new lover the Russian captain. Maybe he could help. She didn’t tell the two men about her plans.
“I forgot I need to run some errands and will return in the afternoon,” she said, turning on her heels to hurry off.
“Wait, I’ll send Georg with you…” Dr. Ebert shouted after her.
The doctor’s kindness warmed her heart. He was already the second person this day to show honest concern for her. Her parents had long given up caring for anyone or anything besides themselves. She scolded herself for the un
worthy thought. Her father had provided many years for the family, he deserved a break. It wasn’t his fault. The desolate situation had gotten to everyone, demoralizing even the bravest and strongest.
And her mother was forgivably stricken with grief, because she hadn’t heard news from either one of her two sons. A flash of anger ripped through Marlene’s body. Her mother would gladly exchange Marlene’s life for the life of one of her sons, since she was just a girl. The flare of fury dissipated as quickly as it had appeared and she came up with excuses for her mother. She doesn’t mean it. She’s overwhelmed, crazy with grief. But a bitter taste remained. She hurried to Bruni’s place hoping to find her friend at home.
“What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” Bruni opened the door dressed in a nightgown.
Marlene frowned. It was nearing noon and any decent person would be awake. “I need your help.”
“Come in. What’s it this time?” Bruni had the tendency to sound rather obnoxious, but Marlene knew that deep inside her friend was a kindhearted person.
“It’s about Zara, she needs penicillin.”
“Zara? I thought she was in the occupied territories? Oh well they’re not occupied anymore. At least not by us.” Bruni smirked.
“Zara showed up at my house about a week ago, badly beaten up and, you know…” Marlene shrugged. “Anyhow, she caught an infection and Dr. Ebert says if she doesn’t get penicillin soon, she will die.”
“You can’t get penicillin anywhere in Berlin. It’s not as if you could walk into a pharmacy and buy it.”
Marlene laughed. “That’s exactly what Dr. Ebert said. I thought maybe… I mean your Russian captain, maybe he could get some.”
“He’s not a medic.” Bruni raised her eyebrows, clearly indicating what she thought of Marlene’s plea. Then she sighed. “Alright. I will ask him. But I can’t promise anything.”
From the Ashes Page 4