From the Ashes

by Marion Kummerow

  The idea was outrageous, but it was worth a shot. “Send someone over to organize everything with the Köpenick election board and then find as many swimmers a possible, while I take care of the Soviets.”

  Dean didn’t even bother to talk to Gentner, because those communists could never agree to anything without General Sokolov’s approval. Conveniently the general was absent and Dean phoned his office, informing the secretary, that according to the rules of quadripartite administration over Berlin he was on his way to retrieve the Köpenick ballots. He didn’t divulge how exactly he planned to do this, banking on the fact that by the time Sokolov returned the call, it would be too late for the Soviets to stop the swimmers.

  He felt a surge of pleasure at using the fait accompli, a favorite Russian tactic, against them.

  Shortly before midnight, Captain Barley personally delivered a dozen boxes of paper ballots from Köpenick and as less than ten percent of the elctorated had voted for the SED.

  Chapter 21

  Crowds lined the streets outside the city hall, eager to find out about the election results. Marlene didn’t stay to wait, because she had a date with Zara and Bruni. They would listen to RIAS Berlin at Bruni’s place.

  Chit-chatting about their lives, the three of them drank coffee – real coffee – and ate biscuits, all generous gifts from Feodor Orlovski. Marlene still thought it was immoral of her friend to maintain this relationship with one of the hated oppressors, but she didn’t go as far as to reject the food he provided. In a Berlin riddled with food shortages that would seem outright stupid.

  When the radio speaker cleared his throat, and began to speak, Marlene could see the same stunned excitement in her friends’ eyes as she felt. The SED had lost by a landslide. In a massive anti-communist protest vote, especially in the Soviet sector, voter turnout had surpassed ninety percent. The clear winner with almost half of the votes was the Social Democratic Party, while the Soviet supported SED received not even twenty percent of the votes.

  “What an outstanding rebuff to a communist dictatorship,” Zara said, her expression showing relief.

  “A path for freedom,” the radio narrator exclaimed. “The Berliners have voted No to oppression and totalitarianism and voted Yes to liberty and democracy. They have put the remnants of the Nazi-regime to the grave once and for all, and have shown themselves a beacon of freedom for Germany, and for Eastern Europe during these dark times.”

  Bruni rolled her eyes, “Isn’t he exaggerating a bit?”

  “No, he isn’t. You may not have noticed, but most everyone else in Berlin did. The Russians have abducted, arrested and done away with close to one hundred fifty thousand citizens during the past months in an attempt to suppress dissenting opinions.” Zara gave her a scathing stare.

  “Criminals, dangerous Nazis and other subversives,” Bruni responded.

  “Who’s been telling you these lies? Your Russian lover?” Zara yelled.

  “Please, girls, let’s not get into a fight over this. We should all be happy that democracy has won, aren’t you, Bruni?” Marlene appeased her friends.

  “Yes, of course I am.” Bruni gracefully leaned her head to the side and offered more biscuits. But somehow Marlene had the feeling, her friend wasn’t all that happy.

  Later in the afternoon RIAS had a four-party discussion on, and the three girls were glued to the radio. The winning Social Democrats, the Christian Democrats, the Liberal Democrats, all praised the courage of the Berliners in speaking out for freedom, a well-placed side hook to the socialists.

  There was no doubt that members of the SED Politbüro were shocked by the outcome. Despite having invested massive resources into the election campaign, the voters had preferred to run to the Western backed parties.

  Herr Gentner, chairman of the SED and known to be slick as an eel when responding to awkward questions, while hard as steel when pushing directives from Moscow onto the people, easily found a reason for the disaster.

  “It has only been sixteen months after the downfall of Hitler’s dictatorship, therefore not all the people in Germany are yet clear to know what the right way is,” he stated. He never once commented on the disgusting treatment by the Russian oppressors, the gradual denial of even the most basic freedoms and the constant fear of the Berliners to be kidnapped by the Markgraf police, working for the NKVD.

  When Marlene and Zara left Bruni’s place, she embraced her friend and asked, “What will happen with your captain?” After all, he was responsible for the election campaign and thus for the catastrophic defeat.

  “He’ll be just fine,” Bruni said with a shrug and a forced smile.

  Werner Böhm hadn’t heard or seen Orlovski since election day. Nobody ever mentioned his name again, it was almost as if he’d never existed. One day, Gentner casually mentioned that Werner needed to align with the head of engineering, Captain Ivanov.

  As usual, Norbert gave his order in the same neutral voice that didn’t show the slightest trace of emotion. And Werner had been in the Soviet Union too long to even consider asking the question that burned on his tongue. If Ivanov is the new head of engineering, what happened to Orlovoski?

  Nobody ever asked questions in Russia, one waited until told what to do next. Even if the directives from today contradicted those from a week ago, no person in his right mind dared to question the sudden turn in politics.

  Werner had believed this would change after the war. He’d honestly thought that Stalin’s quote to “give the individual countries the freedom to go on the individual path best for them”, was to be taken at face value.

  But his one and a half years in Berlin had brought one disappointment after another. Slowly, almost unnoticeably, the initial liberties after the capitulation had been taken away from the German people. And the more the people resisted, the faster they saw their privileges go.

  He still hoped this would change and Germany could learn from the problems in Russia and implement a better form of socialism. One that actually benefitted the people.

  “Yes, Comrade, I’ll take care of this immediately,” he said, and walked out to find his driver. Sitting in the car, his thoughts returned to Orlovski. He couldn’t say they’d been friends, but he had liked the captain’s logical attitude, always keeping to facts and figures, never venturing into political discourse. “I’m an engineer,” he used to say. “I can only speak about the numbers.”

  A sudden fear attacked Werner. Had they returned to the frightening period of the purges during the mid-thirties? When you’d wake up in the morning to find two of your best friends or family members gone?

  Later in his life, during his studies at the top secret Comintern university he’d witnessed events when students had been removed from the school after a seemingly banal mishap. One of them he’d met again six months later: a ragged, haggard, filthy man, dressed in rags who begged for bread.

  Perhaps this had been the turning point in his life, when he’d gone from believing in the infallibility of the system without questions to secretly entertaining critical thoughts. If the party could throw a trusted long-term party member to the wolves for the slightest wrong word – he didn’t even remember what his former fellow student had said – then maybe the system wasn’t as perfect as it should be.

  “Comrade Böhm, we’ve arrived,” his driver said.

  Captain Ivanov was the typical Red Army officer and Werner could have liked him, it he wasn’t the evidence for Orlovski’s disappearance.

  After his inaugural visit with Ivanov, he told the driver to bring him to the Café de Paris. For some reason he wanted to see Fräulein von Sinnen. Not that he expected her to know more, but maybe he wanted to make sure that Captain Orlovski had in fact existed and wasn’t just an incarnation of his imagination.

  As always, Fräulein von Sinnen enthused the crowd, but when her gaze fell on him, he believed he heard a slight shiver in her voice. After her performance, she came to his table.

  “ Guten Abend , Herr Böhm,
would you like to order champagne for me?” she asked and gracefully sat down beside him. She was exceptionally beautiful, but he missed the warmth and kindness in her personality. His heart felt a twinge as he thought of Marlene. Lively, kind, enthusiastic, honest, courageous Marlene.

  “It would be my pleasure,” he replied and ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of them.

  Snuggling tight against him, Fräulein von Sinnen whispered into his ear, “Do you know anything about Feodor?”

  Taken aback by the straightforward question, he played for time, taking a sip of champagne, before he answered, “No. And we probably never will.” It was as much as he could say without entering dangerous ground.

  She looked sad. “He told me never to mention his name again, should he one day disappear.” Then she squared her shoulders, emptied her glass of champagne and said in her captivating voice, “Thank you so much for the company, Herr Böhm, but I must get ready for my next performance.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said, suddenly completely exhausted. This incident had shown him once again that he had to tread the party line at all costs. As much as he sympathized with the students and their plight for academic freedom, he had to stick to the directives.

  Chapter 22

  Marlene left the lecture hall, when she saw Georg in the hallway, waving at her.

  “Hey Marlene, do you have a moment?” he asked. Beside him stood Julian Berger, a slim and tall chemistry student with a shock of curly blond hair.

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “Well, now that the elections are over and we have won—” Georg said.

  “We? I thought you’re a Christian Democrat?” Marlene interrupted him.

  Julian gave her a hard look. “It doesn’t matter which kind of democrat he is, as long as he’s against the communists.”

  Marlene rolled her eyes. This Julian was much too serious for his own good, he never seemed to laugh and certainly didn’t understand a joke.

  “So, now that the elections are over and the democratic parties have won, we want to implement changes at the university. But we need some more members for the student board,” Georg explained as they walked down the steps to the canteen.

  “Doesn’t the Board of Directors have to nominate and approve the student members?” Marlene asked and wrapped her shawl tighter around her mother’s worn coat. She was beyond thankful that the university now featured a canteen that gave out one bowl of hot soup per student each day.

  “Officially yes, but we are forming sub-committees that don’t need official approval. Please, will you join? We need more people from the law faculty.”

  Marlene sighed. Taking on additional responsibilities was the last thing on her mind, but looking into Georg’s pleading eyes, she simply couldn’t leave him hanging, so she nodded.

  “Thank you, I really appreciate your help,” Georg said. “We’ll have the first meeting next Monday after class. With these words he and Julian were gone, no doubt to recruit more students for their cause.

  On the walk home, Marlene was pestered by second guessing. It would be embarrassing to be so exposed. She might even have to stand up in front of an audience. Just the thought of delivering a speech like Georg had done at the inauguration earlier this year sent hot and cold shivers down her spine.

  Her father would never approve. In his mind this wasn’t how a girl behaved. He hadn’t even wanted her to take on a leading role in Hitler’s BDM – not that she’d ever voiced aspirations to do so. A sudden fury took hold of her. Ever since the downfall of the Reich she’d been the parent of the family. She’d been the one scurrying around for food, she’d braved the streets and the Russians to get ration books, new identity cards, staying permits and whatever other crazy document the Soviets wanted from them.

  Should her parents disapprove, she wouldn’t give up her newfound independence. Ever. She might not be comfortable in the limelight, but she would no longer hide in the background and let others make decisions for her. Not her parents, not the Soviets and certainly not Werner Böhm.

  She caught herself at the thought of him and shook her head. Even after months of banning him from her mind, his handsome face still lingered, always ready to spring at her. Though not in charge of the culture and education department anymore, he’d begun to teach a politics class. Thus, she came across him more often than not at the university, although both of them did their best not to acknowledge the other one.

  He often behaved in such a typically Russian way that she had to remind herself, that he was in fact a German. He probably couldn’t act as he wished but had to follow directives, too. For a moment, she even felt sorry for him. How hard it must be to be caught between two cultures, two countries, two people and two political systems.

  It was already dark, but the church bells rang only five o’clock. She feared coming home to tell her parents about her new role on the student board, and thought of ways to procrastinate on her return.

  My friends ! She’d ask Zara and Bruni how to breach the sensitive topic. With quick steps she located the next payphone and called Bruni.

  “Visit me at the club,” her friend suggested. “I have an hour between my appearances. We can chat and I’ll invite you for dinner when I’m through.”

  The mention of dinner gave the plan a whole new meaning. “How did you know I was hungry?”

  “Because you’re always hungry,” Bruni laughed into the phone.

  “Can I bring Zara, too? Because I hate going home all by myself that late at night.” Even though the rapes and assaults had stopped many months ago, she still felt her skin crawl whenever a Russian soldier passed her by or, God forbid, approached her.

  “Yes, bring Zara,” Bruni replied. “And look nice. The club is always crawling with handsome men. You never know who you might meet.”

  “Oh Bruni. You’re not planning to fix us up with someone, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.” Bruni giggled. “See you tonight then.”

  Marlene ran some errands, stole into her parents’ place like a burglar, intent on meeting neither of them, before she disappeared into her room. Just a few months ago they’d upgraded from the basement to a real apartment with two rooms. She took extra care with her appearance, combed her hair in the latest style and even brightened her face with a bit of makeup. In her best dress, a hand-me-down from Bruni, and her only pair of heels, she gave a happy twirl.

  When she heard voices on the stairs, she moved out with lightning speed and rushed past her parents saying, “Bruni invited me for dinner."

  She took the bus to Zara’s place and brought her friend the happy news. As much as Zara loathed to go out at night, the promise of a dinner was enough to make her brush her long ebony hair until it shone and put on the best dress she owned. Together they walked to the Café de Paris in the lovely starry night, crisp with cold foreshadowing the coming winter.

  “Things look nicer at night,” Marlene remarked. “The darkness hides much of the devastation.

  “Yes, though have you noticed how fast some areas have been rebuilt? There’s even a cinema house reopening next month,” Zara said.

  Marlene linked arms with her friend. “The Lichtburg. How I loved going to the movies. What fun it will be to be able to do that again.”

  After a brisk thirty-minute walk they arrived at the Café de Paris, where Bruni had already announced their visit to the bouncer at the door, who directed them to Bruni’s dressing room where the singer was getting ready for her first show.

  “Hi, girls, how are you doing?” A very happily smiling Bruni greeted them.

  “Fine, and you?” Marlene said.

  “Stupendous. I have the most terrific news.”

  “Your Captain has asked you to marry him?” Zara pursed her lips, clearly indicating she didn’t consider this terrific news.

  “God, no! That would be awful, wouldn’t it?” Bruni hugged first Zara and then Marlene and ushered them inside. “Here we can talk privately.”


  Bruni offered her friends wine and chocolates with a grand pose.

  “Chocolate? Did your captain get a promotion?” Marlene asked, but didn’t deny herself the delicacy of a real piece of chocolate. She put it into her mouth, where it melted against her tongue, the sweet flavor exploding and sending a rush of complete and total satisfaction through her body. She groaned, “hmmm…that’s how it must feel to be in heaven.”

  Bruni giggled, “He did, kind of. My new benefactor is Colonel Dean Harris.”

  Marlene all but dropped the wine glass and stared with wide eyes at her friend. Judging by the gasp to her left, Zara was as shocked as she was.

  “The American Kommandant?” Marlene whispered.

  “The one and only. And he’s…fantastic.” Bruni made a dreamy face.

  “What about Orlovski? Won’t he be jealous?” Zara asked fearfully, glancing around as if awaiting to find him waiting in a corner.

  “Oh Zara, I thought you’re so politically interested. Haven’t you heard?” Bruni asked.

  “Heard what?”

  “That he left Berlin.”

  Marlene cocked her head. “Actually, I’ve been wondering, because I heard nothing of him since the elections.”

  Bruni gave a theatrical sigh. “He might have been promoted. I don’t know. About a week before he left, he told me not to ask questions and never again mention his name in case he should disappear.”

  Marlene felt the shock seeping deep into her bones. A promotion ? That must be the joke of the century. More probably he’d joined the thousands of abducted Berliners at whatever location where the Soviets kept their enemies of the state. And Orlovski clearly had become an enemy by not winning them the elections.

  “You just move on?” Zara wondered.

  “Come on Zara, you of all persons feel sorry for him? I thought you never liked him.”

  “I didn’t, but that’s no reason to drop him like a hot potato,” Zara hissed, her eyes shining with righteous indignation.

  “I didn’t drop him, remember? I’m still here. He was the one to leave. It’s time to look into the future and an American Kommandant is so much more powerful. More money, better gifts, even better rations. And he’s so much more virile...you know...”