“How do you know about the pajoks ?” Marlene asked, since they were never officially mentioned.
“Everyone knows, despite the Soviets’ intention to keep their bribery a secret,” Julian said.
“They’re not bribes, they’re a system to help the most hard-working people who are needed for the rebuilding of our city.” Marlene felt the need to defend Werner, even though he wasn’t personally accused. “These people simply don’t have the time and energy to queue up for rations.”
Lotte rolled her eyes. “You don’t really believe this yourself, now do you? Or why are these pajoks handed out based on rank and honor in the supposedly classless Soviet system? Why aren’t they given to the hard-working industrial workers? Or the construction workers who rebuilt the railway tracks the Russians have dismantled?”
“Can we please get back to the topic at hand?” Georg called them to order.
“I say, we need to let those goons know that we’re not willing to live under the Soviet thumb. This is Berlin, not the Soviet occupied zone,” Julian exclaimed.
“We could ask the other Allied powers for help maybe? Since they govern us quadripartite…” Lotte suggested.
Julian scoffed. “The Western Allies are useless, all they do is bow to the Soviet antics in some misguided effort to appease them. And … since when are the Americans our friends?”
“They could be. Don’t you see how they’re honestly trying to help us rebuild our country? After all, we were the ones to run it into the ground by following Hitler and fighting everyone else,” Lotte said.
“Not me,” Julian growled.
“So what? You aren’t the only one in this room who was in a concentration camp.”
Marlene perked up her ears. Had everyone except her been in a camp?
“Please, can you guys keep focused on our topic?” Georg was getting desperate.
“We could write a petition, signed by all of us and present it to the Culture and Education department,” Marlene suggested, since she knew how much the SED officials loved written papers. Most everything they did was first introduced via a petition and resolved by a resolution.
“It’s a good idea,” Georg said without much enthusiasm.
“I’m so sorry,” Lotte said hesitantly. “I can’t do this.”
“Why not? Don’t you want the communists to keep their filthy fingers out of our education?” Julian sprung up and paced the room.
“I can’t go up against the Russians,” Lotte explained. “My boyfriend is still in a Soviet prisoner-of-war camp. He’s supposed to be released soon, so I can’t do anything that will jeopardize Johann’s release.”
Marlene shook her head. “Please, Lotte, do you really think the Russians would hold your boyfriend accountable for your actions?”
Lotte stared at her in disbelief. “Tell me, where exactly do you live? Don’t you ever read the news or is all your information coming from Böhm?”
Marlene shot her friend a furious glare. She shouldn’t have confided in Lotte that she and Werner had been a couple for several months now. Thankfully, Julian was too enraged to even notice Lotte’s slip up.
“What I see is a coward, Lotte. Isn’t it a very convenient time to bring up a mysterious boyfriend nobody has ever seen?” Julian said scathingly.
“You’re a pompous asshole! Nobody has seen him for the very reason that the bloody Russians have kept him prisoner for the past two and a half years,” Lotte yelled and sprang to her feet, almost colliding with the pacing Julian.
“Calm down,” Georg’s deep voice interrupted the fight. “We need to present a united front. Because it’s only in solidarity that we can drive a change. Nothing will happen to any of us.”
Lotte turned around to give Georg her full attention. “Look, I have learned the hard way that sometimes it’s better to keep my mouth shut. And now is one of those times. I, for myself, am not going to endanger Johann’s life by signing this petition.”
“The Russians aren’t like the Nazis, Lotte,” Georg replied softly. “There’s no need for you to be so afraid of them.”
“Oh? There isn’t? Tell that to the hundred thousand who’ve been abducted, beaten, harassed, threatened and sent to camps during the election campaign last year? Are you all blind, deaf and dumb? Don’t you read the newspaper? Don’t you know about the nightly social visits by the Markgraf police? And how the visited people either disappear without a trace or are never the same again? Do you all really not know about this? Or do you just close your eyes?” Lotte was talking herself into a rage.
“Of course, we know.” Georg stood up, as if he wanted to prevent Lotte from physically attacking Julian. Or maybe from storming out of the room. “But this is the very reason we have to stand united. Only in great numbers are we strong.”
Lotte shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t. Not right now.” Then she left the room, leaving the other three looking after her. Julian furious, Georg sad, and Marlene worried.
“We don’t need the spineless worm,” Julian said and returned to the table. “Now, what are we going to write for the petition?”
Marlene looked at the closed door through which her friend had walked seconds before and wished she could have left with her. But she stayed, because she didn’t want to disappoint Georg and Julian.
The two of them barely noticed her as they drafted the petition, meant to change the lives of the students in Berlin.
“There comes a time when we must do what our conscience tells us is right,” Julian said, putting the last sentence on a piece of paper.
“Those in power may try to ignore us, but if there are enough protesters, then they will be forced to address our requests,” Georg said.
She listened to the men spout their rhetoric, but she had a bad feeling about all of this. The SED-dominated university leadership had dismissed their requests the year before, why would they now be open to them?
Chapter 26
Werner took Marlene on a trip into the outskirts of Berlin, where they could spend time together without being seen by anyone. He felt shoddy for hiding her, but convinced himself it was for the best – his and hers. As long as the stubborn woman didn’t join the SED it wasn’t sensible to be seen with her in public.
Politics never left them alone and while walking along the lake, Marlene complained about the arrogant dismissal of the students’ petition. Werner had heard about the thing and sympathized with the students. None of their requests were unreasonable. They simply wanted less Soviet influence on their lives and studies.
But that ship had sailed a year ago. Now, in summer 1947, Gentner had tightened the rule and tied his party even closer to Moscow. In fact, the true rulers of the SED, the Soviet occupied zone, and by extension Berlin, was the Soviet Military Administration. The task of the German government was simply to explain and defend the Russian decisions to the people.
He couldn’t tell her that, though. Instead he said, “If the Culture and Education department can’t fulfill your requests, then I’m afraid nothing can be done, since the officials have their directives to follow.”
“You and your directives,” she said.
“Darling, please, as much as I can understand your frustration, it’s time to stop engaging in this useless fight.”
She glared daggers at him. “Actually, it is exactly the time to continue. If we give up now, the Russians will steamroll over us and we’ll never see the light of day again.”
He gave a deep sigh and stopped to take her hands into his. “Openly opposing the reigning power is never a good thing.”
“Ah…now it isn’t? But two years ago, your people damned us for not openly opposing the Nazis!” Marlene spat out the words with such a fury, it was like a punch to his gut. A well-deserved one.
“This is completely different…” His defense was as lame as they came, because in fact nothing was different. Had he not secretly applauded the few valiant comrades who’d dared to stand up to Gentner? Had he
not rooted for the old Bolsheviks who’d formed the illegal resistance in Germany? And had he not hoped their indominable fighting spirit and independent thinking would bring a fresh wind into the party?
Having come to Germany with the highest hopes of an individual way to socialism, one that omitted the mistakes made in Russia and didn’t submissively implement everything Stalin said, he now stood in front of the woman he loved with all his hopes shattered.
But his brain, indoctrinated with the principles of Stalinism and party discipline for half a lifetime, wouldn’t let him break free. Therefore he lied to Marlene, “…it’s just a transitional period. Soon, when the after-war chaos is resolved, there’ll be more liberties for everyone.”
“You are full of bullshit,” she said and took up their walk again. After a few minutes of silence, she added, “Let’s not talk about politics, shall we?”
“I promise,” he said and placed a kiss on her lips. “This day is much too beautiful to ruin it. What do you want to do now?”
In the evening Werner dropped Marlene off at her place and then returned to his apartment in Pankow. His roommate and good friend, Horst, greeted him with the words, “Comrade, you’re lucky that you’re not assigned to the university anymore.”
“Why that?” Werner responded in his most blasé voice, despite the fact that his heart had just plummeted into his boots.
“You won’t believe it. I’m sure the Americans are behind all of this, but this stupid student board just announced that they’re not going to accept our dismissal of their requests and are going to demonstrate against the influence of communist propaganda in their subjects.”
Werner felt all the blood drain from his face and he had to put a hand against the wall to steady himself. Marlene hasn’t said a word. Doesn’t she trust me ? The thought stabbed deep into his heart but at the same time he had to suppress a bitter laugh. He never told her anything, either.
“That is a very grave disregard of the authorities. What will happen now?” Werner asked as nonchalantly as he could muster. Not even Horst knew Marlene’s identity. He only knew about the existence of a German girl.
“Oh man, Gentner was furious. You know him, his voice could have cut an iceberg into pieces. He literally said, that once students think they can get away with such anarchy, they will strike whenever they please. The university will become a hotbed of political activity and this is certainly not the objective of this prestigious academy. Then he promised grave consequences.”
“Criticism and self-criticism with dismissal from the university for the main perpetrators?” Werner asked. This was an often-used method of the communist party in the Soviet Union to criticize and punish a comrade for actually committed or – more often than not – perceived anti-party sentiments. He’d been the victim of several of these sessions that could last for many hours and it was a soul-crashing experience. Each time he’d felt lower than the dirt beneath his fingernails.
“No. Gentner said this wouldn’t work, because these subversives aren’t communists. They would only gloat when asked about their crimes. Proactive measures are required. Something more effective to solve the problem once and for all.” Horst lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t even tell you. A list of all members of the student board was handed over to the Markgraf police.”
It took all of Werner’s strength not to tear his eyes wide open. In an effort not to seem too interested, he said, “And when is this planned?”
“Tonight.” Horst said, apparently uncomfortable with the sinister things he knew would soon happen. “By the way, have you heard that Gentner’s petition to stop the dismantling of German industries has been granted and there will be an official celebration thanking the Soviets for their generosity and their friendship with the German people?”
“That truly is an achievement,” Werner said, although he wanted to vomit at Gentner’s bootlicking attitude. Friendship for the Soviet nation and acceptance of their role as first socialist country was one thing, but brown-nosing Moscow? For a promise to stop dismantling industry that was crucial for the rebuilding of Germany? A promise the Americans and British had implemented months ago? He urgently needed to be alone to think.
“I’m sorry, Horst, I need to study some pamphlets for tomorrow.” He excused himself and went to his room. Norbert had made it clear that not the slightest independent thinking would be tolerated among the students. Judging by the grave expression on Horst’s face, he feared the worst. Horrible memories assaulted him. Had it come this far already? Would the SED in their quest to mimic everything the Soviets did also repeat the bleak times of the Great Purge during the mid-thirties?
Werner shuddered. There had been abductions and arrests last year during the election campaign. But incarcerating anti-fascist students was another step down into the hell of Stalinism.
Hell of Stalinism? My God, what am I thinking ? He was truly disturbed by his heretical thoughts. Stalinism might have some flaws – that nobody ever talked about for fear of being sent to Siberia – but it was still the leading implementation of Marxism-Leninism and thus a good thing.
He paced the room, fear making him short of breath. In his mind he went through the list of student board members, although he didn’t indulge in any illusions that he could save anyone on the list. Julian was the ringleader, and lived in the Russian sector, so he was probably lost. Lotte had resigned from the board weeks ago, so she should be safe. Georg – hot and cold shudders ran down his spine. Norbert had mandated him to become friends with Georg, did this mean Georg’s behavior would now fall back on him? Probably not, but any attempt to spare the young man from the police sweep would directly indict Werner.
His stomach tied into a knot as he thought of the calm, upright, honest young man and his own inability to prevent what the police held in store for him. Then he remembered that Georg lived in the American sector and relief flushed his system. The Americans didn’t take kindly to these kinds of assaults in their territory, so Georg was probably safe.
But the moment his thoughts turned to Marlene hot fear rushed through his veins. Albeit keeping in the background, she was still a member of the board and she lived in the Soviet sector. He could not let anything happen to her.
Deeply troubled, he cursed himself for falling in love with this stubborn woman who just didn’t realize what was good for her. If she had joined the SED like he’d suggested, this wouldn’t even be a problem.
You have to calm down, there’s nothing you can do. They aren’t after her, she’s just a nominal member , he tried to console himself. It didn’t work. Another pesky voice asked, What if they take her? What if they send her to some prison camp? To Siberia? Could you live with the fact that you didn’t even try to save her?
He could not.
He had to come up with a plan.
Chapter 27
It was almost dinner time when a knock came on the door. Marlene looked at her parents, but neither of them was expecting visitors.
“Go get it,” her father said.
Marlene almost fell backwards when Werner stood in front of the door with a grave expression on his face, looking ridiculous in a trench coat and a French beret.
“What on earth…” she said, but Werner put his finger across his lips urging her to be silent.
“I need to talk to you. Tell your parents you’re visiting a sick friend,” he whispered.
She rolled her eyes, but obeyed. “Mother, Father, I’m needed at the hospital. I’ll be back soon,” she told her parents, and grabbed her coat.
“What’s going on? Why this ridiculous beret?” she snapped at him.
“Because we’re going to a French restaurant, my love. I’m sorry about our argument earlier and want to make it up to you.”
She cast him a suspicious glance, but didn’t say anything. Subsisting on meagre rations one did not turn down an invitation to dinner, to a French restaurant no less, out of pride. When Werner kissed her she was overwhelmed by her love for him,
and forgot his strange behavior.
He took her to a restaurant in the French sector that was well known for its fine cuisine. In the dimly lit room, she felt like a princess, attended by a myriad of waiters and Werner himself. He could be the most charming, kind, and warm-hearted man when he wanted, but she also knew his cold and distant side – when he had to push nonsensical political directives on the people.
As much as she loved him, she wished he could free himself from decade-long indoctrination and see the Soviet way for what it was: the cruel oppression of the people in a shameless effort to line the pockets of a few lucky fat cats.
“Do you want some more wine?” Werner asked her, his handsome face close to hers.
She nodded, inhaling his fresh scent, itching to reach out her fingers and let them glide across the shaven face.
As the evening progressed, he paid the bill and then said to her, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”
Marlene was slightly tipsy with the bottle of wine they’d shared and all the attention she’d received. It was slightly chilly outside, but Werner put his arm around her shoulders and his nearness gave her warmth.
They walked to a hotel not far from the restaurant and she couldn’t believe it when he stepped inside and told the cheerful receptionist in French, “A room in the name of Private Etoile.”
“Oui, Monsieur,” she smiled, her French even worse than Marlene’s. “We have your booking.”
Werner switched to German. “Thank you, Fräulein. The champagne...”
“Yes, Monsieur Etoile, it has been delivered to your room just as you ordered,” the receptionist said. Apparently, she was used to French soldiers coming here to spend the night with their German Fräuleins.
Marlene couldn’t stop wondering. No questions asked, no ID cards required. It was almost as if the hotel owner preferred not to know about the guests. Suddenly her heart pounded in her chest. It was absolutely inappropriate to be alone with Werner in a hotel room this late at night and any decent girl should leave right now.
From the Ashes Page 15