“The stab in the back,” Reinhard said, almost to himself. Johann froze. He waited, but Reinhard remained quiet. “That is what they will say, eh?” he continued eventually.
“I have no interest in that,” Johann said. “My interest is only in securing the best peace for Germany. We must protect Berlin and its people from further trauma.” Johann worried that maybe he was letting his mask slip a little, that his passion had caused him to break from his cover as SS-Sturmbannführer Dieter Schnell.
“You… Oberst, you”—Johann paused—“are the only person who might plausibly be able to send such a message. The original order was transferred along the chain of command using your call sign. As long as an order revoking the Demolitions on Reich Territory has your call sign at the top, then telegraph operators and couriers will feel compelled to transmit the order.”
Reinhard turned his head to look at some of the photos on his desk. Johann wondered what was going through his mind. He wasn’t able to read Reinhard any longer. He wondered if there was a private signal between Reinhard and his secretary that would have security officers entering the office at any moment.
“You’re the only one,” Johann said. “This simple act could bring a bloodless peace.”
“A simple act, eh?” Reinhard said, his mood souring. “You see this as a simple act?”
Johann put his teacup and saucer down on the wooden table next to him. He shuffled his feet so that they were touching the briefcase.
“Do you have any idea how much danger revoking the order will put me in?” Reinhard snapped. The Oberst stood up, moving his chair away from himself with his foot.
“As a colonel in the Reich Main Security Office, do you think that you will be any better off sitting at your desk and waiting for a Belarusian rifleman from the Second Shock Army to kick the door down?” Johann said in answer.
Reinhard stalked around his desk and sat on the edge of it, nearer Johann.
“I came past the Ordenspalais,” Johann continued. “The building we’re sitting in will be in exactly the same state as the palace once the Red Army moves its artillery closer. We cannot deny what is about to happen. We have but days before it begins.”
“I’ve read the intelligence briefings,” Reinhard said dismissively. “Our spotters say that they have more than two thousand tanks.…”
“Then we must stop them,” Johann urged him, leaning forward. “It can be done by revoking the decree. The Allies will be true to their word.”
“I wouldn’t last the afternoon…,” Reinhard said. There was a wistfulness to his voice, as if he had thought about what might actually happen if he were to send the telex that would stop further destruction.
“You could go into hiding,” Johann said. “You and your family would be protected. I can assure you of that. You think they will have time to start searching for a rogue colonel when there are Sherman and Comet tanks cruising into Spandau? The advance will begin as soon as the conditions of the agreement are completed.”
Reinhard put his hand to his head, as if he were developing pain from even thinking about Johann’s proposal.
“And think about after the war—if the Soviets get here first you’ll be lucky to be shot dead quickly,” Johann said. “With the Allies there will be a new order with a place for you. A chance for all of us to thrive rather than be enslaved.”
Reinhard got up again and paced the small room, maneuvering around the furniture, his hands behind his back. His head was bowed in thought. Johann felt that he was close. He seemed to seemed to have won the Oberst to his side. He just needed one more push, one more way of making a human connection.
“Where are you from?” Johann asked. Reinhard stopped pacing and looked up at him as if shocked by the question. Then he smiled, as if the memory pleased him.
“Fünfseenland,” he said, “it’s just…”
“South of Munich…,” Johann said. He could see by Reinhard’s face that he had completed his sentence.
“You know it?” Reinhard said, his eyes brightening.
Johann pretended to laugh, placing his clenched fist in front of his mouth.
“Fate has brought us together—my family is from Herrsching,” Johann lied.
“I know the town well,” Reinhard said, slapping the table. “We would go there in the summer!”
“To the lake?” Johann asked. This was something of a gamble. He was pretty sure that there was a lake in Herrsching, but he wasn’t entirely sure.
“Of course!” the Oberst said. He gazed at Johann, as if they were somewhere far from a ruined city. “You know, I want nothing more than to be there this summer. When this mess is over, I will take my family and we’ll swim in the lake. It’s the loveliest place I know.”
Johann shook his head, smiling. “I don’t believe it,” he said. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled out the key that Nicolas had given him all those years ago. “You see this key? This is the key for our family lake house in Herrsching. I keep it with me always to remind me of happier times. Oberst, I insist that you come and visit in August.”
“I would like that very much…,” Reinhard said. He had stopped his pacing and the two men were quiet. Reinhard stared flatly at Johann.
“I’d need a guarantee,” Reinhard said.
“I understand. I can have that to you within hours.”
“We all have skeletons in our closets,” Reinhard said. “I need immunity from prosecution and a fresh start from the government in a comparable position.”
Johann nodded. “That can be done. I can get a note of guarantee.”
“How long?” Reinhard asked.
“Today,” Johann replied confidently.
“When will you be back?”
“I need the telex to be sent first,” Johann said.
Reinhard shook his head. “The letter first.”
“There isn’t time,” Johann said. “The Allies need the guarantee by the end of the day or we’re on our own. I beg of you.…”
Reinhard considered this. “I will write the order of revocation,” he said. “You can watch me. But I will only have it sent across our communication channels once you have given me your letter.”
Johann nodded. “Write the letter,” he said. “Once I have seen it, I will return in an hour with your letter of guarantee. If you fail to fulfill our agreement, I promise you that I and my associates will take you down with us.”
Reinhard moved behind his desk and pulled a small typewriter from inside a drawer.
“I keep it for the most sensitive material,” he said, pulling off a gray cover. Johann stood up, placed the briefcase on his chair, and walked over to the desk. He wanted to see what Reinhard was about to do. As the colonel reached into his desk to pull out the official stationery, Johann noticed that the ends of Reinhard’s fingers were chewed and raw as the colonel’s hands tapped at the keys.
Wilhelmstraße 8–9, BERLIN, 6 April 1945
Executive Decree, dated 6 April 1945 on behalf of The Reich Minister for Armament and War Production ZA/Org. 372–381/45
For immediate attention:
Plenipotentiary General for Reich Administration with duplicates for the Reich Defense Commissioners.
Regierungspräsident, Landräte, and Chief Mayors
Chief of the Party Chancellery with duplicates for the Gauleiters
Armament Commissioners
Chairmen of the Armament Commissions with duplicates for the Armament Inspectorate Armament Detachments WKB, LWAE, Rue-Obm., Organization Todt Einsatzgruppenleiter
Chiefs of the Main Commissions, Main “Rings,” and Production Main Commissions
Reich Minister of Communications with duplicates for the General Plant
Directorates and the Reich Railroads Directorates
Reich Food Minister with duplicates for the state farm leaders.
Inter Office Distribution A2
SECRET
Subject: Executive regulations for the Führer Decree, dated 19 March 1945,
concerning measures for crippling and destroying the Reich territories.
I decree:
My present decrees and directives concerning the crippling of industrial installations of all kinds and public utilities (electric power, gas, water, food, economic enterprises of all kinds, transport) shall not continue to apply as before. All preparations for crippling that have been ordered are to be halted immediately.
[signed] SPEER
Official [signed] REINHARD Oberst [Seal]
Distribution:
Highest Reich authorities and Armed Forces Offices according to special distribution list.
Reinhard pulled the order from the typewriter and inspected it, before pulling an ink pad and a seal from his desk and stamping the document. He filled in both his own signature and Speer’s.
“It’s not hard,” he said. “I’ve been copying it for years.” Reinhard pulled out another sheet of paper. Johann could see that it was for the attention of the teletypist and contained the call signs that allowed the information to flow through the Nazi information system.
“You have done a great thing,” Johann said as Reinhard sat back and examined his work.
Reinhard just nodded. “I have placed myself in your hands,” he said. “Before we send this I need the letter.”
Johann nodded. He couldn’t leave the building without proof that the message had been sent. He needed to exert more pressure on Reinhard, or offer some proof that his bogus military leaders who were supposed to be negotiating with the Allies were in fact real. As Johann was weighing his next move, Reinhard stood up and marched toward the door. Johann could see that he had left the paperwork on his desk, meaning that the colonel wasn’t taking it to the telex room.
“I think I need a brandy to steady my nerves,” the Oberst said. “I have some in the officers’ common room. Please will you join me?”
“Of course,” Johann said, watching as Reinhard closed the door behind him. In the empty room Johann reached out and touched the papers that Reinhard had signed. He could hardly believe that he had managed to get this far.
Reinhard, on the other hand, couldn’t believe that Johann had allowed him to leave the room after trying to inveigle him into a treacherous plot. He felt born anew as he hurried down the corridor. He would return with guards as soon as he managed to raise the alarm.
16
Anja was under no illusions about the situation she and Nadine were in. After her brush with the police, she determined that she could no longer take the risk of leaving the house. The authorities were hunting her, which she thought could mean only one thing—that Johann was on the run. The Gestapo routinely disappeared families as punishment for desertion or other such offenses. She prayed that he would make it to Berlin within the two days he had promised in the letter he had sent with Otto.
She had played out the scene of Johann’s arrival dozens of times in her mind, had hoped that every small sound in the house was his footstep on the stairs. She didn’t care how exhausted or broken he was; she would look after him. They would escape west beyond the ravaged city.
Nadine lay on a sofa reading. Anja was pleased to see her getting some rest. Anja turned on the radio, but there was no sound. She waited for a few moments, thinking that maybe the machine needed time to warm up—but it remained stubbornly silent.
“It’s just us, then,” Nadine said, noting what had happened. There was no electricity.
“I suppose so,” Anja replied. “Do you want some tea?” Otto had a wood-burning stove in the kitchen and a small supply of wood left from months ago when he had last occupied the apartment. Anja supposed he wouldn’t mind them heating a pot of water.
“Yes, please, Tante,” Nadine said, stretching. “What time is Otto coming back?”
“I’m not sure,” Anja replied. “I imagine that he’ll be late again.”
“I hope that there are no air raids tonight,” Nadine said.
Anja made the tea using as little of the kindling as she could. The water was only lukewarm, but it was good enough. There was marmalade in one of the kitchen cupboards. She put a film on some hard black bread and brought it out to Nadine. As she passed her niece the plate, for a moment she felt like a human being again.
“I miss Flöhchen,” Nadine said, breaking the spell. “I miss him so much.”
Anja cupped the girl’s cheek in her hand.
“And I miss our apartment,” Nadine said, her eyes welling with tears.
It was too much for her, Anja thought. Way too much.
“I know it’s hard,” she said to the girl. “But we are still here, and we have to remain hopeful. We have to keep going.”
“I know, Tante, I know,” the girl said, wiping a tear with the back of a grubby hand. Anja watched the girl tamping down her emotion.
“I wish we could light the fire,” Anja said. She curled up on the sofa next to Nadine and sipped her tea. Nadine polished off the bread.
“We need to rest tonight, if we can,” Anja said. “Tomorrow we leave.”
Nadine nodded. “I wish that Uncle Johann would come.”
“We have done everything we can.”
“I know that,” Nadine said, “but I still don’t like it. How will he find us in the west?”
It was something that Anja had thought about. Surviving the hell of Berlin and escaping to the country was one thing, but how would they live beyond that? And what of Johann? They would have no idea how to contact him. She supposed that they might try to do so through Otto, but what were the chances of him or his home surviving the next few weeks? She told herself that it was pointless to think like that. All they could do—all anyone could do, whether they were a gunner on the Oder or a grandmother Lübeck—was to hang on. To find the next meal and to survive whatever the night might bring. That was all any of them could hope for.
That afternoon Anja ignored an urge to go and try to find some groceries to make Otto dinner—a way of saying thank you for putting them up. She perused Otto’s books and found some poems by Theocritus that she hadn’t read since she was in college. Lying on the large bed, she fell asleep, hopelessly lost in the warmth and comfort of the eiderdown.
Nadine had become bored with her book and had gone to the back of the house, where she was able to pull at a piece of cardboard covering one of the windows and peek outside. There was birdsong and she could see that the sun was shining for what felt like the first time in months. There was an ancient key in the thick back door upon which generations of residents had layered paint. She turned it and felt the heavy lock shifting. The door creaked open, flooding the dark interior of the kitchen with light. Nadine squeezed through the crack.
She walked out into a courtyard, where there was a stone table. Six chairs that had once been arranged around it were scattered about the yard. On two sides there were stone walls about six feet high upon which ivy grew. Among the leaves there were strips of metal foil, dumped from the bombers to confuse the German civil defense radar. Nadine hadn’t seen greenery for such a long time. She approached one of the walls and inspected the ivy. The leaves were covered in a layer of soot and gritty debris. She reached out and drew a line on the waxy surface of a leaf. She examined her fingertip, which was covered in grime. Beneath her feet she noticed chunks of razor-sharp shrapnel in the gravel.
“Hello,” came a soft voice. Nadine whirled around, shocked at having been disturbed from her contemplation. She saw a young boy standing in the garden next door. He was thin and pale with floppy blond hair and a wide, toothy smile.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve been here all the time and I thought it best to let you know that I was here.”
Nadine nodded.
“Do you live here now?” the boy asked. Nadine immediately panicked. She should not be telling anyone who she was or what she was doing here. This boy could be Hitler Youth, only too keen to claim another scalp for the Führer.
“I’d better be going,” she s
aid, hurrying toward the back door. The boy sensed her fear.
“We’ve only just arrived,” he said. “We were bombed out a few months ago. We stayed with my aunt in Wedding until she lost her place too. Then the authorities sent us here to lodge with an old lady who lives in this apartment. She was killed one day; she just happened to be passing a damaged building when the chimney collapsed. Apparently they never found her head, but they knew it was her from the contents of her handbag. My mother had to go and confirm that it was her.”
Nadine had halted. Hearing the boy tell the story had made her think that he couldn’t be the kind of boy she feared he might be. He seemed too naïve, too unassuming.
“We lost our place too,” she explained. “We lived in the north of Mitte, near the hospital.”
“I didn’t think anyone lived in Mitte any longer,” the boy said. He picked up a piece of tinfoil from the ground and began to fold it. “I’m Hans,” he said. Nadine decided it was best not to reveal her name just yet.
“There were some of us still there,” Nadine said. “The authorities moved us here.” Telling him that they had official sanction made her feel safe. As if she had right on her side.
“Do you have a father?” Hans asked. Nadine looked at him. He seemed so small and weak—what was he, maybe twelve?—but he asked lots of very direct questions.
“My parents were both killed,” she replied.
“A raid?” the boy asked.
Nadine nodded. She wasn’t about to tell a stranger they had died in a camp.
“I still have my mother,” Hans said. “I’m lucky. My father died at Kursk. He was a tank commander. A hero.”
Nadine remembered hearing the news about Kursk. She recalled Anja had talked with a friend long into the night about the mounting losses: North Africa, Kursk, Smolensk, Normandy… Nadine had lain in bed and listened as Anja and her friends drank homemade potato vodka into the night and ran through various scenarios that amounted to the same thing: The war needed to end to get rid of the Nazis. There was nothing else for it.
“What school do you go to?” Nadine asked.
The Nero Decree Page 17