I’m not going to give up. Ever.
The next day, he contacted Harro Schulze-Boysen and arranged to meet with him two weeks later. Schulze-Boysen picked him up with his Mercedes limousine at a busy intersection near the Reichstag. He’d been briefed by Pavel and knew Q’s history. He explained the ways his own organization worked and then said, “Doctor Quedlin, I’d be more than happy to integrate you in our resistance network.”
Q hesitated, because working alone definitely had its merits. “I already told Pavel that I’m not entirely convinced it’s safe or prudent to liaise too closely.”
Schulze-Boysen furrowed his brows. “We have an extensive network of resources at our disposal. And with your connections to the science world, we could distribute our leaflets much broader.”
Leaflets? Q didn’t believe distributing Anti-Nazi leaflets was a suitable way to end the terror regime. “I still believe it’s safer for both of us not to work together, except in emergencies. But may I ask your advice in another affair?”
“Sure.” Schulze-Boysen’s mouth twitched, showing his bemusement.
“Generalfeldmarschall von Blomberg has extended a job offer to me, and I need to find a way out.”
The bemused smile disappeared, and Schulze-Boysen’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor. “What?”
Q explained the situation, and his counterpart seemed to grow more pleased by the minute.
“That is brilliant. Brilliant,” Schulze-Boysen said, turning the steering wheel. “You absolutely have to take von Blomberg up on this offer. This is a golden opportunity. Think about all the intelligence you can gather working directly for the Ministry of War.”
Q’s stomach churned at the thought of inventing weapons for the Wehrmacht, the German army, “You don’t understand what that would entail. I would have to betray everything I stand for. Day after day. Everyone around me – including myself – has to believe I’m a die-hard Nazi. I’m not sure I could hold up that façade for long.” He paused and zoomed in on Schulze-Boysen. “I have no idea how you can stomach it.”
The other man laughed. “You get used to it. It’s like wearing a coat. One I take off as soon as I reach my home.”
“I don’t think I could.” Q shook his head.
“Well, at least consider it. It would be of great service for our cause.”
“Agreed.”
Schulze-Boysen stopped the Mercedes to let Q exit the car, and in the blink of an eye, the limousine disappeared around the corner of the street. Q didn’t attempt to follow the automobile’s path with his eyes, he was too busy making sure that nobody followed him on his way home.
Since his return to Berlin, looking over his shoulder had become a constant habit. But for the first time in weeks, he loped, and a kernel of hope entered his heart. All was not lost. There were more people willing to stand up and fight for their freedoms – he and Hilde were not alone.
***
Another week went by, and Q had thought long and hard about Schulze-Boysen’s advice to accept the job offered by von Blomberg, but he couldn’t bring himself to act upon it. Instead, he hoped the Generalfeldmarschall would forget all about the job offer he’d extended.
But unfortunately, towards the end of October 1937, that hope was crushed as two uniformed SS officers arrived at his office, demanding to talk with Q.
The sight of the despised Nazi officers sent icy chills down his spine, and the sealed letter with an official looking seal in the hands of one of them didn’t help either. Was this how they delivered arrests nowadays?
“Heil Hitler!” the officer saluted, clicking his heels.
Q let out a tiny breath and forced himself to return the salutation with the same enthusiasm. “Heil Hitler! What can I do for you officers?”
“We have an important message for you and have been asked to return your answer to the Minister of War.”
Q’s knees almost sagged in relief. They hadn’t been sent for his head – but for his brains. He accepted the letter, and retreated to his desk, pulling out a letter opener from under a pile of paper.
With two pairs of perplexed eyes fixated on the sharp object in his hand, he carefully opened the envelope and retrieved a single sheet of paper with the official letterhead of the Ministry of War.
He leaned against his desk and began to read, the letters dancing in front of his eyes.
Wilhelm Quedlin,
I trust you and your wife returned from your journey to Italy and you are ready to serve Führer and Fatherland by offering up your intellect and knowledge for the furtherment of our cause. The job I mentioned to you is still available, and I know you have most likely been waiting for confirmation that my offer was valid.
Consider this letter that confirmation. I will expect to see you in my office on Monday at 11 a.m. to discuss the details of your service for the greater good.
Please present this letter to your current employer, should you need to excuse yourself for work.
Welcome aboard.
Werner von Blomberg
Q swallowed hard and raised his head to look into the curious eyes of the SS officers staring at him. “Officers, please let the Generalfeldmarschall know that it is my greatest pleasure to accept his invitation. I’m looking forward to meeting him at his office this coming Monday, eleven o’clock sharp.”
The SS men clicked heels again and left the office, leaving Q with a dizzy feeling. He popped onto the swivel chair and dropped his forehead to his desk. Whether he wanted to or not, he’d soon be working for the devil himself.
A million thoughts stormed his brain, but it was the image of devastation he’d seen on the slopes of Mount Etna that stayed with him and churned his gut. How could he live with the certainty that thousands would be killed in the future with weapons invented by him?
***
Q arrived in front of the Ministry of War with time to spare. The impressive grey stone building overlooked the Landwehr Kanal, an artificial canal branching off from the Spree river.
At this time of year, the trees lining the river bank were entirely bare, having shed their leaves weeks ago. They stood erect, raising their empty branches into the sky like pointed index fingers warning about coming doom.
He entered through the big wooden portal. The door creaked like a crow as it closed behind him and the blood congealed in his veins. The huge entry hall oozed terror, and it took all his strength not to turn on his heel and run.
Q announced himself at the reception, invitation letter in hand, and a uniformed officer ushered him into von Blomberg’s office and announced, “Sir, Doctor Quedlin is here.”
Von Blomberg greeted him with the obligatory “Heil Hitler” and then sat again behind an impressive dark wooden desk. Probably oak. Behind him on the wall, the ubiquitous picture of Hitler and a swastika flag. Two smaller swastika flags adorned his desk, along with a picture of Luise and another woman.
Q’s eyes widened as he took in von Blomberg’s appearance. Before him didn’t sit the jovial, good-humored man he’d met back in Italy, but a man with an ashen grey face and bloodshot eyes that testified to a great deal of stress and little sleep.
With consideration to the uniformed officer standing next to him, Q opted for the formal salutation, “Herr Generalfeldmarschall, you requested to see me?”
“Yes. Please have a seat.” Von Blomberg gestured towards one of the empty chairs.
Q did as he was bidden, unable to shake the feeling that something was very wrong.
“Doctor Quedlin, thank you for coming.” A slight pause. “Unfortunately, things have changed in the last forty-eight hours, and I am not able to discuss your employment at this time.”
“Sir?” Q wasn’t sure whether to be elated – or terrified.
Von Blomberg sighed and then pushed himself out of his armchair to pace the length of his office. “You will understand that I cannot go into details, as these are matters of national security.”
Q nodded. “I absolutely understand, s
ir.”
Just as Q stood to bid his goodbyes, von Blomberg turned to him and said in a low voice, “I am getting married in January. Come back early February.”
Relief washed over Q. “I will do that. Congratulations on your wedding.”
The Generalfeldmarschall accepted the well wishes with a grimace. “If only it was all cause for happiness.”
Q took his leave, not wanting to hear an explanation for the minister’s strange comment. In public speeches or on the international stage, Hitler always mentioned that he was more than willing to accommodate for peace, but the meeting with von Blomberg had given a different impression.
The Wehrmacht knows there will soon be war, and the only question is where, not when.
Back home, he told Hilde about the peculiar meeting with von Blomberg, and she beamed at him. “See. No reason to worry. You’ve just gained three months.”
“Yes. But what then?” He rubbed his chin.
“Liebling, don’t worry so much. A lot of water will flow under the bridge until February, and many things can happen.”
He kissed her on the mouth. “What would I do without you, Hildelein?”
She giggled. “Worry yourself sick?”
***
The holidays came and went, and they kept watching for news of von Blomberg’s marriage to Luise. It finally came the second week of January. Hilde broke the news to Q as she brought home a newspaper showing the picture of the newly married couple standing next to their marriage witnesses – commander-in-chief of the air force, Herman Göring, and the Führer himself.
But just two weeks later, more alarming news emerged. Von Blomberg had drawn the eyes of everyone towards himself and his new bride, eyes that only looked for the bad things. And Luise turned out to be one of those bad things.
Hilde and Q sat on the couch together as the news of Luise’s criminal history hit the radio. “Shush,” Hilde said and turned the volume up.
“…the 25-year old former typist and secretary has a long criminal record ranging from theft to impersonation to moral indecency, which apparently has been excused by our Führer because she promised betterment.
But the police came up with another, even graver offense. The entire nation is shocked to the bones by the horrific crimes she committed against decency and racial purity by posing for pornographic photos a few years back. Those unspeakable actions were further aggravated by the fact that those photos had been taken by a Jewish photographer this woman had been living together with…”
Hilde switched off the radio, because what followed was the usual bashing of Jews and the unspeakable “crime” of an Aryan woman mingling with a sub-human and thus impurifying the master race.
The scandal was fierce, and a few days later, Werner von Blomberg abdicated from all of his official functions, supposedly for health reasons.
“Can you believe an intelligent man in such a high-level position could trip over a woman?” Hilde asked.
“No. I thought he would have checked her background before marrying her.”
Hilde grinned. “Well, on the bright side, you won’t be keeping that second meeting with him, will you?”
Q nodded. “Definitely not. How was work for you today?”
Hilde shrugged. “It was fine.”
She’d taken such a long leave of absence that she’d been afraid her position would no longer be available upon her return to the insurance company. But the opposite turned out to be true. “We have so many claims to process, the company is desperately seeking additional skilled staff.”
“Same at the Biological Institute. We’re swamped with research orders, but not enough men to do the work.”
“Or women.” Hilde pouted, and Q took her hand in his. “You know what I mean. It’s actually ironic. A few years back, the Nazis coerced women to stay home and raise children, and now that they need the men for their war efforts, they change course and encourage the same women to come back to the factories.”
Hilde leaned against Q’s shoulder. “Erika has been promoted again. They’ve given her twice as many people to oversee, including the new accounting department staff.”
“Congratulations. She must be doing good work.”
Hilde rolled her eyes. “I believe it has more to do with her Party book than with the quality of her work.”
“Oh, when did she join the Party?”
“About a month ago.” Hilde sighed and turned to look into Q’s eyes. “Erika is one of my best friends, but we have to be careful. Since she became enamored with that SS officer, she’s changed.”
“We will. Let’s go to bed.” Q stood and pulled Hilde from the couch. While doing her evening ablutions, she thought about her company. On the surface, nothing had changed. The economy was picking up, and everyone seemed to look forward to better times. But there was an ever-present underlying tension. People watched their words, careful not to accidentally make anti-Nazi or pro-Jewish comments.
It was too dangerous.
Chapter 11
Things in Europe were starting to unravel at an alarming rate. The Gestapo was quickly becoming one of the most feared groups in Berlin and across Germany. Luckily, Q hadn’t been the focus of any of their investigations, but he couldn’t say the same for some of his colleagues.
On March 12, 1938, completely different news surprised the German population. The long awaited war was over before it began.
Hitler had marched with his troops into Austria and declared his home country a federal state of Germany, which he now called Großdeutsches Reich, Great German Empire. And what happened? Nothing.
The cabinet of Nazi supporters in the Austrian government willingly agreed to the annexation, and all over Austria and Germany, spontaneous celebrations took place with people dancing in the streets.
Q couldn’t help but wonder throughout the next days. Hitler’s triumphal march to Vienna was accompanied by cheering and flower-throwing crowds. Did those people not know what awaited them?
It was a surreal occurrence and culminated in Hitler’s enthusiastic speech in front of thousands of Austrians announcing the entrance of his native country into the German Empire.
Q wanted to puke.
But apparently, he was the only one to think that way. As spring passed, Q found himself in a constant state of worry. Even his work at the Biological Reich Institute proved increasingly challenging. His area of expertise – plant protection – wasn’t deemed war important. Q had thought this to be an advantage because the authorities wouldn’t interfere with his research, but he soon found that was wishful thinking and the opposite was true.
He constantly had to justify his plant protection research, and more than once had been forced to stop the work, whether by lack of materials and funds or because he didn’t get access to a vital piece of information that had been deemed a military secret.
More and more of his colleagues were forced to change the focus of their experimentation to fit the needs of the Third Reich and the war effort. It was only a matter of time until Q would have to oblige as well.
Biological warfare.
That was what the government wanted. New biological weapons to use against Germany’s enemies. The Nazis considered this research pertinent to winning an upcoming war and began to scrutinize the scientists more closely than in the past. Everyone had to produce a greater Aryan certificate, proof that parents and all four grandparents were Aryan. Q groaned as he remembered the months and months of struggle to get the required Catholic baptism certificate of his Hungarian grandmother when he needed the Ariernachweis to receive his marriage license one and a half years ago.
The scientists had been given four weeks to produce their respective Aryan certificates, and at the end of the month, all but one colleague had handed it in. Very few Jews were still allowed to work in critical industries, and that colleague was one of those unfortunate ones. The next day, the Gestapo stormed the building and dragged him from the facility.
According to t
he rumors, the poor fellow was half Jewish, enough for the Gestapo to consider him a threat to national security and treat him accordingly. Q and his colleagues pretended not to see or hear anything, going about their daily work, hoping they’d be left in peace.
But the nightmare wasn’t over yet. More Gestapo officers arrived to thoroughly question all colleagues before anyone was allowed to leave for the day. Lined up in the large courtyard, they were led one by one to a small room for interrogation.
Q could barely breathe when his name was called out, and he followed the Gestapo officer with a wildly beating heart. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust from the bright sunlight in the courtyard to the dimly lit room. The office of one of the accountants. Now an important looking Gestapo man with soulless grey eyes and all the insignia of importance on his uniform resided behind the desk. Lower ranking officers flanked him on either side.
“Name and profession.”
“Doctor Wilhelm Quedlin. Chemical engineer.”
“Party book.”
Q clenched his jaw to disguise a shiver. “I’m not a member of the Party.”
The Gestapo man looked up, his stare boring into Q’s skin like a red-hot iron rod. “Why not?”
Because I hate everything the Nazis stand for. Q raised his chin and returned the stare as steadfast as he was capable of. “Sir, I don’t understand much of politics. My science is my life.”
Apparently, this answer didn’t satisfy the interrogator because it prompted a whole new set of questions about Q’s loyalties, his activities, and his general opinion about the Führer and Fatherland.
Q answered all the questions as inauspiciously as he could, but at the umpteenth repetition, his temper broke through. “You are hindering my work. I need to return to my experiments.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Q realized the foolish mistake he’d committed. He only had a very short amount of time – if any – to correct his error, and quickly apologized. “Gentlemen, I apologize for my outburst. I was in the middle of a time-critical experiment that is of the utmost importance to Germany and her people.”
Unyielding: Love and Resistance in WW2 Germany (World War II Trilogy) Page 6