Unyielding: Love and Resistance in WW2 Germany (World War II Trilogy)

by Marion Kummerow

  “Thank you for the tea,” Annie said, taking a sip before leaning back and playing with her long pearl necklace.

  “You’re welcome. How are your husband and Klaus?”

  “Fine. Although your brother might get drafted soon. He’s almost twenty.”

  Both women paused and Hilde racked her brain for something she might tell her mother. The baby cried, but before Hilde was up, he stopped. “Why did you abandon me?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  Annie was shocked speechless for a few moments. “What? You ask this now? That was a long time ago and should be forgotten by now.”

  Hilde shook her head. “I will never forget. It still haunts me.”

  Her mother blushed, her hand returning to the string of pearls hanging around her neck. “You don’t understand. I was very young when you were born. I could barely take care of myself, and having the burden of an infant–”

  “I was a burden?” Hilde asked, barely keeping herself together.

  “Well, burden might not be the right word. Times were difficult because of the Great War, and I was all alone. I needed time for myself. I’m sure you can relate.”

  Hilde scowled at her mother. “No. I can’t relate. You always put yourself first, even before your own daughter. You could have left me at grandma’s for a weekend or even a few weeks or months, but forever?”

  Annie grabbed her necklace tighter and rubbed the pearls between her fingers. “It was as much your father’s fault as it was mine. Why didn’t he take care of you?”

  “Because he was a soldier at the front!” Hilde jumped up and paced around the couch table. “How on earth was he supposed to take care of me? Take me with him into the trenches?”

  “Now you’re exaggerating,” her mother scolded. When Hilde didn’t stop pacing, tears spilled from Annie’s eyes. “If I could do it all over again, I would have found a way to keep you with me. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could do things differently.”

  Hilde stopped, stupefied at the sudden change of her mother’s tactic and stared at her. Even though she was sure Annie’s remorse was fake, she couldn’t help but sense a glimmer of hope. “You do?”

  Annie nodded, wiping a few tears from her eyes. “I promise I will make it up to you.”

  “Mother, you don’t have to make it up to me. Maybe we should just leave the past…in the past.” Times were bad enough. Hilde didn’t need to add to it by holding a grudge against her mother.

  Annie got up and gave her daughter a small hug. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but Hilde was choked up by the presence of something resembling an honest emotion in her mother’s eyes.

  Another cry from the baby drew both women toward the bedroom. Annie seemed intent on making things right and actually held Volker a few minutes, despite baby drool wetting her silky cardigan.

  ***

  In the summer of 1940, Q and Hilde moved to a bigger apartment in Berlin Nikolassee. The two-story apartment building offered a big front lawn fringed by hedges and a smaller garden in the back accessible to all tenants that included a sandbox and a swing for the kids.

  Hilde loved the new apartment and the surroundings. The quarter of Nikolassee was far enough from the city center to be as quiet and peaceful as Berlin could be. Within walking distance from their new home was a large green area with several lakes, including the huge Wannsee.

  During summer, Hilde and Volker spent many afternoons at the beach of the lake, playing in the sand, splashing in the shallow water near the shore, and enjoying life. On some days, Hilde completely forgot about the war, but on other days, she was harshly reminded of the reality.

  Today was such a day. Hilde and Gertrud had taken a stroll with the prams along the shore of Wannsee. Just before they reached the bridge to the island of Schwanenwerder, an affluent residential area, a bunch of SS-officers appeared out of nowhere, stopping the entire traffic – pedestrians, bicycles, and the sporadic automobile.

  A black Mercedes limousine rolled across the bridge to one of the big mansions on the island. “Goebbels,” Hilde said to her friend, “he’s living on the island.”

  Gertrud pursed her lips. “I wish this war would soon be over. I’m worrying day by day about my husband.”

  Hilde nodded. The poor man hadn’t even seen his three-month-old daughter yet. She put a hand on Gertrud’s arm. “He’ll come home. You’ll see.”

  Her friend dabbed a few tears with her handkerchief, and as soon as the SS officers who’d blocked their way had disappeared, they continued their walk. Hilde kept her own worries to herself. Q hadn’t been drafted because he worked in a reserved profession at Loewe. Nonetheless, she feared for his safety every single day.

  “At least your husband is at home.” Gertrud’s voice broke into Hilde’s thoughts.

  “That’s a small relief. I’m afraid he would refuse to join up because of his pacifist ideals.” And his hatred for Hitler. “And you know the punishment for desertion…”

  Gertrud nodded. “Everything was so much better before the war.”

  Volker and Luisa, Gertrud’s daughter, started crying jointly.

  “Time to feed the lions,” Hilde said, and they walked to the next bench to nurse their babies. As both of them suckled happily, Hilde continued, “My mother urges me to wean Volker, but it’s next to impossible to buy full-fat milk, and how will an active toddler survive on skim milk?”

  “I know. There’s never enough quality food to be had with those darn ration cards. And I had to cut up one of my old aprons to sew a dress and a jacket for Luisa because I’d used all our textile rations for a new blanket.”

  “I know. Thankfully, Q is not very picky, and neither is his new boss, so I didn’t have to buy a new suit for him and was able to use all the textile rations for Volker. I was also lucky that our neighbor handed me down a few things from her son.”

  Gertrud smiled. “How does Q like his new job?”

  “He loves it.” Because he’s one of the key players in a sabotage group and also gathering intelligence for the resistance. “Erhard Tohmfor, his boss, is a friend from University, and they seem to get along very well.”

  “Have you met him?” Gertrud asked as she put Luisa back into her pram.

  “Yes. He and his wife have visited us on a few occasions. Erhard is a wonderful person, a natural born leader. He brings out the best in every single one of his employees.” Hilde sighed. She longed to voice her fears about Q’s resistance work to someone, but even though Gertrud definitely wasn’t a Nazi – unlike her former best friend Erika – that topic was off limits.

  After she’d bid goodbye to Gertrud and Luisa, she pushed Volker’s pram home and told him about all her worries and fears. He responded to her concerns with a happy smile and some sort of gibberish.

  “You’re a right slaphappy little fellow,” she cooed to her son. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

  Since the birth of Volker, she and Q had steered clear of that topic. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell. But she had eyes in her head, and she noticed when he came home all agitated, or went out late at night, hiding papers under his jacket. He thought she was asleep, but she lay there awake, praying he would come back.

  It was during those times when she would get up and go to the nursery to stand by Volker’s crib and watch him sleep. Her heart full of love but heavy with fear.

  ***

  The first half of 1940 was full of whirlwind military successes – Hitler’s short succession of Blitzkriege. Hitler’s Wehrmacht conquered Denmark, Norway, Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands.

  Then, Hitler sent his troops through the dense forest into France, once thought impenetrable by the Allies. Much to everyone’s surprise, the Wehrmacht marched into Paris in a campaign that lasted just six weeks.

  Eight days later, Q came home in a foul mood. “I can’t believe it.” He took a closely guarded bottle of schnapps from the cupboard and poured himself a shot. “France surrender
ed. Do you have any idea what that means?”

  Hilde didn’t.

  “That maniac is now dominating all of Europe together with his old crony Mussolini in Italy. With Franco’s Spain and Stalin’s Soviet Union friendly countries, there’s not much left to occupy and subdue.” He downed another shot. “Did you hear Hitler’s speech on the radio?”

  “No. I was out walking with Volker.”

  “Hitler called himself Größter Feldherr aller Zeiten,” Q said. “Biggest general of all times!”

  “He honestly compared himself to Napoleon?” Hilde asked, rolling her eyes.

  Q nodded, his scowl growing deeper. “He did.”

  Hilde snuggled up against Q on the couch. “On the positive side, let’s hope he ends the same way his megalomaniac idol did.”

  Q stared at Hilde. “What?”

  “His empire collapsed, and he died exiled in Saint Helena.”

  “I know what happened to Napoleon,” Q said. “But what makes you think that Hitler can be stopped? Who’s left to stop him? The English?”

  Hilde searched his eyes but found only defeat in them. “You can’t give up faith. There are many brave persons like you and Erhard. Men and women who actively work to overthrow the Nazi regime. It may seem impossible now, but the night is darkest just before sunrise.”

  Q wrapped her in his arms and murmured, “That’s why I love you so much. You never let me give up.”

  But the night had yet to become darker.

  Hitler started a strategic bombing of England – the Blitz. In return, English bombers attacked German targets. Each time she saw or heard the planes flying overhead, she held her breath and prayed they would deliver their deadly load someplace else.

  One day, they received notice from the government that every personal automobile had to be turned in for the war effort. Only doctors and food suppliers were exempt.

  Hilde crumpled the piece of paper and threw it against the wall, but Q only laughed at her silent protest when he came home. “We never could get enough fuel to use it anyway.”

  She moped around for days at the loss of their means of transportation, until Q surprised her with two bicycles.

  “Q, they are wonderful!” She smiled, incredibly pleased.

  “Aren’t they.” He beamed. “Now we can spend our summer making excursions around the green parts of Berlin. Just imagine, we could take a biking tour around the Wannsee with the entire family. Maybe even sleep on one of the farms. It would be like a vacation.”

  Hilde’s mood brightened at her husband’s enthusiasm, “I would like that, but how do we transport Volker on our bikes.”

  “Oh.” His face fell, and he furrowed his brows in thought. “Wait…” He left her standing and rushed off into his study room.

  She shrugged. Some things would never change. Still smiling, she took Volker for a walk in his pram.

  Q didn’t mention the bicycles again, but a few days later, he brought home an old metal basket. The sturdy basket had a wire net around all sides, except for one. There it showed two holes in the net, the size of a big fist.

  “What’s this?” Hilde asked, eyeing that thing suspiciously.

  “This is…” he paused, his grin growing bigger, “Volker’s new bicycle seat.” He pulled mother and son behind himself into the shed and attached the metal basket with pieces of scrap metal and wire to the front of the bicycle’s handles. A few movements later, Volker leaned haphazardly against the edge of the basket, his feet placed through the holes in the net.

  Hilde jumped to support her son. “Q. This is great, but don’t you think he’s still too small to sit in such a contraption?”

  Volker snickered and explored the basket curiously.

  “See. He likes it.” Q beamed proudly. “Should we embark on our first tour?”

  “No way. He can’t even sit yet, much less keep his balance while we’re riding the bike.” She picked up Volker and sat him down on safe ground. “Thanks, Q. That is such a great idea, but our first tour will have to wait a few more weeks.”

  Chapter 24

  Summer gave way to fall. Leaves started to change, and the temperatures began to drop. Q was having one of his weekly quality meetings with Erhard. The ongoing war had brought the company a surge of contracts, and Q had his hands full with overseeing and sabotaging the production lines. There was no time left for intelligence work.

  “Erhard, we need to talk about enlisting some more help,” Q said after he’d closed the door to the office.

  Erhard raised his head. “Didn’t you reject this very idea several months ago?”

  “Yes. And I’m still convinced it’s a risk, but with all the new contracts, I don’t have any time to gather intelligence and keep in contact with our Russian friends. And…” Q scratched his head.

  “And what?” his friend asked.

  “If something should happen to me or you, we need another person to continue our work.”

  “Hmm.” The seconds on the clock kept ticking away. Erhard rubbed his chin. “I actually have someone in mind.”

  “Who?”

  “One of the head chemical engineers. Martin Stuhrmann.”

  Q raised a brow. “Stuhrmann? He’s in the Party. How do you know he’s on our side?”

  Erhard took a moment to explain. “You’ve heard of Arvid and Mildred Harnack?” When Q nodded, Erhard continued, “They are old acquaintances of mine and part of a resistance group.”

  That was new to Q.

  “Stuhrmann is a friend of a friend of Mildred Harnack. More than once, he’s voiced his discontent with the Nazi ideology.”

  “Just because someone doesn’t like the Nazis doesn’t mean he’s willing to work against them.” Q shook his head. “We should test him before we tell him anything.”

  “Test him?” Erhard asked.

  “Yes. We’ll feel him out, then set a trap to see whether he’s trustworthy or not. We’ll take it from there.” Q’s head was already spinning, trying to come up with a plan.

  “Fine.”

  In the following weeks, they started having their lunch with Martin Stuhrmann. He was in his early thirties, a solid and dutiful engineer who always triple-checked the requirements. His brown hair showed an accurate side parting and his hazel eyes carefully observed his environment.

  Q and Erhard made a point to frequently discuss technical developments and politics, paying special attention to those technical innovations that benefited the military and the ethical implications.

  After several weeks of doing this, they decided to set up a trap. Erhard called him to his office and closed the door. Martin seemed surprised that Q was also present, but didn’t say a word.

  Erhard started his attack. “Martin, I noticed the quality of production in your team has gone down again. Several times in the last few weeks, we had to throw away entire batches. And yesterday, the paste for the cathodes was contaminated and made unusable.”

  Q joined in. “When I ordered changes to the conveyor belt, the needed tool broke and stopped production for several hours.”

  When both men finished speaking, Martin was pale and trembling. He looked at Erhard with terror in his eyes and asked hoarsely, “Are you implying that I sabotaged the production line?”

  Q and Erhard shared a look, then shook their heads in unison. “We’re not pointing any fingers, but we do believe that someone might be intentionally causing these types of problems, thinking they might be helping to shorten the war and end Hitler’s reign.”

  Martin’s shoulders shivered. “No one would do that. Sabotage is a severe crime, and if caught, that person would be shot on the spot…or worse.”

  “Right.” Nothing else was said, and they left poor Martin to figure out what had just been said.

  Erhard then changed the subject. “So, when we have won the Total War, do you think life in Germany is still going to be worth living?”

  Martin seemed confused. “Of course. I mean, isn’t this what the government is te
lling us?”

  Q added, “Or do you think it would be better for everyone if the war were to end now even if Germany wouldn’t win?”

  Both men watched Martin closely – this was the make or break test. What they had just asked him was very dangerous. If Martin were a Nazi, he would immediately tell the Betriebsobmann, the shop steward or talk directly to the Gestapo.

  Martin watched them with big eyes and responded with a question of his own, “Are you implying that our Führer doesn’t know what’s best?”

  Q and Erhard cocked their heads but remained silent for a minute. Finally, Erhard said, “Thank you, Martin. That’s all for today.”

  Martin left the room scuffing his feet, and Q had to suppress a chuckle. “Poor guy. He’s absolutely confused now.”

  Erhard agreed. “Yes. But his reaction will tell us where we stand. If he sings, it would be disappointing, but not life-threatening–”

  “For us.” Q completed the sentence. “Because you’ll simply present evidence of Martin’s sabotage acts to the Gestapo and they won’t believe a word of what he said.”

  “Yes, and you will be my witness if that is needed. I already made a note in my journal that we suspect someone is sabotaging our production and that we’ve started interrogating people.”

  “But if he keeps quiet, we’ll know he’s on our side. Just how long should we wait?” Q asked.

  “I think three weeks is a prudent time.”

  Martin told no one. The Betriebsobmann did show up in Erhard’s office several times during the next two weeks, but it was always about routine work. One time, he reported on working accidents, another time to ask for time off for the employees to attend a Party rally, and so on.

  It was a tense three weeks.

  ***

  Erhard and Q had just finished another one of their “quality control” meetings when Q said, “I guess it’s time to enlist our new helper.”

  “It is. But we won’t tell him anything about our underground work – not yet.”